A Short History of a Small Place (33 page)

He just flapped around a little at first, according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, but once he got his bearings he sort of dogpaddled out towards the flock of rightsideup ducks that was still keeping company with the solitary upsidedown one. Of course the sight of a Gottlieb coming at them across the pond, or anyway the sight of the head of a Gottlieb which is all that was out from the water, drove the ducks on towards the far bank and the flock discharged the carcass behind it which Mr. Alton’s daddy still could not make out very clearly even after Dale had taken hold of the duck’s feet and had commenced to churn his way back towards big Buster and little Buster which the duck was preventing him from doing with any sort of ease or much success. As Mrs. Phillip J. King explained it, the dogpaddle is strictly one of your four-limbed strokes and here Dale was trying to pull it off with three free limbs and a duck-laden one which in combination kept him off the pond bottom but did not exactly carry him skimming across the water. So in the interest of keeping the carcass count down to one, Dale decided he’d best not try to swim and haul the duck too and instead he tossed the duck out ahead of him and paddled up to it so as to toss it out ahead of him again. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said it was while the duck had taken to flying once more that Mr. Alton’s daddy got his first good look at it and knew it for one of his teals and of course the sight sort of rejuvenated his agitation and touched off a whole new assortment of “you theres” and “young mans” and “I says” along with enough hand clapping for a legitimate ovation. But the Gottliebs did not pay any attention whatsoever to Mr. Alton’s daddy, and Mrs. Phillip J. King said once little Buster saw that Dale was very possibly not going to drown he lit out through the pine grove for home to tell his momma and his grandmomma to take the bones off the fire. That left big Buster to haul Dale up out of the pond by the britches’ bottoms and he offered to carry the duck for him but Dale said he’d fetched it and he wanted to carry it so him and his daddy left the pond bank for the scrubby groundcover and left the scrubby groundcover for the pine grove and by the time they arrived at the treeline Mr. Alton’s daddy had left off his hand clapping and had given over his “you theres” and “young mans” and “I says” for an extended series of “Heys” which he delivered like pistol shots. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said it wasn’t until big Buster had disappeared into the trees that Dale pulled up short of vanishing into them himself and allowed his backside to become his frontside momentarily so that he could raise his duckless arm towards Mr. Alton’s daddy and say “Hey” back.

According to Mrs. Phillip J. King that was the beginning of the imbroglio, though she did not call it an imbroglio and did not call it the beginning either. Mrs. Phillip J. King said it was the “overture to discord” which she just up and came out with and which seemed to me near about the same thing as the beginning of the imbroglio once it was translated out of King’s English, Daddy calls it. Of course Mr. Alton’s daddy was outraged right off, overture or not, and he carried his outrage on home with him so as to give it an airing out over dinner with the former Miss Dupont who did not share her husband’s passion for ducks and who was in fact growing increasingly weary of them since most everywhere she looked she saw one, painted or otherwise. So according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, the former Miss Dupont could not work up any sort of appreciable anger, not even when her husband told her he had been “beset by vile poachers,” which sounded far nastier and more serious than “invaded by Gottliebs,” and consequently Mr. Alton’s daddy collected up his outrage from the dinner table and hauled it on down to the bungalow where he suspected he might find somebody to be outraged along with him. Mrs. Phillip J. King said of course Mr. Alton was at home alone, and she cleared her throat at Momma who nodded back at Mrs. Phillip J. King so as to indicate she understood that Miss Sissy was most probably out doing something unprincipled, and according to Mrs. Phillip J. King since Mr. Alton was not presently hobnobbing with his political acquaintances or hobnobbing with his wife either, he found himself free to become worked up and him and his daddy sat outside on the bungalow patio, where they could be outraged together under the stars.

