“Just in time to eat, John,” said Callie. She was a-dishing up the green beans and bacon, with a plate of hot com pone to go with them. Warren poured out some more coffee.
It looked too good a dinner to spoil by a-talking right off about what Fd been up to with Hazel Techeray. I ate with a true appetite. Not till we'd done and Callie and Warren gathered up the dishes did Mr. Ben ask me straight out what Fd seen and done. Then I gave them my tale.
They heard me out without them uttering a word, Callie with eyes big and round, Warren a-locking his brow’s to think, Mr. Ben with his hand a-going tap-tap-tap on the table next to his coffee cup. When I was done:
“What does it all mean?” Warren wanted to know. “What's this woman up to?"
“No good is what she's up to, and no good's what she's been up to in years,” Mr. Ben said. “John, I do thank you for what you done for us out there.”
“One thing's plain enough,” I made offer. “At this stage, the Shonokins are a-fixing to get some things done for them by just ordinary human folks. Brooke Altic told me, they use men for some things, lawyers mostly.”
“Sim Drogus ain't no lawyer,” snorted Mr. Ben, “though he's sneaky enough for some kinds of polly-foxing lawyers. All I get out of him is, he'll sell land to the Shonokins, and I don’t reckon he'll get asked to do that till they can get my land first But a-catching Hazel Techeray up in their doings—what in hell's she to do for them, and why?"
“For profit, obviously," said Warren. "From what John says, she tried to put a spell on this place; only John took it right off again."
"They've flat got to use folks against us right now," I said. "They're not any much in a hasty way to come along at us past where that dead one lies in the ditch. Jackson here says that's one way of a-scaring them out. So they'll use ordinary folks that have joined their thing."
"I've always mistrusted Sim Drogus and Hazel Techeray," added on Callie, serving more beans to her daddy.
"And you had the right notion to mistrust them," he told her. "They're flat out the most mistrustable folks in all this part of the mountains."
"And," I said again, "since Brooke Altic and his Shonokins are held up by that dead one on their way here, they try to use our own kind against us."
Mr. Ben snorted. "Sim Drogus and Hazel Techeray ain't our kind," he said, and his moustache stood out on his face like a tom cat's. "And well Brooke Altic knows it.”
"At least the Shonokins are checked just now," said Warren, his face thoughtful all the time. "I gather that if they want to use power, they must travel their track of power. Which, at present, they don't dare to do."
Mr. Ben flung down his fork. "Holy jumping Jerusalem!" he busted out, mad as a bear with ingrowing toenails. "Jerusalem, the golden name ever dear to me! Just what kind of a common, low-down, sorry sort of a creature is a Shonokin? They allow they ain't human, they act proud not to be human. And they ain't human, not when they don't dare face—"
"It's all right, Daddy," Callie tried to calm him down.
"It ain't all right, no such a thing!" he kept a-yammering. “Death? What kind of thing is it to fear death when you see it? Death is a part of life, folks, it's always a-hap- pening; it'll happen to air living thing. Why!" He swung his flaming eyes from one of us to the other, all round the table, like as if he was a-picking us up for witnesses. “I've seen death, been close enough to death to hear the bells of hell go tingaling. In the war, why, death was a drug on the market. I've known what it was to stand knee-deep in death, men down dead all round me, some of them my choice friends. And I nair quit out, I stood up to death."
With that, he cut off his talk. He put his paper napkin out of his lap and got up and walked to the window.
“Is somebody out there, sir?” asked Warren.
“Who'd be out there?” Mr. Ben swung back to look at us again. “Won't be no Shonokins, that's for hellacious sure. And not Sim Drogus, he knows he don’t dare step foot on land of mine. Nor neither Hazel Techeray; I reckon John’s done slapped her out of her sneaky, snaky doings round here.” He drew in his breath and smiled, but it was a sort of terrible smile. “No, folks, it's just us here, a-waiting for whatever they dream themselves up to do against us next time.”
He tramped back and sat down. He picked up his napkin and fork again.
“All right,” he said, “I got all that out of my system, and I reckon it done me a lavish of good. I thank you one and all for a-letting me blow off. Daughter, these here beans eat right good. They're as tasty a thing to eat as air I put in my mouth.”
