"Not yet I ain’t,” snickered little Matty Groves.
"I’ve had me some word of John,” said Lew Replogle, who seemed like the one who was to do the talking for the whole bunch. "Matter of fact, last night at Brooke Altic’s singing I heard him a-picking guitar and he give us that 'Murder Bull’ ballad. John, I’ve heard a right much of good about you.”
"Me, too, I have,” said Matty Groves. "We’ve all of us heard tell good things about John, and I’m right proud to meet him.”
They all grinned at me. Mr. Ben studied one, then another and another.
"And what’s there I can do for youins?” he inquired them.
"Just only give us your idea on something,” said Lew Replogle. "We're all your neighbor folks, we always been a-getting on well with you, Mr. Ben. Weuns mostly reckon you for the foremost man of all this here neighborhood. So we naturally like to bide by your notions."
"Fact," U. G. Bannion seconded him.
"What notions would them be?" Mr. Ben inquired again. "I can't much speak to them without I know what youins mean."
"Well, now," said Replogle, "it's about a burying they want us to do for them."
"Whatair burying you a-talking about? Who is it wants youins to bury somebody?”
Replogle sort of hung back at that, and Bannion spoke up in his turn:
"Brooke Altic's done offered us a hundred dollars," he said.
"Brooke Altic?" Mr. Ben said the name like a cussword.
"All right now, Mr. Ben,” tried Replogle one more time, "we know that him and you don't much agree on things together. But that there's your business, not ours. And he just offered us a hundred dollars in good money bills if we'd go up there on their track to Immer where one of their bunch is a-laying dead and gone. If we'd carry him to the old burying ground—the one where Brushy Fork Church used to be before they moved it to Aley's Crossing —and just put him in the ground there.”
"And maybe we'd say a good word or two over the grave,” put in Matty Groves.
Again Mr. Ben gave them a glittery look all round before he spoke. "All right, boys,” he said at last. "If that's what it is, what's a-keeping you?”
Replogle slowly churned his big feet in their patched plow shoes. "It was a sort of funny proposition,” he made out to say. "A hundred dollars—that ain't no kind of money for a fellow to turn down for just a couple hours of digging. But at first we wondered ourselves if it was the right thing. If maybe somebody shouldn't ought to go tell the law at the county seat."
Mr. Ben snorted so hard it fluffed his moustache. “If youins feel thataway, why not do that thing? There's been a couple deputy sheriffs a-using hereabouts today. They was right in this here yard this morning, to wonder had I been a-shooting at something or other. Youins might could track up on them and get their word on the matter and go by that."
“Aw now, Mr. Ben,” Matty Groves sort of whimpered out, “we don't value them deputy sheriffs much. They nair come round about here to do aught of good to a hard-working man. We more-less thought we'd another sight rather inquire you what you felt about Brooke Altic's offer.”
“It's an offer he made to you, not to me," said Mr. Ben. “How come you to run across him?"
“Matter of fact, it was him run across us," said Replogle. “We was all together on my place, over yonder." He pointed with his knuckly hand, off past the rear of Mr. Ben's property. “U.G. and Matty here had come to help me split up some shingles, and then here come Brooke Altic along and offered us that money."
“And being that John happens to be with us here," said Bannion, his eyes on me, “we'd be obliged to hear him for what thought he's got about it, too."
“The only thought I've got is, I'm a stranger guest here," I said. “I don't own the first thing hereabouts except these clothes I wear and the pack I tote when I'm along the way to go somewhere. I'm like you gentlemen—I'll wait to hear Mr. Ben speak on it.”
“Yes, sir, and we'll all of us go by his word," promised Replogle; no doubt on earth but that he and those others set store by Mr. Ben. “Let him tell us to go ahead or stop, walk or stay on base. We know him and the Shonokins is at a fall-out with one another. We're neighbors to Mr. Ben and to the Shonokins, both of them. So we've come to him with it."
Mr. Ben wadded up his hard fists and clamped them down on his hard hips, with his elbows a-sticking out. I saw his face set itself into those strong, thinking lines it could take on.
