It rained hard all the next morning. I didn’t want to rust my bike so I walked to the Mulligans’ and got soaked. Fred laughed when he saw me. I must’ve been some sight standing at the front door draining all over the place with cockleburs hanging here and there.
“What you doin’ all wet, hun’ney? Don’t you know ’nough t’ stay out th’ rain?”
“Had t’ talk t’ you,” I said.
“Must be mighty important,” he said, and laughed again, but I didn’t, and he looked behind him and stepped outside and closed the door. “Somethin’ happen?” he asked soft.
“It ain’t good,” I answered. “Where can we talk?”
“Can’t inside,” and I could hear voices. “We can sit in th’ shit house . . . or walk.”
“Why don’t we walk.”
We went down the road to where we could watch the Dry Branch pour over the blacktop. The water was moving fast and making an awful noise.
“Some rain, wudn’t it?” he said, as we watched.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Few minutes was enough for us. Crazy man killed a buck night before last over on Bess Clark’s. They found it just after we left for th’ meetin’. Dad and Bess and a bunch of others were supposed to meet th’ sheriff and have bloodhounds and everything this mornin’ and track him down but the rain warshed out the tracks and scent. Wouldn’t you know it, I could’ve led them to th’ cliff and we’d’ve been out of trouble.”
Fred turned toward me quick. “You were gonna lead them t’ th’ cave without me!” he squawked, then started walking around in a little circle glaring at me.
“I didn’t want to,” I answered, kind of apologizing. “Wudn’t anything else I could do, Fred. I couldn’t get here late as it was, and we were leavin’ before daylight. I didn’t even know if Dad would let me go, much less wait on you.”
Fred kept acting mad for a while, then picked up a rock and threw it in the roaring Dry Branch. “Now what we supposed t’ do?”
“We better get together and talk again,” I answered. “He’s comin’ further and further in from th’ river.”
“Yeah, and lots of time’s passed since we’ve knowed. And we’ve lied our fool heads off. He’s killed two sheep and everybody’s gonna blame us. We in for hit now.”
“We just got t’ tell!” I said. “He’s gonna kill somebody!”
Fred squatted down and watched the roaring water. “Samuel, you know somethin’ ’bout th’ crazy man I don’t and you won’t tell me?”
“I can’t,” I said. “You’re my best friend and all, but it’s like a blood oath.”
Fred kept looking at the branch, then said, “Figured hit was like that. Lonnie’ll go along with tellin’ even though he’s got more t’ lose than any of us, but LD won’t.”
“We got t’ try,” I said. “Fred, that crazy man is gonna hurt somebody! When we meet, I’m gonna tell LD whether he wants me to or not, I’m tellin’, and that he better leave Lonnie out of it. Fred, we got t’ tell! You still want to . . . don’t you?”
Fred didn’t answer right off and the longer he took, the more worried I got. I was about to say something when he sighed. “I reckon. Ain’t gonna do any good, though. LD ain’t about t’ go along with hit or lie for Lonnie.”
I was really getting mad. “I’m gonna bust old LD Howard right in th’ nose!”
Fred just kept squatting, picking up little rocks every now and then and pitching them underhand into the stream. “What good’s that gonna do? Problem’ll still be Lonnie gettin’ beat up . . . maybe killed.”
“Damn old LD, anyhow!” I yelled, standing up. I picked up a big rock and flung it as hard as I could at the water, which hardly splashed it was moving so strong.
“I’ll set up th’ meetin’ when I see LD and Lonnie at church tomorra. Maybe if we push LD hard he’ll come around. Hit’s hard t’ blame him though if he don’t. His pa is downright scary when he’s mad.”
Sprinkles of rain started falling, and Fred stood up. “We better git, hun’ney. Whyn’t you come up th’ house and sit a spell.”
I didn’t want to be around anybody. “Naw, I better be gettin’ back. Little more rain ain’t gonna get me any wetter.”
“That’s th’ truth,” he said, and laughed. “Where you wanta meet, Sunday?”
“How about our stock barn? Th’ four of us haven’t gotten together at my place for quite a while. We can flop around in the loft on the fresh hay Dad just put in.”
“Okay, see you about one o’clock, unless LD and Lonnie can’t make it.”
“One o’clock Sunday in the hayloft,” I said.
