IN FEBRUARY 1947, after Rue’s dispatch to Dorchester, Blondola took pregnant. She and Georgie felt unbelievably prosperous. George just doted on his slender, tender wife. Otho was born in November 1947, and Georgie became Mr. George A. Hamilton, Papa, father of a big, husky baby boy—one born free of any of his convict uncle’s criminous habits.
When he brought his wife and baby proudly home to Barker’s Point, it was in a taxi driven by cheery Silver, a.k.a. Nacre Pearly Burgundy. He was a short white man, and dapper in his dark limousine, driver-style cap, black wool car coat, and guilelessly courteous, paying clear compliments to Blondola and the baby and being deferential to Georgie. In truth, him and Georgie hit it off right away, because they were both veterans with young families. Silver saluted George as a brother serviceman who was also tryin to improve his self. Silver then showed off snapshots of his own children, while Otho sighed and cooed in his mama’s arms.
Right after Otho appeared, George was still doin part-time woodlot work and part-time short-order cook and part-time whatever, and he kept at all these tasks through the lush if ice-flooded spring. In April, Blondola took pregnant again. She sang, Otho fattened and grew, and George just smiled and smiled all through beer-smell summer and crisp, busy autumn. He never mentioned Rufus; in fact, he forgot all about the “bad man”—as Blondola dubbed him—rusticatin in Dorchester. Nor was there any letter from Rue. Nor was any sent to him.
In December, George elected again to go into the woods to cut timber with O’Ree. He worked even harder than he had in December ‘46 and December ‘47, but O’Ree seemed standoffish, and, times, George saw the auburn man lookin at him ornery. But Georgie just shrugged it off. He figured he’d collect his pay, then hie on home and pick up fresh work in the new year. But when the day dawned, O’Ree tendered no cash.
Instead, him told Georgie, “You’s work’s poor. Ain’t got a cent for you. Scram!”
George saw he’d slaved a whole week for nothin. So Georgie snatched up all the man’s tools he could carry, and left.
He got home on Saturday, was arrested for theft on Monday. O’Ree said George was just a thief who ain’t done no work. George said O’Ree was lyin, but Georgie had the criminal record. The Laws confiscated all the damned tools—but not a hammer—that Georgie’d lifted. He pulled the same judge as Rue, but fared better: George got a suspended sentence. His efforts to make Cy pay him by taking the tools as collateral on the outstanding debt had backfired and give him a crooked name in Fton. Blondola felt cross and soured on her empty-headed husband. She threatened to go back to Nova Scotia if Joygee didn’t smarten up.