Hunters in the Snow
BY TOBIAS WOLFF
Tub
had been waiting for an hour in the falling snow. He paced the sidewalk to keep
warm and stuck his head out over the curb whenever he saw lights approaching.
One driver stopped for him but before Tub could wave the man on he saw the
rifle on Tub's back and hit the gas. The tires spun on the ice. The fall of
snow thickened. Tub stood below the overhang of a building. Across the road the
clouds whitened just above the rooftops, and the street lights went out. He
shifted the rifle strap to his other shoulder. The whiteness seeped up the sky.
A
truck slid around the corner, horn blaring, rear end sashaying. Tub moved to
the sidewalk and held up his hand. The truck jumped the curb and kept coming,
half on the street and half on the sidewalk. It wasn't slowing down at all. Tub
stood for a moment, still holding up his hand, then jumped back. His rifle
slipped off his shoulder and clattered on the ice, a sandwich fell out of his
pocket. He ran for the steps of the building. Another sandwich and a package of
cookies tumbled onto the new snow. He made the steps and looked back.
A
truck had stopped several feet beyond where Tub had been standing. He picked up
his sandwiches and his cookies and slung the rifle and went up to the driver's
window. The driver was bent against the steering wheel, slapping his knees and
drumming his feet on the floorboards. He looked like a cartoon of a person
laughing, except that his eyes watched the man on the seat beside him.
"You ought to see yourself," the driver said. "He looks just
like a beach ball with a hat on, doesn't he? Doesn't he, Frank?"
The
man beside him smiled and looked off.
"You
almost ran me down," Tub said. "You could've killed me."
"Come
on, Tub, said the man beside the driver. "Be mellow. Kenny was just
messing around." He opened the door and slid over to the middle of the
seat.
Tub
took the bolt out of his rifle and climbed in beside him. "I waited an
hour," he said. "If you meant ten o'clock why didn't you say ten
o'clock?"
"Tub,
you haven't done anything but complain since we got here," said the man in
the middle. "If you want to piss and moan all day you might as well go
home and bitch at your kids. Take your pick." When Tub didn't say anything
he turned to the driver. "Okay, Kenny, let's hit the road."
Some
juvenile delinquents had heaved a brick through the windshield on the driver's
side, so the cold and snow tunneled right into the cab. The heater didn't work.
They covered themselves with a couple of blankets Kenny had brought along and
pulled down the muffs on their caps. Tub tried to keep his hands warm by
rubbing them under the blanket but Frank made him stop.
They
left Spokane and drove deep into the country, running along black lines of
fences. The snow let up, but still there was no edge to the land where it met
the sky. Nothing moved in the chalky fields. The cold bleached their faces and
made the stubble stand out on their cheeks and along their upper lips. They
stopped twice for coffee before they got to the woods where Kenny wanted to
hunt.
Tub
was for trying someplace different; two years in a row they'd been up and down
this land and hadn't seen a thing. Frank didn't care one way or the other, he
just wanted to get out of the goddamned truck. "Feel that," Frank
said, slamming the door. He spread his feet and closed his eyes and leaned his
head way back and breathed deeply. "Tune in on that energy."
"Another
thing," Kenny said. "This is open land. Most of the land around here
is posted."
"I'm
cold," Tub said.
Frank
breathed out. "Stop bitching, Tub. Get centered."
"I
wasn't bitching."
"Centered,"
Kenny said. "Next thing you'll be wearing a nightgown, Frank. Selling
flowers out at the airport."
"Kenny,"
Frank said, "you talk too much."
"Okay,"
Kenny said. "I won't say a word. Like I won't say anything about a certain
babysitter."
"What
babysitter?" Tub asked.
"That's
between us," Frank said, looking at Kenny. "That's confidential. You
keep your mouth shut."
Kenny
laughed.
"You're
asking for it," Frank said.
"Asking
for what?"
"You'll
see."
"Hey,"
Tub said, "are we hunting or what?"
