The Reivers Page #7

racing on a jet-black shape...

it took me completely...

blood, skin, bowels, bones...

and memory.

I was no longer held fast on earth...

but free, fluid...

part of the air and the sun...

running my first race.

A man-sized race...

with people, grown people...

more people than I could remember

at one time before, watching me run it.

And so I had my moment of glory...

that brief, fleeting glory...

which of itself cannot last...

but while it does...

is the best game of all.

Let me down. Please let me down.

What did you do to your hand?

Nothing. It's all right.

Well, never mind.

We can talk about it later.

I can see you're busy now.

And so we all went home.

Lightning in a boxcar...

and the rest of us in the Winton Flyer.

We turned up the street toward home...

and I thought. ;

"Here's something funny.

"It hasn't even changed."

I couldn't understand

why everything was the same...

when I wasn't the same anymore.

If all the things I had seen and done...

had changed nothing...

if nothing was smaller, or larger, or older...

or wiser...

then the last four days had been wasted.

Either they'd been wrong

and false to begin with...

or I was wrong and false...

and not worthy of them.

I couldn't figure out which.

I suppose...

this is the main thing

you'll always remember about me.

Over here.

Maury.

Come here.

This isn't the right way.

Let me handle it.

If all you can do about it is to whip him...

then you're not good enough for him.

If he gets the notion that

that razor strop cancels out all...

the deceit and disobedience...

then you're making it

too easy for both of you.

Same thing you done to me 25 years ago.

Maybe I got more sense now.

Go upstairs and persuade

Alison to stop sniveling.

Well, you've had a lively four days.

What was it like?

What did you do?

You want to hear everything?

Whatever you care to tell me.

We went to Mr. Binford's place.

I am acquainted with Mr. Binford's place.

They've got some very nice ladies there.

You spent the night?

- Corrie put me to bed.

- Who would Corrie be?

She's a friend of Boon's.

She got to be my friend, too.

And then?

The next bed I slept in was Uncle Possum's.

He's an old man, like you...

only colored.

He made me say my prayers.

Commendable.

I guess I'll have to say

a lot of them from now on.

Why is that?

- I've been telling lies.

- Yes, I'm aware of that.

Whoppers.

I know.

Come here.

- I can't.

- Why not?

Because you're a liar?

Yes, sir.

'Cause you're afraid

I won't ever trust you again?

That I don't consider you reliable?

That I've lost my respect for you?

Is that it?

Yes, sir.

That's a heavy burden to carry, isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Well, you may have to live with that feeling.

For the rest of my life?

No.

But for a while.

- I can't, Boss.

- Yes, you can. You will.

A gentleman can live through anything.

A gentleman accepts

the responsibilities of his actions...

and bears the burden

of their consequences...

even when he himself

did not instigate them...

but only acquiesced to them...

didn't say no,

though he knew he should have.

Now, come here.

My face was against his stiff collar

and his shirt...

and I could smell him.

The starch, and the shaving lotion...

and the chewing tobacco...

and finally, that faint smell of whiskey

from the toddy...

which he took in bed

every morning before he got up.

There, there, now.

That must have emptied the cistern.

Now, go wash your face.

A gentleman cries, too,

but he always washes his face.

I'll get you out of the doghouse, Lucius.

One of these days,

I'm gonna tell them both that it was me...

that cooked up the whole thing.

- You don't have to do that.

- Well, I want to.

I want to set things right with them.

I want to set things right with you, too.

I wonder where they all are now.

I wonder what they're doing.

I know what one of them is doing.

She's out getting herself a white lace dress,

size 8, to get married in.

Are you talking about Corrie?

Are you gonna marry Corrie?

Well, if you can go barehanded

against a knife...

defending her,

why the hell can't I marry her?

I'm as good as you are, ain't I?

Even if I ain't 11 years old.

Do you know when you'll feel

better about it, Lucius?

When you come across town about a year

from now, walk in to my house...

and see that baby sitting in her arms.

You know what we're gonna call him?

No.

Lucius Priest McCaslin Hogganbeck.

Only name he could have.

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