"Fred is my brother," Bill explained. "He's a major in the National Guard. The Army's teaching him to jump out of airplanes."

"He said, 'Don't tell him I said so, but I'm so proud of Billy I can't spit.' "

"Did he say 'Billy' or 'the runt'?" Dunn asked.

His mother ignored him, and went on: "And both the newspapers called, Mobile and Pensacola. They want to send reporters to talk to you."

"No," Bill Dunn said flatly.

"I told them you were asleep, and to call later. And the Rector called-"

"The Reverend Jasper Willis Thorne," Bill Dunn interrupted. "You ever notice, Pick, that Episcopal priests always have three names?"

"Mine is James Woolworth Stanton," Pick said.

"I told him you would call him back," Mrs. Dunn said, then looked at Pick. "You're Episcopal?"

"Fallen, Ma'am, at the moment."

"A little churching would do the both of you some good, after the way you was yesterday," Kate said.

"And, of course, Sue-Ann," Mrs. Dunn said.

"Oh, God!" Dunn said.

"Tell me about Sue-Ann," Pick said.

"Nothing to tell," Dunn said.

"That's why you had her picture next to your cot, right?"

"We're friends, that's all."

"They grew up together," Mrs. Dunn said. "She's a very sweet girl."

"I can't wait to meet her," Pick said.

"She said she saw your picture in the newspaper and was just thrilled. I told her to come for supper," Mrs. Dunn said.

"If your father brings your medal back, you're going to have to wear it," Pick said. "For Sue-Ann."

Dunn gave him a dirty look.

"I hear a car coming. Maybe it's your daddy," Kate announced, and left the kitchen to investigate. In a moment, she came back. "It's not your daddy. It's an Army car."

"Then it must be my brother the major," Billy said, and stood up.

Pick followed him out of the kitchen and through the living room and then onto the porch. The house was large, rambling, and one story; and he remembered from the night before that it was all on high brick pillars. He also remembered that the wide steps leading up to the porch seemed a lot steeper last night than they appeared now.

The driveway ran between a long row of ancient, enormous, live oak trees. He looked down it and saw that Kate hadn't got it quite right. It was a military car, a 1941 Plymouth sedan. But it was Marine green, not Army olive drab.

"Why does that fella in the back look familiar?" Bill Dunn asked.

"It's Captain Mustache," Pick said. "He drove us here last night."

"And now, I suspect, he's come to extract his pound of flesh," Dunn said. "You didn't say anything to him Sergeant McCoy-like last night, did you, Mr. Pickering?"

"Not that I recall," Pick said.

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."