by Ron Rash
“Better than him still laying in that ditch,” Snipes said. “We’ll get him to Cataloochee in time to have him buried with his family by nightfall.”
Henryson looked over at the graveyard.
“Quince won’t even have that.”
“I’ll make sure Quince has at least a creek stone with his name,” Snipes said. “A man ought not be totally forgotten.”
An automobile could be heard coming toward the camp. A Packard Roadster came into view, rolled to a stop in front of the office. A gray-haired man got out. He stared at the east ridge and then at the train where the last equipment was being loaded onto a flatcar.
“That fellow looks a good bit out of sorts,” Henryson said.
The man took out a pen and checkbook, walked into the office. He came out looking none the happier and drove away. Shortly afterward, Galloway left the building. He wore a black band on his right arm.
“What you reckon they done with the hag?”
“Holt said the undertaker come and got her,” Snipes said, and gave a wan smile. “Whether the head or just the nigh end he didn’t say.”
“He hit her with a pretty lick for certain,” Henryson mused.
“I’d like to think he took some pride in it,” Snipes said, “even when he was laying there and dying.”
“That Harmon girl and her child should be safe.”
“Galloway’s leaving, so I figure so,” Snipes said.
With the last equipment loaded on the train cars, men began to line up in front of the office for their pay envelopes. Some sat in the dirt while they waited, too tired to stand. Others stood but with eyes closed. Galloway returned and went inside the office.
“So where will you be going after this?” Henryson asked.
“I think I’ll farm if I can find some land that ain’t been ruint,” Snipes said, gazing at the wasteland around them. “Plant some apple trees, grow some beans and corn, taters and pumpkins too. If I can find a wife, I’ll raise some kids to boot. What about you?”
“Up north to join the Wobblies,” Henryson said. “No one else is making claim to helping poor folks like us.”
Snipes looked toward the ridge and then the graveyard and shook his head.
“It’s a wonder there’s a one of us alive.”
When the last man had been paid, Serena came out and gave some final instructions to Holt. Then she and the Pinkertons went into the barn. The Pinkertons came out first with the eagle’s cage and placed it in the boxcar. Serena followed with the eagle on her arm. She spoke to Galloway, who walked over to the Pierce-Arrow and got in but didn’t crank the engine. Serena did not take the eagle into the boxcar right away. Instead, she cast the bird and watched it circle the valley. Snipes and Henryson watched as well. Nothing on the ridges stirred. No squirrel chattered, no bird called, no tree rustled. Only silence. The eagle circled seven times before Serena blew the metal whistle and the bird returned. There was nothing left to destroy.
Acknowledgments
Immense gratitude to Lee Boudreaux, Bette Alexander, Adam Eaglin, Tom Rash, Kathy Rash, Phil Moore, John Lane, Western Carolina University, Ann, Caroline, and James.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ron Rash is the author of the PEN/Faulkner finalist and New York Times bestselling novel Serena, in addition to the critically acclaimed novels The Risen, Above the Waterfall, The Cove, One Foot in Eden, Saints at the River, and The World Made Straight; five collections of poems; and six collections of stories, among them Burning Bright, which won the 2010 Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award; Nothing Gold Can Stay, a New York Times bestseller; and Chemistry and Other Stories, which was a finalist for the 2007 PEN/Faulkner Award. Twice the recipient of the O. Henry Prize and winner of the 2019 Sidney Lanier Prize for Southern Literature, he is the Parris Distinguished Professor in Appalachian Cultural Studies at Western Carolina University.
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