The secret of Jane's attraction for people.

 

ERSK/NECALDWELL*

TO THE CHAPARRAL'

It was the last day in the month of May again and, it being a springtime habit for many years, Таrl Pricehouse got ready to leave home the following morning, the first day of June. Tarl had gathered an assortment of fish hooks, lines and leaders and he carefully arranged the fishing gear in a red tin cracked box and stowed it in the cloth bean sack in which he had "already packed several shirts, pairs of socks, an extra pair of shoes for muddy weather, and a dozen cans of pipe tobacco.

This year Tarl had decided to go straight to Friday River, for once not bothering to think of an excuse to leave home, and to spend two or three weeks, or even longer if he felt like it, fishing. When he got there, he planned to sleep in the dwarf-oak lean-to² he had built on the river-bank many years before, and to fish and fish to his heart's content. Friday Riv­er was a placid, spring-watered, big-mouth-bass stream about nine miles due west from town in the black-bark chap­arral. The river meandered for several hundred miles over the thorny-bush prairie and dwarf-oak plains before reaching' the Gulf.⁸

Tarl was resting on the kitchen steps when Bessie, his wife, came home from work late that afternoon and found him hugging the bean sack between his knees. Bessie, who was well into her forties and a few years younger than Tarl worked the year around for the steam laundry company in Maverick. She had not remembered that the following day would be the first of June, until she was almost home, and then she had hurried so fast that she was completely out of

Caldwell,. Erskine (1903—1987), an American aulhor. born in White Oak, Georgia. The author of American Earth (1931) Tobacco Road (1932) God's Little Acre (1933) and others

breath when she got there. Bessie sat down in a porch chair, her fleshy body gratefully at ease, and panted (пыхтеть), until her breath came back.

"Mighty nice, fine weather, for the time of the year," Tarl remarked pleasantly, squinting (коситься) upward at the sky and hoping to keep his wife's attention diverted (divert, decline, deviate) from the bulg­ing bean sack.

Bessie did not even nod in reply, and he was aware that she was observing him. For the past (past/passed) several weeks Bessie had planned and schemed and contrived to prevent Tarl from walking off from home this year as he had always managed to do in the past. She had made up her mind to put an end, - for all time, to his habit, as though he were as free as a bird in the breeze, of going off from home for several weeks every spring. The year before, Tarl had solemnnly informed her that his elder brother, who was a rancher in an adjoining county, was so ill that three doctors did not expect him to live through the summer. Bessie had reluctantly consented to Tarl's leaving home even though she knew that if he actual­ly did go to see his brother, he would make no more than a token visit for a few hours, and then spend the remainder of the time fishing in Friday River. Tarl was away from home. for three and a half weeks that time.

The year before that, Tarl had told Bessie that he had promised on his word of honour to travel around the county and electioneer for a first cousin who was running for re-election to a local political office. Tarl did speak about the election to two or three men he saw on the street, and immedi­ately after that he hurried to Friday River and the lean-to in the chaparral. There had always been some such excuse that had enabled him to leave home in the spring of the year to fish, but this time Bessie was determined that there would be no excuse he could possibly think of that would cause her to change her mind.

"You're not leaving this house one step tomorrow, or any other day this spring and summer, Tarl Pricehouse," Bessie told him sternly. "I've had enough of it, along with all the flimsy excuses you think you can fool me with, and from now on, no matter what you think up, you're not going to do it. I've made up my mind, and that's final." "Now, Bessie," Tarl said in an ingratiating (заискивающий) manner, "That's no way for a fine woman like you to talk. It don't sound like your real self at all."

"It's not going to do you a bit of good to sit there and think

you can cajole (flatter) me into changing my mind," she told him with harsh finality. "When my mind's made up, it stays made up."

Tarl, silent after that, stared straight ahead at the little shed on the other side of the yard.

"What've you got in that bean sack?" she asked suspi­ciously after a while.

"Well, nothing much to speak of, Bessie. It's just some odds and ends I got together and thought I ought to keep in The sack so I'd know for sure where to find them when needed."

"Then you might just as well start putting odds and ends back where they came from, because you're not walking off from this house tomorrow or any other day to go fishing, and not come back till goodness knows when. You‘ve gone off this last time, Tarl Pricehouse. You're going to stay home this spring and summer and mow the grass in the front yard when it's needed twice a week, and spend the rest of the time keeping the pig weeds out there in the back yard chopped down. Those pig weeds are a disgrace, growing head-high like they do all summer long, and you're going to stay here and chop them down as fast as they stick up out of the ground. If I can wear out my body and soul working in that steam laun­dry month after month and year after year so, I can put food on the table and clothes on our backs, you can stay here like you ought to and keep those mortifying pig weeds chopped down. Every summer those disgraceful pig weeds mortify me. Every last one of the neighbours knows you've been going off and shirking your duty, while I'm slaving body and soul at the steam laundry. Now, you remember that."

