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Authors: Cormac McCarthy

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BOOK: The Gardener's Son
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He pokes with one finger at some rocks lying among the dead and wilted boxes.

O
LD
M
AN
Just cause a thing aint used is no need to beat it to death with rocks.

R
OBERT
I was looking for my father. He’s the gardener.

O
LD
M
AN
I know who he is. But he aint the gardener. Not no more he aint. You see any gardens?

R
OBERT
No.

O
LD
M
AN
Not big on gardens here no more. Gardens is always the first thing to go.

R
OBERT
Where you reckon I might find him at?

O
LD
M
AN
I always knowed him for a sober man. Days work done why would he not be home?

R
OBERT
He’s not there.

The old man nods his head reflectively.

O
LD
M
AN
Back years ago of a winter day if it was sunshiny I’d come out here at dinner time and take my dinner here. It would be warm in here and you could smell stuff growin. I’d get a crate and set on it and take my dinner and just set here. It was an awful pleasant place. Your daddy would come by sometimes and see me settin in there but he’d just go on. He never would say nothin. Then here back last fall one evenin I was makin my rounds and I thought I seen a light down here. I come in and held my lannern up and there set your daddy. He was just a settin there in the dark. Smokin his pipe. I ast him was he all right and he said yes. Said he just wanted to get out of the house for a while.

R
OBERT
I got to get on.

O
LD
M
AN
You wasnt wrong to of come here. Trouble sends folks back to places where they knowed better times. He might could of gone up to Kalmia to the orchard. It’s dried up and gone too.

Exterior. The orchard. Night, a wind blowing the old dead trees about and clouds scudding. McEvoy hobbles down the rows among weeds calling out.

R
OBERT
Hey! Old man. Hey old man.

He comes from a distance against the sky and the blowing trees, the barren limbs creaking.

R
OBERT
Hey. Its me.

The black who drives the carriage for Mrs Gregg is standing at the end of the lane with a lantern. McEvoy approaches him through the clashing weeds.

B
LACK
Hey, boy.

R
OBERT
I’m a huntin my old man.

B
LACK
Hush boy. What Miz Gregg hear you out here?

R
OBERT
Is he not up here?

B
LACK
Aint nobody up here in this old orchard. Why dont you go on home?

R
OBERT
He’s not there.

B
LACK
He be there after a while. Go on now.

R
OBERT
Where would you be?

B
LACK
That aint for me to say.

R
OBERT
Where would you be?

B
LACK
Night my Ella died I went to a cardhouse and got drunk. I laid in my own vomit. That’s what I thought of the hand of the Lord. Lay dead drunk in ye own vomit like a dog. I aint proud of it, but I give up lyin same as I done drinkin.

R
OBERT
What did it get ye?

B
LACK
What get me?

R
OBERT
What did it get ye? To quit drinkin and lyin.

B
LACK
It aint what it got me. It’s what it got me from.

R
OBERT
And what was that?

B
LACK
Death. I seen his face. I know where he uses. How he loves the unready.

R
OBERT
He loves us all.

Robert starts off down out of the orchard. The black holds the lantern up.

B
LACK
(calling after)
I know your heart is full. Dont spend your grief amongst fools. You listen to this old nigger. You hear?

Interior. Night. Lamplight, an old barn used as a doggery for drinkers and card players. In the background are six or eight men seated about a spread army blanket playing tong. To one side in the background is a circular enclosure nailed up of boards about two feet in height and twenty feet in diameter. There are a number of dead chickens about and a cat is feeding on the head of one of them. In the foreground is a stove glowing red, four men seated about it in old bottomless chairs and on crates. A large man named Pinky is in charge and from time to time he will go to the game to take a house cut. The players bid and talk. The men about the stove pass a jar of white whiskey around and pass after it a peeled raw potato from which they take bites to chase the whiskey.

Exterior. The barn in the dark with the slats lit and McEvoy hobbling toward it through the windy weeds until he reaches the door and pushes against it. A chain rattles. He raps at the door.

Interior. Barn. Pinky rising to go to the door. He undoes the chain and opens the door and McEvoy is standing there.

P
INKY
Well looky here.

The men at the stove are looking at the door to see who is here. McEvoy enters. He pauses to wipe his nose on his sleeve and he looks about. Pinky rechains the door behind him.

