“That’s sweet of you.”
Dr Severance butted in. “Miss Harrington’s anemia
is the very worst kind. It doesn’t show. That’s what
makes it so hard to diagnose and cure. Just looking at
her you wouldn’t think she had anything, would
you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Pop says.
“Look,” Miss Harrington says to the doctor, “what’s
with this Hiram type, anyway? We going to adopt
him, or something? Tell him to go fry a hush-puppy
and let’s get the hell out of here.”
The Diamond Bikini— 46
“Keep your shirt on,” Dr Severance told her. “Mr.
Noonan is going to rent us a camping place on his
farm.”
Miss Harrington yawned. “Well, goody.”
“You’ll have absolute rest and quiet, and lots of
fresh leafy vegetables.”
“Just what I always wanted,” she says.
Pop stood up. “We got to drive in to town buy some
groceries,” he told the doctor. “It won’t take long, so
you just wait here and when we come back we’ll lead
you to the farm.”
Dr Severance came around the trailer with us and
when we got in the car he put his arms on the door
and leaned in a little. He jerked his head towards the
trailer.
“When you’re in town,” he says to Pop, “maybe it
would be a good idea if you didn’t say anything about
Miss Harrington to anybody. You know how the word
gets around, and I wouldn’t want her pestered by a
flock of reporters all the time.”
“We won’t say a word,” Pop says. He turned the
key to the ignition, and then he asked, “By the way,
this anemia’s not catching, is it?”
Dr Severance shook his head. “No. It’s hardly
contagious at all. The only way you can catch it is if
you actually touch somebody who’s got it.” He
stopped, and then took a long look at Pop’s face.
“And of course you got better sense than to do a
crazy thing like that.”
“Now that you brought it up,” Pop says, “I sure
have.”
We drove on around the bend and out onto the
highway. It was only five miles from there to town.
Pop was sort of quiet, except that every once in a
while he would say, “My God,” like he was talking to
hisself.
“Miss Harrington’s nice,” I says to him. “You don’t
suppose she’s with the Welfare, do you?”
“I doubt it,” Pop says.
The Diamond Bikini— 47
“I didn’t think so,” I says. “But she has got kind of a
Welfare bosom.”
Pop didn’t act like he even heard me. His hands
was gripping the wheel real hard and he was staring
straight ahead.
“My God,” he says again. The car swerved across
the road and almost went in the ditch on the wrong
side. He yanked the wheel and we straightened out
again.
“You oughtn’t to talk about Miss Harrington’s
bosom,” he says to me like he was mad. “The poor
girl’s not well. She’s got the anemia.”
“Is that bad, Pop?” I asked.
“Well,” he says, “I can’t see that it’s done her much
harm so far, but I reckon it’s pretty serious if you got
to eat vegetables for it.”
* * *
We got into town. It was a pretty little town, with a
red brick courthouse in a square and big trees
growing all around. We parked the car in the square
and went into a grocery store. Pop bought eight
pounds of baloney and six loaves of bread, and then
he got a couple cases of beer and some cigars. I
asked him if I could have candy bar. He said they was
bad for my teeth, but finally gave in and bought me
one. We went back out and got in the car.
We was just about to drive off when Pop suddenly
remembered something. “I almost forgot,” he says.
“We’re all out of hawg lard. I got to get some to fry
the baloney in.”
He went back in the grocery store. I sat in the car,
finishing my candy bar and looking out at the square.
It was just then that I saw the big car go by with the
men in it wearing Panama hats. There was three of
them, and they all had on double-breasted flannel
suits like Dr Severance’s. The car had Louisiana
license plates, like his did, and it was just going
along real slow while the men looked around. They
kept watching the sidewalks and the other cars.
The Diamond Bikini— 48
They went on around the square, and in a few
minutes they came by again. There was a parking
place ahead of us, and they pulled in and got out and
started into the restaurant next to the grocery store.
They walked close together, watching the other
people all the time, and I noticed they all had that
awkward way of carrying their left arm, just like Dr
Severance had.
Just then Pop came out of the grocery store
carrying the can of hog lard, and he nearly bumped
into them. He stopped real quick and stared at them.
The one on that side turned his face a little and
said to him out of the corner of his mouth “You
looking for somebody, Jack?”
Pop sort of swallowed, and says, “No. Nobody at
all.” He hurried across the sidewalk and got into the
car, and we shot out of the parking place. The three
men went on into the cafe.
As we drove out of town I said to Pop, “They looked
a little like Dr Severance, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe there’s a doctor’s
convention in town.”
When we got back, Dr Severance was still waiting
there around the bend from the highway. I didn’t see
Miss Harrington anywhere, so she had probably gone
back in the trailer. Pop told the doctor to follow us,
and we started off.
It was only about two miles, and the big car didn’t
have any trouble pulling the trailer in the sand, so it
wasn’t too long till we came to the wire gate and
turned off down the hill towards Uncle Sagamore’s
farmhouse. About a hundred yards before we got to
the house Pop pulled off to the left and stopped
among some big trees in a little level place looking
out over the lake. He motioned for Dr Severance to
stop. We all got out.
