Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 (6 page)

 
          
“What
if we made you a Shonokin?”

 
          
I
shook my head. “I don't see how.”

 
          
“Here
and there we've persuaded useful men to join us,” he said. “Lawyers, for
instance, lately we've needed them. What if we accepted you as a Shonokin,
John, important among us?” He pushed his face again. “I could manage that for
you. I told you I hold an important position.”

           
“How do you reckon I could help
you?” I inquired him.

           
He held out his gloved hand. “You
could start by getting me a certain jewel from Ben Gray.”

 
          
“No”—and
I shook my head—“I can guarantee you that he won't give that up till he's
dead.”

 
          
“Until he's dead?
Hmmm.”
He sounded
as dark as his glasses. “By the way, John, that's an interesting belt you're
wearing.”

 
          
“This?”
I looked down at it.
“Just a plain leather belt.”

           
“I'll trade you mine for it.” He
pushed open his coat and put his hand to a fancy, shiny buckle. “This is worked
in gold.”

           
“I thank you, but I won't trade,” I
busted him off. For that belt had been given to me by my true love Evadare.
“But tell me, why me?”

 
          
He
sat down again, and so did I, after a second. “Because you can give us valuable
help, John, like the born persuader I see you are. You seem to be able to
influence people. You might even influence the United States Government.”

 
          
“Nair
in my life have I thought I could do such a thing,” I said.

 
          
“Then
think of it now.” He rocked back and forth where he sat. “We'd send you to the
President himself, to make him hear and vindicate us, like another
Washington
. It would be worth his while. We have
things to offer in exchange. Our wisdom is the oldest and greatest on Earth.”

 
          
“You
sure enough make it sound thataway,” I had to grant him.

 
          
“In
these long, secret centuries, we've learned to bring about wonders. We can
command life and death. Man has bungled badly. The Shonokins won't bungle.”

 
          
“Man,”
I repeated him. “The way you talk, you sound like as if men are one thing and
Shonokins another.”

 
          
“Two
different creatures,” he said. “Man has descended one way, the Shonokins another.
They're similar, but they're distinct.”

 
          
“Well
now, what's the advice you said you'd come to give me?”

 
          
“My
advice,” he said, slow and cheerful, “is to be practical and wise and modest.
Don’t defy a greater power than hurricanes.”

 
          
“You
reckon I'm not brave enough to challenge you.”

 
          
“If
you did,” he said back, “I'd deplore your bad judgment. See here, John, we
Shonokins are ancient and great. We had power and wisdom when your forefathers
were still wild brutes.”

 
          
“You
want to rule over men,” I guessed.

 
          
“In a word, yes.”
He bit that off at me. “Forgive me if I
sound blunt, if I don’t seem to favor your sort of people. That’s because my
sort of people hasn't been favored at all, hasn't been considered, for long
ages. Now, I've explained the rights and wrongs of the matter, John, and it's
up to you to recognize them and tell them apart."

 
          
Out
reached his gloved hand, like as if to shake mine, but I didn't take it. I got
up again and jammed my own hands down into my pants pockets.

 
          
"Rights
and wrongs aren't all that easy to tell apart," I said to him. "Now
and then, it's too hard to rightly tell. But you've done a lavish of talking
here. Let me reply you this. You're a Shonokin."

 
          
"Yes,"
he said. "Yes, of course."

 
          
"And
I'm a man. What I've got to do is stay on the side of men."

 
          
He
jumped up and flung back his head. "I think you'll change your mind before
I'm through with you.”

 
          
"No,
Mr. Altic, because you're through with me right now." My hands made fists
in my pockets. "Good day to you."

 
          
He
replied nair word to that. He turned on the built-up heel of his boot and
slammed off fast down the path to the woods. I watched him go out of sight on
the track there,
then
I went back up on the porch and
into the cabin.

 
          
Ben
Gray stood just inside the door. "You don't need to tell me what went on
with the two of you," he sort of grumbled. "I was where I could hark
at air word of it."

 
          
"Then
you might could help me figure what he's up to," I said.

 
          
"Ain't
no
need to figure on that. He's up to trouble for
us."

 
          
"Last
night," I reminded him, "there were Shonokins out yonder. I heard
them allow I was to be saved for something. But now, I don't rightly expect
they'll keep a-figuring on a-saving me, since I've spoken my piece to Brooke
Altic."

           
“Well,” said Mr. Ben slowly, “it's
still right soon in the morning. But these hellacious goings-on
makes
me feel I’d just like a drop of blockade to help me
a-thinking them over.”

 
          
He
went to his shelf where the glass jar was and put up his hand for it. But he
nair took hold of it.

 
          
Because just then, another hail sounded outside, a long, sort of
mournful one.

 
          
“Ben
Gray . . .
come
out; Ben Gray . . . come out.”

