And Mrs. Phillip J. King said once all the dishes were cleared away but for the coffee cups, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell opened up his satchel and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, opened up his satchel and the two of them together covered over the tabletop with heaps and piles and bundles of precedents and alternatives and interpretations along with a separate folder full up with notes and illustrations devoted entirely to who had done what to a duck and how he’d answered for it. And right off Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell told Mr. Alton and told Mr. Alton’s daddy that as far as the records showed duck litigation was a delicate business. He said the litigants, who were most usually on the duck’s side of the matter, were not uniformly successful in winning judgements against the offending parties, who did most of their offending, according to Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell, with shotguns and whose sentiments most usually ran contrary to ducks. And Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell went on to say that his brother’s boy, Lyle, had found out that a litigant could hardly hope for a judgement without the aid of what Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell called a palpable trespass on the part of the offending party. And Mr. Alton’s daddy said he had a palpable trespass, said he’d seen with his own eyes three Gottliebs in the midst of one. But Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell said that him and his brother’s boy, Lyle, had pondered over it together and had both agreed that as far as Mr. Alton’s daddy’s trespass was concerned, the three Gottliebs to say they didn’t more than cancelled out the one Nance to say they did. So it was the studied opinion of Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and it was the studied opinion of Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, that Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy should not commence any sort of legal proceedings against the Gottliebs since they were not in possession of a clearly indisputable palpable trespass and since, as far as Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell understood the law of it, only those ducks harbored within the bounds of the litigant’s legal holdings, territorially speaking, could be said to belong to the litigant while any creature flying to or flying from the lawfully described boundaries of the litigant’s property was legally subject to the threat of violence and destruction from whosoever might be willing to raise a gun at it, which Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell said could be anybody, even a Gottlieb.
Consequently, it was Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s conclusion, to which Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, concurred, Mrs. Phillip J. King called it, that Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy should not pursue any sort of legal action against the Gottliebs but should instead seek to negotiate with them for an immediate settlement and so put an end to what Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell called the senseless massacre, which already counted among its casualties the single duck from day one along with the untold myriads, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell called them, from days two and three and now day four. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said the idea of myriads, especially untold ones, won Mr. Alton and won Mr. Alton’s daddy over to Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s view of the matter since Mr. Alton and his daddy could not have known and did not know that the Gottliebs hadn’t felled anything after the initial day of the imbroglio and so were still working on a one-duck massacre.
The arbitration party, Mrs. Phillip J. King called it, rode round to the Gottlieb acre and a half in Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s European sedan and they were greeted, Mrs. Phillip J. King said though she did not mean greeted exactly, by a whole front yard crawling with Gottliebs in various stages of development and evolution and including the five duck brigade Gottliebs who were positioned on day four of the imbroglio pretty much as they had been on day two except for Granddaddy Gottlieb who on account of the vast improvement in his posterior condition had left his bed in the house and so was sitting on a feather pillow in a straight-backed chair with is comforter wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Of course Granddaddy Gottlieb was in possession of his homemade filed-down rifle barrel pistol, the muzzle of which protruded between the folds of the comforter, and big Buster himself was in possession of the rifle, which lay across the tops of his thighs with the bolt open, while it was Dale’s turn to have at the shotgun, which left little Buster free to pick at his toes and gave J.G. the leisure to squat atop his no. 10 can and spit at ants with his head down between his legs. So what Mrs. Phillip J. King called the Gottlieb vanguard appeared on day four almost exactly as it appeared on day two but in actuality things were considerably different since the Gottliebs were almost entirely out of ammunition and about as far gone in patience. Granddaddy Gottlieb had only five rounds left for his pistol while big Buster’s shirtpocket held the three remaining rifle shells and the shotgun was loaded with the last two cartridges, one of which was filled with buckshot while the other was filled with salt and so left Dale the opportunity to obliterate a duck with the one barrel or season him with the other. Consequently, the Gottliebs were not altogether displeased at the sight of Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s European sedan complete with two Nances since they had been sufficiently humiliated by ducks already and invited the chance to tangle with people for awhile.
Mr. Alton’s daddy was the first one out of the car and across the oiled road to the Gottlieb acre and a half where he said his hellos to big Buster and Granddaddy Gottlieb and the Gottlieb boys, and he was followed by Mr. Alton, who was followed by Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle. “You remember my son, Mr. Nance,” Mr. Alton’s daddy said, mostly to big Buster, “and this is my attorney, Mr. Glidewell, and my attorney’s aid, Mr. Glidewell.”
“Mr. Nance. Mr. Glidewell. Mr. Glidewell,” big Buster said, twitching his head at each one of them in turn. And then he pretty much pointed his topnotch at Granddaddy Gottlieb and said, “This here is my daddy, Mr. Gottlieb, and them over there are three of my wife’s children, Mr. Gottliebs too.”
“Pleasure,” Mr. Glidewell said.
“Pleasure,” Mr. Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, said.
“Uh huh,” big Buster said back at them.
“Of course we’ve come about the ducks, Mr. Gottlieb,” Mr. Alton’s daddy began. “We’d like to work out some sort of settlement and so put an end to the ... to the ...”
