Read Uncle Sagamore and His Girls for Free Online

valve cap, and then he looked real sharp at the tire. He give a soft whistle and looked again, and then at the other front tire. His face got serious.
    “Somethin’ seem to be the trouble?” Uncle Sagamore asked.
    “Oh,” Curly says. “Uh—no. I reckon not. This tire just seemed a little baldheaded. Probably seen a lot of miles, ain’t she?”
    “Hmmm,” Uncle Sagamore says. “I reckon she has, at that.”
    “You know,” Curly said then, “we got a couple of high-quality recaps a feller ordered and never did pick up. Could sure make you a price on ’em.”
    Uncle Sagamore shuffled his feet. “Didn’t reckon on no tahrs.”
    “We’re practically givin’ ’em away,” Curly said. He went on looking at the one on the wheel, still shaking his head.
    Uncle Sagamore scratched his leg with the big toe of his other foot. He took his leather purse out of his pocket, unsnapped the catch, and looked inside. He pulled out a big wad of bills and peered at them, and then shook his head, looking ashamed about it.
    “Jest don’t see how I could do her,” he says. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t studyin’ about no tahrs till I gathered the crop.”
    “Well, sure, I know exactly how you feel,” Curly says, real friendly. He stood up and grinned and clapped Uncle Sagamore on the back. “Matter of fact, there’s probably a lot of miles in ’em yet.”
    “I’m proud to hear you say it,” Uncle Sagamore says. “I sure wouldn’t want to have no trouble with ’em.”
    “Forget it,” Curly says. “Tires can fool you. Like I was saying to Jack the other day—” He stopped all of a sudden and his face got real sad. He turned away and started fiddling with the catch on the hood to make sure it was fastened.
    “Uh—what was that?” Uncle Sagamore asked.
    Curly kind of sighed, and shook his head. “Oh,” he says. “It wasn’t nothing, really. Just Jack, this old friend of mine. Jack McClanahan. I wouldn’t want to bother you with it.”
    “Why,” Uncle Sagamore says, “if there’s ere thing we could do—”
    “I appreciate that,” Curly said. “It’s sure nice of you. But—I mean—it ain’t as if anybody could do anything for him. Jack’s dead. He was killed just last week.”
    “Well sir,” Uncle Sagamore says. “I’m sorry to hear that. Ain’t it a awful thing, Sam?”
    Pop nodded his head. “It just saddens a man, somethin’ like that.”
    “How did it happen?” Uncle Sagamore asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind talkin’ about it?”
    “Oh, it’s all right,” Curly says. He was trying hard to be brave about it. “It was an accident. Talking about them recaps was what reminded me of it, I guess. You see, they was ordered for him. We got ’em in on a Thursday, and I called him—” He stopped and turned away again, like it was all just too much for him.
    “Uh—what happened?” Uncle Sagamore asked.
    “Oh,” Curly says. “Well like I said, I called him, and he said he’d come in the first thing Friday morning so we could take off the old tires and put on the new ones. And Thursday night he had a blowout. He was doing about sixty, I guess. One of those old tires just blew all to hell; the car turned over and he went out through the windshield.”
    Uncle Sagamore give a mournful shake of the head. “Well sir, it just makes a man wonder.”
    Curly looked down and went on fiddling with the catch on the hood. “Cut his juggler vein,” he says in a quiet voice. “He bled to death. When they found him he was lyin’ right beside the car without another scratch on him except that juggler vein, and he was as bleached out and white as a Sunday shirt.”
    Uncle Sagamore took out his big red handkerchief and blew his nose. “Just ain’t nothin’ a man can say.”
    Curley straightened up and slapped the hood with his hand. He squared his shoulders. “Well, there’s no use broodin’ about it. I reckon we all got to go sometime. Now, let’s see. That’ll be three dollars