Bessie went into the kitchen and, with a noisy clatter of pots and pans, began cooking supper. While she was out of sight, Tan hurried to the shed and got a handful of lead sinkers he had hidden there and had almost forgot to take to Friday River with him when he left the next morning.

Supper was ready before dark, and Bessie came to the door and called him to the table. They sat and ate in silence for nearly half an hour. When both had finished, Bessie leaned across the table and patted his hand affectionately.

"I don't Want you to feel bad, Tarl," she said comfortingly. "I'm going to make up for it some way. You just wait and see if I don't. It's always been my nature-to treat you good. Now, you just go ahead and make up your mind to stay at home this time, and you'll find that you'll be just as happy

and content here at home with me as you would be all by your­self out there in the chaparral."

"I'll do some thinking about what you just said, Bessie," he promised without enthusiasm. "I sure will. I won't forget what you said."

Tarl went to the front porch and took off his shoes and sat in the purple twilight while Bessie was washing the dishes. Later, she came to the porch and drew a chair close to "His and sat down. They sat for a long time listening to the noisy crickets and the night birds in the trees.

"A funny thing happened a little while ago, Bessie," Tarl remarked presently. "It's the queerest thing that ever struck me."

"What was it, Tarl?" she asked drowsily (sleepy).

He cleared his throat significantly.

"That's pretty hard to say, because I never had this very same thing happen to me before in my whole livelong life, and that makes it hard to explain in a plain way."

He waited patiently for Bessie to question him further, hoping her interest had been aroused, but she sat placidly beside him as though 'nothing in the world could surpass the pleasure of merely sitting beside him on the porch in the deepening purple twilight and listening to the chirping of the night bird in the trees.

"Bessie," he remarked, unable to wait any longer, and raising his voice more than usual, "Bessie, what came over me a while ago was like a vision. That's what it was — a vi­sion!"

"A vision about what, Tarl?" she asked, moving slightly in the chair.

"Now, that's the peculiar thing, Bessie. I saw it as plain as day. It was so plain I couldn't keep from noticing it."

"What was so plain, Tarl?"

He was sure he had detected in her voice the first faint note of interest.

"Well, while you were out there in the kitchen a while ago, I saw all the money I'd ever want in the whole world, and it was hidden in a particular place."

"I've often dreamed of us getting a lot of money, Tarl," she remarked after a moment's pause. "I've dreamed of it a lot of times, asleep and awake. Wouldn't it be wonderful — if a dream like that came true?"

"Well, that's just it, Bessie. I've got a hunch⁴ that what I saw in the vision is bound to come true."

"Where'd this vision take place, Tarl?"

"Out there in the chaparral," he said quickly, "about nine or ten miles from town, more or less."

"Right spang⁵ at Friday River" Bessie said severely, her whole attitude changing.

"That's right," he admitted, turning and looking at her. "How'd you know that, Bessie?"

"Because I know the scheme you're fixing up in your mind, that's why. And I don't need a vision to see it, either. You've been sitting out here all this time thinking up an excuse to get to Friday River, and stay out there by yourself in that lean-to for the next two or three weeks, or longer. But you're not going one step, Tarl Pricehouse!"

"But what I said was only a little, small part of it, Bessie. If you'd let me tell you more about — "

She got up, not saying another word, and walked heavily into the house, slamming the screen door behind her. Tarl sat glumly in the growing darkness and wondering how Bessie could possibly have known what he was talking about. Just before bedtime, wearing her pink floral wrapper, Bessie came back to the porch and sat down in the chair beside him. She was quiet for only a few moments.

"I don't want to believe a word you said about seeing a vision, Tarl," she said, moving nervously in the chair, "but I just can't get my mind rid of it." She leaned towards him.

"Did you really and truly see a vision of hidden money somewhere?"

"More real money than I ever saw before in my whole livelong life, Bessie," he told her fervently.

Bessie sighed deeply.

"You're the biggest warper of the truth⁶ that ever walked the earth, Tarl Pricehouse, but I've lived with you so long I'm afraid to trust my own good sense any more. It would be just like you to find a heap of hidden money somewhere — even out at Friday River — and I'd feel like a fool if I wasn't on hand to claim my share of it, after slaving body and soul like I have all these years at the steam laundry." She paused briefly to get her breath. "Tarl, can you recall the exact spot where you saw all that hidden money in your vision?"

"I'm trying my level best⁷ right this minute to recollect the exact spot, Bessie," he told her with all the earnest-ness he could summon. "And I'm not the kind of fellow who'd locate all that money, and then run off with another woman. No, sir! I 'd make it a point to bring it straight home as soon

as I located it. I'm clear⁸ loyal to the end, Bessie. The main thing is I need the peace and quiet of the chaparral, where you don't see a living soul from one day to the next, to bring the vision back to me again so I can locate the very exact spot where the money's hidden. That's why I'm thinking I ought to go out there to Friday River the first thing tomorrow morn­ing, so I'll be more apt to recollect better and faster."