They
started off across the field. Tub had trouble getting through the fences. Frank
and Kenny could have helped him; they could have lifted up on the top wire and
stepped on the bottom wire, but they didn't. They stood and watched him. There
were a lot of fences and Tub was puffing when they reached the woods.
They
hunted for over two hours and saw no deer, no tracks, no sign. Finally they
stopped by the creek to eat. Kenny had several slices of pizza and a couple of
candy bars: Frank had a sandwich, an apple, two carrots, and a square of
chocolate; Tub ate one hard-boiled egg and a stick of celery.
"You
ask me how I want to die today," Kenny said. "I'll tell you burn me at
the stake." He turned to Tub. "You still on that diet?" He
winked at Frank.
"What
do you think? You think I like hard-boiled eggs?"
"All
I can say is, it's the first diet I ever heard of where you gained weight from
it."
"Who
said I gained weight?"
"Oh,
pardon me. I take it back. You're just wasting away before my very eyes. Isn't
he, Frank?"
Frank
had his fingers fanned out, tips against the bark of the stump where he'd laid
his food. His knuckles were hairy. He wore a heavy wedding band and on his
right pinky another gold ring with a flat face and an "F" in what
looked like diamonds. He turned the ring this way and that. "Tub," he
said, "you haven't seen your own balls in ten years."
Kenny
doubled over laughing. He took off his hat and slapped his leg with it.
"What
am I supposed to do?" Tub said. "It's my glands."
They
left the woods and hunted along the creek. Frank and Kenny worked one bank and
Tub worked the other, moving upstream. The snow was light but the drifts were
deep and hard to move through. Wherever Tub looked the surface was smooth,
undisturbed, and after a time he lost interest. He stopped looking for tracks
and just tried to keep up with Frank and Kenny on the other side. A moment came
when he realized he hadn't seen them in a long time. The breeze was moving from
him to them; when it stilled he could sometimes hear Kenny laughing but that
was all. He quickened his pace, breasting hard into the drifts, fighting away
the snow with his knees and elbows. He heard his heart and felt the flush on
his face but he never once stopped.
Tub
caught up with Frank and Kenny at a bend of the creek. They were standing on a
log that stretched from their bank to his. Ice had backed up behind the log.
Frozen reeds stuck out, barely nodding when the air moved.
"See
anything?" Frank asked.
Tub
shook his head.
There
wasn't much daylight left and they decided to head back toward the road. Frank
and Kenny crossed the log and they started downstream, using the trail Tub had
broken. Before they had gone very far Kenny stopped. "Look at that,"
he said, and pointed to some tracks going from the creek back into the woods.
Tub's footprints crossed right over them. There on the bank, plain as day, were
several mounds of deer sign. "What do you think that is, Tub?" Kenny
kicked at it. "Walnuts on vanilla icing?"
"I
guess I didn't notice."
Kenny
looked at Frank.
"I
was lost."
"You
were lost. Big deal."
They
followed the tracks into the woods. The deer had gone over a fence half buried
in drifting snow. A no hunting sign was nailed to the top of one of the posts.
Frank laughed and said the son of a bitch could read. Kenny wanted to go after
him but Frank said no way, the people out here didn't mess around. He thought
maybe the farmer who owned the land would let them use it if they asked. Kenny
wasn't so sure. Anyway, he figured that by the time they walked to the truck
and drove up the road and doubled back it would be almost dark.
"Relax,"
Frank said. "You can't hurry nature. If we're meant to get that deer,
we'll get it. If we're not, we won't."
They
started back toward the truck. This part of the woods was mainly pine. The snow
was shaded and had a glaze on it. It held up Kenny and Frank but Tub kept
falling through. As he kicked forward, the edge of the crust bruised his shins.
Kenny and Frank pulled ahead of him, to where he couldn't even hear their
voices any more. He sat down on a stump and wiped his face. He ate both the
sandwiches and half the cookies, taking his own sweet time. It was dead quiet.