“Why, hell's fire on the mountain, boys," he busted out at last. “Youins ain’t got no need to get my yes or no in your own doings, so long as they're away off from this place I own. If youins feel like a-taking Brooke Aide's money, why go ahead—do what he wants."
“Bury that there dead Shonokin?" Replogle inquired him.
“If youins feel like a-doing it, and then there's that hundred dollars to divvy up amongst yourselves. Who in Tophet is Ben Gray to forbid you?"
They acted right glad to hear him speak up, like as if it was a word from a judge their way in a court of law. One after another, they said him their thanks and their good days, and off they went a-walking into the woods again. Mr. Ben kept his close-creased eyes on them till they were purely out of sight.
“John," he said, “did I tell them three men wrong?"
“I'm not about to answer that off the top of my head,” I replied him, “but I feel you meant to tell them right."
“Glad to hear you say so. Let's come on back to the house."
Once we were inside again, he told that whole talk with the three men to Warren and Callie. Callie's eyes got bigger and rounder and scareder than ever, and Warren looked just a tad tight around the mouth.
''And now,” Mr. Ben finished up, "the idee of them low- flung Shonokin skunks is, if their dead can be taken out of their way, they won't be none afraid to come here.”
"And they're going to come here, Daddy,” stammered out Callie. "As sure as we stand here, they'll come. Their way will be open. Jackson explained all that to us.”
Mr. Ben flung out his thick arms. "Then let them come, I say!” he hollered in our faces. "I vow and swear, I've got tired of a-waiting on them here. That's how come I done told Lew Replogle and the others to go ahead with the burying!”
And I knew what he meant by that thing. It had been a-eating on him for hours.
"They brag they don't believe in no Devil?” Mr. Ben yammered. "All right, folks, they’ll plumb believe in him before they get through with me. I'll give them the Devil— I'll give them hell with the lid off and the bottom of it a-shining right up into their faces!”
The way he sounded, you'd have reckoned he had it already done.
"I say sure enough, let them come here,” he told us one more time, and he sounded calmer now. "Let them come with their meanness and try it on with me. I'm tired of just a-waiting round. I'll be here when they show up. They won't find this place of mine no joyful place to visit.”
"By which,” said Warren, "you mean that you'll be ready for their coming.”
"That's the natural truth,” Mr. Ben nodded to him. "Hark at me, son, my old grandsire come back from a-fighting in the Yankee war, to heir this piece of land from his daddy, and he built this here very house on it, with his own hands. He raised twelve youngins in it, and my daddy was the eleventh. And in time I heired it from him—my daddy.”
"You feel it’s yours,” said Jackson.
"You can bet your neck I feel it's mine,” said Mr. Ben, "spite of all them Godforsaken eternal Shonokins who ain't even got the final common sense to believe in the Devil. I swear to youins, one and all, if they come, I ain't a-going to be hard to find. I'll be right here on my ground, with blood in my eye and a chip on my shoulder. I want to get the thing settled with them. I'm a-getting dog-tired of all this here grief and trouble and hell raising they're a-trying to put on me.”
He fell silent and waited for somebody else to say something.
"That was spoken like the brave, good man you are, Mr. Ben,” I said, "and I'll be
right here with you.”
"And I,” said his brave daughter, Callie.
"And I,” said Jackson Warren, a-standing close to her. "Naturally.”
9
“All right, Mr. Ben,” I said to him, and tried to keep my voice cheerful. “You’ve heard all of us say, we’re in it with you to make a stand against them. And since you’re in command—”
“Not me, I ain’t in command, John,” he chipped in on me. “I ain’t a-going to be in command here, not by a long shot with a bush in the way. You’re a-going to be.”
I goggled when he said that thing, and I reckon that maybe so did the others. It was sure enough the last word on earth I’d expected from him.
“Looky here, John,” said Mr. Ben, stubborn as a mule, air inch of him. “You purely got to be our captain in this here Shonokin business. And I call on Callie and Jackson to say likewise.”