He dug in, and all of us dug in.
8
Mr. Ben had finished his dinner, and I reckoned he'd enjoyed it. He got up from the table and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin.
“I’m a-going out,” he allowed to us. "There's one-two things to do on this here farm, and I've got to tend to them.''
"Let me come with you,” said Warren, but Mr. Ben shook his head.
"No, son, just me to go. The others of youins, stay inside here and keep an eye on things.” He looked at me. "You specially, John.”
Out he tramped. He looked right big just then; he looked ready for aught that might could come up. I went to the side window and watched him a-walking back to his sheds. I said to myself, yonder goes a somebody who knows pretty much what he'll be up to in case there's trouble.
The trees out there looked good, no creepy look to them like the ones I'd come on to in the woods off from the house when I'd met Hazel Techeray. These trunks looked like trunks, the leaves looked like just only leaves. They didn't bunch up into funny shapes. I had a hope that the words I'd said to Hazel Techeray had sure enough spoiled the curse she'd tried to put on there.
Warren and Callie had gone to the sink to do up the dishes. They acted happy to be a-washing and a-wiping dishes together. They laughed over something one or other of them said. I had it in mind, this bad business was maybe a-turning out good for the two of them, anyway. Callie looked at Warren like as if he'd hung up the sun to shine, and he was a-feeling good, too. He looked another sight younger than he was always a-talking about. I didn't reckon he was in much worry just then about how he was those years older than Callie.
"Hello, the house?''
It wasn't air great much of a hail, that voice, that woman's voice outside. It sounded more timid than friendly. Callie put down her dishcloth and went to look out the crack of the door.
"Dear heavens above, it's that Hazel Techeray,” she said. "Don't go out, John. I will."
"No, here comes your daddy,” I said.
For, just as she spoke, Mr. Ben came a-walking back into the front yard. He hunched up his shoulders, but he didn't frown, he didn't smile. His face looked as calm and carved- out as the face on a statue. I came and stood beside Callie to watch, and Warren came up behind us.
Mr. Ben stopped on the path where Hazel Techeray waited. If he looked calm, she sure enough didn't. She made a sort of a gesture motion with her hands, like as if to say she wanted to be friends, and she smiled at him.
"Yessum,” said Mr. Ben, deep but not quite all mean. "What can I do for you, Hazel Techeray?”
She blinked at him, and she fiddled her hands again. "Mr. Ben,” she said, "I come by here because I thought we should ought to be good neighbors. It so happens I'm plumb out of sugar at home.”
She looked at him, a-hoping he believed her. She squinched up her face. She looked embarrassed. Mr. Ben stood and waited.
She fried again: “I thought I’d come by and ask, neighborly-can I maybe borrow half a cupful?”
She held out a shiny tin cup she had. Mr. Ben looked at it, then he looked at her. At last he shook his shaggy gray head.
“Hazel Techeray,” he said, “you well know how come I can't be a-letting you have no sugar.”
And well I knew, too. If a witch asks you for aught, and you give it to her, that can let her off from whatever spell you, or maybe a wise friend, has put on her. That's what’s been a fact, in place a
fter place I’ve been and seen things to happen.
“Now, Mr. Ben, that ain't got no neighborly sound to it,” said Hazel Techeray, in half a whine.
“I'm sorry to have to agree you that, but it's up to me to look out for myself all the time, after you’ve been a-making out to try to witch me.”
She let the hand with the cup drop to her side. She sort of bowed her head, the way things might have gone heavy on her.
“I'm sorry,” Mr. Ben said, and he truly sounded sorry over it.
We harked and watched, from there inside the door.
“I mean,” she tried again, “what I’d like to do is forget all old troubles there's been betwixt us.” She shuffled her feet in their canvas shoes on the path. “Can't we maybe do that, Mr. Ben?”
He stood there, calm and cool as a judge on the bench. “You can best answer that question your own self,” he told her.
“I didn't come over here to fight with you—” she started to say, and broke off.
