Free Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell Page B

side. She held the shotgun swaying low and leaned to kiss the crown of Gail’s head. She snorted, laughed, gave a joshing shove, and said, “I
knew
you wouldn’t eat shit
long
. I know you good enough to know
that
. I knew you’d get back to yourself’n show up for me. I just
knew
.”

    Gail touched her free hand to the shotgun and raised the barrel until it pointed at the sky. She said, “What on earth gives?”

     
16

    A PICNIC OF words fell from Gail’s mouth to be gathered around and savored slowly. Ree’s feelings could stray from now and drift to so many special spots of time in her senses when listening to that voice, the perfect slight lisp, the wet tone, that soothing hillfolk drawl. She nodded and nodded, drifting while absently forking fried potatoes straight from the black skillet. She paused with the fork stalled midway between her mouth and the frying pan.

    Gail went on, “He told me he wanted to go check his deer stand—you believe that baloney? In all this snow’n icy mess he decides along toward dark he’s just gotta drive out to Lilly Ridge right now’n look at his stinkin’ ol’ deer stand.
Again
.” Gail sat on a kitchen chair and Ned lay on the table, restful inside a plastic baby carrier that had a thin swinging handle. A big soft blue bag with a shoulder strap sat on the floor, full of baby stuff. “I know when he says
deer stand
it means he’s gone over to fuck Heather. Where else could he be goin’? Ain’t nobody needs to check on their deer stand
twice
a week. At
night
. Sayin’
deer stand
just means . . . It’s her who was his girlfriend forever. It’s her who he really loves. It’s her who he wants. I’m just what he’s got.”

    The fork reached Ree’s mouth and she swallowed while sighing. She squirted more ketchup on the brown leavings stuck to the skillet bottom, scraped. She said, “I think he got awful lucky to get you, Sweet Pea. I always have thought that.”

    “He loves Heather. Me’n Ned’s just the booby prizes he’s stuck with instead of what he wanted.” Gail raised her head, shrugged, then snickered. “But Floyd’s not all that mean, really, he’s just a liar who don’t bother to come up with lies you can swallow.”

    “Those kinds of liars are the worst. They’re lyin’ to you’n callin’ you stupid in the same breath, with the same words.”

    “I know, I know, but piss on him and his stinkin’ deer stand, anyhow—how goes it with your troubles?”

    Ree licked her fork shiny and dropped it into the skillet, wiped her lips with two fingers. She flapped a hand toward the boys, shook her head, said, “I don’t want to say while we’re sittin’ here.”

    “Still need to get down to Reid’s Gap?”

    “Yup. That might be the one last place worth checkin’.”

    Gail raised a key ring and jingled it while grinning. She said, “Got the in-laws’ old truck.”

    Ree brightened and smiled and said, “You are who I always did think you were, Sweet Pea. You truly are.” She bent over and began to unlace her boots. “Let me get dry socks on’n we’ll head out.”

    The boys watched television, some masterpiece show about dandies with fancy stagecoaches and houses like castles and different accents. Mom sat in her rocker staring at the baby with alarm, pondering wretchedly, tired face riffling between shimmers of suspicion and guilt, as though trying hard to recollect if maybe she could’ve birthed yet another little bundle who’d somehow already slipped from memory. Gail snacked on animal crackers from a small box in the blue bag. She studied Mom’s face as she chewed. She reached to pat Mom on the arm, get her attention.

    “This baby’s my baby boy, Ned.”

    “Is he? I have so many days I can’t picture.”

    “Uh-huh, he is. You know it’s been quite a while since I seen you, Mom. How
are
you? How’re
you
doin’?”

    “The same.”

    “Still just the same?”

    “Different kinds of same.”

    “Well, your