Part 38 (2/2)

”A fool, likely enough,” I agreed her. ”But not d.a.m.ned. Not yet.”

She sat down at the fire without being bid to. There was enough of her to make one and a half of Evadare, and pretty too, but no way as pretty as Evadare-no way.

”All the folks act pure scared to come near youins,” she told us. ”I came to show there's naught to fear from Trill Coster's sins. I nair feared her nor her ways when she lived. I don't fear them now she's down under the dirt. All the men that followed her round-they'll follow me round now.”

”Which is why you're glad she's dead,” Evadare guessed. ”You were jealous of her.”

Nollie looked at her, fit to strike her dead. ”Not for those sorry men,” she said. ”I don't touch other women's leavings.” She put her eyes to me. ”You don't look nor act like that sort of man, John. I'll warrant you're a right much of a man.”

”I do my best most times,” I said.

”I might could help you along,” she smiled with her wide lips.

”Think that if it pleasures you,” I said. I thought back on women I'd known. Donie Carawan, who'd sweet-talked me the night the Little Black Train came for her; Winnie, who'd blessed my name for how I'd finished the Ugly Bird; Vandy, whose song I still sang now and then; but above and past them all, little Evadare, a-sitting tired and worried there by the fire, with the crowd and cloud of another woman's sins she'd taken, all round her, a-trying to dare come get hold of her.

”If I'd listen to you,” I said to Nollie. ”If I heeded one mumbling word of your talk.”

”Jake said you're named Evadare,” said Nollie across the fire. ”You came here with John and spoke up big to take Trill's sin-burden and pray it out. What if I took that burden off you and took John along with it?”

”You done already made John that offer,” said Evadare, quiet and gentle, ”and he told you what he thought of it.”

”Sure enough,” Nollie laughed her laugh, with hardness in it. ”John's just a-playing hard to get.”

”He's hard to get, I agree you,” said Evadare, ”but he's not a-playing.”

”Getting right cloudy round here,” Nollie said, a-looking over that smooth bare shoulder of hers.

She spoke truth. The clumpy mist with its eye-greens was on the move again, like before. It hung close to the ground. I saw tree branches above it. The shapes in it were half-shapes. I saw one like what children make out of snow for a man, but this was dark, not snowy. It had head, shoulders, two s.h.i.+ny green eyes. Webbed next to it, a bunch of the things that minded you of dogs without being dogs. Green eyes too, and white flashes that looked like teeth.

Those dog things had tongues too, out at us, like as if to lap at us. Evadare was a-praying under her breath, and Nollie laughed again.

”If you fear sin,” she mocked us, ”you go afraid air minute of your life.”

That was the truth too, as I reckoned, so I said nothing. I looked on the half-made hike of the man shape. It molded itself while I looked. Up came two steamy rags like arms. I wondered myself if it had hands, if it could take hold; if it could grab Evadare, grab me.

One arm-rag curled up high and whipped itself at us. It threw something-a whole mess of something. A little rain of twinkles round the root where Evadare had sat since first we built the fire.

”Oh,” she whispered, not loud enough for a cry.

I ran to her, to see if she'd been hit and hurt. She looked down at the scatter of bright things round her. I knelt to s.n.a.t.c.h one up.

By the firelight, I saw that it was a jewel. Red as blood, bright as fire. I'm no jeweler, but I've seen rubies in my time. This was a big one.

Evadare bent with both hands out, to pick the things up. From the mist stole out soft noises, noises like laughter-not as loud as Nollie could laugh, but meaner, uglier.

”Don't take those things,” I said to Evadare. ”Not from what wants to give them to you.” I sent myself to throw that big ruby.

”No,” said Evadare, and got up, too. ”I must do it. I'm the one who took the sins. I'm the one to say no to them.”

She made a flinging motion with her arm, underhand, the way girls are apt to throw. I saw those jewels wink in the firelight as they sailed through the air. Red for rubies, white for diamonds, other colors for other ones. They struck in among the misty shapes. I swear they plopped, like stones flung in greasy water.

”Give me,” she said, and took the big ruby from me. She flung it after the others. It made a singy sound in the air. Back from the cloudy ma.s.s beat a tired, hunting breath, like somebody pained and sorrowed.

”All right,” said Evadare, the strongest she'd spoken since first we'd made out camp. ”I've given them back their pay, refused all of it.”

”Did you?” Nollie sort of whinnied.

”You saw me give them back,” Evadare said, ”All of them.”

”No, not all of them, look at this.”

Nollie held out her open palm. There lay a ruby, big as a walnut, twice the size of the one I'd taken up.

”How many thousands do you reckon that's worth?” Nollie jabbered at us, her teeth s.h.i.+ning. ”I got it when it fell, and I'm a-going to keep it.”

”Miss Nollie,” I said, ”you should ought to have seen enough here tonight to know you can't keep air such a thing.”

”Can't I?” she jeered me. ”Just watch me, John, I'll take it to a big town and sell it. I'll be the richest somebody in all these parts.”

”Better give it to Evadare to throw back,” I said.

”Give it to little half-portion, milky-face Evadare? Not me.”

She poked the ruby down the front of her dress, deep down there.

”It'll be safe where it's at,” she snickered at us. ”Unless you want to reach a hand down yonder for it, John.”

”Not me,” I said. ”I want no part of it, nor yet of where you put it.”

”John, said Evadare, ”look at how the cloud bunches away.”

I looked; it drew back with all its shapes, like the ebb tide on the sh.o.r.e of the sea.

”Sure enough,” I said. ”It's a-leaving out of here.”

”And so am I,” spoke up Nollie. ”I came here to talk sense to you, John. You ain't got the gift to know sense where you hear it. Come visit me when I get my money and put up my big house here.”

She swung, she switched away, a-moving three directions at once, the way some women think they look pretty when they do it. She laughed at us once, over her shoulder so bare. Evadare made a move, like as if to try to fetch her back, but I put my hand on Evadare's arm.

”You've done more than your duty tonight,” I said. ”Let her go.”

So Evadare stood beside me while Nollie switch-tailed off amongst the trees. I reckoned the misty shapes thickened up at Nollie, but I couldn't be dead sure. What I did make out was, they didn't fence us in now. I saw clearness all the way round. The moon washed the earth with its light.

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