“No, and neither do I want to fight with you,” he said. “There ain’t no power nor glory in a-fighting and a-whipping a woman. But no, Hazel Techeray, ma’am, I ain’t got no sugar in the house I’d feel smart to give you.”
He looked her up and down where she stood, and it made her to tremble herself, there on the path in her peacock-blue blouse and her patchwork-patterned skirt.
"And you can go tell that to the Shonokins,” Mr. Ben added on.
"Shonokins?” she repeated him. "What would I tell to the Shonokins?”
"Just tell them you tried to trick me out of a cup of sugar, and I wouldn’t trick out of it worth a cent.”
As I watched and harked at him, I could tell he wasn’t a-pleasuring himself when he talked to her so, but he knew what he had to do and say.
She turned herself round toward the road. She acted like as if she weighed about a ton to do it. Her head was down again, and her brown hair looked sort of tired.
"Oh,” she said all of a sudden, the strongest she’d spoken yet. "That flower there, that there Indian pink—how pretty it is, Mr. Ben.”
I could see the flower she meant, a-growing there in the yard. Some folks also call it a fire pink. It grew up on a little, slick green stem; it bloomed like a red star a couple of inches across. Hazel Techeray smiled down at it.
"How pretty it is,” she repeated herself. "If you won’t give me a little bit of sugar, Mr. Ben, couldn’t I just have that there Indian pink to take home?”
Mr. Ben looked down at the flower, too. His face softened just a mite. He took a step at it, but he didn’t bend down.
"If you sure enough want it,” he said, and he sounded kind in the voice, "you’ll have to pick it for your own self. I ain’t a-going to exactly forbid it to you, but I ain’t either a-going to give it to you. And, what I said before, you know just why I can't.”
Hazel Techeray reached out her hand, but she didn't take that flower. Instead, she went a-walking off along the path to where the road was. When she got there, she turned herself back round.
“You and your friends here don't know what a fix you're in," she said, her voice a-making itself strong at last.
“We can make a right good guess," Mr. Ben called back to her.
He stood there where he was, with his feet set wide apart, and watched her as she headed off along the road toward where Sim Drogus lived, toward where she lived, too, as I reckoned. Then Mr. Ben turned and came up the steps into the house, where we'd all been a-harking at what went on. He looked heavy with his thoughts.
“You want to know a fact, John?" he said to me. “Somehow, I purely hated to do that to her just now. Refuse her thataway, I mean. I did hate it, even when I knew right well she was up to something against me."
“You did the right thing, Mr. Ben," I said. “The wise thing."
“Well, all right for that much," he said. “It's near about time for another little grain of blockade. I don't much drink a heap of it air one time, but I want a taste right now. To settle my stomach down, you can call it."
I looked past him into the front yard, at that pretty red flower Hazel Techeray had begged to him for. Then I turned back round. We all came and sat down while Mr. Ben poured.
“Leastways, she nair asked me for that there alexandrite I got in my pocket," said Mr. Ben above the rim of his glass.
“She was bound to know better than to ask for that," I said. “Though for some reason the Shonokins want it, and want it with all their hearts.”
“If a Shonokin has sure enough got a heart,” he rumbled. “I'm a-beginning to wonder myself if these here Shonokins ain't just some kind of bad dream I'm a-having.”
“The Shonokins are a reality indeed, Mr. Ben,” said Warren. He'd got up with his drink and was a-stacking up dishes on their shelf. “They were a great and real danger up North, until my friend Thunstone checked them. Maybe they're still more or less a danger up there.” “And another danger here,” said Mr. Ben, a-pulling his moustache. “A danger whatair place they come to. They're a-fixing to be a danger to me, and this here very morning they found out how I can be a danger to them.” Morning, I thought, this morning. Such a lot had happened since this morning. Now it was no more than two o'clock in the afternoon, to judge by the set of the sun outside.
I finished up my own drink. “Folks,” I said to them all, “I reckon I'll just have me a lie-down and maybe a little nap. I didn't sleep so almighty much last night, you know.” “Go lie down on the bed in my room,” Mr. Ben offered me, but I shook my head no.
“No, sir, my stuff's still out yonder on the porch. I'll unroll it and sleep there. I've mentioned to you all I sleep better outside. And, anyway, I can get the feel of the place while I sleep.”
