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There was an oleander bush on the left side of the porch。 I tossed the guitar case into the bush。 Now I could keep the fifty…dollar bill in good conscience。 The guitar had been worth at least thirty dollars； and the fee for the private concert was twenty dollars。 We were even。 The message was obscure； perhaps； but Bernice would be able to puzzle it out eventually。
I walked down the gravel driveway to the street； and noticed the number of the house on a stone marker at the bottom of the drive。 111。 I grinned。 I would always remember Bernice's number。
Carrying my wet underwear； I had to wander around in the strange neighborhood for almost five blocks before I could find a bus stop and catch a bus back to downtown Jacksonville。
8
All day long I stayed in my room。 Ideas and plans circulated inside my head； but none of them were worthwhile。 One dismal thought kept oozing to the top； and finally it lodged there。
I had been cheated out of my inheritance。
This wasn't a new thought by any means。 I had thought about it often in the five years since Daddy died； but I had never considered seriously doing anything about it before。 The telegram informing me of Daddy's death had reached me one day too late to allow me to attend the funeral。 I had immediately wired Randall and given him the circumstances。 Two weeks later I had received a letter from Judge Brantley Powell； the old lawyer who handled the estate； together with a check for one dollar。 He had also included a carbon copy of Daddy's will。 Randall； my younger brother； had inherited the four…hundred…acre farm； seven hundred dollars in bonds； and the bank account of two hundred and seventy dollars。 The check for one dollar was my part of the inheritance。
With plenty of money in my pockets at the time； I had dismissed the wifi from my mind。 After all； Randall had stayed home； and I had not。 He had gone to college； earned a degree in law and passed the Georgia bar exams； returning home ostensibly to practice。 I had attended Valdosta State College for one year only and had quit to go to the Southwestern Cocking Tourney in Oklahoma City。 I had never returned to college and Daddy had never gotten over it。 He had always wanted to keep both of us under his thumb； but no man can tell me what to do with my life。
What had happened to the lives we lived？
I had gone on to make a name for myself in cockfighting。
Sure； I was broke now； but I had firmly established myself in one of the toughest sports in the world。 And what did Randall have to show for his fine education？ What had he done with his inheritance？
When he was accepted for the bar he went to work as a law clerk for Judge Brantley Powell。 Six months later； claiming that he was doing most of the work anyway； he asked for a full partnership in the firm。 When the judge turned him down； he had quit； and he hadn't done much of anything since。 He hadn't even hung out his own shingle。 All day long he sat in the big dining room at home； looking for obscure contradictions in his law books； occasionally having an article published on some intricate point of law in some legal quarterly nobody had ever heard of before。 To get by； he sold off small sections of the farm to Wright Gaylord； my fiancée's brother。 He had also married Frances Shelby； a dentist's daughter from Macon。 I suppose she had had some dowry money and a few dollars from her father once in a while； but Randall's total ine from tobacco； pecans and land sales was probably less than three thousand dollars a year。 He was also writing a book…or so Frances said。
By all rights； Daddy should have left the farm to me。 There were no two ways about it。 I was the oldest son； and there wasn't a jury in Georgia that wouldn't award the farm to me if I contested the will。 They read the Bible in Georgia； and in the Holy Bible the eldest son always inherits the property。
By four that afternoon I had made up my mind。 I would go home and press Randall for the three hundred dollars he owed me。 If he paid me； I'd forget about the farm and never consider taking it away from him again。 If he didn't； I'd see Judge Powell and do something about it。 I needed money； and if I didn't get some soon I'd miss out on the cockfighting season。
I checked my bag and gaff case at the desk； wrote a message for the desk clerk to hold any mail that came for me； paid my bill； and headed for the bus station。 I only planned to stay overnight at home； so my shaving kit was enough baggage。 If my black shirt got too dirty； I could have my sister…in…law wash and iron it for me。
The bus pulled out at 4：45。 There was a one…hour layover in Lake City to change buses； and I arrived in Mansfield； Georgia； at 3：30 a。m。 The farm was six miles out of town on the state highway。 I could either wait for the rural route postman and ride out with him or I could walk。 After being cramped up in the bus for such a long time； I decided to stretch my legs。
I enjoyed the walk to the farm。 When I had attended school in town the county had been too poor to afford a school bus。 I had walked both ways； winter and summer； over a deeply…rutted red dirt road； muddy when it rained； and dusty when it hadn't rained。 The road was paved now； and had been since right after the Korean war。 Soldiers from Fort Benning had used a lot of the county as a maneuver area。 When the war was over the county had sued the United States Army for enough money to blacktop most of the county roads。
I reached the farm a little after six。 I passed Charley Smith's house first； the only Negro tenant Randall had left； but I didn't stop to see the old man； even though a coil of black smoke was curling out of his chimney。 Charley was much too old to do hard farm work any longer； but his wife； Aunt Leona； helped Frances around the house four or five days a week； and she was still a good worker。
