Free The Marrowbone Marble Company by Glenn Taylor

book down and wiped at his nose with his thumb. “I knew a Franklin Ledford up at Red Jacket.”
    â€œMy great uncle, I believe. Dead.”
    â€œOh yes, dead. Matter of fact, all the Ledfords in those parts are long dead, aren’t they?”
    â€œThat or moved away.” He was still holding the door’s edge in his hand. “You’re from Mingo?”
    Staples shook his head no. “Spent some time there as a young man. But I’m a McDowell County boy. Keystone.” He smiled again. “Come on in and sit down. Just move those books off to the floor there.”
    Ledford did so and sat. The seat of his chair was half-rotten. Under his backside, it felt as if it might go any time. “I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said.
    â€œDepends on what you’re here for.” Staples leaned back and crossed his long legs. He took off his glasses and folded them shut. Held them two-handed across his belly.
    â€œWell,” Ledford said. “That’s…” He couldn’t spit it out. “I…” Staples did not move an inch. He sat and stared and breathed slow but noticeable through the nose he kept snorting. It whistled. The lamplight flickered under the orange scarf he’d laid across it.
    â€œI have questions about God. And man.” Ledford cracked his knuckles against his thighs.
    â€œMm-hmm. Mm-hmm,” Staples said. “And the Very Reverend, he didn’t give you answers on those?”
    â€œWell, he thought maybe I’d understand them a little better if they came from you.”
    â€œIs that right? Well…” He came forward suddenly, slapped both his shoes on the floor. From his desk drawer he pulled a pipe and tobacco pouch. “What’s the weather doin?”
    â€œSunny. Hot.”
    â€œYou want to go for a walk?”
    â€œSure. Yessir.”
    It was Sadie Hawkins Day, and coed girls chased boys across the green like they’d heard a starter gun salute. Staples ignored them and walked at a quick clip and talked with his teeth clamped around his pipe, which looked to be on its last leg. “Are you married?”
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œA year next month.”
    â€œChild?”
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œBoy or girl?”
    â€œGirl.”
    â€œHave you kept your pecker in your pants otherwise?” He did not break stride. They cut across the grass, dry and patchy.
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œGood.” Staples stopped dead and pointed to a big maple tree ten yards off. “This is the tree,” he said. The skin on his hand said he’d seen a good bit of sun. Long fingers. He was roughly Ledford’s size, and he’d not stooped with age.
    Ledford followed him to the tree. Staples sat down Indian-style next to a surfaced root. Ledford looked around. A Sadie Hawkins girl squealed and hurdled a green bench. In the distance, the GI dormitory trailers sat quiet and squat, brown rectangles in the sun. Ledford took a seat on a wide root.
    Staples knocked his pipe on the tree trunk. “You were overseas, I’d imagine?”
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œPacific or Atlantic?”
    â€œPacific. Guadalcanal.”
    â€œNavy?”
    â€œMarine Corps.”
    Staples looked down at the black ash and made a strange shape out of his mouth. He’d not figured the young man for a Marine. He cleared his throat with a booming cough. “You weren’t drafted?”
    â€œI enlisted.”
    â€œYour mother and daddy were okay with that?”
    â€œThey died in ’35.”
    Staples had stuck his thumb in the mouth of his pipe. He shook his head. “I am sorry son,” he said. “You want to talk about booze now or save that for another day?” He pocketed the pipe in his jacket. Before Ledford could answer, Staples said, “You read much Ledford?”
    â€œI do some.”
    â€œWhat are you reading now?”
    â€œThe Bible