As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner [36]
"He could go on ahead slow and sort of feel it out," I say.
"Yes," Cash says, not looking at me. His face is in profile as he looks forward where Jewel has moved on ahead.
"He cant miss the river," I say. "He couldn't miss seeing it fifty yards ahead."
Cash does not look at me, his face in profile, "If I'd just suspicioned it, I could a come down last week and taken a sight on it."
"The bridge was up then," I say. He does not look at me. "Whitfield crossed it a-horseback."
Jewel looks at us again, his expression sober and alert and subdued. His voice is quiet. "What you want me to do?"
"I ought to come down last week and taken a sight on it," Cash says.
"We couldn't have known," I say. "There wasn't any way for us to know."
"I’ll ride on ahead," Jewel says. "You can follow where I am." He lifts the horse. It shrinks, bowed; he leans to it, speaking to it, lifting it forward almost bodily, it setting its feet down with gingerly splashings, trembling, breathing harshly. He speaks to it, murmurs to it. "Go on," he says. "I aint going to let nothing hurt you. Go on, now."
"Jewel," Cash says. Jewel does not look back. He lifts the horse on.
"He can swim," I say. "If he'll just give the horse time, anyhow . . ." When he was born, he had a bad time of it Ma would sit in the lamp-light, holding him on a pillow on her lap. We would wake and find her so. There would be no sound from them.
"That pillow was longer than him," Cash says. He is leaning a little forward, "I ought to come down last week and sighted. I ought to done it."
"That's right," I say. "Neither his feet nor his head would reach the end of it. You couldn't have known." I say.
"I ought to done it," he says. He lifts the reins. The mules move, into the traces; the wheels murmur alive in the water. He looks back and down at Addie. "It aint on a balance," he says.
At last the trees open; against the open river Jewel sits the horse, half turned, it belly deep now. Across the river we can see Vernon and pa and Vardaman and Dewey Dell Vernon is waving at us, waving us further down stream.
"We are too high up," Cash says. Vernon is shouting too, but we cannot make out what he says for tie noise of the water. It runs steady and deep now, tin-broken, without sense of motion until a log comes along, turning slowly. "Watch it," Cash says. We watch it and see it falter and hang for a moment, the current building up behind it in a thick wave, submerging it for an instant before it shoots up and tumbles on.
"There it is," I say.
"Ay," Cash says. It's there." We look at Vernon again. He is now flapping his arms up and down. We move on downstream, slowly and carefully, watching Vernon. He drops his hands. "This is the place," Cash says.
"Well, goddamn it, let's get across, then," Jewel says, He moves the horse on.
"You wait," Cash says. Jewel stops again.
"Well, by God—" he says. Cash looks at the water, then he looks back at Addie. "It aint on a balance," he says.
"Then go on back to the goddamn bridge and walk across," Jewel says. "You and Darl both. Let me on that wagon."
Cash does not pay him any attention. It aint on a balance," he says. "Yes, sir. We got to watch it."
"Watch it, hell," Jewel says. "You get out of that wagon and let me have it. By God, if you're afraid to drive it over . . ." His eyes are pale as two bleached chips in his face. Cash is looking at him.
"We'll get it over," he says. "I tell you what you do. You ride on back and walk across the bridge and come down the other bank and meet us with the rope. Vernon'll take your horse home with him and keep it till we get back."
"You go to hell," Jewel says.
"You take the rope and come down the bank and be ready with it," Cash says. "Three cant do no more than two can—one to drive and one to steady it."
"Goddamn you," Jewel says.
"Let Jewel take the end of the rope and cross upstream of us and brace it," I say. "Will you do that, Jewel?"
Jewel watches me, hard. He looks quick at Cash, then back at me, his eyes alert and hard. "I dont give a damn. Just so we do something. Setting here, not lifting a goddamn hand ..."