Mr. Alton seemed to favor legal intervention while, in the heat of the moment, his daddy came out strong for what Mrs. Phillip J. King called fisticuffs. But Mr. Alton knew right off and his daddy knew when he’d simmered down some that any one Gottlieb by himself, who they still did not know were Gottliebs and so instead called “that ilk,” could most likely take on all the available Nance’s at once and fisticuff the whole slew of them into the ground. Accordingly, Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy worked out a strategy that would commence with negotiations and carry on into the courtroom if the poachers proved to be hard-headed, which Mr. Alton’s daddy was sure they would be since they were vile anyway and consequently had nothing to lose by being hard-headed too. So Mr. Alton and his daddy set out from the estate the following morning in Mr. Alton’s touring car and hunted up the Gottliebs down an oiled road that bordered the Nance property to the north. Mrs. Phillip J. King said for their part Granddaddy Gottlieb and J.G. and Dale and little Buster and big Buster had moved out from the backyard and around the house to the frontyard, where they had repositioned themselves almost directly between the breezeway and the drainage ditch. The move had come mostly on account of a kind of vile poachers’ roundtable that Granddaddy Gottlieb and J.G. and Dale and little Buster and big Buster had taken part in after supper the night previous during which it was decided by unanimous vote that while a duck shot over the Gottlieb backyard might sail on into the Nance pond a duck shot over the Gottlieb frontyard could not possibly get clear of the pine grove, and of course the decision was helped along some by Mrs. Buster and Mrs. Granddaddy who both agreed it was still a little too springlike to be tossing Gottliebs into a lake. So by the time Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy arrived at the Gottlieb house, Dale and little Buster and big Buster and J.G. had already hauled their granddaddy out into the front yard on top of his four-poster bed which he was confined to more than ever since aside from the lingering pneumonia his case of the double hemorrhoids had become increasingly inflamed and troublesome almost from the very moment little Buster and Dale and big Buster dropped him in the back yard when he took a pistol whipping directly on his affliction.

Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton stopped the car in the middle of the road and beeped the horn twice and his daddy leaned his head out the side window and asked all five Gottliebs at once, “What are you gentlemen up to?”

But of course they didn’t fall all over themselves trying to answer him. In fact no Gottlieb said anything until little Buster left off burying his feet long enough to turn to big Buster and ask him, “Who is that, Daddy?” And Mrs. Phillip J. King said big Buster laid the rifle across his legs and gave some thoughtful consideration to Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s touring car before he turned to Granddaddy Gottlieb who was reposing on his frontside under the bedclothes and asked him, “Who is that, Daddy?” And Granddaddy Gottlieb raised himself on his forearms and trained his near eye on Mr. Alton’s daddy and then on Mr. Alton and then on Mr. Alton’s touring car, and he said, “They’s Nances,” and then let himself back down onto the mattress where he set in to reposing again.

“I’m Mr. Nance,” Mr. Alton’s daddy said, “and this is my son who is Mr. Nance also.”

“Well, I’m Mr. Gottlieb,” Buster told him back, “and this is my daddy, who is Mr. Gottlieb also and this is my boy Buster jr. and Dale and J.G. who are all Mr. Gottliebs too. Now, what is it all us Gottliebs can do for you Nances?”

“You can answer me one question,” Mr. Alton’s daddy said. “You can tell me what you gentlemen are up to,” and he made a very dramatic sweeping gesture with his arm so as to take in all five of the gentlemen Mr. Gottliebs who were sitting before him in kitchen chairs except of course for Granddaddy Gottlieb and except for J.G. who had brought his no. 10 can into the front yard with him.

But before big Buster could decide whether or not him and his daddy and his boys were up to anything and so formulate a reply, J.G. raised his right arm and pointed as high as he could point considering the tender condition of his ribs. “Ducks!” he shrieked, “ducks coming in over the white oak,” and little Buster shouldered the shotgun while his daddy brought the rifle out of his lap and while his granddaddy rolled very gingerly onto his backside and raised his pistol with both hands. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said Granddaddy Gottlieb cut loose with his bullet and then big Buster cut loose with his and then little Buster emptied the shotgun squeezing off one barrel at a time so as to keep his shoulder intact, and as for the ducks, Mrs. Phillip J. King said they just kept getting it on over top of the Gottlieb house and beyond the pine grove and into the pond. So consequently Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy found out first hand what the gentlemen Mr. Gottliebs were up to without big Buster having to bother to tell them.

Of course Mr. Alton’s daddy, and Mr. Alton too for that matter, became noticeably agitated and appalled by what Mrs. Phillip J. King called the thundrous barrage, and once the sound of the gunfire had tailed off sufficiently Mr. Alton’s daddy clenched his fists and stomped his foot two or three times on the oiled road and told all the gentlemen Mr. Gottliebs outright, “This is an outrage! You cannot, I tell you you simply cannot shoot a duck coming in to roost.”

