I was wore out by the time I got to our gate and couldn’t wait to go to bed. As I pedaled up the lane, I got the feeling something was wrong. All the lights were on, and I could make out Bess Clark’s pickup in the barn lot.
When I pulled into the yard, a wave of people come out to greet me. Mom and Naomi kept saying, “Thank God! Thank God!” but nobody would say what they were thanking him for. The third or fourth time I asked, Bess Clark answered.
“We had a little excitement t’night . . . matter of fact, your pa and me was ’bout t’ come lookin’ for you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Come on in, and we’ll talk about it,” said Dad.
We went in the kitchen and the men sat down at the table while Mom and Naomi started making coffee and putting baked stuff on the table. Dad leaned toward me. “Samuel, did you and Fred have any trouble tonight?”
I thought about how the meeting ended and told what had happened. Soon, everybody in the house was laughing, especially Bess Clark, who doubled up when I got to the part about Mort’s fit and the tent falling.
“Any other problems?” Dad asked, when things calmed down. “Did you and Fred see anything strange on th’ way home?”
“No, sir. Wudn’t anything strange that we saw. Why?”
“Just after you left, Mr. Clark found the carcass of one of his bucks,” said Dad. “It was in the field next to Shackelford’s and had been hacked up like the other one.”
“Its male organs and eyes?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Yeah, tongue too, this time. It was a pretty bad sight,” said Dad.
“Hit was a awful sight!” said Bess.
There was a rap on the kitchen door, and I heard Mr. MacWerter say hello to Naomi.
“Hello, Morse,” Mr. Mac said as he come to the table. He was wearing a slicker which I thought was odd because it wudn’t raining.
“I got t’ worryin’ after you checked for Samuel at our house and decided t’ come over. Good t’ see he’s home,” and he put his arm around my neck and squeezed and something hard pressed against my head. He opened the slicker to sit down and pulled the longest barreled pistol I ever saw out of his belt and laid it on the table. “What all’s happened?” he asked.
“Another sheep killin’, George,” Dad answered. “By th’ time Bess got here, it was pretty dark. We grabbed our guns and lanterns and picked up Ed and his dogs, but by th’ time we got there it was pitch black. The sheep had been dead for about a day as best we could tell, but th’ dogs were goin’ crazy. They cut right through Shackelford’s place, then seemed t’ lose th’ scent at Cuyper Creek. Whatever or whoever did th’ killing knows how t’ fool a dog.”
“Movin’ toward th’ river, wudn’t he,” said Mr. Mac.
“Oh yeah,” said Bess. “Ain’t no doubt ’bout that. Headin’ toward them cliffs. He’s got t’ get outta that stream someplace, though, and that’s when we’re gonna find where he went.”
“Better do it t’morrow early or th’ trail’s gonna be cold,” said Mr. Mac. “Only thing you’re gonna have left t’ follow that long after th’ killin’ is some tracks. Unless you had a bloodhound. Ordinary dog won’t pick up a human scent after two days.”
“Sheriff’s bringin’ three of them tomorrow,” said Dad.
“Sheriff’s goin’ out with ye?” said Mr. Mac, and his eyes lit up.
“Sheriff, Morse, Ed, me, ’n’ Rags,” said Bess. “Wanta join us, George?”
“Hell yes! Whoever’s doin’ this is closer t’ me than he is t’ Rags! What time?”
“Just before dawn,” said Dad. “Meet here at th’ house.”
“I’ll be here ’n’ have old Betsy,” said Mr. Mac, and he patted his pistol.
“Doubt there’ll be a need for guns,” said Dad. “Hope no one gets an itchy trigger finger.”
I could tell Dad was trying to cool things down before the crazy man was shot to pieces. Mr. Mac nodded that Dad was right, but Bess didn’t. He sulked awhile, then looked at Dad with his eyebrows raised. “Morse, y’ know this old boy coulda done th’ same thing to Samuel there he done t’ that sheep,” and he pointed his chin at me. “You was worried a few minutes ago when he wudn’t home. I say we got t’ do somethin’ ’bout this old boy ’fore hit’s too late.”
“You’re right,” said Dad, strong. “The only thing I don’t want is a killin’ unless we have no choice. If he came for me or mine or a neighbor, I’d shoot him if I had to, but so far, he’s only killed stock, and no matter how terrible th’ way he did it, it’s not enough t’ shoot him. I’ve seen too much killin’ in my life, Bess. I don’t want to see any more of it unless it’s life or death.”
Bess got up from his chair and stretched. “Wouldn’t even go along with a little tar ’n’ feathers, huh, Morse?” and we all laughed.
As soon as all our company was gone, I started thinking. What I had to do was go with the posse and lead the dogs to the cliff bottom. Soon as the men saw the cave, and the dogs started going wild, they wouldn’t have any trouble figuring out where the crazy man was and we wouldn’t have to tell about that day at the Blue Hole. Boy, did I wish Fred could go, but it was already late and if I asked to go over to Fred’s now, Mom and Dad would think I was crazy. Besides, I wudn’t about to go out alone again tonight! That meant I was going to have to handle it myself. I just had to get Dad to take me along. I decided to wait until the next day to ask about going so that Mom wouldn’t have all night to talk Dad out of it. With a little luck, I thought as I crawled into bed, Fred, Lonnie, LD, and me was out of trouble.
I didn’t know how long I had been asleep when something woke me up, then I heard the telephone ringing, Dad’s footsteps, and then his sleepy voice.
“Yeah . . . yeah . . . okay . . . g’bye.”
The phone hung up and there were more footfalls and a squeak as Dad got back into bed. Then, kind of foggy-headed, I wondered why somebody was calling in the middle of the night. Something else was wrong too. There was a sound like bacon frying. Rain!
I come full awake in a flash, flung off the covers, opened the door that went out onto the screened-in porch, and dang nigh went sprawling on the gut-slick, water-soaked deck. Rain by the bucketful was pouring down. The telephone call was probably the sheriff. Hard as this rain was falling, all the scent would be warshed away. Even deep tracks would be gone. The posse’d been rained out! Nobody would show up because they would know it was a warshout.
I set up and thought for a while and listened to the danged old gully-warsher. The only thing that kept coming back time after time was a new meeting with Fred, Lonnie, and LD. That meant I had to talk to Fred tomorrow since the best place to set up a meeting would be when he saw Lonnie and LD at church. As soon as I figured out what I was going do, I felt better and slid back under the covers. The covers smelled musty and good, and the patter of rain on the roof and slosh at the side of the house drained the wake out of me and in a few minutes, I was asleep.