William Gass: Omensetter’s Luck

Funny. I shouldn't be hoarse. It's maybe my tonsils, Tott said. Did Orcutt ever tell you about his cut-rate tonsillectomy?

Hawkins pulled tenderly at his nose.

Say, how's the quality of that poky-dot, George? That was a fine lot. There's no more green in the store. I think that's right. There's no more green.

It's just a spotty snot rag, like any other, George said sourly.

Now we have Henry and Henry's money…

Yes. . you have that.

Oh no it's not. The green? George — on my honor, those were first class.

What would he hang himself at all for, Menger said, blowing his nose in the fire with a crisp snap of his fingers. His life was all right. He had no complaints.

Ah there you are gravely mistaken, Menger, Furber said stepping toward him. The great theological question, gentlemen, he said, turning gently around, is not the existence of evil — no, gentlemen, heaven forbid — the great question concerns, rather, the real presence of good; and the great moral question, gentlemen, he said, still swinging slowly, is not the evidence of freedom, gentlemen — lord love us, we've a lot — but the very possibility of law itself.

What's he saying now?

Shut up, Jethro.

Shut. Shut. Shall I? Shall I shut?

Yes, godammit, shut.

I'm ill … ill… quite ill.

Jesus.

Why would he go that far in the woods, like he never wanted to be found?

George tenderly covered his eye. Out of the cold, it was swelling badly.

Someone come back here for god's sake.

A simple fracture, it looked like to me, Menger muttered.

Chamlay rose and flourished the bills.

Here is the money, missus, he said.

He ran a thumb under his left suspender. The dot flew.

It was in Henry's pocket — this money, here, was. He had his fist real heavy on it when he died. Like Luther says, there was a message in it, a message Henry wanted to send to his friends — at the moment of his death.

Chamlay paused.

Right in the very middle of his dying, you might say. Now Henry — you follow me, missus? you don't seem to be following — Henry was hanging in a tree when we found him, considerable high, far in the woods. He had your rent money in his pocket. You don't deny that's what it is — this money? And his fist was closed tight over it — a sign, I'd say, just like Luther says. Clenched… Tight… Quite a piece in the woods he was, and high, where no one would think to look, very high, in a tree hard to climb.

Curtis, for the love of god—

You comprehend the significance of this?

Where's Orcutt, Stitt shouted. Where is he? What's keeping him?

Orcutt, Lucy said, rising stiffly, releasing the rocker to spill its shadow up the wall.

She was still holding herself tightly by the shoulders and packing her breasts beneath her arms.

The gentle doctor, said Jethro Furber. He's coming?

He's been sent for, yes, but he had to be hunted up… it's cold and now it's snowing.

Brackett went?

I'm sure he had that thought, he—

Knox went. When Boylee fell. He took our horses too, I hope, what he could gather up, Chamlay said. That was hours ago now. Anyway Knox went and not your husband to my knowledge

You don't know, Curtis.

Furber spread his hands. They fluttered uncontrollably.

Curtis doesn't know. I talked to him and it was in his mind. I talked to him myself and I could tell. It was surely his intention—

That murdering bastard, Hawkins said.

You detestable jackal, filthy swine!

Furber wobbled across the room and fell on Hawkins who held him away in surprise and then with a laugh pushed him down into the pile of clothing which shifted and gave way under him, rolling him off.

By, you've changed the roll on your piano, he said.

Chamlay was angry. George took down his bandana and said: I can't open my eye — see? — it's swollen shut. Menger faced the fire, muttering rapidly. Finally Furber turned up and sat quietly, saliva running from his mouth.

You speak too previous, Luther, nothing's proved, Chamlay said. Like I said, missus, where we found him he was high. He had no reason to hang himself. And he had your rent.

Why don't you ask her where he is, Curt? What the hell, let's find out something.

Wait now, Menger, hold a moment. I'm doing this, and that was coming up.

Chamlay fluttered the money.

Ones, he said. Now what would your opinion — missus — be? I say, and Luther says, it was a sign. What do you think, missus? What would you think if you was us? What do you say?

She fell quietly, uncaught.

Stitt began to shout and George to rock in his chair, cradling his head.

I'm not used to this — it hurts.

I know, Georgie, just relax, Menger said.

I think I heard the back door, Luther said, I think those kids went out. You've boots on, Menger, go and see.

My brother's hurt, Menger said resentfully.

Chamlay put the folded money neatly on the table and placed his hands gingerly over his ears. Furber was carefully gathering her up.

She's too heavy for me, he said, but everyone kept their eyes averted and no one offered to help. Jews tear their clothes up, Furber murmured, struggling. Wise.

He wavered in front of Chamlay.

You know how long it's been since I've eaten?

Chamlay did not reply. He tenderly touched his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

We're well met, madame, Furber said, may I make a lewd suggestion?

Stop babbling, Furber, Hawkins said, you make me sick. A flag-switcher — you sonofabitch.

I am Philly Kinsman, the celebrated bandsman, Furber sang, you fellows may have heard of me.

Help Jethro with her, Luther, will you, Chamlay said, he's unable.

No help from swine, Furber cried, beginning to move. I didn't believe, he whispered to her, I only imagined; I never knew, how was I to know that what I said was true?

Chamlay jerked about and leaned over the table to peer through the front window, rubbing circles on the glass with his sleeve. Tott had hidden his head in his arms.

Singing, Furber lurched down the hall.

And I've a dick that's like the stick I use to beat the boom-a-lay.

Hawkins laughed.

Nuts just nuts.

Stitt began obscenities.

Olus Knox and Doctor Orcutt, red-faced and tightly wrapped, burst in, snow swirling around them, snow on their caps and collars, snow in the creases of their mittens, snow up their legs to the thigh.

Well Orcutt, Chamlay said, it's good you're here.

Good, is it, Orcutt said, stamping his feet and shaking himself. I've never been so cold. Everybody best be dead or in that neighborhood.

Knox put Orcutt's case on the table, sniffing and puffing and milling his arms. Snow fell in clouds from both of them.

Orcutt! I'm bled out and broke up and no one comes to sit by me, the bastards. Orcutt! They are no damn good, Orcutt, none of them.

Dear me, that's Boylee, Orcutt said, uncoiling his scarf.

My eye — it's my eye — I ran it on a branch — it's swollen — look.

Well George, morning. And Luther. Meng. Everybody here, hey, waiting. How about coffee?

I'll see if there is some. Menger, hunt them girls. You've boots.

Come on back here, Doc.

Well easy for a moment till I warm, Orcutt shouted. Is that dear Henry's carcass in the snow? Aaah. My noble beard is frozen, look at that. A bad sign. A poor beginning. It's really Henry, eh? Olus told me a liar's story. And so he departed, as our good friend Furber would say, much mourned, but not missed. Whew. And where is Furber? Didn't he come out here with you? Is that him lurking in the hallway? Olus said… um… and there's the child? Well. No noise from him.

How's old Emma, Doc? I heard that you was out along her some this morning.

Well she's sad, Luther. Not so sick as sad. She's took syphilis from the Sioux. Struck down in the prime of her age.