sale.”
“I never said anything about buying,” Lucy said. “Sooner or later you men are gonna feel like a lot of fools, playing with this thing like little kids with their toys. You’ll be glad to see me put it to proper use.”
“Anyway,” Peterson said, clearly uncomfortable. “Why are we standing around jawing like this? Let’s get this show on the road!”
“Not without Herbie,” Arvo said. “We started out on this trip together, the three of us. We can’t leave him behind to look after a bunch of stupid chickens.”
Lucy shot daggers but clamped her mouth shut before her tongue had a chance to say what she thought. Peterson walked a few steps in one direction with his eyes on the toes of his boots, then turned and walked back. He spoke sidelong to Lucy, as though ready to jump and run if he had to. “It’s not fair to Herbie. It’s not fair to your chickens neither, to leave him in charge. Herbie’ll start feeling sorry for the chickens stuck in a pen and turn them loose. Your hens’ll lay their eggs all over your ranch. Under logs, up in the trees. In the middle of blackberry bushes. Your whole damn investment will go squawking off between the jaws of foxes and raccoons.”
Arvo agreed. Suppose someone took advantage of Lucy’s absence to break in and steal a laying hen or two. Herbie had little experience with responsibility. He claimed to have delivered newspapers as a boy but his adult jobs had been short-lived, including nothing more demanding than picking strawberries in June, plucking turkeys in December, and now-and-then filling pot-holes in the logging company’s roads. He must have panicked when Peterson drove off and left him to keep an eye on Lucy’s ranch.
“I’ll tell you what,” Arvo said. “You two go back and rescue the chickens that Herbie has probably set loose by now and I’ll go on down to get Martin on my own.”
“The hell with that,” Lucy said. “You’re not leaving me behind.I’ve got my reasons for looking Martin Glass in the eye and telling him what I think.”
Arvo looked to Peterson. “You didn’t tell her?”
Peterson frowned and lifted his shoulders. “She don’t always listen.”
“If she thinks Martin’s walking out of that hospital on his own two feet, why does she think we’re going down to get him with a hearse?”
Peterson looked down and kicked at a clump of weeds that had pushed up through the gravel. “Lucy doesn’t always hear what she doesn’t want to hear — do you, Luce? She can know things without letting them make a difference. I’m pretty sure that what she means is she wants to say good-bye.”
Arvo looked hard at Lucy, who was looking hard at him. “You hear that? Whatever you got to say to Martin you should have told him long ago. You might as well say it to those wild roses over by the store. Martin’s ears are sealed. I wouldn’t recommend you say anything unpleasant. I especially wouldn’t want you to say it where I might hear.”
“What a couple of old boobies!” Lucy said, clearly disgusted. “Let’s go rescue my chooks before your friend decides he’s Moses and sets the captives free. I shouldn’t’ve let him anywhere near my chooks.”
CHAPTER 7
HE COULD NOT WAIT here for ever. Lucy was capable of talking Peterson into abandoning the journey in order to do chores he’d promised long ago to do — replacing broken glass in a window, patching a hole in the chicken-run fence, repairing a drainpipe fallen away from her house. She could keep him busy for days.
Peterson may have been hoping to lure Lucy back. What some people want the most is what they shouldn’t want at all. Peterson had driven up to Lucy’s when he didn’t need to, had brought her down to show off this hearse when he could have avoided even mentioning it, and then had put himself in the position of having to go back to her chicken ranch in order to collect Herbie. Yet he had sworn anynumber of times that he’d rather
“I never said anything about buying,” Lucy said. “Sooner or later you men are gonna feel like a lot of fools, playing with this thing like little kids with their toys. You’ll be glad to see me put it to proper use.”
“Anyway,” Peterson said, clearly uncomfortable. “Why are we standing around jawing like this? Let’s get this show on the road!”
“Not without Herbie,” Arvo said. “We started out on this trip together, the three of us. We can’t leave him behind to look after a bunch of stupid chickens.”
Lucy shot daggers but clamped her mouth shut before her tongue had a chance to say what she thought. Peterson walked a few steps in one direction with his eyes on the toes of his boots, then turned and walked back. He spoke sidelong to Lucy, as though ready to jump and run if he had to. “It’s not fair to Herbie. It’s not fair to your chickens neither, to leave him in charge. Herbie’ll start feeling sorry for the chickens stuck in a pen and turn them loose. Your hens’ll lay their eggs all over your ranch. Under logs, up in the trees. In the middle of blackberry bushes. Your whole damn investment will go squawking off between the jaws of foxes and raccoons.”
Arvo agreed. Suppose someone took advantage of Lucy’s absence to break in and steal a laying hen or two. Herbie had little experience with responsibility. He claimed to have delivered newspapers as a boy but his adult jobs had been short-lived, including nothing more demanding than picking strawberries in June, plucking turkeys in December, and now-and-then filling pot-holes in the logging company’s roads. He must have panicked when Peterson drove off and left him to keep an eye on Lucy’s ranch.
“I’ll tell you what,” Arvo said. “You two go back and rescue the chickens that Herbie has probably set loose by now and I’ll go on down to get Martin on my own.”
“The hell with that,” Lucy said. “You’re not leaving me behind.I’ve got my reasons for looking Martin Glass in the eye and telling him what I think.”
Arvo looked to Peterson. “You didn’t tell her?”
Peterson frowned and lifted his shoulders. “She don’t always listen.”
“If she thinks Martin’s walking out of that hospital on his own two feet, why does she think we’re going down to get him with a hearse?”
Peterson looked down and kicked at a clump of weeds that had pushed up through the gravel. “Lucy doesn’t always hear what she doesn’t want to hear — do you, Luce? She can know things without letting them make a difference. I’m pretty sure that what she means is she wants to say good-bye.”
Arvo looked hard at Lucy, who was looking hard at him. “You hear that? Whatever you got to say to Martin you should have told him long ago. You might as well say it to those wild roses over by the store. Martin’s ears are sealed. I wouldn’t recommend you say anything unpleasant. I especially wouldn’t want you to say it where I might hear.”
“What a couple of old boobies!” Lucy said, clearly disgusted. “Let’s go rescue my chooks before your friend decides he’s Moses and sets the captives free. I shouldn’t’ve let him anywhere near my chooks.”
CHAPTER 7
HE COULD NOT WAIT here for ever. Lucy was capable of talking Peterson into abandoning the journey in order to do chores he’d promised long ago to do — replacing broken glass in a window, patching a hole in the chicken-run fence, repairing a drainpipe fallen away from her house. She could keep him busy for days.
Peterson may have been hoping to lure Lucy back. What some people want the most is what they shouldn’t want at all. Peterson had driven up to Lucy’s when he didn’t need to, had brought her down to show off this hearse when he could have avoided even mentioning it, and then had put himself in the position of having to go back to her chicken ranch in order to collect Herbie. Yet he had sworn anynumber of times that he’d rather
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