I don’t give him a chance to recover. I throw a hard left into his temple. When he turns to recover, I do the same thing again. Then a right cross. An uppercut. Another.
Getting desperate, Carter pivots and kicks me above my stomach with his heavy boot. I hit the ground, clutching my chest. The pain seizes me, and I can’t move.
The crowd boos Carter’s move, some yelling for Oakley to step in. But I see Bulldog signal Oakley to stay out of it.
Carter plods over to me and lifts his leg. I wait for him to bring his foot down, then roll out of the way. I’m back on my feet, leaping right at him and driving my fist into his nose. It breaks with a single loud crunch.
Carter howls for the first time. But not the last. I fire punch after punch until he starts to stagger. He never sees the uppercut that sends him to the ground.
I fall on all fours, exhausted, the screams of the crowd ringing in my ears. Silas tackles me, slapping me on the back in congratulations. He has no idea how badly it hurts. I’m grateful when he finally crawls off and goes to tend to Carter.
Most of what happens next is a blur. Oakley hauls me to my feet and lifts my shaking arm into the air. Across the room, I see Bulldog collecting fistfuls of money. He’d bet against his own fighter. I limp over to him, planning to collect my prize money. But I stop when I see a figure standing in the doorway of the Woodrat.
It’s Papa.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I change into fresh clothes, clean up, and meet Papa out front of the Woodrat. He pays for a carriage to take us home. For most of the trip, we sit silently.
“You followed me?” I ask.
“I followed you.”
“I thought you would trust me.”
He looks back over his shoulder at the Woodrat. “If I didn’t trust you, Hiram, I never would have let you come here tonight.”
I’ve spent my whole life trying to make my parents proud, trying to be a good older brother to Leah and Ezra. Now, suddenly, I feel like it was all for nothing.
“Papa, please don’t be ashamed of me,” I plead. “I didn’t mean to dishonor our family. Things are so different here in America.”
Papa is quiet for a very long time. “You’re right,” he finally says. “Things are very different here in America. Which means we must try harder than ever to hold on to our ways, our beliefs.”
Then he cocks his head to the side. “But I think living in our new home also means finding ways to embrace new ideas. We should never embrace fighting. We are people of peace. But … this boy who was hurting you will think twice before doing it again.” He shrugs. “I think God would see that as a kind of peace.”
It’s almost a month before Lightning’s back to his old self. He’s stayed with our family the whole time, never going outside. Mama won’t let him. And no one defies Mama.
I’ve stopped going to the Woodrat. I don’t need to fight anymore. And I don’t need to accidentally lead Beauregard to our tenement, in case he’s been keeping an eye out.
My prize money was more than I expected. A lot more—the rest of what Lightning needed for his ticket plus a couple hundred. Later, Silas told me that he might have let slip to Bulldog that Lightning needed to start over in a new country. Maybe that bonus money was Bulldog’s way of helping Lightning out, though Bulldog would never admit it. And maybe Bulldog will take some heat for betting against his own fighter. It’s definitely not a trick he can pull again. But I have a feeling he can stand whatever the Woodrat throws his way.
As soon as he’s able, we buy Lightning his ticket for a ship that will take him to Cornwall. My entire family goes to the dock to see him off just before dawn.
Leah throws her arms around Lightning. “I’ll miss you, Buford,” she says, tears in her eyes.
Ezra is too much of a little man. He juts out his chin and holds out his hand. But Lightning lifts him into the air, swinging him around until Ezra giggles.
Mama reminds him to eat and to wear warm clothes. He’ll miss his boat if we sit and listen to all of her advice, so Papa gently cuts her off. Together, they wish him well.
A horn on the ship blows, signaling all passengers to board. My family walks away, leaving just me and Lightning.
I want to thank him for everything he’s done. I want to say that I wished he didn’t have to go. But it seems like nothing I could say would really show what I feel.
Before I can think of anything, he pulls me in into a tight hug. I guess that’s all either of us needs to say.
The crew of the ship is getting ready to set sail. I shove the large sack of belongings into Lightning’s hand and push him toward the boat. He backs up the gangplank, waving all the way. I wave back until he disappears on deck.
“He’s a good man.” Papa is suddenly at my shoulder. “And a good friend.”
“He’s a good brother,” I say.
Together, Papa and I turn from the dock, the sun rising behind us to light the new day that lies ahead.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gabriel Goodman is a writer living in St. Paul, Minnesota.
Lightning's Run Page 5