Vengeance is Mine by Reavis Z Wortham Page A

credit. I watched how he paid it up last time. Neal gave him a number, and he handed him the cash. He won’t notice two more cold drinks.”
    â€œThat don’t sound right. It’s kinda like stealin’.”
    â€œIt ain’t stealing, knothead . Stealing is if we snitch a couple of drinks out of the cooler and don’t pay for them. If Grandpa was here, he’d say all right and give us the money, so what’s the difference? It’s like when we came up here the other day and bought that sugar.”
    She was right, and at the same time wrong, but I couldn’t come up with a good argument for that kind of logic. None of the men at the top of the wooden steps paid us much attention, because kids were like dogs and always underfoot, at least until she held up two fingers and said, “Peace.”
    â€œHowdy, Uncle Top!” Neal Box always called me that for some reason.
    I waved and went straight toward the red chest-cooler beside the door on our left. I heard one of the men behind me. “What’s she mean, victory?” It was several years later that I learned the peace sign was also the victory sign during World War II.
    Pepper raised the lid on the cooler. “We’re getting a couple of drinks. Grandpa will pay for it later.” Inside, the metal tracks full of chilled bottles were mixed together, so it took a second to find the bottle cap we wanted.
    â€œThat’ll be fine.” Neal flipped the pages of a notepad and noted the purchases with a stubby yellow pencil.
    We pulled them on the opener mounted to the front of the cooler and left. I felt as guilty as if I’d hidden the sweating bottle under my shirt. Despite her attitude, Pepper must have felt the same way too, because we slipped off the porch and went around to the side to drink them. I’ll have to admit, though—that Dr Pepper tasted sweeter than any I’d ever drank.
    Ross Dyer was sitting on the porch with his back against the corner support post. I glanced up at him and nudged Pepper, knowing she’d take off on him. I was right.
    Her forehead wrinkled. “That man has the hairiest ear holes of anyone I’ve ever seen. He don’t take the trouble to trim them at all, and I’m not sure he spends much time washing ’em, neither.”
    She didn’t bother to lower her voice, and I began to worry that he’d hear her, but she probably thought he couldn’t because of his ears. They looked like hairy spider holes in the ground. Maybe that’s why he didn’t wash them good, because he was afraid to stick a finger in there.
    â€œThat man’s disgusting! He stinks, too. He needs to throw some powder under them arms. Shit, I imagine they’re worse than his damn ear.”
    The fun was gone, because I knew somebody on the porch would hear her. I pulled her around behind the store. “Pepper!”
    I’d forgotten the colored men on the loading dock. Uncle Neal sold feed and a few men loafed around back there until he needed somebody to load a truck. They made a few cents a sack, that Uncle Neal tacked onto the price of the feed.
    I wondered time and again why Grandpa didn’t buy his feed there. He’d get a sack or two, maybe to help Uncle Neal, but for the most part, Grandpa traded in Hugo, across the river in Oklahoma.
    Them colored fellers didn’t seem to be paying us no mind, but Pepper was talking loud enough for them to hear. “Well, I bet if Miss Becky had half a chance, she’d give ’em a good scrubbing, after she barbered at ’em for a while. I don’t know why Uncle Willie don’t take his scissors to ’em when he finally gets around to gettin’ his hair cut…”
    â€œPepper, now that is enough!”
    I don’t think she’d ever heard me use that tone of voice, and to me I sounded like Miss Becky. I saw one of the colored men hide a smile behind his hand, and knew they heard