When Tub crossed the last fence into the road the truck started moving. Tub had
to run for it and just managed to grab hold of the tailgate and hoist himself
into the bed. He lay there, panting. Kenny looked out the rear window and
grinned. Tub crawled into the lee of the cab to get out of the freezing wind.
He pulled his earflaps low and pushed his chin into the collar of his coat.
Someone rapped on the window but Tub would not turn around.
He
and Frank waited outside while Kenny went into the farmhouse to ask permission.
The house was old and paint was curling off the sides. The smoke streamed
westward off the top of the chimney, fanning away into a thin gray plume. Above
the ridge of the hills another ridge of blue clouds was rising.
"You've
got a short memory," Tub said.
"What?"
Frank said. He had been staring off.
"I
used to stick up for you."
"Okay,
so you used to stick up for me. What's eating you?"
"You
shouldn't have just left me back there like that."
"You're
a grown-up, Tub. You can take care of yourself. Anyway, if you think you're the
only person with problems I can tell you that you're not."
"Is
there something bothering you, Frank?"
Frank
kicked at a branch poking out of the snow. "Never mind," he said.
"What
did Kenny mean about the babysitter?"
"Kenny
talks too much," Frank said. "You just mind your own business."
Kenny
came out of the farmhouse and gave the thumbs-up and they began walking back
toward the woods. As they passed the barn a large black hound with a grizzled
snout ran out and barked at them. Every time he barked he slid backwards a bit,
like a cannon recoiling. Kenny got down on all fours and snarled and barked
back at him, and the dog slunk away into the barn, looking over his shoulder
and peeing a little as he went.
"That's
an old-timer," Frank said. "A real graybeard. Fifteen years if he's a
day."
"Too
old," Kenny said.
Past
the barn they cut off through the fields. The land was unfenced and the crust
was freezing up thick and they made good time. They kept to the edge of the
field until they picked up the tracks again and followed them into the woods,
farther and farther back toward the hills. The trees started to blur with the
shadows and the wind rose and needled their faces with the crystals it swept
off the glaze. Finally they lost the tracks.
Kenny
swore and threw down his hat. "This is the worst day of hunting I ever
had, bar none." He picked up his hat and brushed off the snow. "This
will be the first season since I was fifteen I haven't got my deer."
"It
isn't the deer," Frank said. "It's the hunting. There are all these
forces out here and you just have to go with them."
"You
go with them," Kenny said. "I came out here to get me a deer, not
listen to a bunch of hippie bullshit. And if it hadn't been for dimples here I
would have, too."
"That's
enough," Frank said.
"And
you--you're so busy thinking about that little jailbait of yours you wouldn't
know a deer if you saw one."
"Drop
dead," Frank said, and turned away.
Kenny
and Tub followed him back across the fields. When they were coming up to the
barn Kenny stopped and pointed. "I hate that post," he said. He
raised his rifle and fired. It sounded like a dry branch cracking. The post
splintered along its right side, up toward the top. "There," Kenny
said. "It's dead."
"Knock
it off," Frank said, walking ahead.
Kenny
looked at Tub. He smiled. "I hate that tree," he said, and fired
again. Tub hurried to catch up with Frank. He started to speak but just then
the dog ran out of the barn and barked at them. "Easy, boy," Frank
said.
"I
hate that dog." Kenny was behind them.
"That's
enough," Frank said. "You put that gun down."
Kenny
fired. The bullet went in between the dog's eyes. He sank right down into the
snow, his legs splayed out on each side, his yellow eyes open and staring.
Except for the blood he looked like a small bearskin rug. The blood ran down
the dog's muzzle into the snow.
They
all looked at the dog lying there.
"What
did he ever do to you?" Tub asked. "He was just barking."
Kenny
turned to Tub. "I hate you."
Tub
shot from the waist. Kenny jerked backward against the fence and buckled to his
knees. He folded his hands across his stomach. "Look," he said. His
hands were covered with blood. In the dusk his blood was more blue than red. It
seemed to below to the shadows. It didn't seem out of place. Kenny eased
himself onto his back. He sighed several times, deeply. "You shot
me," he said.
