by Darrel Bird
Begs eyes began to narrow, and get beady; He's going to go for it. “You’re going to give me what I want now Childers.”
“Begs, I know what you are thinking, and you better think twice before you do it.”
He had seen it before in Vietnam, the narrowing of the eye, the eyeball rolling back and fourth just before a man was ready to kill another man. Begs hand went to his coat. Austin shot him through the heart without aiming, and Begs was dead before he dropped.
The door jerked open, and his 16-year-old grand daughter was on the porch, “Grandpa, what happened?” Her eyes were wide.
“Go back in the house Lisa. I have to take care of this, now go on honey, and tell your Mom, and grandma not to come out, go on now.”
“Is Mr. Begs dead Grandpa?”
“He’s dead, now go on.”
His grand daughter shut the door so gently he barely heard it close behind him. He walked to the barn lot, and caught up the horse. The horse didn’t need much catching; he just held out his hand to the horse, and the horse walked up, expecting a sweet. The horse looked at him a little walleyed as he slipped the bridle on.
“Sorry girl, I didn’t have time to bring you something special, but next time I’ll bring you double.” He talked gently to the horse as he led her out the gate, and up to the porch tying her to the step rail.
The horse shied sideways a little as he began to try, and put Begs body across the horses back, “Settle down now girl, I know you don’t like this, but we gotta do it.”
He managed to get Begs across the mares back, and began leading her down the road toward Begs house. It's already started, and I’ll be damned if I know what to do, or how his family will take this.
Thoughts whirled through his mind like bees after honey until Begs started to slide off the horse, then he was busy holding him on; the only sound was the horse’s hoofs stepping on the graveled road.
He came to the smaller road that led the seventy feet up to Begs dilapidated house, the mare snorted as she caught cent of the place. He led the mare up to the porch, “Hello the house!” He called. The door opened, and Mrs. Begs came out, her hand over her mouth, “What did he do Mr. Childers?”
“He went for his gun Mrs. Begs, and I shot him. I tried to get him to change his mind.”
“Was he going to rob you?” She swiped the graying hair back from her eyes without thought.
“I reckon so, I offered him what food I could, I guess he figured it wasn’t enough.”
“I don’t know what we will do now, Paul, he ain’t right in his head.”
“What happened to Paul Mrs. Begs?”
“Arnold hit him upside the head with a board, and he ain’t been right since. That was about two weeks ago.”
“Why did he hit the boy Mrs. Begs?”
“Arnold has just gotten meaner since all this has started. He went down to the Packard’s to get food, and they run him off, then he went to your house. I told him not to go, we still had food for a few more days… he just wouldn’t listen.”
“What do you want me to do with the body?”
She looked at the body on the horse, then she ran down the steps, picked a stray two by four off the ground, and began whacking Begs body with it.
“Damn you, damn you, damn you!” She screamed, and the horse jumped sideways tearing at the reins.
Austin got to her, and grabbed hold of her, and pulled her back. She went limp in his arms, tears streaming down her face.
“Mrs. Begs; you can beat him all you want, but wait until I get him off the mare, you’re scaring the horse!”
She turned, and buried her face in the front of his chest, heaving with sobs. Man, I ain’t felt this bad since the war. Damn his miserable hide, I feel like beating him myself.
“Why don’t you get the boy, and go on up to the house. I'll take care of Arnold, would you do that?”
She turned toward the house, “Paul; you can come on out; we are going up to Mr. Childers, and visit!”
The boy hesitantly opened the door; he walked with a limp, “Arnold do that too Mrs. Begs?”
“I think he did, down at the barn the other day, but Paul couldn’t tell me; he don’t talk no more.” She led the boy toward the road.
Childers leaned against the horse, his shoulders shaking with anger. An anger he knew he needed to get under control.
Nows not the time to go all to pieces, it's going to get worse, and I have to get hold of myself.
He found a dull spade leaning against the barn, and began to dig a grave in the soft dirt beside the barn. He left Begs on the horse, because he knew it would be easier to lead the horse up to the grave, and just flip the body off into it.