And Mrs. Phillip J. King said big Buster opened up the rifle breech, prized out the empty cartridge with his fingernail, and said to Mr. Alton’s daddy, “You’re right on it there, Mister. It’s all you can do to get the gun up. Now J.G. hit one yesterday, but it took both barrels and some considerable luck and the butt liked to went clear through him.” And big Buster stopped talking to Mr. Alton’s daddy long enough to say to J.G., “Show him your stomach, son.” And J.G. stood up off his can and opened his shirt so the Nances could see the blue places on his belly. “Weren’t luck either,” he said.

But almost before he could get the words out, Mr. Alton’s daddy had commenced to stomping again and Mr. Alton had seen fit to get out of the car and join in. “I won’t let you do this,” Mr. Alton’s daddy said. “I simply will not allow you to shoot my ducks.”

“Your ducks?” big Buster said to him.

“Yes sir,” Mr. Alton’s daddy told him back, “my ducks. They’re breeding in my boxes on my property and I demand you stop shooting at them.”

And big Buster laid the rifle across his legs and said, “I suppose that is your pond and I suppose those are your boxes and I guess that’s your pine grove too, but they’s anybody’s ducks.”

“They’re my ducks, sir,” Mr. Alton’s daddy snapped back at him.

“As long as they’re in your pond they might be,” big Buster said, “but when they come over top that white oak yonder they’re all mine. Ain’t that right boys?” And little Buster and Dale and J.G. all put in together with “Yes, Daddy.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that, Mr. Gottlieb,” Mr. Alton’s daddy told him.

And big Buster said, “Awright.”

And little Buster turned half around in his chair and said, “Daddy, it’s ten-thirty.”

And big Buster said, “Thank you, son,” and turned half around in his chair and told Granddaddy Gottlieb, “It’s ten-thirty, Daddy.”

And Granddaddy Gottlieb rolled onto his back and hollered, “Nina! Nina!” which brought the top part of Mrs. Granddaddy Gottlieb out one of the breezeway windows. “Nina,” he shouted at her, “fill the tub, I’m coming in.”

Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy did not go home directly but stopped in downtown at the offices of Mr. Wade “Shorty” Glidewell, attorney at law, who Mrs. Phillip J. King said was testing the water in the race for district judge and so had reason to take care of any sort of problem Mr. Alton or Mr. Alton’s daddy might be having. Now according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, Mr. Glidewell did not specialize in duck custody cases, and as far as he could recollect there in the presence of Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy he had never had the privilege of litigating over any variety of duck dilemma whatsoever, but of course he welcomed the opportunity and even before Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy could get away from his office Mr. Glidewell sent his brother’s boy, Lyle, to find out just where and how often the law of the land and ducks had anything to do with each other. For his part, Mr. Alton drove his daddy on home and the two of them took lunch on the bungalow patio, where Mrs. Phillip J. King told Momma they dined on congealed salad and beef brisket with a delightful fruitfilled pastry cup for desert, and she said the most of their conversation was devoted to running down Gottliebs except for the few minutes in between the brisket and the fruit cup, when Mr. Alton’s daddy made a very brave and highly animated speech about a man’s right to take wild creatures for his own and so got the blood pumping in Mr. Alton and in himself also. According to Mrs. Phillip J. King the Nances were by nature men of considerable passion, which was of course a fitting complement to their finely chiseled features, which Mrs. Phillip J. King said they both still had at the time of the duck imbroglio since Mr. Alton’s cheekbones had not yet given way and his daddy’s had retained their structure all along which left him near about as dashing as his son. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said after they had pushed their plates away and after the both of them had clipped their cigars and lit them, Mr. Alton and his daddy took turns carting their hot blood and their finely chiseled features all over the patio. First Mr. Alton’s daddy rose from the table and circled it twice with the index finger of one hand crooked around his Havana and the thumb of the other jammed into his fob pocket. He was fairly much off Gottliebs specifically and had gotten himself a little sweltery on the topic of vile individuals in general, instances of which he illustrated with Gottliebs when the application seemed appropriate, and Mrs. Phillip J. King said once he’d played out on the subject he gave over the patio to Mr. Alton, who paced back and forth in front of the cement planter box and worked his arms in the air. It was Mr. Alton’s opinion that people weren’t worth a piddle anymore, especially Gottliebs. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said the longer Mr. Alton talked the more worked up him and his daddy became until the two of them together were stalking all over the patio and declaiming, Mrs. Phillip J. King called it, in a most passionate fashion.