Saturday was bad enough, but Sunday morning didn’t ever seem to end. About a quarter of one, I went out to the barn and up the ladder to the loft. While I was waitin’, I hollowed out a place we could all lie down in without sliding off the edge, then I flopped back and waited. It wudn’t long before I heard whispers and the back barn door being pulled out. I peered over the edge of the loft and there was Fred and LD.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hidey, Samuel.” Fred grinned and headed for the ladder.
LD didn’t say anything, and he wudn’t smiling. Matter of fact, he looked like he was ready for a fight. That was okay, because I was ready too.
“Where’s Lonnie?” I asked when they got up the ladder.
“He ain’t coming,” said LD, kind of snotty.
“Why?” I shot back.
“Lonnie’s pa’s on a drunk,” said Fred. “Miz Shackelford told LD’s ma that Mr. Miller beat Lonnie’s ma t’ pieces day before yesterday. Beat up a couple of his sisters too. Th’ whole family is scared t’ death.”
“How’s Miz Shackelford know that?” I asked. “Nobody visits th’ Millers!”
“One of th’ little girls run away to th’ Shackelfords last night,” LD answered. “She said he’d been drinkin’ hard. Th’ Shackelfords brought her to th’ preacher and he’s gonna keep her until Mr. Miller sobers up. Fred says you wanta talk!”
“That’s right,” I snapped back, “and you know about what.”
Fred raised his hands upward and talked soft-like. “I think first we ought have a prayer for Lonnie. Let’s all bow our heads and pray,” and LD did, but I didn’t. First place, I didn’t want to, and second, I wudn’t sure Jews ever bowed their heads to pray.
Both Fred and LD had their heads bowed and LD’s eyes were closed. Fred’s must’ve been open some, because he said, “Samuel?” and I still just stood there, and he said, “Lord, we gathered here . . . Samuel . . .” and I bowed my head, but I didn’t close my eyes. “Lord, we gathered here t’ talk about doin’ right. Now, you know what th’ problem is. The four of us . . . it was four anyways . . . found out about a crazy man or somethin’ lives down on th’ Little Bend cliffs who is just plumb mean. We didn’t tell our folks ’cause we wudn’t supposed t’ be there, then we lied a little . . . quite a bit . . . maybe more, I guess. Along about last year, th’ crazy man started killin’ stock. Now we’re afraid t’ tell ’cause we’re going t’ get a real lickin’ for not tellin’ before now. The worst part though is that Lonnie’s pa is on a drunk and will beat him t’ pieces or maybe kill him if we tell th’ whole truth. LD says he won’t lie and leave Lonnie out of hit if we tell ’cause his pa will find out if he does and really give him a stompin’. Hit’s a bad problem, Lord.”
Fred kind of stopped there and I was about to raise my head when he started again.
“Well, that’s about hit, Lord. What we need you t’ do is two things. First, help Lonnie so’s he don’t get beat t’ pieces, then find us a way t’ get th’ crazy man caught.”
Fred quit praying and I could see him start to say, “Amen,” then stop.
“There’s one more thing, Lord. We know th’ talkin’ we’re about t’ do ain’t gonna be easy, but remind us that we all friends and children of God and got t’ love each other and talk peaceful t’ one another. Without fightin’ or yellin’. Teach us they ain’t no way fightin’ is gonna help and that we got t’ do what’s right peaceful. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
It kind of bothered me like always when Fred said “in Jesus’ name” but since that was how everybody down home but us ended a prayer, I knew he didn’t mean anything against me. The prayer helped a little. Some of the fire was gone from LD’s face when he opened his eyes. He stood there not quite knowing what to do. The prayer had done something to me too, but the first time LD opened his mouth, I was back wanting to put my fist in it. After we set down in the hollowed-out place I made in the hay, LD spoke:
“Fred, I don’t see why we had t’ have this meetin’. Y’all know how I feel. If we tell, I’m gonna tell everything and that means th’ part about Lonnie being with us.”
I was really burning. “Lonnie didn’t tell most ’cause we didn’t want him to,” I said. “It ain’t fair t’ tell on him. Anyway, we got t’ get th’ crazy man caught. That’s what we ought talk about and not waste time on th’ other.”
“What you got in mind?” asked Fred, leaning back on the hay with his hands behind his head and legs crossed.
I had done some thinking but knew my answers wudn’t good. “Well, why don’t we say we saw buzzards circlin’ th’ cliff? That’ll get people thinking about th’ cliffs.”
