Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 (15 page)

 
          
"Not
so loud, Miss Hazel, we don't know who might
could
be
hidden out to hark at us. I won't quarrel with you about the way to hell. But
the Shonokins don't believe in hell. Maybe they're scared to.”

 
          
"John,”
she almost wept, "I want to come along with you.”

 
          
"If
you want out of the mess you've put yourself into,” I said, "your best
move is to go home, wherever that is, and find some better business to follow
than witchcraft.”

 
          
I
thought she was a-going to bust out crying, and I walked on away from her. I
cut the heads off some weeds with my stick. I didn't look back at her, but I
knew she stood where I'd left her, stood there scared to move or think.

 
          
Then
a bird twittered somewhere, not loud, but a bird was there. The first, except
for the raven, I'd heard since I'd left Mr. Ben's cabin.

 
          
I
could see through the sneaky trees to where the Shonokin track was. I walked
along, a-keeping in sight of it. I knew how dead straight it ran, how hard it
was bottomed.
Fd
walked on it that day. And I knew
how, if you were on it, you tingled. That was the power the Shonokins knew how
to pick up with it, the power they planned to use against people.

 
          
And
how would they fix to use it? They'd been sneaky all their thousands and
thousands of years. They hadn't been able to stand up against the Indians when
there'd been that fight with them. Oh, but then, probably, they didn't yet know
how to get power by the drawing of those straight tracks. Where would the
Indians have been if the Shonokins had known that? Now that they did know it,
they'd use it. Their old enemies, those Indians, might not count for much with
them these days. But there were people for them to use it against, bring down
in conquest.

 
          
Some
place in the Bible, the book of Joel as I seem to recollect, there's something
about a sneaky attack. In those woods I said it over to myself:

 
          
A
great people and a strong; there hath not been ever the
like,
neither shall be any more after it, even to the years of many generations. . .
.

 
          
Could
that maybe mean the Shonokins? There'd been the like of Shonokins all the
centuries. Only, nobody had known they were there, getting smart as hell,
getting strong, getting ready to strike. There was another verse about them:

 
          
They
shall run to and fro in the city; they shall run upon the wall, they shall
climb upon the houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a thief. . . .

 
          
But
we'd closed in the windows with those big stout planks, and if a Shonokin
should come a-thieving in, we'd be ready to disgust him with the job.

 
          
Now,
I felt a touch of the stir in me that the track would have given if I'd been on
it
Just
a whisper in me, you might could say. I looked
over thataway.

 
          
Through
a stand of little pine saplings, I made the thing out, that balanced stone. A
breeze came up with a strong puff, and it swayed where it was balanced.
Whatever it had in it, I could feel it, even off the track the way I was right
then. I figured it must give some sort of strength to the track, or maybe the
track's strength was stored up in it Jackson Warren might
could
have said; I couldn't. I just only wanted to get on past it.

 
          
So
on past it I went, and the feeling died out of me again. I was a-coming to
where the dead Shonokin had been left in the ditch.

 
          
Another
few moments and I could see the place. I saw that there were live things there,
too. They were men, the same three that had come to talk to Mr. Ben. I made out
that tall, knuckly Lew Replogle first. The others were little
Matty
Groves
and the
Indian-looking
U.
G. Bannion. They all stood on the far side
of the track, and they looked down at what was there, and I didn't need a
spyglass to know what it was.

 
          
The
three of them talked a few words to one another. Then Replogle reached down and
dragged something over close to them. It was like a sling or a stretcher, made
of two long, rough-cut poles. I couldn't be sure, but I thought they were two
oak saplings. I worked my way closer, all the time keeping under cover, and I
saw how that stretcher was made. They'd put shorter pieces across and fastened
them with cord or wire. And on the thing they now draped a ragged old quilt. I
could make out that the pattern was Irish Chain.