 
          
Mr.
Ben took his hand back quick from the jar. “Who’s that out there?” he said.
“Don’t seem to me like I know that voice.”

 
          
“It’s
someone who knows you, anyway,” I said.

 
          
“Ben
Gray,” called the voice again, sort of mournful to hear.

 
          
“We’ll
soon see,” said Mr. Ben. “You wait in here, John.”

 
          
He
crossed the floor and cracked the door out. “Three
fellows
a-standing yonder. They look like—”

 
          
He
nair finished that, but went right on out. I stepped to a front window where I
could see the yard.

 
          
In
the strong morning light, I made out three shapes just at the edge of the
woods, where that track to Immer started. They wore long, dark coats and
low-pulled hats. I’d seen such as that the night before.

 
          
Mr.
Ben was off the porch and went a-walking down the path toward them. “
Who’s
youins?” he inquired them. “Come on, give a name to
yourselves.” He was a-walking careful, but he walked at them.

 
          
“Stop,”
said the voice that had moaned his name. The middle one of the three came up
with his hand, and it had a long blue pistol in it. “Just stand right where you
are,” said the voice.

 
          
Ben
Gray had stopped. I saw his shoulders hunch up.

 
          
“
Who’s
youins?” he wanted to know again.

           
"Never mind who we are,” said
the one with the pistol. "We've got business with you, Ben Gray. Business
with what you always carry in your pocket.”

 
          
"What
you a-talking about?” Ben Gray's hand moved to his side pocket.

 
          
"That's
right,
take it out,” bade another voice, a scratchy
one. "Throw it down on the cobblestones in front of you.”

 
          
I
saw Mr. Ben draw up his shoulders again. It made him look taller. Then:
"No!” he yelled.

 
          
And
he whipped round, swift as a bird. His feet were agoing as he turned, and he
ran back toward the cabin.
As he ran, he buck-jumped to the
right, then to the left, amongst the pines.

 
          
The
one with the pistol fired it off. It didn't rightly sound like guns I knew,
more of a yelp than a bang. As it sounded, Mr. Ben was out of sight, round the
comer of the cabin. I took time to remember there was a gun for me, too, up
there on the deer horns over the half-open door. I made a step thataway.

 
          
"No,
John, let me.”

 
          
That
was Ben Gray. He'd come in through a back door and up to the front of the room.
He grabbed down the rifle, that old
Springfield
. As he dropped down on one knee, he worked
the bolt. Up to his shoulder he slammed the stock, and he took aim and fired
out through the door.

 
          
I'd
jumped back to the window. Out yonder, I saw that those three fellows had come
halfway along the path. As the rifle spoke, one of them at the right sort of
stumbled and wagged his head. The other two looked his way as Mr. Ben fired
again.

 
          
That
time, the one at the right doubled clear over and near about went down. His two
mates grabbed hold of him and dragged him, half-falling, back along the path
toward the trees and the trail beyond. They made speed at it, for all they had
to help him. Ben fired a third time at them, over their heads, and they fairly
flew off amongst the summer leaves.

 
          
"You
nair got done what you come to do, did you?” he howled after them.

 
          
The
three were gone.
Swallowed up by the woods.
Mr. Ben
dropped the butt of his rifle to the floor with a thump, and kept a-looking out
through the doorway.

 
          
"You
hit one of them,” I said. "I could make that out.”

 
          
"And
I hope it wasn't no little slight wound,” he said, and he sounded savage.
"They opened up on me in my own yard. But now they're gone.”

 
          
I,
too, looked out at the yard. "Likely gone for good,” I agreed him.
"You recollect that Jackson Warren told us that Shonokins are plumb scared
of their own dead.”

 
          
"Shonokins,”
he said after me. "You saw they were Shonokins, too.”

 
          
"They
might
could
have been the same three that tried to
visit here last night. Anyway, if the law comes to ask about it, you've got me
for a witness you fired in selfdefense.”

 
          
"Shucks,
I don't expect the law will air hear tell about it”

 
          
From
his cupboard Mr. Ben searched out a ramrod and some patches and a little bottle
of gun oil. He worked the rifle bolt to eject out the cartridges and sat down
by the door to clean the bore.

 
          
We
heard more voices outside, and both of us jumped up. But it was only Callie and
Warren, a-carrying their kettles of honey up the steps and into the house.

 
          
"We
must have brought back forty pounds of it,” said
Warren
, a-hoisting his load up on the table.
"And we didn't get it all, at that.”

 
          
"We
thought we heard gunshots,” Callie added on. "Were you shooting at
something, Daddy?”

 
          
"Yes,
daughter,” he replied her, calm and quiet "I was a-shooting at something.”

 
          
He
had finished his job of rifle cleaning, and he fed cartridges into the magazine
and put on the safety and hung the thing back on the deer horns.