"I
had to," Tub said. He knelt beside Kenny. "Oh God," he said.
"Frank. Frank."
Frank
hadn't moved since Kenny killed the dog.
"Frank!"
Tub shouted.
"I
was just kidding around," Kenny said. "It was a joke. Oh!" he
said, and arched his back suddenly. "Oh!" he said again, and dug his
heels into the snow and pushed himself along on his head for several feet. Then
he stopped and lay there, rocking back and forth on his heels and head like a
wrestler doing warm-up exercises.
Frank
roused himself. "Kenny," he said. He bent down and put his gloved
hand on Kenny's brow. "You shot him," he said to Tub.
"He
made me," Tub said.
"No
no no," Kenny said.
Tub
was weeping from the eyes and nostrils. His whole face was wet. Frank closed
his eyes, then looked down at Kenny again. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere,"
Kenny said, "just everywhere."
"Oh
God," Tub said.
"I
mean where did it go in?" Frank said.
"Here."
Kenny pointed at the wound in his stomach. It was welling slowly with blood.
"You're
lucky," Frank said. "It's on the left side. It missed your appendix.
If it had hit your appendix you'd really be in the soup." He turned and
threw up onto the snow, holding his sides as if to keep warm.
"Are
you all right?" Tub said.
"There's
some aspirin in the truck," Kenny said.
"I'm
all right," Frank said.
"We'd
better call an ambulance," Tub said.
"Jesus,"
Frank said. "What are we going to say?"
"Exactly
what happened," Tub said. "He was going to shoot me but I shot him
first."
"No
sir!" Kenny said. "I wasn't either!"
Frank
patted Kenny on the arm. "Easy does it, partner." He stood.
"Let's go."
Tub
picked up Kenny's rifle as they walked down toward the farmhouse. "No
sense leaving this around," he said. "Kenny might get ideas."
"I
can tell you one thing," Frank said. "You've really done it this
time. This definitely takes the cake."
They
had to knock on the door twice before it was opened by a thin man with lank
hair. The room behind him was filled with smoke. He squinted at them. "You
get anything?" he asked.
"No,"
Frank said.
"I
knew you wouldn't. That's what I told the other fellow."
"We've
had an accident."
The
man looked past Frank and tub into the gloom. "Shot your friend, did
you?"
Frank
nodded.
"I
did," Tub said.
"I
suppose you want to use the phone."
"If
it's okay."
The
man in the door looked behind him, then stepped back. Frank and Tub followed him
into the house. There was a woman sitting by the stove in the middle of the
room. The stove was smoking badly. She looked up and then down again at the
child asleep in her lap. Her face was white and damp; strands of hair were
pasted across her forehead. Tub warmed his hands over the stove while Frank
went into the kitchen to call. The man who had let them in stood at the window,
his hands in his pockets.
"My
friend shot your dog," Tub said.
The
man nodded without turning around. "I should have done it myself. I just
couldn't." "He loved that dog so much," the woman said. The
child squirmed and she rocked it.
"You
asked him to?" Tub said. "You asked him to shoot your dog?"
"He
was old and sick. Couldn't chew his food any more. I would have done it myself
but I don't have a gun."
"You
couldn't have anyway," the woman said. "Never in a million
years."
The
man shrugged.
Frank
came out of the kitchen. "We'll have to take him ourselves. The nearest
hospital is fifty miles from here and all their ambulances are out
anyway."
The
woman knew a shortcut but the directions were complicated and Tub had to write
them down. The man told them where they could find some boards to carry Kenny
on. He didn't have a flashlight but he said he would leave the porch light on.
It
was dark outside. The clouds were low and heavy-looking and the wind blew in
shrill gusts. There was a screen loose on the house and it banged slowly and
then quickly as the wind rose again. They could hear it all the way to the
barn. Frank went for the boards while Tub looked for Kenny, who was not where
they had left him. Tub found him farther up the drive, lying on his stomach.