 
          
Careful
in all they did, they set the stretcher down, and then all of them stooped over
and hiked up what was to go on it.
The dead Shonokin, in his
dark coat, his tumbled hair.
He still hung limp, though he'd been dead
for maybe eight hours—perhaps the Shonokins didn't stiffen up like people, like
animals. They pulled him out straight on their stretcher and laid his hands on
his chest, one crossed over the other. Then Matty Groves picked up another old'
quilt —Jacob's
Ladder
pattern, this time—and covered
him up with it, over his head and all.

 
          
I
thought they were ready to tote him off then, but Bannion was away amongst some
trees. I stared to see what he brought back. It was flowers. He had a few
azaleas,
and some pink moccasin flowers in a bunch. He laid
them carefully down on the quilt, just where the dead hands would be crossed
underneath. Then he and Replogle picked up the stretcher and crossed the track
with it, with
Matty Groves
a-following behind. I could
see
Matty Groves
kind of skip, and figured the power
in the track had jangled him.

 
          
They
came into the woods on my side, and I hunkered low in some scrub so as not to
be seen. I watched them head away with their burden. I felt good toward
Bannion, because of those flowers he'd found to put on the body. They might
could
be more or less trifling men, if I was to credit what
Mr. Ben said of them, but they had hearts.
Human hearts.

 
          
I
stayed hidden till they'd had minutes to get out of sight all the way. Then I
moved carefully to the edge of the track, stooped down behind a pine tree, and
sighted along it in the direction of Immer.

 
          
Shapes
stood up on the track, along there. Shonokins, who'd come to see that their
dead had been carted away, that the track was open for them to come to Mr.
Ben's cabin door.

           
Quick and quiet as I could make it,
I slid back into the thick woods and hoped to heaven they hadn't glimpsed me.
Now to make it back to the cabin again, report on what I'd seen. I headed back
along the way I'd taken, with the strong sense on me of uneasy sorts of things
amongst those trees and thickets. Overhead there slid a big old buzzard, likely
on the look for whatair he might
could
devour.

 
          
These
would be Shonokin woods, sure enough, bought by them some time or other. Not
that I figured on them to be a-using round so quick after the dead one had been
wagged out away from where he'd lain. But, I told myself, better to keep an eye
and an ear cocked for whatsoever might could sneak up.

 
          
Because the Shonokins had their way clear to the cabin now, though
likely they'd wait for dark to fall.
When they'd been there before,
during daylight, one of them had stopped a bullet right where he lived. And
they couldn't stand that, not with all their knowledge and power and strength.

 
          
I
came along opposite that place where the balanced stone gave its special nervish
tingle. Their strength, I thought to myself again. They'd try to use their
strength against where our weakness
was,
the weakness
of men.

 
          
Oh,
and they knew right well what was weak in mankind. Man is cruel, man is
selfish. A hundred dollars, just a hundred dollars, had bought the services of
Replogle and Bannion and little
Matty
Groves
to act as gravediggers for the Shonokins.
The Shonokins had bought Sim Drogus, likely so cheap that they thought they'd
stolen him. Had bought Hazel Techeray, then seemed to scare her out, but maybe
she could be bought still if they could use her.

 
          
None
of those were great strong folks, but then likely the Shonokins didn't reckon
they needed strong folks. Likely they reckoned to take care of us with just a
little small bit of help from some of the ratty sort.

 
          
Man's
sure enough a selfish thing, a greedy thing. You ask just about air man what
he'd wish for if he had just the one wish, likely he'd wish right off for a
million dollars; wish that, even if he already had a million. And what kind of
sorry wish is that? I skirted round a bunch of scrubby willows under some pines
and gave a thought to what I'd wish for. Maybe the best wish would be for
cruelty and selfishness to go off away from all the people on this earth. But
all I could do was take it out in a-wishing, and try to do my own possible best
to keep from a-being selfish and cruel myself.

 
          
That
was the kind of thoughts I had as I went on toward a big mess of laurel, and
all of a sudden quick I knew that something was a-hiding in yonder.