"I don't see why you can't bring back the vision right here in Maverick, instead of out at Friday River," she said.

"The fact is, Bessie, as near as I can make out, the exact hiding place is right at Friday River, or mighty close to it. I ought to be there handy to it when I persuade the vision to come back again and give me foolproof directions for finding it. That way, I wouldn't lose a bit of time locating the money. It's not like I was fixing to go off for good and ever, Bessie. Why! The whole thing might come back to me overnight, this week or some other. You never can predict about visions. They come and go when they get ready to of their own accord. And when it does come back, and if it's clear and clean-cut and foolproof, I'll let you know about it as fast as I can send word to you. You can rely on that, Bessie."

"Tarl?" she asked hopefully, "do you really and truly think there's a good chance of your recalling it to mind while I'm still alive to benefit from it?"

"I don't know a single, solitary reason why it wouldn't come back during your lifetime, Bessie," he told her, "un­less it just naturally wants to be contrary."

"Tarl," she asked, excitedly catching her breath, "Tarl, how much money was there? Altogether, I mean. Did you have a chance to count some of it when you saw the vi­sion the first time?"

"As near as I can recollect now, there must've been a heap of it. It was all in those big bills, and I've always had a dickens⁹ of a time counting the big bills. I can count small change and one-dollar bills with no trouble at all, but the big bills always did stump¹⁰ me."

"How big, Tarl?" she begged urgently. "Ten-dollar bills? Twenty-dollar bills?"

"Oh, bigger than that, Bessie," he said without hesita­tion. "Hundred-dollar bills, at least.":

"Was the money hidden in a bucket, or in a box, or in what, Tarl?"

"Let's see, now," he said slowly, rubbing his neck, "Let's see if I can recollect that part about it." He continued rub-

bing his neck thoughtfully. Bessie moved to the edge of her chair. "No," he said firmly after a while, "no, it wasn't in anything like that at all. It was hidden in something with a peculiar shape, though. I recollect that part about it. It was sort of oblong. Like a — like a — "

"Like a what, Tarl?" she asked, gripping his arm. Tarl slowly shook his head. "Now I've gone and clear forgot. But the money was there. A heap of it. I know that, for sure."

"It was coloured green, wasn't it?" she asked helpfully. "That's right. It was real green money," all right. I couldn't be wrong about that part."

"Was it buried under one of those stunted black-bark trees in the chaparral?" she asked. "Or was it buried under a bridge, or something like that? Try to think real hard, Tarl! Try like you've never tried before in all your whole life!"

"Something like that," he replied after a brief pause. "Something like what?" she demanded anxiously. "Think hard, Tarl! Think like you've never thought before!"

"I have to let my mind dwell on it a while before I could let myself say for sure," he told her, beginning to feel weary of her persistent questioning. "That's something I'd want to be sure to recollect, when the time comes, and I'd hate to scare it away by rushing it too fast. Visions always like to take their own good time about coming and going."

"But what if you recalled what it was buried in, and then couldn't recall the place where it was hidden, exactly?"

"That's when I'm going to set myself to try my hardest to recollect," he assured her.

Tarl could hear Bessie, thoroughly exhausted, sigh as she sank backward in the chair, and he got up and felt on the floor for his shoes. When he found the shoes, he slipped them on and then went into the house. He undressed in the dark and stretched out comfortably on the bed with mind and body fully at ease for the first time that day. He was certain now that he had succeeded in persuading Bessie to let him leave the house the next morning. Finally, when he was ready to go to sleep, he realised that Bessie still had not come to bed, but he was too drowsy to wait for her any longer.

He was wide awake an hour before dawn. He lay quietly for awhile, reminding himself not to disturb Bessie; however, just when he was ready to get up and dress, he discovered that Bessie was not in bed beside him. Without waiting a second

longer, he dressed hastily and, carrying his shoes in his hands, tiptoed through the hall and went out the back door. Sitting down on the kitchen steps, he put on his shoes and laced them securely. Then he went across the back yard to the shed and got the bean sack. He could see the first pale streak of dawn over the horizon as he started arouncTTRe house to the front yard, and he was confident that as soon as he walked across town to the highway, he would be able to get a ride to Friday River in one of the trucks that would be going in that di-' rection.

As he hurried around the corner of the house, he walked head-on into Bessie. He had no idea how long she had been waiting there at the corner of the house, but he knew at once that she had been waiting for him.

"Bessie, you've just got to let me go out there and try to recollect that vision so I can dig up all that money in hid­ing," he told her desperately. "I'm doing it as much for you as I am for — "

Bessie had turned and was walking towards the street. She no longer had on the floral wrapper; she was fully dressed, and was even wearing one of her hats. In the pale light of dawn he could see that she was carrying a small satchel that had been packed tightly with clothing, and there was no doubt that she planned to be away from home for a long time.