“Bloodshed,” Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell provided and which was followed almost immediately by a sharp “Ha!” from J.G. who never raised his head from between his legs to say it. “I have discussed the matter thoroughly with Mr. Nance sr. and his son, Mr. Nance jr.,” Mr. Glidewell continued, “and after exhaustive considerations we have concluded upon a mutually beneficial compromise.”
“That so,” big Buster said.
“Yes sir,” Mr. Glidewell told him, and Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy drew in a little tighter around Mr. Glidewell since they did not recall any exhaustive considerations themselves and so wanted to hear firsthand just what variety of compromise they’d become a party to. “Of course,” Mr. Glidewell set in, “it is not Mr. Nance’s desire to take this issue into the courts.”
“I don’t guess it is,” big Buster said back to him, “since as far as I know they ain’t yet made the law that keeps a man from sitting in his own front yard and shooting his own gun at anybody’s ducks.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, Mr. Nance has kindly agreed to defer all legal proceedings in the hope that an equitable compromise outside of the courtroom might render any future confrontations unnecessary.”
And big Buster looked at Granddaddy Gottlieb and then looked at Dale and then looked at little Buster and then looked at J.G., who was still spitting on ants with his head between his legs. “Whut is it we get?” he said when he finally decided to look at Mr. Glidewell again.
Now according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell figured that he would take it upon himself to strike up a bargain with the Gottliebs when he pulled up in front of the Gottlieb acre and a half and saw with his own eyes that not a single Gottlieb out of the entire five duck brigade Gottliebs seemed very much carried away with the sport of the hunt, so Mr. Glidewell’s keen legal mind set in to gyrating, Mrs
. Phillip J. King called it, and Mr. Glidewell deduced and calculated and arrived at the conclusion that since the sport of the thing did not seem to have much appeal for the Gottliebs, they must be in it for the ducks alone. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said with an additional gyration or two Mr. Glidewell reasoned that there were more ways to bag a duck than with a rifle and so commenced the negotiations straightaway. “A duck,” he said, “or a drake if you prefer, fully dressed from the market and delivered to you on a monthly basis.”
“A duck?” big Buster said back to him.
“Or a drake, if you prefer.”
“A duck a month?” big Buster said.
“Precisely.”
“For how long?”
“For as long,” Mr. Glidewell told him, “as Mr. Nance wishes to keep you from shooting at his ducks.” And Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Glidewell looked sideways at Mr. Alton and at Mr. Alton’s daddy and both the Nances together nodded their approval.
“A duck a month,” big Buster said and gaped to his left ar his daddy and then to his right at his three boys. “Why mister,” big Buster said, “I can get a whole year’s worth of ducks in an afternoon” which was followed almost immediately by a sharp “Ha!” from J.G. who this time raised his head up from between his legs to say it.
“That is our offer, Mr. Gottlieb. We do hope you’ll consider it,” Mr. Glidewell said.
But big Buster hardly waited for him to close his mouth. “You and him over there,” he said pointing to Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, “and them two Nances yonder had best collect up together and take another vote. I got no use for your one duck a month.”
“What sort of offer did you have in mind, Mr. Gottlieb?” Mr. Glidewell wanted to know.
“I was thinking more along the lines of two ducks a day, fully dressed, acourse.”
“We’ll confer,” Mr. Glidewell said.
“You do that,” big Buster told him.
And according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, and Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy all gathered around the front left fender of Mr. Glidewell’s European sedan and recommenced the exhaustive considerations that they had not ever commenced in the first place. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton’s daddy was all for knuckling under to the two ducks a day and so be done with it, but Mr. Alton convinced him that even a Gottlieb could be made to bend some and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell took up with Mr. Alton while Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, leaned against the front headlamp with his hands in his pockets and chewed on a weed in what Mrs. Phillip J. King called silent contemplation. She said Lyle was not much given to snap judgements.
And when the conference finally disbanded, Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell approached big Buster with a freshly considered counter offer. “One duck,” he said, “dressed and delivered fortnightly,” which sounded considerably better to big Buster than one duck a month and sounded considerably better than two ducks a month until he found out that that was what it was and so stamped his foot twice and went back to insisting on his two ducks a day. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said the Nances and their attorney and their attorney’s aid collected again at the front left fender of Mr. Glidewell’s car and again Mr. Alton’s daddy was prepared to give way but once more Mr. Alton and Mr. Glidewell teamed up to talk him out of it while Mr. Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, sucked on his weed stem in silence. And this time Mr. Glidewell came away from the conference with a counter offer that sparked big Buster to only one stamp of the foot, so Mr. Glidewell immediately counter offered again and again big Buster stamped his foot but a little less vigorously than before so Mr. Glidewell counter offered again and this time big Buster did not stamp at all but instead conferred with his daddy ever so briefly before coming out with a counter offer of his own. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said it went back and forth for a goodly time with each party chiseling away at the other until finally the great flurry of counter offers on top of counter offers slowed up almost to a standstill and after a period of somber and weighty consultation with his clients, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell made what he called the ultimate and irrevocably final concession at one duck fully dressed and delivered every fourth day, to which big Buster said, “Done,” even before he looked at his daddy, who, in the heat of the negotiations, had sunk down nearly out of sight in the folds of his comforter.
