Uncle John nodded. “He loaned his tent.”
“Fine friendly folks,” Pa said softly.
Wilson stood by his broken car, and Sairy had gone to the mattress to sit beside Granma, but Sairy was careful not to touch her.
Pa called, “Mr. Wilson!” The man scuffed near and squatted down, and Sairy came and stood beside him. Pa said, “We’re thankful to you folks.”
“We’re proud to help,” said Wilson.
“We’re beholden to you,” said Pa.
“There’s no beholden in a time of dying,” said Wilson, and Sairy echoed him, “Never no beholden.”
Al said, “I’ll fix your car—me an’ Tom will.” And Al looked proud that he could return the family’s obligation.
“We could use some help.” Wilson admitted the retiring of the obligation.
Pa said, “We got to figger what to do. They’s laws. You got to report a death, an’ when you do that, they either take forty dollars for the undertaker or they take him for a pauper.”