When we finally got back to the buggy, Papa didn't say a
thing about beating me or my hide. He hardly noticed us. Mama was
there by the buggy, and they were looking at a big,
double-barreled shotgun Miss Dink wanted Papa to fix.
Papa walked back to hook the chain on Miss Ophelia's rickety
gate, and he and Mama talked on-about Miss Dink being sick in the
bed again, and about Miss Ophelia claiming she hadn't seen Ward
since Christmas Eve night, and about some gunshots way across the
field. Papa was more worried about the shots than about Miss
Dink.
"Nannie, it sounded like it was between here and Wes Bailey's
house!"
"Quit worrying, Jodie. It was probably them three boys out
shooting at tin cans. Boys like to practice."
"Maybe so, but let's get on home. These days I stay uneasy,
'specially every time I hear a gun go off."
Papa glanced down at me and Shoogie. "You girls hurry and
climb up in the back of the buggy there so we can go. My, y'all
both look like you've been running pigs in a briar patch!"
"No, suh, Mister Jodie.
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