into a kind of stew with turnips and he set what was left of it before the fire to warm. After he had eaten he took the rifle up into the attic and left it and he took the ladder out and stood it by the back of the house. Then he went out to the road and started toward town.
Few cars passed. Ballard walking in the gray roadside grass among the beercans and trash did not even look up. It had grown colder and he was almost blue when he reached Sevierville three hours later.
Ballard shopping. Before a dry goods store where in the window a crude wood manikin headless and mounted on a pole wore a blowsy red dress.
He made several passes through the notions and drygoods, his hands on the money in his pockets. A salesgirl who stood with her arms crossed hugging her shoulders leaned to him as he passed.
Can I hep ye? she said.
I ain’t looked good yet, said Ballard.
He made another sortie among the counters of lingerie, his eyes slightly wild as if in terror of the flimsy pastel garments there. When he came past the salesgirl again he put his hands in his rear pockets and tossed his head casually toward the display window. How much is that there red dress out front, he said.
She looked toward the front of the store and put her hand to her mouth for remembering. It’s five ninety-eight, she said. Then she shook her head up and down. Yes. Five ninety-eight.
I’ll take it, said Ballard.
The salesgirl unleaned herself from the counter. She and Ballard were about the same height. She said: What size did you need?
Ballard looked at her. Size, he said.
Did you know her size?
He rubbed his jaw. He’d never seen the girl standing up. He looked at the salesgirl. I don’t know what size she takes, he said.
Well how big is she?
I don’t believe she’s big as you.
Do you know how much she weighs?
She’ll weigh a hunnerd pound or better.
The girl looked at him sort of funny. She must be just small, she said.
She ain’t real big.
They’re over here, said the girl, leading the way.
They went creaking across the oiled wooden floors to a dress rack assembled out of galvanized waterpipe and the salesgirl fanned the hangers back and pulled out the red dress and held it up. This here’s a seven, she said. I’d say it would fit her unless she’s just teeninecy.
Okay, said Ballard.
She can swap it if it don’t fit.
Okay.
She folded the dress across her arm. Was there anything else? she said.
Yeah, said Ballard. She needs some other stuff too.
The girl waited.
She needs some things to go with it.
What all does she need? the girl said.
She needs some drawers, Ballard blurted out.
The girl coughed into her fist and turned and went back up the aisle, Ballard behind, his face afire.
They stood at the counter he’d been studying all along from out of his eyecorner and the girl tapped her fingers on the little glass rail, looking past him. He stood with his hands still crammed in his rear pockets and his elbows out.
They’s all these here, said the girl, taking a pencil from behind her ear and running it over the counter rail.
You got any black ones?
She rummaged through the stacks and came up with a pair of black ones with pink bows.
I’ll take em, said Ballard. And one of them there. She looked to where he was pointing. A slip? she said.
Yeah.
She moved along the counter. Here’s a pretty red one, she said. Would go pretty with this dress.
Red? said Ballard.
She held it up.
I’ll take that, said Ballard.
What else now? she said.
I don’t know, said Ballard, casting his eye over the counter.
Does she need a bra?
No. You ain’t got them drawers in the red have ye?
H E GOT A FIRE GOING IN THE hearth and with wooden fingers undid the frozen lacings of his shoes and levered them from the shank of his foot, banging the heels on the floor until they came off. He looked at his feet. They were a pale yellow with white spots. When he went into the other room he could hardly feel the floor. He seemed to be
Few cars passed. Ballard walking in the gray roadside grass among the beercans and trash did not even look up. It had grown colder and he was almost blue when he reached Sevierville three hours later.
Ballard shopping. Before a dry goods store where in the window a crude wood manikin headless and mounted on a pole wore a blowsy red dress.
He made several passes through the notions and drygoods, his hands on the money in his pockets. A salesgirl who stood with her arms crossed hugging her shoulders leaned to him as he passed.
Can I hep ye? she said.
I ain’t looked good yet, said Ballard.
He made another sortie among the counters of lingerie, his eyes slightly wild as if in terror of the flimsy pastel garments there. When he came past the salesgirl again he put his hands in his rear pockets and tossed his head casually toward the display window. How much is that there red dress out front, he said.
She looked toward the front of the store and put her hand to her mouth for remembering. It’s five ninety-eight, she said. Then she shook her head up and down. Yes. Five ninety-eight.
I’ll take it, said Ballard.
The salesgirl unleaned herself from the counter. She and Ballard were about the same height. She said: What size did you need?
Ballard looked at her. Size, he said.
Did you know her size?
He rubbed his jaw. He’d never seen the girl standing up. He looked at the salesgirl. I don’t know what size she takes, he said.
Well how big is she?
I don’t believe she’s big as you.
Do you know how much she weighs?
She’ll weigh a hunnerd pound or better.
The girl looked at him sort of funny. She must be just small, she said.
She ain’t real big.
They’re over here, said the girl, leading the way.
They went creaking across the oiled wooden floors to a dress rack assembled out of galvanized waterpipe and the salesgirl fanned the hangers back and pulled out the red dress and held it up. This here’s a seven, she said. I’d say it would fit her unless she’s just teeninecy.
Okay, said Ballard.
She can swap it if it don’t fit.
Okay.
She folded the dress across her arm. Was there anything else? she said.
Yeah, said Ballard. She needs some other stuff too.
The girl waited.
She needs some things to go with it.
What all does she need? the girl said.
She needs some drawers, Ballard blurted out.
The girl coughed into her fist and turned and went back up the aisle, Ballard behind, his face afire.
They stood at the counter he’d been studying all along from out of his eyecorner and the girl tapped her fingers on the little glass rail, looking past him. He stood with his hands still crammed in his rear pockets and his elbows out.
They’s all these here, said the girl, taking a pencil from behind her ear and running it over the counter rail.
You got any black ones?
She rummaged through the stacks and came up with a pair of black ones with pink bows.
I’ll take em, said Ballard. And one of them there. She looked to where he was pointing. A slip? she said.
Yeah.
She moved along the counter. Here’s a pretty red one, she said. Would go pretty with this dress.
Red? said Ballard.
She held it up.
I’ll take that, said Ballard.
What else now? she said.
I don’t know, said Ballard, casting his eye over the counter.
Does she need a bra?
No. You ain’t got them drawers in the red have ye?
H E GOT A FIRE GOING IN THE hearth and with wooden fingers undid the frozen lacings of his shoes and levered them from the shank of his foot, banging the heels on the floor until they came off. He looked at his feet. They were a pale yellow with white spots. When he went into the other room he could hardly feel the floor. He seemed to be
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