"You okay?" Tub said.
"It
hurts."
"Frank
says it missed your appendix."
"I
already had my appendix out."
"All
right," Frank said, coming up to them. "We'll have you in a nice warm
bed before you can say Jack Robinson." He put the two boards on Kenny's
right side.
"Just
as long as I don't have one of those male nurses," Kenny said.
"Ha
ha," Frank said. "That's the spirit. Get ready, set, -over you
go-" and he rolled Kenny onto the boards. Kenny screamed and kicked his
legs in the air. When he quieted down Frank and Tub lifted the boards and
carried him down the drive. Tub had the back end, and with the snow blowing in his
face he had trouble with his footing. Also he was tired and the man inside had
forgotten to turn the porch light on. Just past the house Tub slipped and threw
out his hands to catch himself. The boards fell and Kenny tumbled out and
rolled to the bottom of the drive, yelling all the way. He came to rest against
the right front wheel of the truck.
"You
fat moron," Frank said. "You aren't good for diddly."
Tub
grabbed Frank by the collar and back him hard up against the fence. Frank tried
to pull his hands away but Tub shook him and snapped his head back and forth
and finally Frank gave up.
"What
do you know about fat," Tub said. "What do you know about
glands." As he spoke he kept shaking Frank. "What do you know about
me."
"All
right," Frank said.
"No
more," Tub said.
"All
right."
"No
more talking to me like that. No more watching. No more laughing."
"Okay,
Tub. I promise."
Tub
let go of Frank and leaned his forehead against the fence. His arms hung
straight at his sides.
"I'm
sorry, Tub." Frank touched him on the shoulder. "I'll be down at the
truck."
Tub
stood by the fence for a while and then got the rifles off the porch. Frank had
rolled Kenny back onto the boards and they lifted him into the bed of the
truck. Frank spread the seat blankets over him. "Warm enough?" he
asked.
Kenny
nodded.
"Okay.
Now how does reverse work on this thing?"
"All
the way to the left and up." Kenny sat up as Frank started forward to the
cab. "Frank!"
"What?"
"If
it sticks don't force it.
The
truck started right away. "One thing," Frank said, "you've got
to hand it to the Japanese. A very ancient, very spiritual culture and they can
still make a hell of a truck." He glanced over at Tub. "Look, I'm
sorry. I didn't know you felt that way, honest to God I didn't. You should have
said something."
"I
did."
"When?
Name one time."
"A
couple of hours ago."
"I
guess I wasn't paying attention."
"That's
true, Frank," Tub said. "You don't pay attention very much."
"Tub,"
Frank said. "what happened back there, I should have been more
sympathetic. I realize that. You were going through a lot. I just want you to
know it wasn't your fault. He was asking for it."
"You
think so?"
"Absolutely.
It was him or you. I would have done the same thing in your shoes, no
question."
The
wind was blowing into their faces. The snow was a moving white wall in front of
their lights; it swirled into the cab through the hole in the windshield and
settled on them. Tub clapped his hands and shifted around to stay warm, but it
didn't work.
"I'm
going to have to stop," Frank said. "I can't feel my fingers."
Up
ahead they saw some lights off the road. It was a tavern. Outside in the
parking lot there were several jeeps and trucks. A couple of them had deer
strapped across their hoods. Frank parked and they went back to Kenny.
"How you doing, partner," Frank said.
"I'm
cold."
"Well,
don't feel like the Lone Ranger. It's worse inside, take my word for it. You
should get that windshield fixed."
"Look,"
Tub said, "He threw the blankets off." They were lying in a heap
against the tailgate.
"Now
look, Kenny," Frank said, "it's no use whining about being cold if
you're not going to try and keep warm. You've got to do your share." He
spread the blankets over Kenny and tucked them in at the corners.
"They
blew off."
"Hold
on to them then."