 
          
"Sit
down,” he said. "Hark at what's been a-going on here while you two went
for those loads of honeycombs.”

 
          
And
he related all about Brooke Altic's visit and his offers, which I’d rejected,
and about the shooting afterward. Callie gasped and looked scared;
Warren
paid attention and didn't make a move or
sound while Mr. Ben did his talking.

 
          
"They
mean business,” said
Warren
at last.

 
          
"And
goddam ugly business,” Ben Gray put on to that.
"Killing
business, if they can handle it thataway.
One of them went off
a-carrying some lead I slapped into him. If he dies, he’ll scare them up a tad,
if what
Jackson
says about a-fearing their own dead
is
so.”

 
          
"Likely
they weren’t so good at a-shooting in the daylight,” I offered. "That
Brooke Altic fellow said something like that. After dark, the
Shonokins,
was what he said.”

 
          
"After
dark, the Shonokins,” Mr. Ben repeated me. "When they come here in the
morning light, they must have reckoned I'd be easy. They found out something
another sight different.”

 
          
"Daylight
or dark, this is a place of deadly danger, Mr. Gray,” said
Warren
. "I know you’re not a timid man, but
if you were to go
away
—”

 
          
"Not
me
,” Mr. Ben broke right in on him. "I'll nair be
run off my own land.”

 
          
"And
if Daddy stays, I stay,” said Callie.

 
          
"And
so likewise do
I
.” I put in my own word. "Folks,
to leave out of here now would be to quit to them, give them this place of
yours to take over the way they seem to have taken over that old settlement you
call Immer. They want it bad, the way they want Mr. Ben’s alexandrite jewel,
the
way Brooke Altic seemed to want my belt. Those things
aren’t wanted for good, I’ll warrant you. I’ll be a- staying, even if the rest
of you go.”

 
          
"None
of us are going, then,”
Warren
said, and I’ll be dogged if he didn’t sound happy about it. "I
just suggested it; I didn’t advise it. But what do we do first?”

 
          
We
all looked at one another.

 
          
"You
can give me a gun, Daddy,” said Callie. "You taught me how to shoot.”

 
          
"Yes,
I done that thing,” he allowed, a-smiling at last. "And you’re a good shot
too, honey girl.”

 
          
"I
can handle a gun,” I said.

 
          
"So
can I,” added on
Warren
, "though I don’t particularly relish them. But, since we’re taking
stock of things here, let me say how I felt out there on the way to Immer.” He
told us that he’d felt a jangle inside himself when he walked that track. He
thought it was just only a slight churning in his blood, maybe the sort of
thing he’d feel if he was getting a little electric shock, or either the jiggle
you have on one of those electric beds in hotels here and there.

 
          
"We
both felt it as soon as we got on the trail just outside the yard here,” he
finished up. "It was gone when we went into the woods at the place you’d
marked for us to find the honey. When we came back on the trail, the sensation
came back, too.”

 
          
"It’s
sort of woogey, I think,” said Callie.

 
          
Mr.
Ben hadn’t once ceased from his watch out at the door, like as if he expected a
Shonokin to show up air second. "It’s their doing,” he said. "They’re
a-playing a game with us, and they’ve got it in mind they hold a good hand in
it. But
Fd
say we’ve got a few cards our own selves.”

 
          
Mr.
Ben went into his room at the back and fetched out guns. He gave
Warren
a deer rifle, and
Warren
took hold of it like a man who knew how to
handle it. For Callie, Ben Gray had fetched out an old army carbine, the kind
that’s light and easy to use and mighty true to the mark inside two hundred
yards. He had a rifle for me, one that looked German, as I thought; but I set
it in a corner.

 
          
“I’ve
been a-studying,” I said to them. “That track outside yonder, that stretches so
straightaway from here, with the hummy jingle it gives the blood—I’ve got it in
mind to go out and follow it to where it goes.”

 
          
Mr.
Ben’s jaw dropped about a foot. “You want to go to where all those Shonokins
hang out?”

 
          
“That’s
exactly where I want to go,” I replied him. “
John, that would
amount to supererogation,
”
Warren
argued at me. “If you know what I mean.”

           
“I know what you mean; I’ve heard
the word used. It means a-doing more than you’re called on to do. I’m a-
calling on myself to do it.”

 
          
I
started for the open door. Ben Gray got in front of it. “Hark at me, John, and
it’ll be water on your wheel to pay me attention. I done heard that Brooke
Altic a-talking to you. The way you talked back, he’s more than likely figured
you’d be better out of his way, same as he figures on me.”

 
          
I
shook my head. “Just now, they count on me a-being here. They’ll look for me
here, not there. And anyway, somebody’s got to find out what they’re a-fixing
to try.”