10
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.