 
          
I
upped my stout chunk of ash, ready. "Come on out of that!'' I said, as
sharp and mean as I could make myself sound.

 
          
It
was Hazel Techeray who came out.

 
          
Right
off I could plainly see
,
she was in near about the
last stage of a-being scared. Her face, that had been rosy that morning, looked
as white as a pan of milk. Even her wide, full mouth wasn't red anymore; it was
a pale pink, like a tomato not yet ripe. She held out her hands to me, and they
shook like two socks on a line in the high wind.

 
          
"Help
me, John,” she begged to me. "Oh, please!”

           
"I'd thought you were a-going
home/' I said.

 
          
"But
I don't dare do that,” she said. “I'm away off such a track. They'd come get me
there.”

 
          
And,
gentlemen, she was sure enough in a state. Her body, that I'd seen so proud and
sassy when we talked over back of Mr. Ben's house, a-filling out its clothes,
now it looked all shrunked up inside them, like as if she'd lost pounds of
weight. She stood with her feet planted wide out, like somebody who tries to
keep from a-falling down. Just a trifle back, when I'd talked to her before in
this part of the woods, I'd still had my suspicion of her. But now, I began to
wonder myself if she wasn't a-saying the truth about how she wanted help.

 
          
"I
tried to do that thing you told me,” she went on, barely to be heard. "I
turned aside here where I could hide myself and say a couple prayers. They were
hard to say—it's been so long since I prayed to air soul but Satan. I prayed—”

 
          
She
broke off, her mouth all in a flutter.

 
          
"You
prayed,” I said after her. "All right, what then?”

 
          
"I
didn't hear me no answer.”
Again those shaky hands.
"John, please take me with you. Hide me.”

 
          
"You
say you're scared to go to your own home.”

 
          
"Yes.
Yes, I am. They'd know I was a-trying to turn myself off from them. They know
all sorts of things. John, I can't think where to go, can't think whichaway to
turn.” Her voice got up shrill and sharp. "What will they do to me?”

 
          
"Better
not talk so loud,” I said, "if you truly don't want them to hear you.”

 
          
"I'll
do aught I can to be right again. I'll go down on my knees, on my face.”

 
          
"Don't
do that here,” I said, for she looked ready to fling herself down. I looked her
over again, and all of a quick sudden I made up my mind. “Come on along, then,”
I said.

 
          
“Thank
you, thank you—”

 
          
I
headed off again. She started to walk with me, with a kind of stagger to her
feet. I heard her breathe, hard and painful.

 
          
“Fll
let you come with me as far as Mr. Ben's place,” I said. “We're a-getting
things put in shape for whatever's bound to happen later.”

 
          
“Thank
you, John.” Her hand scrabbled at my elbow. “Then you'll let me come in and
hide there.”

 
          
“I
nair promised that,” I said. “Fll say a word for you. That's all Fll do, all I
can do. It's Mr. Ben's home, he's got to suit himself about you.”

 
          
“Oh.”
That thought scared her, I could see; or, if she was a-putting on the scare,
she was a-doing it as good as an actress on a stage.

 
          
We
didn't talk after that for a while as we went along and along together. Once or
twice we heard little rustly noises back amongst the trees, and Hazel Techeray
started at them like a scared rabbit. But naught showed itself in our sight,
and I was a right much thankful for that. Finally we came to the place where we
could step into the Grays' yard. We stopped under the tall pines at the edge of
it.

 
          
“Just
stand here a second,” I bade her,
then
I raised my
voice. “Hello, the house!”

 
          
The
front door cracked open a bit. “Is that you, John?” said Mr. Ben's voice.
“Well, come in out of the heat of this day.” Then the door opened itself wider.
“Hold on, who's that you got there with you?”

 
          
“It's
Hazel Techeray,” I replied him. “She wants to tell you something.”

