Coot let his eyes meet the big man’s. The anger behind his face started to make his teeth hurt.

“Bless you, Robert,” said E. P.

“You too,” Coot lied.

The men guided E. P. into the tent. Coot did not follow. He stood in the sunlight and felt sick. He wandered toward the flatbed where Joseph sat. The old man was lying on his back, his legs dangling off the back of the truck. His torso and face were covered with the tarp, draped over himself to shield him from the sun, and he was singing quietly.

Coot lifted the tarp and whispered, “Joseph,”

Joseph kept singing, “Believe me, if all those endearing young charms . . .” He was waving his hands like a bandstand leader.

“Joseph, get up.”

“And around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart would entwine itself verdantly still . . .”

“Joseph, you drunk goat, get up.”

He laughed at Coot and coughed a few times. He kept singing. “As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets, the same look which she turn’d when he rose . . .”

“Joseph.” Coot pinched the man’s side as hard as he could.

“Ouch!” said Joseph. “Don’t be violent with your elders.”

“Joseph, would you listen to me? I’ve changed my mind.”

“You did? Well, it’s too late, I already drank it all.”

“No, not about that. I’ve changed my mind about the other thing.”

“What other thing? What do you mean? You mean you’re finally gonna let me teach you to play the accordion?”

“Will you straighten up?” said Coot. “I mean I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“I’ll run whatever game you wanna run on these people.”

Joseph leaned forward to get a better look at Coot. “I thought you were a man of convictions.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“It’s personal.”

Joseph showed a big smile, shielded himself with his hat, and turned his empty bottle upside down. He tossed the bottle to Coot. “J. Wilbur Chaplain’s gonna be awful disappointed in you, son.”

Sixty-One
Carry Me

The field stretched toward the end of the world. It was dark and looked soft against the moonlit, violet sky. Pin-pricked stars shined above the dark shapes of the trees and lent their light to those below. Pete and Ruth high-stepped through the tall grass, making a scent for the dogs to follow.

Pete carried a scattergun beneath his arm. Ruth followed closely. Pete paused now and then to consider where it was they were heading. Pete had left many scent trails before, but never one this long. This trail was two miles long, and Ruth could tell he was nervous that the dogs wouldn’t be able to follow it. His pride hinged on their success.

When Pete had asked Ruth to come with him, she agreed immediately, but she hadn’t worn the right shoes for a hike through the mud.