Reivers, The - William Faulkner [75]
"Much obliged," Otis said.
"Can you ride a horse?" Ned said.
"I been living on a Arkansas farm for a right smart number of years," Otis said.
"Can you ride a horse?" Ned said. "Nemmine where you used to live or still does."
"Now, that depends, as the fellow says," Otis said. "I figgered I was going back home this morning. That I would a long been in Kiblett, Arkansas, right this minute. But since my plans got changed without nobody asking me, I aint decided quite yet just what I'm going to do next. How much you paying to get that horse rode?"
"Otis!" Everbe said.
"We aint come to that yet," Ned said, as gentle as Otis. 'The first thing is to get them three heats run and to be in front when at least two of them is finished. Then we'll git around to how much."
"Heh heh heh," Otis said, not laughing either. "That is, there aint going to be nothing to pay nobody with until you win it—that's you. And you cant even run at it without somebody setting on the horse—that's me. Is that right?"
"Otis!" Everbe said.
"That's right," Ned said. "We all of us working on shares so we'll have something to divide afterward. Your share will have to wait too, like ourn."
"Yeah," Otis said. "I seen that kind of share dividing in the Arkansas cotton business. The trouble is, the share of the fellow that does the sharing is always a little different from the share of the fellow that done the dividing. The fellow that done the sharing is still waiting for his share because he aint yet located where it's at. So from now on, I'll just take the cash-in-advance share and let you folks keep all the dividing."
"How much do that come to?" Ned said.
"You cant be interested, because you aint even run the first heat yet, let alone won it. But I dont mind telling you, in confidence, you might say. It'll be ten dollars."
"Otis!" Everbe said. She moved now; she cried, "Aint you ashamed?"
"Hold up, Miss," Ned said. "I'll handle it." He looked tired, but that was all. Without haste he drew a folded flour sack from his hip pocket and unfolded it and took out his worn snap purse and opened it. "Hold out your hand," he told Lycurgus, who did so while Ned counted slowly onto the palm six frayed dollar bills and then about a cupful of coins of various denominations. "It's gonter be fifteen cents short, but Mr Hogganbeck will make it up."
"Make it up to what?" Otis said. "To what you said. Ten dollars," Ned said. "You cant seem to hear neither," Otis said. "What I said was twenty dollars." Now Boon moved. "God damn it," he said.
"Just hold up," Ned told him. His hand didn't even stop, now returning the coins one by one from Lycurgus's hand, and then the frayed bills, back into the purse, and closed it and folded it back into the flour sack and put the sack back into his pocket. "So you aint gonter ride the horse," he said to Otis.
"I aint seen my price—" Otis said.
"Mr Boon Hogganbeck there is fixing to hand it to you right now," Ned said. "Whyn't you just come right out like a man and say you aint gonter ride that horse? It dont matter why you aint." They looked at each other. "Come on. Say it out."
"Naw," Otis said. "I aint going to ride it." He said something else, foul, which was his nature; vicious, which was his nature; completely unnecessary, which was his nature too. Yes, even finally knowing what it was didn't help with him. By this time Everbe had him. She snatched him, hard. And this time he snarled. He cursed her. "Watch out. I aint near done talking yet—if I'm a mind."
"Say the word," Butch said. "I'll beat the hell out of him just on principle; I wont even bother with pleasure. How the hell did Sugar Boy ever let him get this far