"Hurry up, Tarl," she called back to him, urgently motioning for him to catch up with her. " Let’s don't waste another minute getting out there where the money's hidden. I couldn’t sleep a wink at all last night for fearing that somebody else might have the same vision you had, and go dig up the money before we can get to it. That's why I sat up all night waiting for dawn to come, so we'd be the first to get to Friday. River. Hurry now, Tarl!"

Tarl swung the bulging bean sack over his shoulder and, silently enduring the twinging pain of disappointment, walked, despondently (ruefully, печально, уныло) down the street behind Bessie in the pale dawn. Bessie, already far ahead of him, turned and warned him / that he would have to hurry more than he was doing if he expected to keep up with her.

NOTES

1. chaparral: a thicket of dwarf-oaks, shrubs, thorny bushes, etc.

2. lean-to: a shed with a roof that slopes only in one way

and which rests against a tree or the wall of a building

3. the Gulf: the Gulf of Mexico

4. hunch (Am. E. colloq.}: a strong feeling that smth. is going to happen

5. spang {colloq.): directly, straight

6. warper of the truth: a person who distorts the truth, a euphemism for "liar"

7. level best (colloq.): the best one can do

8. clear {colloq.): completely, all the way

9. dickens {colloq.): a mild substitute for "devil" 1U. stump {colloq.): to puzzle; to baffle

11. green money: United States paper money

 

12. past /{speaker}pa:st; AmE {speaker}pst/ adjective, noun, preposition, adverb

Adjective

1 gone by in time:

in past years / centuries / ages * in times past * The time for discussion is past.

2 [onlybeforenoun] gone by recently; just ended:

I haven't seen much of her in the past few weeks. * The past month has been really busy at work.

3 [onlybeforenoun] belonging to an earlier time:

past events * From past experience I'd say he'd probably forgotten the time. * past and present students of the college * Let's forget about who was more to blame-it's all past history.

4 [onlybeforenoun] (grammar) connected with the form of a verb used to express actions in the past

Noun

1 (the past) [sing.] the time that has gone by; things that happened in an earlier time:

I used to go there often in the past. * the recent / distant past * She looked back on the past without regret. * Writing letters seems to be a thing of the past.

2 [C] a person's past life or career:

We don't know anything about his past. * They say she has a 'past' (= bad things in her past life that she wishes to keep secret).

3 (the past) [sing.] (grammar) = PASTTENSE

IDIOMS see DISTANT, LIVE1

 

Preposition

1 (AmE also after) later than sth:

half past two * ten (minutes) past six * There's a bus at twenty minutes past the hour (= at 1.20, 2.20, etc.). * We arrived at two o'clock and left at ten past (= ten minutes past two). * It was past midnight when we got home.

2 on or to the other side of sb/sth:

We live in the house just past the church. * He hurried past them without stopping. * He just walked straight past us!

3 above or further than a particular point or stage:

Unemployment is now past the 3 million mark. * The flowers are past their best. * He's past his prime. * She's long past retirement age. * Honestly, I'm past caring what happens (= I can no longer be bothered to care).

IDIOMS

past it (BrE, informal) too old to do what you used to be able to do; too old to be used for its normal function:

In some sports you're past it by the age of 25. * That coat is looking decidedly past it.

Adverb

1 from one side of sth to the other:

I called out to him as he ran past.

2 used to describe time passing:

A week went past and nothing had changed.

Passed (pass) /{speaker}pa:s; AmE {speaker}ps/ verb, noun

Verb

Move

1 to move past or to the other side of sb/sth:

[V] Several people were passing but nobody offered to help. * I hailed a passing taxi. * The road was so narrow that cars were unable to pass. * [VN] to pass a barrier / sentry / checkpoint * She passed me in the street without even saying hello.

2 [V+adv./prep.] to go or move in the direction mentioned:

The procession passed slowly along the street. * A plane passed low overhead.

3 [VN+adv./prep.] to make sth move in the direction or into the position mentioned:

He passed the rope around the post three times to secure it. * She passed her hand across her forehead.

Give

4 ~ sth (to sb) | ~ sb sth to give sth to sb by putting it into their hands or in a place where they can easily reach it:

[VN] Pass the salt, please. * They passed the photograph around (= from one person to the next). * [VN, VNN] Pass that book over. * Pass me over that book.

Ball

5 ~ (sth) (to sb) (in football, hockey, etc.) to kick, hit or throw the ball to a player of your own side:

[VN] He passed the ball to Owen. * [V] Why do they keep passing back to the goalie?

After death

6 [V] ~ to sb to be given to another person after first belonging to sb else, especially after the first person has died: