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Show rase 26 Greene's father, shuffled along a back street of our town. Even in the heat he was wearing a loose-fitting rug of a coat that those of us who knew him were all too familiar with. Willie's face had some of the cracked dryness of the interminable dry. land. On this hot day Willie was a picture of poverty and social negation more than any other time that I remember. John Greene trailed behind his father. He x-7as barefoot and he jumped from foot to foot to avoid some of the heat of the ground. His too-short denims and his hair x=7anting the scissors, coupled with the jumping, gave him a comic impression. If sickness had not been upon the Chisum family that summer, I -»ould have been the first to laugh at the impression father and son created on their journey to the stockyard office in broiling sun to collect for some recently-sold starving hogs. They -- father and son - continued past our business district and across the highway. John Greene hopped and skipped across the asphalt. He shot his hands to one bare foot and then the other, flaying at specks of tar which stuck to his feet. Willie was unmindful of his son's plight. He had walked the scorchy trail of a country road four miles and the stockyard office x^as now in sight. John Greene in some fashion laid claim to a dime from the proceeds of the sale of the hogs. As father and son neared the stockyard office John Greene gave less attention to the burning asphalt scorching his feet, and his face became expectant in anticipation of receiving his dime. |
