Raney by Clyde Edgerton Page A

along.
    "She's given me several pints of preserves and one quart of chow-chow," I said. "She can comprehend that."
    " Raney, that has nothing to do with the fact that she is senile and self-centered. There are old people who aren't self-centered, you know."
    "Charles, she also showed me how to keep applesauce from turning brown in the jar, and she's going to give me some cactus seeds and she said she'd help me dig up a circle and plant them. And give me some big rocks to go around that. If she's so self-centered, why is she giving me preserves and chow-chow and seeds?"
    "Because it's a habit. A life-long habit. If you were Atilla the Hun she'd give you preserves and chow-chow and seeds."
    "Charles. Sometimes I wonder about your heart."
    "Raney, my heart is all right. What can I do to prove my heart is warm and kind?"
    My mind darted around. "Help Aunt Flossie and me with her Golden Agers' day in a couple of weeks. It'll take about an hour next Saturday to ride out to Mr. Earls's to see if he'll shoot his cannon for us. Then the next Saturday help me take some of the Golden Agers out to Mr. Earls's — if he agrees — to watch him shoot his cannon, and then Saturday afternoon we're going to take them to the bluegrass festival, where me and you are going to play anyway. It'll take from about ten to three. All you have to do is just go along."
    "Will you worry about my heart if I do?"
    "Never again. And you're reading that book on the Civil War, so you can probably learn something from Mr. Earls."
    "Will I have to do something like this every Saturday?"
    "No."
    Aunt Flossie said she had heard that Mr. Earls didn't have a phone so I might have to ride out to his house to ask him about helping us out. She said he was a Primitive Baptist and shouldn't be any harm, if I wanted to ride out by myself. But Charles rode with me to meet him — this past Saturday morning, one of those hot fall days.
    We turned into the driveway of a nice looking brick house, ranch style, with trees, except the leaves hadn't been raked. There was a big flagpole at the mailbox flying the Confederate flag. Charles sees that and goes, "Oh, no," like a paint bucket had fell over.
    We stopped in the driveway and got out. A dog came out to meet us. He was a old dog, and didn't even bark. In the carport was a man sitting beside a cannon, working on it. Then I saw a cannon on the front porch and another one out in the back yard. The man got up and walked out to the car. Right off he reminded me of Abraham Lincoln, without a beard. He was over six feet tall, and wearing blue and white striped overalls with a belt holding all these tools. His waist looked like it won't no bigger than mine. His ears stuck straight out and his hair was black and short. I thought: that's the skinniest man I've ever seen in my life. When he got up close I saw that his temples and cheeks were sunk in so that he looked like a skeleton almost. And he didn't have much coloring in his face.
    "Howdy," he said. "What can I do for you?" He had a deep business voice. Charles reached out and shook his hand and introduced us.
    "We wanted to call, but couldn't find a listing," said Charles.
    "I don't have a phone. Don't have a television. I wouldn't have lights if they hadn't already been hooked up when we bought the place. Ain't no need for none of it except for a electric drill and a table saw. I'll use a electric drill and a table saw. But that's it. What can I do for you all?"
    I explained about the Golden Agers' Day.
    "I'd be happy to help you out. People don't do nothing for old people nowadays. I told Birdie, I said 'Birdie, when the man gets here in the ambulance to take me to one of them nursing homes, if you're living and able, put me in the bed, put a sheet over my head, and tell him I'm dead. And if you ain't able to take care of me then stop feeding me, and if the youngin's won't take care of me, then let me die doing the best I can.'" He looked straight at Charles. "Nothing more than