The Plymouth came out of the tunnel of live oak and stopped parallel to the wide stairs. Pick noticed for the first time that the driveway was paved with clam shells, bleached white by the sun.
A Marine corporal stepped out from behind the wheel, ran around the front, and opened the rear door. Captain Carstairs emerged, tugged at the hem of his blouse, and started toward the house.
“Natty sonofabitch, isn’t he?” Bill Dunn said softly, but not softly enough to escape his mother’s ears.
“You watch your language, Billy!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, sounding genuinely contrite.
Carstairs reached the top of the stairs, came onto the porch, and removed his uniform cap.
“Good morning, Ma’am,” he said. “Gentlemen.”
“Good morning, Sir,” Dunn and Pickering said, almost in unison.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think either of them noticed, Captain,” Mrs. Dunn said. “But yes, it is. Can I have Kate bring you something?”
“That’s very kind, Ma’am,” Captain Carstairs said, and nodded at the Bloody Mary Pickering was holding. “That looks interesting.”
“It’s not tomato juice, Captain,” Bill Dunn said.
“I hoped it wouldn’t be,” Carstairs said, smiling.
“I’ll have Kate bring you one,” Mrs. Dunn said. And then, “Captain, if you’ll excuse me?”
“You’re very kind, Ma’am,” Captain Carstairs said.
Kate appeared almost immediately with a tray holding three glasses and a glass pitcher full of a red liquid.
“Kate,” Dunn said. “Would you see that the corporal gets something to drink? Why don’t you ask him in the kitchen and see if he’s hungry?”
“Can I fix you something, Captain?” Kate asked.
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“How about a nice ham sandwich?”
“You ought to try it, Captain,” Dunn said. “We cure our own.”
“Thank you very much,” Carstairs said.
“Why don’t we sit over there?” Dunn said, indicating a set of white wicker chairs, couches, and a table, to the right of the wide porch.
“This is a very nice place, Mr. Dunn,” Carstairs said. “I guess I’ve flown over it a thousand times, but this is the first time I’ve been on the ground.”
“It’s nice,” Dunn agreed. “One of my ancestors stole it from the Indians, and then another ancestor kept the Yankee carpetbaggers from stealing it from us.”
“How did he do that?” Carstairs asked.
“There’s a story going around that every time the Yankees started out for here from Mobile, their boats seemed to blow up,” Dunn said.
“How big is it?” Pick asked.
“Right at a hundred thousand acres,” Dunn said. “Most of it in timber now. You ever hear of the boll weevil?”
“No,” Pick admitted.
“Up in Dale County, they built a monument to the boll weevil,” Dunn said. “Right in the center of town. Everything down here used to be cotton. The boll weevil came along and ate all the cotton, and we had to find something else to do with the land. We put ours in timber. And pecans. We have twelve hundred acres in pecans. And we’re running some livestock. Swine, sheep, and cattle. You can graze cattle in pecan groves, get double use of the land.”
“I would never have pegged you for a farmer,” Pick said.
“My brothers are farmers,” Dunn said. “Before I went in the Corps, they hadn’t made up their minds what I was going to be. The only thing they knew was that I wasn’t cut out to be a farmer. Now I’m not so sure. This all looks pretty good to me, now that I’m home.”
“Yours was a pretty spectacular homecoming, Mr. Dunn,” Carstairs said.
“He said, preparatory to dropping the other shoe,” Pick said. Carstairs gave him a dirty look. “I would like to apologize for calling you Captain Mustache, and thank you for driving us over here,” Pick went on.
“Count me in on that,” Dunn said. “I have the feeling that light colonel can be a real nasty sonofabitch.”
“It doesn’t behoove lieutenants, Mr. Dunn,” Carstairs said, “to refer to a lieutenant colonel as a ‘real nasty sonofabitch’ in the hearing of a captain who works for the nasty sonofabitch.”
“Yes, Sir,” Dunn said. “Can I infer from your presence that all has not been forgiven?”