"Blackwater - 04 - The War" - читать интересную книгу автора (McDowell Michael)

"Your boy!"
"Yes, ma'am," said James.
"He is no good," said Queenie. "I could kill him for scaring you like he did."
"Your boy smell of creosote?"
"No, ma'am," said James. "That was the other boy. That was Travis Gann. He is no good."
Dollie Faye, who seemed to have recovered slightly, turned to Queenie and said, "Your boy wasn't the one who said he was gone kill me. It was the other one—the one who smelled like creosote. Your boy didn't want to be there. I could see it in his face. He was 'bout as scared as I was."
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"I'd like to scare him," said Queenie vehemently. She took a chair beside the bed, and leaned forward confidingly. "I'm gone tell you something, Miz Crawford," she said in a low voice. "My boy Malcolm takes after his daddy. His daddy was in the pen, more than once, though I am ashamed to have to say it. The best thing I can say about Malcolm's daddy is that he has been dead for the last five years."
"Now Mi/ Crawford," James said, glancing at Dial and seeing instinctively that he was not to be an active part of any of this business, "we have brought you some money to make up for what those boys took."
"I nearly forgot, I was so busy apologizing!" cried Queenie, and opened her purse. She handed ten twenty-dollar bills to Dollie Faye.
Dollie Faye cried, "This is so much! I only had twenty dollars in the register yesterday. What'd they do with all them pennies, anyway?"
"Spent 'em at the track," said Queenie with a vigorous nodding of her head. "Every damn one! Oh, 'scuse me, Miz Crawford. I didn't walk in this house with the intention of swearing in your face."
"Y'all call me Dollie Faye."
"Dollie Faye," said James, "Queenie and I want to know what we can do for you."
"Not a thing more, thank you," replied Dollie Faye hastily. "I am taken care of. People have been real good. And you have given me too much money."
"When are you gone be able to get out of this bed?" asked Queenie.
"Doctor says I ought to be here a week. See, I've got pressure trouble. Mama died of it. But I'm gone be all right. I got to be all right, 'cause I got to get up and run that store. Dial—that's my husband over there in the corner—don't even know how to run the register. And don't know much about stock neither, when it comes down to it. Sometimes I let him
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wash off windshields, but not much more than that. Used to have a boy to pump gas, but he run off some-wheres..."
"You're not gone get out of that bed," said James Caskey sternly.
"I wish I could stay in it," said Dollie Faye, "but there's people 'round here depend on me and this store."
"I'm gone run it," said Queenie, squeezing Dollie Faye's hand.
"You?!"
"I used to work in the Ben Franklin up in Nashville, the big store they had up there. I know how to work a register."
"Queenie's real quick," James assured her.
"But you cain't just up and run my store for me!"
"I know why you're refusing," said Queenie in a low earnest voice. "It's 'cause you don't want the mother of the boy that put a gun to your head hanging around. You don't want to have to look in her suffering face."
"No! It's just that it's so much trouble out here. There's always somebody wanting something special that only I know anything about, and—"
"Cain't I step back in here and ask you things?"
"I guess you could..."
"It's settled then," said Queenie firmly.
"You cain't pump gas," objected Dollie Faye.
"My boy can," whispered Queenie, leaning forward. "See, I'm gone make him quit his job at the mill. He wasn't any good at it anyway, and I don't want him hanging around with those men—he might find himself another Travis Gann. I'm gone bring him out here and make him work off what he stole from you. But you're not even gone see him, I'm not gone let him step foot in this store. Just looking at him might send your pressure up. I saw that little bench out in front, and he's gone sit out there all
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day long pumping gas, and if Mr. Crawford's weary of washing windshields, then let him take his ease, 'cause Malcolm will do it for him."
On the following day, the Crawfords' store was opened again, and Queenie Strickland had installed herself behind the counter in her second-best dress. Malcolm was out front pumping gas as instructed. James was there too, and he sat and visited with Dollie Faye, every now and then addressing a remark to Dial Crawford, who nodded sagely and kept rocking. At noontime and with Dollie Faye's permission, a very red-faced Malcolm was ushered inside and made a stammering apology. Dollie Faye said, "What you did was wrong, and you near about broke your sweet mama's heart. But I forgive you, Malcolm, for her sake and for your own."
For the next two weeks Queenie presided over the store; Malcolm went on pumping gas, and James continued to sit beside Dollie Faye's bed. Even when Dollie Faye had recovered and resumed her place behind the counter, Queenie and James were not much less assiduous in their attendance on her, and Malcolm kept his place at the pumps. Malcolm's trial was scheduled for the first Wednesday in November, the day after the elections. Queenie drove Dollie Faye to the Bay Minette courthouse and sat with her in the courtroom all the morning long. There were two murders to be tried before the armed robberies came up and the two women observed the proceedings with interest.
Malcolm and Travis were tried together. Dollie Faye testified to the events of that September Saturday. Travis Gann had threatened to blow her head off, he had raised his gun and taken aim, he had carried the money off himself. Obviously ill at ease during the robbery, Malcolm Strickland had cautioned against violence. Dollie Faye was convinced
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that he had been roped into the whole business completely against his will. She testified that she believed that Malcolm would have come to her rescue had Travis actually attempted to kill her. Moreover, since the crime, Malcolm had more than made up the money that had been taken from her by assisting with the running of the store. Everybody in the courtroom had seen him pumping gas, changing oil, and washing windshields. Dollie Faye had nothing but good to say about Malcolm Strickland and his mother and his uncle, who had been good to her like good Christians ought to be.
After Dollie Faye's testimony Malcolm Strickland was let off with a reprimand, while Travis Gann was sentenced to five years in the Atmore penitentiary.
At the defendants' table, the two young men looked at each other.
"I guess," said Malcolm, "it looks like I'm out and you're in."
"I guess," said Travis Gann with a grin that Malcolm did not expect.
"Hey," said Malcolm, "five years—that's a long time. I'm sorry..."
"Don't be sorry," said Travis, still with the grin. "They're sending me to Atmore. You know how hard it is to get out of Atmore?"
Malcolm shook his head, grateful that because of the court decision he had no use for such information.
"Getting out of Atmore," said Travis, "is like climbing over a rotten log in some old farmer's pasture, that's what getting out of Atmore is like."
"You ought to wait till you get in there, before you start thinking about getting out," warned Malcolm.
"No, not me. I'm already thinking about what I'm gone be doing once I'm free."