Horrible Harvest

The captain gone, the sergeant held his revolver on Mr. Stockton as I gathered some rope from the rear of the tent.

“You are wrong, Tennyson.”

I continued to gather the rope we needed and give Mr. Stockton no response.

“Did you hear me, son? I said, you are wrong.”

“I heard you.”

“You’ve nothing to say?”

“To you? Nah. The fact that you are talking only serves to remind me that I have been given orders to gag you, which I’ll happily do once your hands have been tied.”

“I do have leverage over you, boy.”

The rope gathered, I give a step towards Mr. Stockton.

“Ask me to clarify.”

I grabbed up Mr. Stockton’s right wrist and pulled his arm behind his back.

“Ask me what I mean. What leverage? Ask me.”

“I ain’t got no interest in your leverage.”

“Kenneth, Augustus. I have Kenneth as leverage over you.”

I give pause.

“There. I’ve your attention now.”

I twisted Mr. Stockton’s wrist and the man who once had been a giant winced from a pound of agony. “Mr. Miller’s son ain’t leverage over me. He’s leverage over your general.”

Panting in pain, Mr. Stockton said, “A son disowned possesses no leverage over his father.”

“Kenneth ain’t disowned. He’s got a ma, too. He’s under her protection.”

“Mrs. Miller no longer holds interest in protecting her son. She no longer holds interest in calling him her son.”

I wrapped one end of the rope around Mr. Stockton’s wrist. “You’re having a go at me. I know what you’re doing. You’re inventing a story because you think it’ll save you.”

“I am surprised Kenneth has not confided in you his conundrum. His concerns.”

“I got an idea it’s your tongue that should be cut out.”

“He did not tell you about the missing letter?”