“What good’ll that do?” asked LD. “There’s a sheep carcass less than two mile from there. Every buzzard around’s gonna be circlin’. Besides, old Shackelford’ll be lookin’ that way hunnert times a day and he’ll know if buzzards been circlin’.”
I started to say something back to LD but Fred raised his hand and I stopped. “Hit’s not a bad idea,” he said. “Hit’s a pretty good start. What else can we do?”
“Well”—I swallowed—“we can walk over t’ th’ top of the cliffs again, and maybe find some bent-over weeds and tell our folks about them. We can say we saw what might be a cave down below where somebody could be hidin’.”
“Go down’t th’ Little Bend cliffs again by ourselves!” said LD, and his face was white. “After what’s happened there! And after what our mamas said this mornin’! You’re crazy!”
“I am not!” I yelled. “I just want th’ crazy man caught. What’s he blabbin’ about, Fred?”
LD jerked stiff the second I said, “blabbin’” and I started getting up.
Fred jumped to his feet. “Now, wait a minute, boys,” he said, raising his hands. “Y’all quit now. Let’s just talk some more. Samuel, this morning after church, th’ women all got t’ talkin’ about Lonnie’s pa and about th’ buck. Before they left, Miz Wallace said hit was dangerous on that stretch of river, and our moms said maybe hit was, and that’s when LD’s ma said, ‘LD, don’t you dare go down there, y’ hear?’”
“And I said y . . . yes,” LD said. “And Fred’s ma said she d . . . didn’t want F . . . Fred t’ go neither! So there!”
I looked at old LD and just got madder and madder. No matter what I did, he always foxed me. He was winning again too, and taking my best friend with him. Okay, I thought, it’s my turn. “Y’all can do whatever you want but I’m tellin’ and I’m gonna say th’ reason we didn’t tell sooner was ’cause o’ you, LD Howard!”
LD’s face went bleach white, then come a big sob and here he come, both fists just flying. In a second we were rolling around on the hay, first him on top, then me on top, pounding away at each other and Fred trying to pull us apart, saying, “Stop . . . come on, you guys . . . y’all stop now . . . Samuel . . . LD . . . y’all stop hit right now,” but we kept swinging and rolling and kicking and grabbing hard as we could, and cussing up a storm. All of a sudden the world turned upside down and the wind just gushed out of me.
We had fallen off the loft. I thought I was dying. I couldn’t get my breath, and barely struggled to my feet. While I was gagging, I could see that LD was bleeding from a big cut on his forehead and his mouth was open trying to cry with nothing coming out. Something finally did, though. “I hate you!”
Just then I got a gasp of air and went for him again, but Fred grabbed me around the waist and held on. LD started running, hit the back barn door with his body, knocking it open, and shot out before it fell shut.
As soon as LD was gone, Fred let go of me, then stepped back and let his arms drop to his sides. I guess he thought I was going to come for him and he didn’t want to fight. It wudn’t because he was scared. Fred would fight anybody, but he didn’t want to fight me. I didn’t want to fight him either, and I just stood there wanting to cry. Little time passed and he said, “You ain’t really gonna tell, are you, Samuel?”
I shook my head. “Don’t see any way I can.”
“Your mouth’s bleedin’. You got any broke teeth?”
I tried to spit on the barn floor and instead of it coming out like a wad, it splattered. I felt around with my fingers which come away all bloody.
Fred moved up close. “You got a busted lip.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I sputtered.
He looked real close, then said, “Hit’s swellin’ up like a poisoned pup.”
“Damn old LD! Damn him!” I spat out. “Now I got t’ lie about how I got it and Mom’s gonna raise all kinds of hell.”
“Aw, hun’ney, tell her you fell,” he said, chuckling. “Hit’s the truth, ain’t it?”
“Yeah . . . I guess. Aw, Fred what we gonna do?”
Fred moved his bare heel around in the barn dust and shook his head. “Don’t know, hun’ney. We can’t tell now. Old Lafe Miller might kill Lonnie if we do, and LD will tell for sure. I wish they was somebody we could talk hit over with.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well, got t’ be gettin’ back. Hey, let’s do some fishin’ this week, get a bunch of frogs and stuff. Hit’s gonna be okay, Samuel, you’ll see,” and he threw an arm around my shoulders and we walked together to the back of the barn, where he squeezed out the door and disappeared.