Kings of the Earth: A Novel
amuse and he always had Audie to occupy. You’d think a boy would take some pleasure in that but I’m not sure he did. I’m not sure he could.
    Everybody knew you couldn’t trust Audie with anything sharp, but Vernon had ideas of his own. He had a jackknife with a blade about four or five inches long. He always kept it sharp. How I heard it later was he took Audie and laid the back of his hand flat down on the lid of a milk can and he took that jackknife and opened up the blade and held the point of it to the palm of Audie’s hand and pulled. Just pulled on it in a straight line as nice as you please, pressing down gently all the while, as if he was drawing a picture or something, until the blade sank in a little and started making its cut and the blood came. Audie watched it come for a second like it was a magic trick or like the red was coming out of the point of the jackknife instead of from him—like it was a fountain pen, even though he didn’t know the first thing about fountain pens and he doesn’t to this day—until Vernon picked up the tip and showed him what was what. Audie felt the sting and he saw the cut and he began howling right off. It seemed like he didn’t realize he was hurt until then. I must have been in school at the time or else I’d have heard him holler and come running. I don’t know if Lester heard him or if he was up in the fields somewhere, but the result was the same. The old man kept his distance like always. He’d have whipped Vernon if he’d found out.
    Vernon knew what he was up to. If anybody else had stuck Audie that way, it would have been what they call the end of a beautiful friendship. Then again nobody else would have thought to do it. But anyhow no power on earth could diminish Audie’s admiration for his big brother. Not even something that an ordinary person would take for cruelty. It wasn’t normal, but you had to respect it. Vernon had Audie wipe off that cut on his pant leg or somewhere and he shushed him and he took him over to the woodpile. They picked out some sticks of wood and went back over to the porch and sat down. Vernon pulled out the knife again and Audie took one look at it and started to shake all over but Vernon calmed him down. He took the knife to the wood and cut. I guess he had a talent for that kind of thing although he never showed it but that once. He’d spied an old barn cat sitting on the fence and he pointed it out to Audie and then he whittled up the very likeness of that old tom faster than you could blink. I still have that carving, is how I know. It sits on my mantelpiece to this day. Now that Vernon’s gone I don’t guess he’ll be doing any more of them. It’s a collector’s item.
    He shut the knife and he set the little wooden cat on the porch rail, and they admired it the two of them. A minute went by and he picked up another piece of wood and gave it to Audie. He opened the knife and he tried to give that to him too but Audie turned away and started to shake so he had to quit for a little. They just sat and admired the wooden cat, with the knife lying there on the board floor between them. After a while he picked up the knife again and took the carving off the rail and made some little improvement to it. Maybe he cut in the slits for the whiskers. I don’t know. Then when he was done he tried handing the knife over again and this time Audie took hold of it. He took hold of it like it was a live bird or something on that order but he took hold of it all the same. I don’t think he’s ever let it go since. The lathe came later and he’s just as cautious with that.
    Not that he’s ever gotten much good at it for all the time he’s put in. He never did have much of an eye, to tell you the truth, and now that he’s three-quarters blind it’s worse. But he keeps at it. He’ll still do a cat sometimes or a sheep that you can make out but the rest could be anything. Some folks like it. There’s a shop over in Clinton that

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