Kent Haruf - Eventide

The boy got out and went up to the house. Raymond sat watching him until the door closed, then drove home. He drove out south and by the time he turned off the highway onto the gravel road he was thinking again about Rose Tyler.

LUTHER AND BETTY WALLACE WOKE TO A SUDDEN pounding on the front door. Who’s out there? he called.

It’s Donna, Betty said. She come back to us.

Maybe it ain’t her, Luther said.

She climbed out of bed and called: Donna, I’m coming, honey.

They went down the hallway, Luther in his underwear, Betty in her worn yellow nightdress, and when Luther opened the door Hoyt Raines shoved violently into the room.

No! Betty cried. You can’t come in here. Get back.

Shut up, Hoyt said. He stood before them, his face ragged and blood-smeared, his ear still bleeding a little, his eyes glassy. You two are going to help me whether you like it or not. Those sonsabitches over at the tavern—

You get out of here, Luther said. Just get out.

Goddamn you, Hoyt said. He hit Luther in the chest and Luther stepped backward and sat down all at once on the couch. I got no damn place else to go, Hoyt said.

You can’t stay here, Betty said. They won’t allow it.

Shut up. Hoyt took her arm and flung her onto the couch beside her husband. Just sit there, he said. And keep your goddamn mouth shut.

He went across to the kitchen sink and ducked his head under the faucet, soaking his head, the blood running thinly from his face over the dirty dishes, and then he stood blindly, his lank hair dripping, and grabbed a dish towel to wipe at his head and neck. Luther and Betty sat on the couch, watching him.

So, you heard what I said. I’m staying here tonight.

You can’t, Betty said.

I told you to shut up. Now by God, shut your mouth. He glared at her. It won’t be long. Just for tonight. Maybe two nights. I don’t know yet. Now I want both of you to go back to your room and stay there and keep quiet.

What are you going to do? Luther said.

I’m staying in that back room. And you listen to me: I’ll kill you if you try to call somebody. I’ll hear you on the phone. He looked at them. Did you hear what I just said?

They looked back at him.

Did you?

We ain’t suppose to talk, Luther said. You said for us to shut up.

Now I’m saying you can talk. Did you hear what I said would happen if you try and call somebody?

Yes.

What’d I say?

You said you’d kill us.

Remember that, Hoyt said. Now get up from there.

He herded them back to their room and shut the door, then walked down the hall to the last room. When he opened the door Joy Rae was sitting up in bed in her nightgown, one hand cupped over her mouth. He walked across the room and pulled her onto her feet, and when she began to scream he slapped her. Stop that, he said. He pulled her out in the hall and into the next room, where Richie was crouched on the floor in his pajamas, waiting in the dark, as if preparing to run off. But seeing Hoyt with his sister he lost control of himself. The front of his pajamas suddenly went damp.

You stupid little son of a bitch, Hoyt said. He shoved Joy Rae into the room and lifted the little boy by the arm. Look at you. He slapped him. The boy slipped out of his hands and fell on the wet dirty carpet.

Now take those goddamn pants off. Get out of them.

The boy whimpered and pulled off the soaked pajamas. Then Hoyt took out his belt and began to whip him. The boy screamed, squirming wildly on the floor, his thin bare legs kicking, his hands reaching out to catch the belt. His sister began to scream too, and Hoyt turned and caught her by the nightgown, lifting it up, and began to whip her legs and thin flanks. He seemed crazed, whipping at both of them in an indiscriminate fury, his face contorted with drink and rage, his arm rising and falling, flailing at them, until Luther appeared in the bedroom doorway. Stop it, Luther shouted. You can’t do that no more, so just stop it. Hoyt turned and walked at him and Luther stepped back and he lashed Luther across the neck and Luther yelped and retreated hollering down the hall. Then Hoyt turned on the children again and went on whipping them until he was sweating and panting. Finally he slammed the door and walked back to Joy Rae’s bedroom at the end of the hall.

When he was gone the two children crawled into the bed, crying and sobbing, scarcely able to breathe, and rubbed at their legs and buttocks. Their legs burned and throbbed. Some of the welts were bleeding. In the brief silence between their sobs they could hear their parents wailing from the room down the hall.

THE NEXT MORNING HOYT HAD LUTHER AND BETTY AND Joy Rae and Richie sit in the living room on the couch. He switched on the television and pulled the heavy window curtains shut. The light from the TV flickered in the shadowy room.

At noon he told Betty to make something to eat, and when she’d heated the frozen pizza he made them sit together at the table. Nobody said anything, and only Hoyt ate very much. After this silent meal he forced them back into the living room where he could watch them.

Once in the long afternoon a car drove up and stopped out front in Detroit Street. When he heard the door of the car shut Hoyt looked past the edge of the curtains, and a sheriff’s deputy was walking up the path toward the door, then the deputy knocked and Hoyt cursed between his teeth. He motioned Betty and the two children back to the bedrooms and hissed at Luther to answer the door. Get rid of him. And you goddamn better remember what I said.

Luther went out onto the porch and talked and answered a few questions in his slow manner. Finally the deputy left and Luther came back in and shut the door. Hoyt came out of the hall and watched through the curtains as the car drove off. Then he sat them down on the couch again, to watch television. In the evening he forced them to their beds and in this way the second night passed in the trailer.

The next morning in the gray dawn he was gone. They came out of their bedrooms and discovered that he had vanished without a sound.

AT DAYBREAK HOYT HAD WALKED ACROSS TOWN TO ELTON Chatfield’s house. He had waited at the curb beside Elton’s old pickup until he came out, then caught a ride with him to the feedlot east of Holt. At the feedlot he entered the office and stood at the desk where the manager was talking on the phone to a cattle buyer. The manager looked up at him and frowned and went on talking. After a while he hung up. What are you doing in here? he said. You’re suppose to be riding pens.

I quit, Hoyt said.

What do you mean you quit?

I come to draw my pay.

The hell you have.

You owe me for two weeks. I’ll take it now.

The manager pushed his hat back on his head. You don’t give much notice, do you. He took out a checkbook from a middle drawer and started to write.

I’ll take it in cash, Hoyt said.

What?

I want cash. I don’t need a check.

Well, I’ll be goddamned. You expect me to come up with cash on a Monday morning.

That’s right.

What if I don’t have no cash?

I’ll take what you got.

He studied Hoyt closely. Where you running off to, Hoyt?

That ain’t none of your business.

Some woman chasing you? he said. He took out his wallet and removed what few bills there were and dropped them forward onto the desktop. Now get your ass out of here.

Hoyt stuffed the bills in his pocket. How about giving me a lift over to the highway? he said.

You want a ride?

I want to get over to the highway.

You better start in to walking then. I wouldn’t give you a lift to a goddamn dog fight. Get the fuck out of here.

Hoyt stood for a moment, looking at him, thinking if there was something he needed to say, then he turned and stepped out of the office into the fenced yard. It was already beginning to warm up, the sun risen higher in the sky, the sky completely clear and blue. He walked out past the cattle yards, where the fat cattle were all feeding at the plank troughs at the fences, and walked out onto the gravel road, headed south toward the highway two miles in the distance. There were fields of corn stubble along the road, and small birds flew up from the ditches, chittering as he approached. A pheasant cackled from across the stubble. When he reached the highway he stood at the roadside, leaning against a signpost, waiting for a ride to come along.