himself continually and scratched at the hard, reddening lumps on his forearms and thighs.
Judd squeezed glue from a tube and lit a match. He made the flame stroke the rubber like a tiny, scarlet brush. Then he adjusted the patch carefully and pressed it down hard with his palm. The job finished, he grunted in satisfaction and laid the boot aside to let the glue harden and set.
Leaning back in the swing, he extracted a yellow-brown quid of chewing tobacco from his pocket, blew away the bits of sawdust that had stuck to it, and tore off a chew with his teeth.
âSoon be dark,â Kevin said.
He had known better than to speak before his father finished his task. The man smiled. Judd laughed rarely, except when he was drunk, and he seldom smiled.
Judd gestured toward the sky.
âPretty, ainât it?â
âYeah,â Kevin agreed.
As always, their voices, in speaking to one another, were formal, muted with shyness.
âSkeeters botherinâ yuh?â
âA little bit, mebbe.â
âEver hear the story about the Irishmen and the skeeters?â
âGee, no.â
Kevin shook himself and changed his position in the grass. The ground beneath his body was turning cool.
âWell, it seems as though there was two Irishmen that hadnât never seen a skeeter in their life . . . I dunno, but I guess there ainât no skeeters in Ireland. Mebbe, this is the only country thatâs got skeeters. I dunno . . . Anyway, that donât matter none. The story is, Pat and Mike was campinâ out fer the night â in a tent. And they was beinâ skinned alive by skeeters. Why, they was skeeters big as sparrows! And they stung jist like bumble bees! And after a while, Pat and Mike decided to blow out the lantern so the skeeters couldnât see them! Well, that was all right for a spell, but then the lightninâ bugs started cominâ in. And Mike wakes up and sees them lightninâ bugs and he grabs the quilts off Pat and he says, âWake up, Pat. Bejabers,â he says, âTheyâre cominâ back with lanterns!ââ
Judd chuckled and repeated the words: âBejabers, Pat! Theyâre cominâ back with lanterns!â
Kevin doubled over with laughter. He always responded almost hysterically to his fatherâs rare jokes, not as much because they were funny as because he was overjoyed to find his father in a mood for such stories. Now he laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks and he gasped for breath, and Judd, chuckling complacently and chewing his tobacco, repeated the line again and again.
âBejabers, Pat, theyâre cominâ back with lanterns!â
*
When they went into the house, Mary, observing Juddâs apparent good humour, gave him the letter.
âI donât know what made me forget this,â she said. âIt came in the mail yesterday, but I forgot to tell you . . .â
Judd crushed the envelope in his fist. He went to the cot and sat down with his head in his hands. After a long moment he said, âThe damnâ lawyers will hound a man tuh death. Theyâll badger a man right intuh his grave.â
Mary and Kevin sat in silent watchfulness, afraid of what might come next.
âI never should of bought this damn shack,â Judd growled. âI shoulda knowed better than to of bought it.â
âMaybe Hod Rankine will lend us the money,â Mary said.
Hod Rankine was the owner of the saw mill.
âYuh think Iâd ask that bastard fer anythinâ? He wouldnât give a man the parinâs off his toenails!â
Kevin choked back a giggle. Judd glared at him hatefully. âWhatâs so damn funny?â he roared.
âNothinâ,â Kevin gulped. âNothinâ.â
âEh! Yuh wonât think bills is so damn funny when yuh start payinâ them yourself. I wasnât much oldern you when my old man put me out tuh dig fer my