The
highway patrolman remains in his patrol car, probably running plates, long
enough for Weldon to hand his open beer back to Burl and to get Tess set down
and buckled in. While the trailer blocks
the patrolman’s view, Burl tosses three beers out the window. Weldon steps out on the highway just as the
patrolman reaches the door. The strong
odor of spilled beer wafts back to Burl’s nostrils. He imagines calling Lillie to get him out of
jail.
The
patrolman puts a hand on his baton.
“Stay inside the vehicle, sir.”
“Yes,
sir.” Weldon puts one hand in the air as
if surrendering but stays outside. He
puts the other hand on the patrolman’s elbow as if to guide him away from the
vehicle and makes as if to whisper in the man’s ear, but the patrolman backs
away. Weldon nods toward Tess. “You see, officer, sir, my little girl, she
had a bad experience back home with a bad man who just happened to wear a
uniform same color as yours. No offense, and I have tried to explain to her
about how they ain’t nuthin' to fear from you folks, but she just goes to
screamin’ when she sees one of you.”
The
patrolman glances toward Tess, who is gazing out the side window, about to nod
off again.
Weldon
tries again. “Pore little thing. Lost her mama and all.”
Burl glances
at the patrolman, who appears to be buying Weldon’s line of bullshit. He is not happy with Weldon using the little
girl this way. He whispers to Clayton. “Lost her mama after she left his sorry ass.”
The
patrolman tickets Weldon for expired trailer tags and leaves without looking
inside the truck. When Burl judges they
have come about two hundred miles, he is riled.
“Wait just a damn minute. When we
gonna get to them pigs? Already be past
dark before we get back if we stopped and turned around right now.”
Weldon
takes his eyes off the road and turns again.
“See, Burl, this feller I know works for TXU told me about this feller
has hogs down around these coal mines.”
“Coal
mines? Well, I’ll be damned. You told me we was goin’ just the other side
of Emory. Now how much farther is it?”
Weldon
cricks his neck enough to glance back at the road. “Well, he said the man lives right around
these coal mines in a big house with three garages. Said they would hold two cars apiece.”
Burl leans
over the front seat and glances at Tess, still asleep. “Weldon, you better get to tellin’ me where
the hell we goin’ or turn this sumbitch around and head home. I told Lillie I’d be home around dark.”
“Man’s got
three garages. How hard could he be to
find?”
Burl hangs
his head. “You don’t know his damn name
or where he lives, do you.”
Clayton
snickers.
Several
stops for directions later and well past dark, they find the huge house with
three double garages set well back into the woods. Clayton whistles under his breath. “What the hell is a man owns a house like
that doin’ with wild hogs?”
Weldon
feels vindicated. “Traps ‘em cause they
come up in his yard at night and make a mess.”
They stare
at the garages until Burl loses patience.
“Dammit, Weldon. You gonna get
out or not? Let’s get the damn hogs and
get on home.”
Weldon has
one foot on the driveway when one garage door rolls halfway up. Two rottweilers emerge from the open door and
stare at Weldon as if he is supper arriving late. Weldon steps back into the truck and rolls
the window half down.
Burl
rudely pushes the back of Weldon’s head with the heel of his hand. “Go on ahead and get out. I don’t think they gonna bite.” Clayton laughs. Burl feels trapped because he can’t get out
of the back seat without waking Tess.
Finally, a
man appears with twin leashes for the dogs and lets them lead him out of the
garage.
Weldon
sticks his head out the window but won’t step out of the pickup. “We lookin’ for a man with hogs for sale.”
The man
nods and points. “That would be my
caretaker. He traps them. Lives about a half mile on down this road.”
Burl grits
his teeth. “Thought you said the man we
lookin’ for lived in this big house.”
Weldon
backs out of the driveway and points the pickup down the road in the direction
of the pointed finger. “Coulda sworn
that was what the man said.”
Fifteen
minutes later, they are inside a fenced area and backing Weldon’s stock trailer
up to another trailer with pens full of hogs.
The overalled owner has twelve hogs and wants to keep the two that have
what he calls a pure feral look. “I’m
willin’ to part with ten.”
Weldon
opens the gate to his trailer. “Them’s
awful little hogs. How we gonna load
‘em?”
“Easy.
I’ll just reach in the pen and grab ‘em by the legs one at a time and hand ‘em
over to you. You throw ‘em toward the
front of your trailer. One of you other
fellers can get in the trailer and work the middle gate.”
Clayton,
woozy now, agrees to act like another back gate and stand guard in case one
slips away. He and the open trailer gate
make a narrow hall for the hogs to be handed through. As Burl eases into the trailer, the lights
reflect enough to show that Weldon has gone white.
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