The Collected Stories of William Humphrey by William Humphrey Read Free Book Online

awkwardly by, then he grabbed the pail to take it to the house, took three steps, and a corncob rolled under his foot, twisted his ankle, and turned him end up in a puddle of milk. It was so funny they both rolled on the ground laughing but when he tried to get up she had to help him. But that was funny, too, and as she wrapped it up she said that pretty soon he would look like he had been hit by a truck and would need somebody to lead him around. He hobbled like an old, old man, but when Harold came home it would have been hard to tell he was limping even a little if she had not known it already.
    Catching Harold’s eyes on him, Dan decided to see what he could do with one hand about that old stump at the corner of the chicken yard that he had let stay there so long. He went over to it and spat on his hand, gave it a careless tug, then a heave, then nearly broke his back on it but it wouldn’t budge. He looked around and decided to move that big stone he had let lay there for years, gave it a yank and it came loose. He raised it ’way above his head and threw it over the fence, then went casually back for his jumper, but Harold was gone. He looked back at it and had to admit it was not such a big stone at that.
    II
    Anxious as she was to have him get back, it did seem foolish for a man to think of planting cotton when his wife had to harness the mule. She was about ready to go to the field with him. Thank heaven, at least they were not that bad off yet, for the neighbors to see her walking behind a plow.
    In low places in the fields, Laura thought, the ground would still be muddy. Neighbors who could afford to would stay home another couple of days; she hoped Dan didn’t feel she was rushing him. She snapped the trace chains and settled Daisy’s collar better. Dan gripped the handles and smiled at her.
    As innocently as possible she said, “Now be careful, Dan,” and he replied without resentment, “I will.”
    Laura might have canned a lot more peas but for looking up between every two she shelled, expecting to see him coming in with a limp or a drag or a stagger. Now that he had already lost so much time she feared he might be overcautious. Like Harold—leave him alone and he brought the milk in without spilling a drop, but just let him spill it once and then tell him to be careful not to, how much it cost and all, and he stumbled with it sure as the world.
    A drummer came to the door and usually she simply couldn’t turn one away, but today, as this one rounded the corner, she kicked over her bucket of pods, scared stiff, and almost slammed the door right in his face, he had given her such a scare. As the day passed she got jumpier. It was silly, she knew, but to think of any more delay in the planting made her run cold all over. Maybe she imagined it, but Harold looked around the place as if it surprised him, too, not to find Dan home with some ailment or other. She sent him out but he moped around the back door. Dan was late and to get Harold to bed and give herself something to do she gave him his supper early. He ate slowly while Laura fretted whether she ought to cook a supper of Dan’s favorite things, or would that seem she was making an occasion of a day that ought to be passed over as nothing out of the ordinary?
    Harold finished and went to the window. It was dark now and he sighed lumpily, “I wonder what happened?” Laura turned to snap something, but he was already in the bedroom and instead she sat down to cry when she heard Dan’s step. If he noticed her red eyes he never let on and probably he didn’t; he was blind tired. His arm was stiff and she guessed he had followed the plow bent double all day, one handle in the crotch of his arm to spare his hand.
    As he got back into shape he came in less tired, able to sit up after supper and read a while, or try to read but not be able for watching Laura, seeing how worried she had been all day and