William Gass - Omensetter’s Luck

Here's Furber, finally. Out without a boot on. Fire up, Furber. Your ears look nipped like the end of your nose. Watch for your collar or you'll have water down your back.

Stitt's voice welled from the hall. Don't bring him in here,I've had enough, I don't want to see him any. And Chamlay said of course not, Boylee, we'll leave him outside, it can't hurt him any. Tott, you look old. Then Chamlay came to the front room unbuttoning his coat. George sat on a ladder chair holding a green polka-dot bandana over his eyes and his head in his hands while Luther and Menger warmed at the fire. They had fed it until it flamed and crackled furiously and now they held out their hands in fists, slowly unfolding their fingers and spreading them slowly into fans, solemnly and slowly revolving, keeping their hands in front of them and rubbing them together carefully when the blaze was at their backs, jigging their feet in a trot, wrinkling up their noses, wiggling their ears and making dreadful faces to loosen the skin. There was a pile of outer clothing in the corner by the woodbox and Curtis threw his fur coat down on top of his hat. Gobbets of snow were melting into slush. The slush fed pools which finally burst and ran in streaks toward the low side of the room, channeled unpredictably by the rough floor. Fixed in her rocker, upright, all her blood in her stomach, dark-eyed and staring, Lucy Omensetter watched. From time to time the baby moved and coughed in its corner and all the men looked toward it with plainly angry faces, George even raising his and withdrawing the bandana. They returned to themselves as soon as they could manage to. Chamlay smoothed his hair. His badge glittered brightly from his left suspender. It threw a brilliant dot above a picture on the wall, and as he brushed his hair with his fingers, the dot danced, and when his body twisted, it fled on the wall across Menger's chest to plunge unharmed into the fire. Menger began sucking noisily through his teeth and putting his hands over his mouth. Ache ache ache, he muttered. Luther pried his boots off on the woodbox. They fell with a heavy possessive thud and Lucy started up with a cry that she stifled with her fingers. What time is it? Two, said Chamlay. They all murmured. Furber walked unsteadily to the middle of the room. Where's the dog, he said. Luther swore in a whisper. I wish we had something to eat. He held a red-stockinged foot to the fire and wiggled its toes. Meng, see them red ones? First grade. Tott entered. Ought to get yourself some. Last like homemade. I wish we had something hot — some coffee maybe. He hopped. New thing, socks like this. Furber followed the boot tracks like a hunter, bobbing his head. George began to groan and sway. Flecks of ice still clung to his collar, flashing like brilliants. Someone come back here, Stitt was saying, I don't like to be alone. Tott sat slowly to the table and Luther spat in the fire. It had been a mistake, he said, because Stitt thought of himself as a hero now, and Stitt was simply a no account bastard. Curtis wondered whether Luther would rather have met all those limbs himself, both going and coming, and Curtis laughed at his joke without pleasure. He rubbed his eyes and felt tenderly of the lobes of his ears. Menger thought they should have taken Omensetter with them. That was the real mistake, he said. Brackett doesn't seem to be around, Tott said hoarsely, and then looked up in surprise. I'm hoarse, he said. No, George said, he ain't around, is he? No I don't believe he is. I just guess he isn't. No. He ain't. And Chamlay wondered whether he wasn't out tending his crops; it was the middle of the morning. Yeah, he's out, George said. He's fertilizing snow. He's sowing… Luther beat his belly, indicating hunger. He stared openly at Lucy. He balanced on one foot, arms outstretched. Lucy held herself on the edge of the rocker. She bowed like a doll from the waist, canting her chin and lifting her arms, about to speak, while her eyes, unblinking, leaped from man to man with hardly a turn of her head. Her voice wandered a moment and then sank out of hearing, her eyes teetered fearfully back and forth until, with a sigh, she slipped and her gaze fell between them to the floor where it washed from side to side, repeatedly, like water in the bottom of a boat. Chamlay brushed by Furber, who tottered queerly, and Menger lifted a stick of wood, measuring the fire.

Dear lady, Furber began, gesturing strangely.

Chamlay sat stiffly at the table, drawing bills from his pocket and laying them down with meticulous care: smoothing them out, pressing them flat.

Please us and join your daughters, madam, Furber went on, rolling his eyes and looking wildly around. They are caged like birds in the backyard room.

He clutched his chest dramatically.

We shall make your cares, our cares. What shape shall you have them in? Shall they be bats?

Oh stop it, Furber, will you, Menger said.

Shut my shit, is that it?

Jesus—

Any animal, Furber shouted, and all the men stared at him, astonished. We shall take it quickly to our bosoms though they're bitten eachly—

Okay, Chamlay said, and he continued laying down the bills.

Antelope, gazelle, giraffe—

Okay!

We shall form, Furber made a sweeping gesture, one brotherly and sexless chest, a plain of duty, madam. And we, from the towers, shall, and steeples of our eyes, inform you, madam, surely, on the instant that, should any incident,

untoward, or — ah, the money!

Furber rushed to Chamlay's side and peered across his shoulder.

How much, how much, he hissed.

Chamlay swept up the pile and held it out to Lucy. The rent money, missus, wouldn't you say?

Furber leaned weakly against the table, quiet except for his hands which passed frantically over his body — rubbing his face, picking lightly at his clothing, stretching his collar, plunging from there into pockets, pulling on buttons.

You comprehend the significance of this, I trust, Chamlay went on in his solemn interrogator's voice. It was found in Henry's pocket. All ones. In fact we had to pry his fingers loose. I take it, missus, that he died a short while after getting it. Would that be reasonable, you think?

Furber reached Chamlay with a trembling finger.

Easy, he whispered, but Chamlay shrugged.

Henry had his hand in quite a stubborn fist, he said. Like this money mattered to him.

Like it was a message to us, Luther said.

Furber was instantly white.

No, he said.

Well, what do you say?

Easy, Curtis, she's not herself. This is no time — she's sick with worry — wouldn't you be? — my god, be kind.

Furber spoke to Chamlay's ear, but Chamlay simply waggled his head.

It's important, missus, Chamlay said. The law has an interest, you know, he went on, a faint smile rising.

.. interest of the law… I'd forgot, Lucy murmured, quite to herself.

The law has an interest. We all have an interest …

… law.

Yes. And why would a person who was about to hang himself hang on so hard to a little money?

Oh yes… and this… you said something of this, Lucy said vaguely.

Well now we have more information. Now we have Henry, and Henry's money.

Henry…

She drew her arms in a tightly protective X across her chest.

George removed his bandana and examined it.

When did Omensetter pay the rent, he said.

In christ's name, gentlemen, another time.

You'll have to tell us, missus, you know, and while we're waiting here we've plenty of time.

Time… yeah. We've plenty of time.

Christ, yes, time, we've sure got that. We've got no damn horses but we've got time.

Menger finally threw the log.

Someone come on back here, Stitt yelled. The lamp is smoking.

What I want to know is why would Henry hang himself so high, Hawkins said. What would be the point of it?