“Whatair pleases you,” Mr. Ben granted me.
So I went out on the porch and flung my blanket over the quilt I'd used, and pillowed my head on my old soogin sack. I slid my hat down over my eyes to shut out the sunlight. I must have been asleep before one minute was gone. In that sleep, I dreamed dreams. First off, as was right usual, about my Evadare girl, how sweet she was, how sweet she made all heaven and earth. It seemed in my dream like as if she and I were out someplace a-picking blackberries. And then the dream changed on me. Now I thought it was a big outdoor meeting, and there was Brooke Altic, yonder on a platform, a-talking to a crowd of folks like at the singing. Now and then some fellows with long sticks, maybe they were Shonokins, poked here and there in the crowd to make the people cheer and hooraw for Altic.
A step sounded on the porch boards, and quick I sat up. It was Jackson Warren.
“You said, wake you up in a hour, John, and it's been about that.” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “Three o'clock exactly. You certainly sleep lightly to wake up like that, all over.”
“I do thank you, Jackson.” Up I got, a-feeling good, rested, strong. I rolled my blanket and the quilt up and carried them and the soogin inside and stowed them in a comer where my guitar leaned.
“All right now, what's to be a-coming next?” Mr. Ben was a-wondering. “Appears to me like them Shonokins is sort of set back from us right this minute. Sim Drogus and Hazel Techeray might could be in their pay, a-working for them, but their work so far ain't turned out so good. Likewise, there's that there dead one of them John allows is a-laying on their track, a-scaring them off, a-keeping them sort of dammed away from us like a flood of water.” He scowled over that, but it was a sort of happy scowl. “I don't know for certain but what I'd feel some better off if they'd just come and try on whatair they got to try on.”
“It isn't apt to be any magic or sorcery, whatever they might try on,” said Warren. “I gather that John was able to put an end to that particular sort of business on this property of yours.”
“Oh, the hell,” snorted Mr. Ben. “I've always heard tell that witchcraft couldn't work against a pure heart, only my heart ain't all the time pure. Sometimes I can be meaner than an old bear with a sore toe.'' He hiked up his brows at us. “Folks, I
been bad in my time; just now, I could wish I'd been better as a young fellow. But the only thing I got in mind is, what if them Shonokins got them some kind of special witch stuff that our spells can't guard away from us?”
“I seriously doubt that they have that,” I offered him. “Mr. Ben, witchcraft's an old thing. Most likely it goes back to the very beginnings of man, even the beginnings of Shonokins if they're older, all over this world. And the ways of whipping it are good all round. I'm not a-calling myself too easy, but at present I'd say we were way out in front of them on that line.”
Somebody hollered the house from outside again. This time, it was a man's voice.
“I vow and declare, we're a-getting us a whole year's worth of company just this last two days,” said Mr. Ben, and headed over to the door. He opened it wide and stood in it.
“Who's out yonder?” he yelled.
A-looking out past him, I saw three men there by the edge of the road. One was rangy, and the hair on his bare head was a big tawny shock. Another looked stocky and dark-skinned, with a sort of blue baseball cap on. He might could have had Indian blood in him. The other was smallish made, and he had a round face that seemed to snicker. They all of them wore rough farm clothes, but they looked to have shaved just that morning. Lots of mountain men don’t shave once a day, some not once a week. These men meant company doings, I figured.
"Shoo, Mr. Ben, it’s just us,” said the rangy one. "You know us, all three of us. We just stopped by to tell you some news.”
"Walk on out with me, John,” said Mr. Ben, and he and I walked into the yard. The three men came along together on the path, close to the door.
"Fellows, this here is John, he’s a visiting with me,” Mr. Ben made the introductions. "John, shake hands with Lew Replogle.”
The rangy one gave me his big, calloused hand.
"And this here is U. G. Bannion.”
That meant the stocky one with the Indian look. "Howdy, friend,” he said as we shook hands together.
"And likewise little Matty Groves,” said Mr. Ben. "He’s got him the same name as that there fellow in the old song,1 only he ain’t been killed for a-courting another man’s wife.”
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