“Well, how does this strike you?” Pop asked the
doctor.
Dr Severance looked all around and back up the
hill towards the wire gate and the road. You couldn’t
The Diamond Bikini— 49
see them from here because of the trees. “Hmmmm,”
he says. “Seems to be all right.” He took some money
out of his wallet and gave it to Pop.
“Here’s a month in advance,” he says, “But I was
just thinking. Maybe you’d better not mention
anything about us being here. Around to the
neighbors, I mean. There might be zoning
restrictions against trailers.”
“That’s right,” Pop says. “I hadn’t thought of that.
We won’t say a word.”
I saw Uncle Sagamore come out of the house and
look up the hill towards us and start walking this way
to find out what was going on. But just then I heard
another car coming down the hill from the gate.
From the sound of it, it was really travelling. It shot
out of the trees and went bucking down towards the
house just the way those two sheriffs had. A big cloud
of dust was boiling up behind it.
Then I forgot about it, watching Dr Severance. We
was all three standing in front of his car when the
other one shot out of the trees, but then he let out an
awful cuss word and moved faster than I’d ever seen
anybody move before. He whirled around and ducked
behind the car so just his head was peering over, and
his right hand shot up inside his coat. It all happened
so fast I just stared at him.
The car went on past, bucking like crazy over the
bumps. It slammed on down the hill and the man that
was in it put his brakes on and it slid to a stop right
by Uncle Sagamore. Dr Severance watched it, and
then he straightened up. He looked around at us, and
his eyes was real cold again.
“Who was that?” he barked at Pop.
“Uh—” Pop says. “Just one of the neighbors.
Probably wants to borrow something.”
“Oh,” Dr Severance said. He seemed to relax a
little. “I was afraid it was those damn reporters.”
Then he noticed he still had his hand inside his
coat. He took it out, and shook his head. “Heart
The Diamond Bikini— 50
twinge,” he said. “Grabs me right there every once in
a while.”
“Why, that’s too bad,” Pop says. “What you want to
do is take it real easy and not excite yourself.” Then
he grinned and scratched his head. “But who am I to
be prescribin’ for a doctor?”
We all looked down the hill towards the house.
There was only one man in the car. He got out and
started talking to Uncle Sagamore, waving his arms
like he was worked up about something.
Pop says to Dr Severance, “Well, you go ahead and
set up camp. I’ll tell my brother Sagamore about our
dicker.”
We drove down and parked under the big tree
again, and walked over to where the man was still
talking to Uncle Sagamore by his car. Or maybe
talking wasn’t just the word. I couldn’t make out
whether he was yelling or preaching, the way he was
carrying on. He was a short, fat man with a big hat
and a white moustache, and his face was as red as a
beet. He was throwing his hands around, and every
few seconds he would pull an arm across his face to
wipe the sweat off.
Just as we walked up he took off his hat and pulled
a big red handkerchief out of his pocket to mop his
forehead, only he forgot which was which and
mopped his face with the hat and got it all wadded
up. When he saw what he had done he cussed
something awful and threw the handkerchief on the
ground and stomped on it with his cowboy boots and
clapped the hat back on his head crossways and all
smashed in. He was real excitable.
Uncle Sagamore just leaned against the side of the
car and listened to him. Every once in a while he
would pucker up his mouth and sail out some tobacco
juice.
“What I want to know is what you done to them two
deputies of mine!” the fat man was shouting. “I can’t
get either of ‘em to hold still long enough to tell me
what’s wrong with him. The last time they was out
here you damn near blowed ‘em up with dynamite,
The Diamond Bikini— 51
and now they just keep chasin’ each other down the
hall to the John all gaunted down to skin an’ bones
like a blind muley-cow with the scours, and I can’t
get no sense out of ‘em at all except one of ‘em said
he thought they’d been drinkin’ croton oil.”
Uncle Sagamore just looked at him, real surprised.
“Croton oil?” he says, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Why, Shurf, they must of been just hoorawin’ you.
They wouldn’t do nothin’ like that. Why, you take a
couple of men that’s smart enough to get to be
politicians an’ draw a paycheck for settin’ in the
shade of the courthouse to watch out for gals gettin’
in and out of cars so they don’t sunburn their legs—
why they got more sense than to drink croton oil.”
He stopped to sail out some more tobacco juice.
The sheriff was just sputtering, like he couldn’t even
think of words any more.
Uncle Sagamore wiped his mouth with the back of
his hand. “Why, hell,” he says, “even old boll weevil
like me that ain’t got brains nough to do nothin’ but
work nineteen hours a day to pay his taxes is got
more sense than to drink croton oil. It’ll give you the
scours something awful. But I’ll tell you what, Shurf,”
he went on. “I won’t let on to nobody that you even
mentioned it. It would be a awful thing to get around,
come to think of it, people sayin’ to each other how
them goddam fat politicians was gettin’ so bored with
high livin’ and doin’ nothing but milkin’ the taxpayers
that they’ve took to drinkin’ croton oil just to pass the
time. I won’t breathe it to a soul.”
Uncle Sagamore looked around then and saw us.
“Shurf,” he says, “I’d like to have you meet my
brother Sam.”
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