Free Ragged Company by Richard Wagamese Page A

everyone’s bitchy, it gets all antsy for me. Then, I get my tray an’ pick up my food an’ find a seat an’ take that first mouthful. Man, that’s fine. All that waitin’ just to get to that first mouthful.”
    He finished his beer off and stared at his feet.
    “That sounds pretty fine to me,” Amelia said.
    “Me too,” the Square John said. “What about you?”
    She looked at him squarely. “This.”
    “Pardon?”
    “This. This is fine,” she said.
    “What?”
    “This. Us. All of us, sitting here together talking. It’s fine. Very fine,” she said. “Except that we don’t know who we’re talking to. We don’t even know your name.”
    “That’s right. Well, excuse me,” he said, sitting straighter. “My name is Granite. Granite Harvey.”
    He reached out and shook her hand.
    “Granite?” Digger asked, squinting. “Like the frickin’ rock granite?”
    He grinned. “Yes. Like the frickin’ rock granite.”
    “Well, fuck me,” Digger said and reached over to finish off my draft.
    “Odd name,” I said, nodding at Digger.
    “I suppose it is,” he said. “My father named me after the rock. My family has been stonemasons for generations. Quarrymen. And granite is how they made their living.”
    “It’s a good name. A strong name,” Amelia said. “I’m pleased to meet you, Granite Harvey.”
    “Pleased to meet you, too, whoever you are,” Granite said.
    Amelia chuckled. “Let’s start with the boys and then we’ll get to me,” she said. “This is Timber. That’s what he’s called at leastand that’s how we know him. The tall one beside him is Dick and, of course, you know that this is Digger.”
    The three of us sat there not knowing how to move. Granite stood up slowly, reached over the table to Dick, and shook his hand solemnly.
    “Dick,” he said. “A pleasure.”
    “Sure,” Dick said shyly.
    “Timber,” Granite said, “glad to meet you.”
    I shook his hand. It was a warm, soft hand. “Granite,” I said.
    When he reached over, Digger just stared at the outstretched hand. Then he raised his head and looked squarely at Granite for a moment. “So what’re you gonna say to me? Great to meet you? Glad to make your fucking acquaintance? Let’s buddy up? I’m your wingman, pal? Fuck.”
    To his credit, Granite stood there with his hand held out toward Digger. He never moved and never stopped looking right at him while he spoke. Digger stood up and looked across the table at him, finally. The two of them matched looks for what seemed like forever.
    “Digger,” Granite said finally, “meeting you is like trying to pet a cornered tomcat.”
    “Fuck’s that mean?”
    The two sat slowly at the same time. Granite took a sip of his whisky but never took his eyes off Digger, who stared hard across the table.
    “Well, when I was kid, our neighbours had a barn and there was always a whole slew of kittens around each spring. But every now and then there’d be a tomcat on the prowl that’d come along and kill the kittens. Trying to protect his territory, I suppose. Anyway, everyone wanted to kill him. But me, well, somehow I got it into my head that all that was really needed was for someone to show that cat some attention and maybe he’d quit killing kittens.
    “So I waited. One day, I walked into the barn and that cat was sitting on a beam looking down at me, just like you are now, all far away and cold. When I saw that look I thought, Maybe I’mwrong. Maybe this cat really is a mean son of a bitch and I should stay away. Maybe he is a killer at heart.
    “But you know, Digger, something in me understood that there was something in this that I didn’t understand, the learning of which could change everything. Now, I can’t explain that. I just knew. So, inch by inch, as slowly as possible, I moved toward that cat. He just watched me. Just sat looking at me in that cold, scrutinizing way. Finally, I got close enough to touch him.”
    Granite waved at the waiter and