He got down about three feet and stopped, mopping the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked around at the neglected little farm house and the barn, then at the fir trees that lined the road, and the river on the other side. Then he saw the cow grazing at the back side of the fence pasture. Why didn’t the fool eat the cow? He wondered, and then began digging again. He finally got the grave dug down a little more than four feet.
That’s enough Begs, and more than you deserve. He led the horse along side the grave, walked around the horse, and gave the body a shove, and it flopped into the hole. He began to shovel dirt over the body, and was soon done. He patted the loose earth down with the spade, and then shoved the spade into the end of the dirt, A fitting tombstone for a mean man Rosy; he patted the horse and led her toward his own place.
He turned the horse loose in the barn lot, gave her a little hay to munch on, and then walked toward the house. When he walked through the back door, he heard the women talking in low tones in the living room. When they heard him, the talking stopped, and they turned to look at him as he walked through the kitchen door.
“There is a little coffee on the heater, I’ve been saving it, but now is a good time to give it out.” His wife said, looking up at him with pity in her blue eyes.
“Thank you Martha, I sure could use it.”
His wife of 50 years was disabled, and had to walk with two canes. He was thankful that he had his daughter, and grand daughter to help. His daughter’s husband had run off to Portland hunting whores, and he had gone to Salem, and hauled her home with him.
Her husband had come looking for her, but she met him in the yard with the old double-barreled shotgun he kept by his bed. The man left, and never came back. He figured the man was smarter than he had first thought by evading that double barrel.
Ann, his daughter gave his grand daughter a knowing look, “Set down Grandpa; I'll get it for you.” Lisa said and headed toward the kitchen. He didn’t much like them treating him like he was so old, yet he knew they did it because they loved him. Hell, I can get my own coffee; I can still straddle a Harley as well as any man, but it does feel good to rest my legs a spell. He said nothing though, and in a minute she set the coffee down on the table by his chair, “There you are grandpa.”
“I love you kid, more than anything in the world.”
“I love you too grandpa.” She smiled at him, walked over and took her seat across the room. She had long black hair like her mother, and grandmother; the three of them seemed to come off the same mold. The only difference he could see in them was their ages.
“I’m so sorry Arnold brought this on you Mr. Childers.” Mrs. Begs said, looking down at her hands as, she twisted them one against the other. Mrs. Begs was a short thin woman with hair that had gone completely gray, although he guessed her age at nearer to fifty, than the seventy, she looked. Her one shoulder was twisted a little. He wondered if Begs had done that too. He suspected strongly that he had.
“You ain’t got anything to be sorry about Mrs. Begs, and I done what had to be done, I’m just sorry it was me brought so much pain on you.”
“You didn’t bring more pain on me Mr. Childers; you brought relief; I should have killed him years ago for what he done to both of us, and my boy won’t ever be right in the head again.”
“If you had done it years ago, you would probably have spent the rest of your life in prison, but the law, if there is any, don’t care what happens out here now. You never know about what God will do for Paul Mrs. Begs, I have seen some miracles in my day, we can’t give up on the boy.”
“Mrs. Begs; you can stay here with us; Paul can sleep on the sofa, and you can sleep in Lisa’s room; she can sleep with Ann.”
The farmhouse had always been a little to small. He had always intended to add-on to it, but the finances had never allowed that. Then lumber got so expensive; it was out of the question.
Mrs. Begs started to cry, and Ann put her arms around the woman,” There, there, now Mrs Begs; it'll be o.k.” She soothed the woman. Martha got painfully up out of her chair to go, and help comfort the woman.
Austin was prouder of his family than he had ever been as he watched them take the woman as their own blood kin.
He lay awake that night listening to his disabled wife’s soft breathing, and worried about their future. He knew that if he was killed his family would be fodder for the predators that he knew would surely come. He prayed for the Lord to forgive him for the taking of human life; he let the tears run