 
          
He
stepped into our sight on the porch, his rifle in his hands. “She can go tell
it to the jaybirds.”

           
"No, wait fust a second/' I
pleaded for her
. "
Might could be you'll want to
hear this. Might could be it'll pay you to hark to her.''

 
          
He
stood there, strong and still as a rock, for a long, long moment. I heard Hazel
Techeray's breath come and go, like somebody near to fall down from a-being
tired.

 
          
"Hazel
Techeray," he gritted at last, "it's a pure waste of both our times,
you a-coming here. You're as close to my house as I'll stand for."

 
          
"Mr.
Ben," I tried one more time, "she's in bad trouble with the
Shonokins."

 
          
He
hawked and spit over the edge of the porch.

 
          
"Well,
fetch her along in," he said. "But she'd better know
,
she's a-being watched, air move she makes."

 
          
"Come
on," I whispered to her, and together we walked to the porch and up the
steps and followed Mr. Ben inside.

 
          
Callie
and Jackson Warren stood back by the sink, a-watching. Neither one of them said
a mumbling word. Mr. Ben stood with his rifle tucked under his arm, with his
bright eyes narrowed down in his face.

 
          
"All
right, Hazel Techeray," he said to her, "what's this here thing you
got to tell me, and how come you want to tell it?"

 
          
"Let
me speak a word for her," I offered him, but he shook his gray head no.

 
          
"Hold
your tater, John. If there's a word to say, she's the one to say it."

 
          
With
that, Hazel Techeray poured out her whole ugly tale, about how she'd agreed
with the Shonokins to give them help; and what the thing was they'd offered in
turn. Nor she didn't leave out what she said they wanted of Callie, and how
they figured to get their claw-fingered hands on Mr. Ben's alexandrite and rule
him by it. We stood and heard her out, Callie in a shiver with big round eyes,
Jackson Warren with his mouth drawn as hard and thin as the edge of a knife,
Mr. Ben a-holding his rifle and a-scowling and a-swelling.

 
          
"I
vow and swear,” he said when she was done, "if this here's a true fact—and
I ain't yet none sure of a word Hazel Techeray says—well, it's just about
plenty enough. I ain't a-going to stand for no such things. Ain’t no whole peck
measure of alexandrites could make me do the like of that.”

 
          
"You
still don't believe me?” Hazel Techeray trembled out at him.

 
          
He
glowered with both his eyes. "If I was to take what you say without nair
proof to it,” he said, "hell's gate, it'd be I was as crazy as a pet
possum. No, I don't trust you, no way at all. I'd just thank you to get
yourself
out of this here house of mine.”

 
          
"Mr.
Ben.” She looked at him, so pale-faced, so scared. "I only wish you’d
point that there gun of yours and shoot me dead.”

 
          
"I
ain’t nair yet shot at no woman,” he snorted, "and that's a true fact, if
air I spoke one on this here earth.”

 
          
"Then
you’ll take me and throw me out—”

 
          
"No,”
he said. "I wouldn't lay
no
hand on you, Hazel
Techeray. Ain't a real man's doings to be rough with a woman, and I don't fix
to start in with you. But,” and he sounded icy-colder with each word of it,
"I ain't a-believing in you, neither. I just hark at you and wonder, wonder
what you're truly up to with us.”

 
          
She
didn't make him air reply. She sat down in a chair, worn out. She looked over
at the stove, where Callie’s soup kettle was a-giving off its steam.

 
          
"That
there smells so good,” she kind of sobbed out. "Youins know
something,
I ain’t had me a bite to eat all this day, not
even aught for breakfast.”

           
Callie stepped closer to the stove.
"Miss Hazel,” she said, all of a sudden, "maybe you'd like to have a
bowlful of soup.”

 
          
"Oh,
God bless you, Callie Gray!”

 
          
Hazel
Techeray near about sang those words out into the room. Then she slapped her
trembly hand across her mouth.