"Why
are we stopping, Frank?"
"Because
if me and Tub don't get warmed up we're going to freeze solid and then where
will you be?" He punched Kenny lightly in the arm. "So just hold your
horses."
The
bar was full of men in colored jackets, mostly orange. The waitress brought
coffee. "Just what the doctor ordered," Frank said, cradling the
steaming cup in his hand. His skin was bone white. "Tub, I've been
thinking. What you said about me not paying attention, that's true."
"It's
okay."
"No.
I really had that coming. I guess I've just been a little too interested in old
number one. I've had a lot on my mind. Not that that's any excuse."
"Forget
it, Frank. I sort of lost my temper back there. I guess we're all a little on
edge."
Frank
shook his head. "It isn't just that."
"You
want to talk about it?"
"Just
between us, Tub?"
"Sure,
Frank. Just between us."
"Tub,
I think I'm going to be leaving Nancy."
"Oh, Frank. Oh, Frank." Tub sat back and shook his
head.
Frank
reached out and laid his hand on Tub's arm. "Tub, have you ever been
really in love?"
"Well--"
"I
mean -really in love." He squeezed Tub's wrist. "With your whole
being."
"I
don't know. When you put it like that, I don't know."
"You
haven't then. Nothing against you, but you'd know it if you had." Frank
let go of Tub's arm. "This isn't just some bit of fluff I'm talking
about."
"Who
is she, Frank?"
Frank
paused. He looked into his empty cup. "Roxanne Brewer."
"Cliff
Brewer's kid? The babysitter?"
"You
can't just put people into categories like that, Tub. That's why the whole
system is wrong. And that's why this country is going to hell in a
rowboat."
"But
she can't be more than-"Tub shook his head.
"Fifteen.
She'll be sixteen in May." Frank smiled. "May fourth, three
twenty-seven p.m. Hell, Tub, a hundred years ago she'd have been an old maid by
that age. Juliet was only thirteen."
"Juliet? Juliet Miller? Jesus, Frank, she doesn't even have
breasts. She doesn't even wear a top to her bathing suit. She's still
collecting frogs."
"Not
Juliet Miller. The real Juliet. Tub, don't you see how you're dividing people
up into categories? He's an executive, she's a secretary, he's a truck driver,
she's fifteen years old. Tub, this so-called babysitter, this so-called
fifteen-year-old has more in her little finger than most of us have in our
entire bodies. I can tell you this little lady is something special."
Tub
nodded. "I know the kids like her."
"She's
opened up whole worlds to me that I never knew were there."
"What
does Nancy think about all of this?"
"She
doesn't know."
"You
haven't told her?'
"Not
yet. It's not so easy. She's been damned good to me all these years. Then
there's the kids to consider." The brightness in Frank's eyes trembled and
he wiped quickly at them with the back of his hand. "I guess you think I'm
a complete bastard."
"No,
Frank. I don't think that."
"Well,
you ought to."
"Frank,
when you've got a friend it means you've always got someone on your side, no
matter what. That's the way I feel about it anyway."
"You
mean that, Tub?"
"Sure
I do."
Frank
smiled. "You don't know how good it feels to hear you say that."
Kenny
had tried to get out of the truck but he hadn't made it. He was jackknifed over
the tailgate, his head hanging above the bumper. They lifted him back into the
bed, and covered him again. He was sweating and his teeth chattered. "It
hurts, Frank."
"It
wouldn't hurt so much if you just stayed put. Now we're going to the hospital.
Go that? Say it -I'm going to the hospital."
"I'm
going to the hospital."
"Again."
"I'm
going to the hospital."
"Now
just keep saying that to yourself and before you know it we'll be there."
After
they had gone a few miles Tub turned to Frank. "I just pulled a real
boner," he said.
"What's
that?"
"I
left the directions on the table back there."
"That's
okay. I remember them pretty well."
The
snowfall lightened and the clouds began to roll back off the fields, but it was
no warmer and after a time both Frank and Tub were bitten through and shaking.