“Then we’re agreed,” Mr. Glidewell said.
“Well, we’re nearly agreed,” big Buster told him. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “around here we don’t much care for duck. It’s tough and stringy, don’t you know. So if you’re going to bring us something every fourth day why not make it a chicken instead.”
“A chicken?” Mr. Glidewell said and looked at Mr. Alton’s daddy, who said, “A chicken?” and looked at Mr. Alton.
“Uh huh,” big Buster told them, “and it’d be alright with us if you went ahead and roasted it, wouldn’t it, daddy?” But the comforter chose not to respond outright so big Buster took the silence as an affirmative.
“One roasted chicken every fourth day,” Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell said, and looked sideways at Mr. Alton who looked sideways at his daddy who nodded at Mr. Glidewell who looked full on big Buster once again and said, “Done.”
And Mrs. Phillip J. King said big Buster shook hands with both the Nances and shook hands with both the Glidewells and she said all the involved parties seemed pleased and satisfied especially Mr. Alton’s daddy, who was a fiend about ducks but had no love for chickens whatsoever. And even before Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell could wheel his car around in the road and head back for the Nance estate, big Buster and little Buster and Dale and J.G. all had hold of Granddaddy Gottlieb’s chair and were hauling it and the comforter and Granddaddy Gottlieb and his filed-down rifle barrel pistol across the front yard and towards the breezeway.
So Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, returned to the Nance estate in triumph, and the former Miss Dupont stood at the parlor window with the tips of her fingers against the panes and watched Mr. Glidewell’s European sedan round the hedgerow and accelerate towards the house. She wanted to catch hold of her husband before he made off with his son and with his attorney and with his attorney’s nephew so she could begin to tell him all about Miss Sissy and her series of relations with Mr. Jackson Dubois Byrd whose name she did not yet know and who himself did not strike her as being the least bit Frenchified or exotic, even for Burlington. But according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, when the former Miss Dupont finally rapped sharply enough on the parlor window to get the attention of Mr. Alton and his daddy and Mr. Glidewell and his brother’s boy, Lyle, they all smiled and waved at her except for Mr. Alton’s daddy, who smile and clasped his hands together and shook them overtop of head and then the four of them rounded the house towards the bungalow as the former Miss Dupont again touched the parlor windowpanes with the tips of her fingers and looked down along the driveway and out past the hedgerow.
Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton and his daddy and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, set themselves up on the bungalow patio from where Mr. Alton’s daddy dispatched Mr. Gallos to the kitchen of the big house to fetch back the cook who was instructed to whip up what Mrs. Phillip J. King called a light repast to be served there on the bungalow patio along with a half gallon or so of Mr. Alton’s daddy’s special imported champagne, what Mrs. Phillip J. King called Brewté Shumpanya, which she said was very rare, considerably ancient, and near about as dry as grate ash. And of course Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Alton and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell all three rared back and basked in the glory of their negotiated settlement long before the light repast and the champagne got so far as the patio, and Mrs. Phillip J. King said even Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, managed to bask some himself though he was not much ac
customed to basking and so did not pull it off with the grace and ease of his uncle or his uncle’s clients. According to Mrs. Phillip J. King, when they finally got around to it they repasted on shellfish and watermelon rind pickles and artichoke hearts and she said they swilled the Brewté Shumpanya out of fluted crystal glasses which her and Momma agreed was the only proper and acceptable way to do it. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said they were still swilling long after they had finished repasting, and on into the early evening Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell took turns analyzing the finer points of the imbroglio while Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, sat silently by until at last he stood up from his chair, raised his fluted crystal glass, and proceeded to toast Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Alton and his uncle Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell, after which he promptly fell over backwards into the cement planterbox.
And as Mrs. Phillip J. King heard it Mr. Alton and his daddy did not desert the bungalow patio even after Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell excused himself and departed in his European sedan with his nephew heaped up in the backseat, and she said they continued to entertain themselves with a combination of swilling and basking that held them on into the night, so when Mr. Alton’s daddy finally did bring himself up from the bungalow to the big house and on into his bedroom to his bed, the former Miss Dupont was already in it. And even before Mr. Alton’s daddy could stretch full out and blow once, the former Miss Dupont tugged on his pajama sleeve and called his name in what Mrs. Phillip J. King said was a most woeful and afflicted way. But what with all the swilling and the basking, the swilling mostly, Mr. Alton’s daddy didn’t make much of any response right away and Mrs. Phillip J. King said the former Miss Dupont very nearly tugged his pajama top clean off him before she got him to talking though he was in no state to talk and so hummed and grunted and did not really exhibit much civilized diction. But the former Miss Dupont figured Mr. Alton’s ears were probably fit enough to receive what she had to say even if the rest of him was a little bit overswilled, so she stuck her nose up against the right side of Mr. Alton’s daddy’s head and said, “Our son’s wife is carrying on with a millworker.”
A Short History of a Small Place Page 28