Sanctuary

"You. Jack, up there," the voice said.

"Hyear him?" the man whispered, shaking with silent glee. "Callin' me Jack.

My name's Tawmmy."

"Come on," the voice said. "I know you're there."

"I reckon we better," Tommy said. "He jes lief take a shot up through the

flo as not."

"For Christ's sake," Gowan said, "Why didn't you-Here," he shouted, "here

we come!"

Popeye stood in the door, his forefingers in his vest. The sun had set.

When they descended and appeared in the door Temple stepped from the back

porch. She paused, watching them, then she came down the hill. She began to

run.

"Didn't I tell you get down on that road?" Popeye said.

"Me and him jest stepped down hyer a minute," Tommy said.

"Did I tell you to get on down that road, or didn't IT'

"Yeuh," Tommy said. "You told me." Popeye turned without so much as a

glance at Gowan. Tommy followed. His back still shook with secret glee.

Temple met Popeye halfway to the house. Without ceasing to run she appeared

to pause. Even her flapping coat did not overtake her, yet for an ap-

preciable instant she faced Popeye with a grimace of taut, toothed

coquetry. He did not stop; the finicking swagger of his narrow back did not

falter. Temple ran again. She passed Tommy and clutched Gowan's arm.

"Gowan, I'm scared. She said for me not to-You've been drinking again; you

haven't even washed the blood-She says for us to go away from here . . ."

Her eyes were quite black,

30 WILLIAM FAULKNER

her face small and wan in the dusk. She looked toward the house. Popeye

was just turning the corner. "She has to walk all the way to a spring for

water; she- They've got the cutest little baby in a box behind the stove.

Gowan, she said for me not to be here after dark. She said to ask him.

He's got a car. She said she didn't think he-"

"Ask who?" Gowan said. Tommy was looking back at them. Then he went on.

"That black man. She said she didn't think he would, but he might. Come

on." They went toward the house. A path led around it to the front. The

car was parked between the path and the house, in the tall weeds. Temple

faced Gowan again, her hand lying upon the door of the car. "It wont take

him any time, in this. I know a boy at home has one. It will run eighty.

All he would have to do is just drive us to a town, because she said if

we were married and I had to say we were. Just to a railroad. Maybe

there's one closer than Jefferson," she whispered, staring at him,

stroking her hand along the edge of the door.

"Oh," Gowan said, "I'm to do the asking. Is that it? You're all nuts. Do

you think that ape will? I'd rather stay here a week than go anywhere

with him."

"She said to. She said for me not to stay here."

"You're crazy as a loon. Come on here."

"You wont ask him? You wont do it?"

"No. Wait till Lee comes, I tell you. He'll get us a car."

They went on in the path. Popeye was leaning against a post, fighting a

cigarette. Temple ran on up the broken steps. "Say," she said, "dont you

want to drive us to town?"

He turned his head, the cigarette in his mouth, the match cupped between

his hands. Temple's mouth was fixed in that cringing grimace. Popeye

leaned the cigarette to the match. "No," he said.

"Come on," Temple said. "Be a sport. It wont take you any time in that

Packard. How about it? We'll pay you."

Popeye inhaled. He snapped the match into the weeds. He said, in his

soft, cold voice: "Make your whore lay off of me, Jack."

Gowan moved thickly, like a clumsy, good-tempered horse goaded suddenly.

"Look here, now," he said. Popeye exhaled, the smoke jetting downward in

two thin spurts. "I don't like that," Gowan said. "Do you know who you're

talking to?" He continued that thick movement, like he could neither stop

it nor complete it. "I dont like that." Popeye turned his head and looked

at Gowan. Then he quit looking at him and Temple said suddenly:

"What river did you fall in and with that suit on? Do you

SANCTUARY 31

have to shave it off at night?" Then she was moving toward the door with

Gowan's hand in the small of her back, her head reverted, her heels

clattering. Popeye leaned motionless against the post, his head turned over

his shoulder in profile.

"Do you want-" Gowan hissed.

"You mean old thing!" Temple cried. "You mean old thing!"

Gowan shoved her into the house. "Do you want him to slam your damn head

off?" he said.

"You're scared of him!" Temple said. "You're scared!"

"Shut your mouth!" Gowan said. He began to shake her. Their feet scraped on

the bare floor as though they were performing a clumsy dance, and clinging

together they lurched into the wall. "Look out," he said, "you're getting

all that stuff stirred up in me again." She broke free, running. He leaned

against the wall and watched her in silhouette run out the back door.

She ran into the kitchen. It was dark save for a crack of light about the

fire-door of the stove. She whirled and ran out the door and saw Gowan

going down the hill toward the barn. He's going to drink some more, she

thought; he's getting drunk again. That makes three times today. Still more