Frank almost didn't make it around a curve, and they decided to stop at the
next roadhouse.
There
was an automatic hand-dryer in the bathroom and they took turns standing in
front of it, opening their jackets and shirts and letting the jet of hot air
breathe across their faces and chests.
"You
know," Tub said, "what you told me back there, I appreciate it.
Trusting me."
Frank
opened and closed his fingers in front of the nozzle. "The way I look at
it, Tub, no man is an island. You've got to trust someone."
"Frank-"
Frank
waited.
"When
I said that about my glands, that wasn't true. The truth is I just shovel it
in."
"Well,
Tub--"
"Day
and night, Frank. In the shower. On the freeway." He turned and let the
air play over his back. "I've even got stuff in the paper towel machine at
work."
"There's
nothing wrong with your glands at all?" Frank had taken his boots and
socks off. He held first his right, then his left foot up to the nozzle.
"No.
There never was."
"Does
Alice know?" The machine went off and Frank started lacing up his boots.
"Nobody
knows. That's the worst of it, Frank. Not the being fat, I never got any big
kick out of being thin, but the lying. Having to lead a double life like a spy
or a hit man. This sounds strange but I feel sorry for those guys, I really do.
I know what they go through. Always having to think about what you say and do.
Always feeling like people are watching you, trying to catch you at something.
Never able to just be yourself. Like when I make a big deal about only having
an orange for breakfast and then scarf all the way to work. Oreos, Mars Bars,
Twinkies. Sugar Babies. Snickers." Tub glanced at Frank and looked quickly
away. "Pretty disgusting, isn't it?"
"Tub.
Tub." Frank shook his head. "Come on." He took Tub's arm and led
him into the restaurant half of the bar. "My friend is hungry," he
told the waitress. "Bring four orders of pancakes, plenty of butter and
syrup."
"Frank-"
"Sit
down."
When
the dishes came Frank carved out slabs of butter and just laid them on the
pancakes. Then he emptied the bottle of syrup, moving it back and forth over
the plates. He leaned forward on his elbows and rested his chin in one hand.
"Go on, Tub."
Tub
ate several mouthfuls, then started to wipe his lips. Frank took the napkin
away from him. "No wiping," he said. Tub kept at it. The syrup
covered his chin; it dripped to a point like a goatee. "Weigh in,
Tub," Frank said, pushing another fork across the table. "Get down to
business." Tub took the fork in his left hand and lowered his head and
started really chowing down. "Clean your plate," Frank said when the
pancakes were gone, and Tub lifted each of the four plates and licked it clean.
He sat back, trying to catch his breath.
"Beautiful,"
Frank said. "Are you full?"
"I'm
full," Tub said. "I've never been so full."
Kenny's
blankets were bunched up against the tailgate again.
"They
must have blown off," Tub said.
"They're
not doing him any good," Frank said. We might as well get some use out of
them."
Kenny
mumbled. Tub bent over him. "What? Speak up."
"I'm
going to the hospital," Kenny said.
"Attaboy,"
Frank said.
The
blankets helped. The wind still got their faces and Frank's hands but it was
much better. The fresh snow on the road and the trees sparkled under the beam
of the headlight. Squares of light from farmhouse windows fell onto the blue
snow in the fields.
"Frank,"
Tub said after a time, "you know that farmer? He told Kenny to kill the
dog."
"You're
kidding!" Frank leaded forward considering. "That Kenny. What a
card." He laughed and so did Tub. Tub smiled out the back window. Kenny
lay with his arms folded over his stomach, moving his lips at the stars. Right
overhead was the Big Dipper, and behind, hanging between Kenny's toes in the direction
of the hospital, was the North Star, Pole Star, Help to Sailors. As the truck
twisted through the gentle hills the star went back and forth between Kenny's
boots, staying always in his sight. "I'm going to the hospital,"
Kenny said. But he was wrong. They had taken a different turn a long way back.