A Gathering of Old Men Read Online Free

between his knees, and she sitting on the banister closer to him than she was to me, her aunt, or her uncle? How many times? How many times? How many times?
    I turned back to her. But before I could open my mouth, she was already saying it again. “I did it.”
    “What I ought to do is get away from here,” I told her. “That’s what I should’ve done years ago. But I don’t have any sense. I never had any sense. Have I?”
    “You and Lou are all that I have to turn to,” she said.
    “Sure,” I said. “Two of a kind. Both fools. We both should’ve gone other directions years ago. But no, no.”
    “Go talk to Janey,” she said.
    “I didn’t say anything about going along—”
    “Make her give you some names,” she said. She had not heard one word that I had said. “Lot of names,” she said. “Twelve-gauge shotguns and number five shells. Empty number five shells. When Mapes gets here, I’m going to need a lot of empty number five shells.”
    “Sure,” I said. “Because that’s the size he used on Beau.”
    That quieted her for a second, but only a second. Then she was right back again.
    “Put Janey out on the west gallery to look out for Lou. When Lou passes by the house, call Mapes. Don’t call Mapes till Lou passes by. I want Lou here first. If you ever loved this family, if you ever loved me. Please.”
    “I hope I didn’t,” I said, looking at her. “I hope I had never heard of any of you.”
    I looked across the toes of those cowboy boots at Mathu squatting there with that shotgun. He had lit another cigarette. He wasn’t even looking toward us anymore. He was looking down the quarters. Toward what? There was nothing to see from here but the tall blood weeds that grew on the ditch bank and beside the road. I turned away without saying another word.
    It took me two or three minutes to get back to Marshall House. I started blowing the horn before I came into the yard, and by the time I stopped the car Janey was already out there. Jack was still asleep in the swing.
    “Get that apple pie off the back seat and follow me,” I told her. “Where’s Bea?”
    “The wes’ garry,” Janey said.
    “Jack?” I said, going up the steps. “Jack?”
    “He can’t hear you,” Janey said.
    I went over to the swing and shook him. “Jack? Jack?”
    “It’s no use,” Janey said.
    “Jack?” I called, shaking him again. He didn’t even grunt. “Oh, the hell with him. He never wanted any part of it anyhow.”
    Janey and I went inside. While she took the pie to the kitchen, I went out to the west gallery looking for Bea. I found her sitting in her rocking chair by the door, gazing across the flower garden toward the trees in the outer pasture. Beyond the trees was the road that led you down into the quarters. At the mouth of the road was the main highway, heading toward Bayonne, and just on the other side of the highway was the St. Charles River. A light breeze had just risen up from the river, and I caught a faint odor from the sweet-olive bush which stood in the far right corner of the garden.
    “Bea, I have to talk to you,” I said.
    “That’s you, Merle?” she said, looking over her shoulder at me. “Good. Now I can have my pea picker. It’s almost one o’clock. Where’s Janey? Oh, Janey?” she called.
    “Bea,” I said, standing in front of her. “We don’t have time for pea pickers, Bea.”
    “Nonsense,” she said. “When didn’t you have time for a pea picker? Where is Janey?”
    “Bea,” I said. “Don’t you know what’s happened?”
    “I don’t care what’s happened,” she said. She looked back toward the screen door. “Janey?” she called.
    “Yes, Ma’am?” Janey said, coming outside.
    “You know what time it is?” Bea asked, looking up at her.
    Janey looked at me. She didn’t know what to do.
    “Bea,” I said. “A man is dead. A man is dead in the quarters, Bea. Beau Boutan is dead.”
    “Well?” she said. “What can I do about it? People die