I shook my head at him. “Me?” I said. “Now, hold on. This is your place, and this is your part of the world. You know it like the palm of your hand. And I’ve not yet been hereabouts for more than about thirty hours.”
“I’ll tell you how come I said what I said,” he came back. “It’s because you know more than the whole rest of us about this kind of hellacious, spellbinding stuff, what them Shonokins want to try on here. John, just let me put it thisaway. You’ve been up against witch stuff and hant stuff and devil stuff before this, time and time again. And, what’s more, you’ve whupped it—made it quit. By God, you're veteran against it. You're champion. So you'll be our captain and we'll be your troops.''
"I agree with that/' said Jackson Warren.
“But, Mr. Ben, you told me you'd been a sergeant once," I tried to argue him. “On my part, I nair in all my service got higher than PFC., nor yet wanted to."
“Oh," said Warren, “you could have made sergeant without half trying."
I recollected how, one time another they'd wanted to send me to noncom school, and how I'd always talked myself out of it. But I didn't say that.
“And I'll bet air man a dollar you've commanded men in your time,” said Mr. Ben, still a-being stubborn.
“Well now,” I had to admit, “there were times in the fighting when things got rugged in there. And other fellows sort of turned to me and wanted me to do the saying about what to do and what not to do.”
“Naturally they'd be bound to turn to you," said Mr. Ben. “And that's what we're a-doing now. A-wanting you to say what to do."
“Exactly,” Warren seconded him, and watched me as he spoke.
“Amen," said Callie, almost bright in her voice. “Amen."
“Well," I said again, “if you truly mean it, all right."
Mr. Ben grinned his teeth under his moustache. It was as harsh a grin as you could call for.
“Then it's settled, and we start to call you captain."
“No, you just call me John, and I'll call you all Callie and Mr. Ben and Jackson.”
“Agreed," said Callie. “No formalities, but you tell us what to do. And right now, what is there for us to do?"
I knew right well that there'd be lots to be thought out and told. “What’s the time just now?” I inquired them, and looked out at the sun.
“It’s just past three-thirty,” said Warren, his eyes on the watch on his wrist.
“At this time of year,” I figured, “the sunset will come round about six-thirty. We’ve got us a good three hours, as I make it. From now on, we keep here inside this cabin all we can. If somebody must go out, then only one at a time, with the rest on the alert.”
“That there’s a good order, John,” said Mr. Ben, a-strok- ing his moustache.
“We’ll close up all the windows, with boards or some such matter,” I went on. “The last thing we do as the dark begins to come down, we’ll likewise board up the doors. How many doors do you have in this house, Mr. Ben?”
“Just only the front and back, small a place as it is,” replied Mr. Ben. “The front one here, and a back door in my room.”
The front door was good and stout-made, as I’d noticed before that. “The windows to be all closed in, then,” I said again. “If we have to do some shooting, we can aim out betwixt these logs where the chinking’s been pulled out. Let’s go have a look at the windows.”
I headed into one of the bedrooms, then the other. Only one window to each of them, with glass in it. In Mr. Ben’s room was the door he’d told of, the same, I recollected, he must have come in through to take his shot at that Shonokin. It was as good as the front door: it was made of stout planks with cleats crossways on them, and it had both a bolt and a lock. I turned the key and shot the bolt. Then Mr. Ben and I came out and climbed up the ladder to the loft where Jackson had slept the night before. Up there, they had just only a little small window, easy to make safe.
I stood and looked up at a trapdoor betwixt two rafter logs.
"That there goes up on the roof/' Mr. Ben said. "What do you say; should we nail it shut?”
"There's no point in a-doing that,” I decided. "We'll just make out to keep them from a-getting up on the roof. Our big job will be to watch all four sides down below.”
"Sure enough,” he said, "and there's four of us for the four sides, and all of us can handle guns. I'm glad I taught Callie how to aim and pull trigger.”
We went down again. Jackson Warren was a-waiting. "What other orders, John?” he inquired me.
