“Boy, I’ll forgive you for being so damned stupid. You’ll find out one of these days that I’m no fool. You can believe me now or not—it makes no difference to me—but sooner or later you will agree and you’ll have to apologize.”

The men grumbled. “That’s right.”

“Now look here, Mister Harper,” Bobby-Joe started very softly, not even turning to face the old man, rather looking up and down the street before him, “Tucker Caliban worked for the Willsons every day of his life. How come he picked Thursday to up and feel his African’s blood.” He turned now. “Tell me that?”

“Well, boy, a good man won’t lie to you; he won’t tell you something is true if he’s not sure. And I’ll tell you right out I can’t answer your question. I just say Tucker Caliban felt the blood and had to move and even though it was different from what the African would-a done, it amounts to the same thing. But why on Thursday? I can’t tell you.” The old man nodded his head as he talked, looking over the roof tops at the sky.

They all heard the clomping of old woman’s shoes, then saw Mister Harper’s daughter. She was fifty-five, a spinster, with limp yellow hair. “You ready to come home and eat, Papa?”

“Yes, honey. Yes, I am.”

“Will some of you men help him down?” She asked that same question each night.

“Well now, I don’t reckon I’ll be coming back tonight, so I’ll see you all tomorrow after church.” Mister Harper was in the street now, his daughter behind him, her hands on the high thronelike back, waiting.

“Yes, sir.” They answered together.

“Good night then. Don’t get into no trouble.” The wheels creaked the old man away.

Once Mister Harper was out of earshot, Bobby-Joe turned to the other men. “You really believe that blood business? You think that explains all this?” He thought that once the old man was gone they would not be so kind to his opinions.

“If that’s what Mister Harper says, it’s got to be part of the answer anyways.” Thomason pushed himself off the wall and started toward the door.

“Yes, that’s so.” Loomis rocked forward and placed his hands on his knees, preparing to get up.

“You really think it’s simple as that?”

“Well, put it this way.” Thomason opened the door, went inside and pressed his nose against the screening. “Can you give a better reason?”

“No.” Bobby-Joe looked at Thomason’s stomach pressed flat against the screen door. “No, I can’t right now. But I’m thinking on it.”

Harry Leland