As soon as Mama hung her cloak and mine behind the kitchen door, she led me into the fireplace room, where Miss Ophelia and Miss Lida Belle and a big wide lady Mama called Mrs. Lee were sitting.

Miss Ophelia was holding her little baby boy on her lap and was rocking him back and forth. We could tell he was about to fall asleep, for every time he tried to open up his eyelids, they drooped back down again. He was two times as fat as he was that night when he was sleeping in the Christmas hay at church.

Mama spoke to all the women, and they spoke, but n.o.body did any more talking. They all kept sitting there, quiet. There wasn't a little chair for me, so Mama crossed her knees and let me squeeze in on the edge of her rocker.

The old ladies had drawn their chairs close to the hearth, and there they sat, their hands folded, just looking into the fire. After I had watched them for a while, I noticed they didn't even have their snuff-dipping brushes in their mouths. The front door squeaked.

I looked around. Papa and Doctor Elton and Mister Wes were coming in from the hall. Papa and the doctor took off their hats, and after Mister Wes sat down in the chair next to Miss Ophelia, he pulled his off, too. He held it in his hands, twisting it round and round, folding and refolding the middle crease.

"Miss Ophelia," he said, "I hate to trouble you at a time like this, but I reckon I'll have to ask you a little bit about Ward."

"It's all right, Mister Wes."

"The county coroner sent word by Mister Jodie that we don't have to have no reg'lar inquest 'less we figger somebody shot Ward. 'Course we don't rigger nothin' like that, but when somebody dies under odd circ.u.mstances, we sorta have to look into it."

"Yes, sir."

The baby fretted and whimpered, and I just knew if Mister Wes didn't quit talking so loud, he was going to wake up and cry.

Miss Ophelia kept rocking her chair real easy, and he drifted back to sleep. Miss Lida Belle leaned over to Mrs. Lee and said something about seeing to the cooking.

They both got up then and went into the kitchen.

Mister Wes kept on twisting his hat and talking to Miss Ophelia. He asked a lot of strange questions. She said, "Yes, sir" to some, "No, sir" to others. I couldn't tell if she knew just what he was talking about or not. I surely didn't.

"Miss Ophelia, if you wouldn't mind, just tell us what happened Sunday."

"There ain't much to tell, Mister Wes. Ward, he s'prised me!

He slipped home Sunday morning-first time I'd seen him since Christmas. He was just ranting and fussing, like he always does.

And, I don't like to say it here in front of Miss Nannie, but he was drinking-like he always does."

"Did he say anything outta the ordinary?"

"Well, he did talk a right smart. Seemed like Ward hated ever' body and ever' thing yesterday, even himself. He blessed me out twice for letting the young'uns go home with my uncle. Oh, G.o.d 'a mercy! The young'uns! Their own pa, lying yonder in the front room, cold dead, and they don't even know it! Ohhh-hh-h! I forgot my poor young'uns. They're all I've got left in this world."

Mama put me down so she could go over to Miss Ophelia. Miss Ophelia's hollering and crying got louder. Mama told her over and over not to worry about the children. Finally she got quiet; then Mama took the sleeping baby from her arms and eased him down on the bed nearest to the fireplace.

"Miss Ophelia, did Ward say anything a-tall about goin'

huntin'?"

"Yes, sir, Mister Wes. 'Bout middle of the evening, just 'fore Miss Nannie come in bringing us them vittles, I was in the kitchen, and he come in. He was riled 'bout something, and in a rush. I asked him to chop a little wood, and he said he didn't have time. Said he was going a-hunting.

"I told him, 'Ward, this is Sunday. You oughtn't to hunt on Sunday.' He said, 'To h.e.l.l with the day o' the week. I'm goin'

a-huntin'. And, I just might kill myself a c.o.o.n!' Then he grabbed down his shotgun and went storming out the back door."

"Did you hear any shootin'?"

"Yes, sir. Later on, while Miss Nannie and Mister Jodie was here, I heard lots of shooting."

"Which way did Ward go?"

"Mister Wes, I don't have no clear notion. I heard Aunt d.i.n.k groaning, and I went running in the side room to see 'bout her.

Oh, G.o.d 'a mercy! Poor Aunt d.i.n.k! She ain't had a mouthful to eat this morning! I'd better go see 'bout her."

"Now, now," Mama told her. "We'll look after Miss d.i.n.k.

Doctor Elton's right here, so don't you worry."

What Mama told Miss Ophelia didn't do a bit of good. She just started wailing and crying all over again. I couldn't stand to hear her, so when Papa and Doctor Elton and Mister Wes put on their hats and left the room, I followed them.

Papa didn't notice I was walking along behind him, for he was listening to the doctor and Mister Wes, who were talking low, both at the same time. Doctor Elton tried to tell Mister Wes when rigor-something-or-other set in, but Mister Wes kept asking questions. Then he wouldn't wait for the doctor's answer before he started talking again himself.

A hard gust of wind swept through the house as we were crossing the open hall. Both Papa and the doctor had to grab at their hats to keep them from being blown away.

"This dratted wind cuts like a razor," Mister Wes muttered.

He turned his cloak collar up to his ears and opened the door of the front room.

There lay Mister Ward on the bed! Somebody had spread a white sheet over him, so all I could see was his muddy boots sticking out at the bottom, his red hair at the top.

Two or three men sitting in front of the fireplace got up, and some more men I had seen in the hall walked in right behind me. Then Old Man Hawk came in.

n.o.body in the room was saying anything. They all seemed to be waiting for the doctor, or Papa, or somebody, to pull back the white sheet.

The doctor bent over the bed and pushed the sheet to one side. He unb.u.t.toned Mister Ward's hunting coat and ran his hand down inside the big pocket.

"Here're some soggy matches," he said, "and two sh.e.l.ls-and his bottle. It's empty. Here, Jodie, set it up there on the mantel. Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned! A squirrel!"

Doctor Elton pulled a chunky red squirrel out of Mister Ward's coat pocket and held it up so we could all see it. n.o.body said a word. The doctor looked at the squirrel again and felt of it.

"Umm-mm-m. A young fox squirrel. A pretty thing."

"Can I hold him some?" I asked the doctor.

"Bandershanks!" Papa seemed surprised to see me, but he didn't scold. He only watched as Doctor Elton handed me the fat, curled-up little squirrel. I ran my fingers along over its back and smoothed down its soft, thick, reddish-brown fur. Its tail was bushy and fluffy as could be.

"Better give him back to me, honey," the doctor told me a few minutes later.

He took the squirrel, and as soon as Mister Wes pulled the sheet over Mister Ward's face, we all walked out to the front porch. I held to Papa's hand.

"I reckon we may as well let Ward's dogs have this squirrel for their breakfast," Doctor Elton said. "What do you think, Wes?"

"Yeah, just throw it to the dogs, Doc. Ward must've shot it right 'fore he started back to the house. I see he didn't gut it."

Doctor Elton turned the squirrel over again to look at its stomach. "No, he didn't."

Papa gave a shrill whistle. Two hounds asleep at the gate p.r.i.c.ked up their ears. He whistled again, and they came trotting toward the porch. Doctor Elton tossed the squirrel to them. Both dogs pounced on it and began pulling it to pieces.

Mister Wes started his loud talking again. "I don't figger there's no need o' havin' a inquest. Do you, Jodie?"

"It's for you to say, Wes. You're the new J.P. But it looks to me like Ward just went squirrel hunting yesterday evening and had an accident right before he got back to the house."