The old homestead was a gray clapboard two…story structure set well back from the road。 Randall hadn't done anything to improve the looks of the place in the five years he had owned it。 The ten Van Deman pecan trees； planted between the house and the road some sixty years before； had been the deciding factor when Daddy first bought the place。 In another month or so； Charley； Aunt Leona and Frances would be under the trees gathering nuts。 If Randall hit a good market； he would realize three or four hundred dollars from the pecans before Christmas； but I couldn't wait that long to get the money he owed me。
Old Dusty was lying on the long front gallery near the front door； but he didn't bark or lift his head when I entered the yard through the fence gate。 He could neither see nor hear me。 The old dog was almost sixteen years old； blind and stone…deaf。 When I reached the steps； however； he felt the vibration； snuffled； and began to bark feebly。 His hind legs were partially paralyzed。 When he tried to struggle to his feet； I patted his head and made him lie down again。 The hair of his great head was white now。 Unable to hear himself； he would have continued to bark indefinitely； so I closed his mouth with my hand to shut him up。 He recognized me； of course； and licked my hand； his huge tail thumping madly on the loose floorboards of the gallery。 He had been a good hunting dog once； and despite his infirmities； I was grateful to Randall for not putting him away。 I hadn't expected to see Old Dusty again。
Instead of entering by the front door； I took the brick walk around the house to the back。 I opened the screen door to the kitchen； leaned against the doorjamb； and grinned at the expression of surprise and chagrin on my sister…in…law's face。
But I believe I was more shocked than Frances。 She had begun to put on weight the last time I had seen her； but in two years' time she had gained another forty pounds。 She must have been close to one hundred and eighty pounds。 Her rotund body was practically shapeless under the faded blue dressing gown she wore over her nightgown。 Frances's face was still young and pretty； but it was as round and shiny as a full moon。 Her short brown hair was done up tight with a dozen aluminum curlers。 With a grimace of dismay； Frances put a chubby hand to her mouth。
〃You would catch me looking like this！〃 she exclaimed。 〃Why didn't you let us know you were ing？〃
I put an arm about her thick waist and kissed her on the cheek。
〃Well；〃 she said good…naturedly； 〃you can stop grinning like an ape and sit down at the table。 The coffee'll be ready in a minute。 I was just fixing to start breakfast'
I sat down at the oilcloth…covered kitchen table。 Frances lifted the lid of the coffee pot to look inside； and clucked her tongue disapprovingly。 〃You may have lost your voice； Frank；〃 she scolded； 〃but you can still write！ We haven't heard from you in more than six months。〃
I spread my arms apologetically。
〃I guess I'm a fine one to talk；〃 she said； smiling； 〃I never write myself； but we do enjoy hearing from you once in a while。〃 Frances filled two white mugs with coffee； put the sugar and cream where I could reach it easily； and sat down across from me。
〃Randy'll be down pretty soon。 He was up late last night working on an article； and I didn't have the heart to wake him。 He likes to work at night； he says； when it's quiet。 But if it was any quieter in the daytime I don't know what I'd do。 We never go anyplace or do anything anymore； it seems to me。〃 She sipped her hot coffee black and then fanned a dimpled hand in front of her pursed lips。 〃This isn't getting your breakfast ready now； is it？〃
Because Frances knew how fond I was of eating； or because she used my visit； as an excuse； she prepared a large and wonderful breakfast。 Fried pork chops； fried eggs； grits； with plenty of good brown milk gravy to pour over the grits； and fresh hot biscuits。 I ate heartily； hungry after walking out from town； listening with stolid patience to the steady flow of dull gossip concerning various kinfolk and townspeople。 I was finishing my third cup of coffee when I heard Randall on the stairs。 As he entered the room； I got up to greet him。
〃Well； well；〃 he said with false heartiness； holding onto my hand and grinning； 〃if it isn't the junior birdman！〃
He patted his wife on her broad rump； crossed to the sideboard and poured a shot glass full of bourbon。 He swiftly drank two neat shots before turning around。
〃Wele home； Bubba；〃 he said； 〃how long are you going to stay？〃
He sat at the table； and I dropped into my seat again。 Randall looked well。 He always did； whether he had a hangover or didn't have one。 His face was a little puffy； but he was freshly shaven； and his curly russet hair had been cut recently。 His starched white shirt； however； was frayed at the cuffs。 The knot of his red…and…blue striped rep tie was a well…adjusted double windsor； and his black； well…worn oxford flannel trousers were sharply creased。
When I managed to catch his eyes with mine； I shrugged。
〃I see；〃 he nodded； 〃the enigmatic response。 Before I came downstairs I looked outside； both in front and out back； and didn't see a car parked。 Until I realized it was you； I thought Frances was merely talking to herself again。 But if you're broke； you're wele to stay home as long as you like and close ranks with me。 I've never been any flatter。〃
〃I saved two pork chops for you； Randy；〃 Frances said quickly。
〃No； thanks。 Just coffee。 Save the chops for my lunch。〃 Randall smiled abstractedly； clasped his fingers behind his head and studied the ceiling。 〃It isn't difficult to divine the purpose of your visit； Bubba；〃 he continued。 〃When you're flush； you wheel up in a convertible； your pockets stuffed with dollar cigars。 When you're broke； you're pletely broke； and on your uppers。 But if the purpose of your visit is to collect the honest debt I owe you； you're out of luck。 Three hundred dollars！〃 He shook his head and snorted。 〃Frankly； Bubba； I'd have a hard time raising twenty！〃
He leaned forward in his chair and said derisively； 〃But you can live here as long as you like。 We can still eat； and thanks to Daddy there's a wonderful roof over our heads。 And whether we pay our bills in town or not； the Mansfield credit is still good'
To drink the coffe