P
INKY
Thought you’d quit these parts, young buddy.

Pinky is coming back toward the stove. McEvoy is standing somewhat uneasily to one side.

M
C
E
VOY
My mama died.

P
INKY
Well honey I didnt know that. Come here and set and get ye a drink. I’m sorry to hear it.

M
C
E
VOY
I thought the old man might of come up here.

P
INKY
Pat?

Pinky shakes his head. McEvoy looks to the other men about the stove but they look down, look dubious.

F
IRST
M
AN
Get ye a chair there. Get over here and warm.

McEvoy looks about. There is a peachcrate to one side. He looks at the men gathered about the stove. Pinky opens the stove door and hefts a chunk of wood through and spits after it and clanks the door shut and wiping his mouth on his sleeve looks toward McEvoy, squinting.

P
INKY
Come up son. Aint no need to be a stranger.

McEvoy hobbles over to the crate and gets it and sets it by the stove and leans his crutches back and sits and rubs his hands together at the warmth. The men watch him and he watches the stove.

F
IRST
M
AN
Give that man a drink of whiskey, Ed.

The whiskey is passed to McEvoy and he holds it up to the light of the lamp and gives it a shake to check the bead and unscrews the lid and tilts it and takes a drink. He lowers the jar and looks at the men and swallows and blows. He takes the knife and potato offered him and slices off a piece and eats it and replaces the jar lid and passes the jar and the potato back.

The second man leans forward and looks at McEvoy, somewhat suspiciously, as if he doesnt expect the truth.

S
ECOND
M
AN
What all did she die of?

M
C
E
VOY
Malaria fever.

S
ECOND
M
AN
Funny time of year to die of that.

M
C
E
VOY
She took sick back two months ago. I come quick as I heard but she died fore I got here.

P
INKY
When did she die, honey?

M
C
E
VOY
Yesterday mornin.

F
IRST
M
AN
Well leastways ye got here for the buryin. They aint buried her have they?

McEvoy shakes his head no. He sits slumped, he is weary.

P
INKY
Here Ed, lets see a little of that muleshoe.

He takes the jar and unscrews the cap and drinks and hands the jar to McEvoy.

P
INKY
Here, honey. Get ye a drink. Ed, lets see that tater here.

McEvoy takes the jar and dr inks and passes it back.

P
INKY
You all are all about growed aint ye? I mean, they aint no babies at home.

M
C
E
VOY
Maryellen's the least’n. She’s eleven.

P
INKY
It’s hard when they leave young’ns. A man caint raise em. My sister died left five and the oldest’n not started school. We had to hunt homes for em. They done all right. But it was hard.

F
IRST
M
AN
You tell your daddy we was sorry as we could be.

P
INKY
A finer son of a bitch never wore shoe leather. Let’s have a little old drink Ed.

The jar is passed around.

F
IRST
M
AN
You back to stay are ye?

M
C
E
VOY
I dont know.

F
IRST
M
AN
Reckon you seen a right smart of the world since you left out of here.

M
C
E
VOY
Some.

P
INKY
Its kindly slack times here. Reckon it is everwheres.

F
IRST
M
AN
You reckon to get on at the mill?

M
C
E
VOY
I aint lost nothing down there.

P
INKY
I hear ye. Only way to get ahead down there is to get your wife knocked up by the boss. Give ye a little leverage.

S
ECOND
M
AN
Talkin about people dyin . . .

M
C
E
VOY
I better get on, I reckon.

S
ECOND
M
AN
Talkin about people dyin they found another old boy dead in the woods down towards Vaucluse. Speculate the niggers got him.

M
C
E
VOY
I best get on. I got to hunt the old man.

McEvoy does not rise nor move.

F
IRST
M
AN
Most likely he’d been at church this evenin wouldnt he? Wife dead and all.

P
INKY
Aint no Catholic church in Graniteville.

F
IRST
M
AN
Well now that is right. I forgot about him bein Catholic.

P
INKY
You wont find him carryin on in no Amen corner. Will ye son?

McEvoy shakes his head no. He looks toward the tong game.

M
C
E
VOY
I better get on and hunt him.

P
INKY
Just jump in that tong game there why dont ye. Get ye feet wet.

BOOK: The Gardener's Son
6.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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