I'd been a-wondering myself about that very thing. This command had been shoved on me as sudden as the wink of an eye, and my mind was full of things for us to do.
"My judgment is that tonight is a-going to tell the whole tale,” I said. "The tale both for us and for the Shonokins, and which one will come out top dog. After it’s dark, I told you, we stay all nailed up in here, a-keeping watch all times. And no more than one of us to lie down while the others will stay on their feet and ready.”
"Especially watchful by night,” Warren quoted from the orders for an interior guard detail, the ones a soldier has to know by memory before they'll give him a pass to get out of the regimental area.
"That's got it,” I agreed him. "And, after dark, no fire yonder on the hearth, even if it gets airish and chilly. We’ll light one lamp but keep it turned way low, and stand it next to the door so as to throw no shadow on us to show through those spaces in the logs. And we've got to have some rations.”
"That will be my assignment,” spoke up Callie. "What rations, John?”
"A great big pot of strong, black coffee, naturally,” I decided. “Big enough to last the four of us all through the night. And to eat, Fd speak for a kettle of soup we could dip into whenever we felt we needed some."
She smiled about that. “I can do it. Fve got things here to make it. Chips of ham—good ham, Daddy's own smoking—and some cut-up stew beef, and elbow macaroni, and those green beans left over from dinner." She thought that much over. “Yes, and about twelve different seasonings, and some canned tomatoes."
“That sounds right good, Callie," allowed Mr. Ben.
“Second the endorsing motion," added in Warren. “Callie, let me help you."
They started right in a-fixing the ham and beef in a kettle, as cheerful as two folks a-getting ready for a picnic. Mr. Ben looked over all the guns he'd laid out for us. He’d put out ammo, too, handfuls of different-sized cartridges, on the edge of the table. I studied those handfuls. Too bad we didn't all have guns the same caliber, but that couldn't be helped just then.
“Me," said Mr. Ben, “Fm a-going out to the shed for some boards to close up them windows and all like that. You got us figured safe so long as it's daylight, John, so Fll go. And likewise Fll tend to things one more time so's they'll not be no reason to go out at night. Thank the good Lord I ain't got no animals on this here place to worry over."
Out he went. I drifted to a window to watch.
Again I said to myself, the trees all round the cabin looked good, looked trustworthy to me. I figured my quick- said spell agains
t Hazel Techeray must have done its work. At last things could be natural in that yard and for maybe a good space round it. I hoped so, anyway.
I studied over what orders Fd given out for whatever trouble might could come, and decided that I’d just let it be enough said right then. A man could talk too much, without a good reason to do it. If there'd be aught else to say and do, that could come up when the real business came up.
As she put things into the soup kettle, Callie started in to sing. It was a song Fd nair yet in all my life heard, to a strange, lonesome tune:
"The silver is white, red is the gold,
The robes they lie, they lie in fold;
The bailey beareth the lull away,
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay,
Through the glass window shines the sun—
How could I love, and I so young?”
Warren almost dropped a big iron spoon he was a-stirring the kettle with. "Callie, that's the most beautiful thing I've heard in years,” he said, his breath all caught up to say it.
"You like it?” she inquired him, a-smiling. Sure enough, she'd sung that song just for him to hear.
"I've read it,” said Warren, with his breath still caught. "It's in The Oxford Book of English Verse, and in some other collections. I've read it, I say, but I never heard the music. Where did you ever learn that?”
"My mother used to sing it when she was still alive. I imagine she got it from her old folks. They were all musical in her family.”
"Beautiful,” said Warren again, like somebody in a church house.
"Beautiful's the true plain word,” I said, and went to pick up my guitar and turn a peg or two to tune it. "Go through with it again, Callie, and let me see if I can follow you along.”
And, happy as a bird, she sang it over again, and I backed her on the guitar. The scale was another of those old-timey modal ones Fd been told about, minor-sounding but not sure enough a minor, not really. And the song was as beautiful to hear as Warren had sworn.
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