Horrible Harvest

Felix hurried Virginia into the kitchen, and I stepped outside.

Darren and the others were sitting in a half circle, chatting about the humidity that hung in the air.

Approaching them, I asked, “Which one of you boys has the least to offer?”

“Offer?” Darren asked. “In what way you talking about?”

“Which of you brings the average down?”

“What average?”

“Y’all served, right?”

“We did,” Darren answered.

“A company is as good as the least of its men, right?”

“That’s what was told to us – Time and time again, it was.”

“Fine, then who is the least of you? Is it you – I mean you’ve got one hand, and there’s no way you can hear a goddamn thing with that ear of yours.”

“I hear just fine, and I still got my good hand.”

“Then who is it?”

They all shared a look before Kip spoke up. “Rusty there. He was kicked cross-eyed by a mule when he was a kid. Can’t shoot nothing that ain’t within six feet of him.”

“Can, too,” Rusty responded. “You can’t fight worth a shit. I’ve kicked your ass a half-dozen times.”

“You ain’t neither.”

“I knocked out two of your teeth just three-week ago when you stole a kiss from my sister.”

“Stole more than that from her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means your sister give me crotch rot. I itch like mad down there.”

I pulled my Griswold and aimed it at Kip’s head.

The others scrambled back on their tails and grunted in distress.

Kip brought his hands up and scrunched at the shoulders. “Wha’choo doing?”

“I’m going to bring our average up, is what I’m doing.”

“C’mon, now,” Darren pleaded. “You can’t shoot Kip. He’s my sister’s boy.”

“That there piece of information don’t speak to his value as a member of my security team.”

“He ain’t a bad shot.”

“That’s true. I can shoot pretty good.”

“Prove it.”

“All right – Yeah – I can prove it.”

“Shoot me.”

He hesitated. “Shoot – What?”

“Me. Shoot me.”

“Can’t hardly shoot you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, you got your weapon trained on me. You’ll shoot me dead ‘fore I twitch an inch.”

I pretended to consider his position. “Fine. Shoot Rusty.”

His face turned a pale gray. “I can’t shoot Rusty.”

“Why not?”

“Well – I’ve known him since I can remember – We grow’d up together.”

“So.”

“So – He’s like family – Like a – like a brother.”

“Not much of a reason. The second I see my brother again, I plan on putting a hole between his eyes.”

Kip thought long and hard ‘fore responding, “I don’t know what to say on that, but I got family affection for Rusty. I don’t wanna shoot him.”

“Rusty,” I barked.

“Ya’sir?”

“Shoot Kip.”

“Sir?”

“That mule kick you more than cross-eyed?”

“Na’sir – Not that I know of.”

“Then don’t be stupid. Draw your weapon and shoot Kip.”

“I can’t just go and do a thing like that.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I ain’t got no reason.”

“Now funny that. I thought you served.”

“I did – I saw near a year. I was at Fort Pilla’ – ”

“Fort Pillow?”

“Ya’sir.”

I absorbed the information. “Anyone else here involved in the Fort Pillow massacre?”

“I was mustered out before then,” Darren said, holding up his handless arm.

“I was up Richmond way,” Kip said.

The other three announced that they served under Hardee in Atlanta and the Carolinas.

I couldn’t help but recall the massacre of the innocents in which I’d participated. It weren’t half as ugly as Fort Pillow, but still it was a heinous evil for which I suffered not a lick. “Stand up,” I said to Rusty.

“I told you I can’t shoot Kip.”

“Stand up now, or I’ll shoot you.”

He did as commanded.

“Draw your weapon.”

He didn’t comply.

I cocked the hammer of my Griswold.

He drew his weapon.

“Is it loaded?”

“Ya’sir.”

“Unload it – Save one.”

“Sir?”

“Remove all but one bullet.”

He reluctantly did as told.

As he removed his bullets, I released the hammer of my gun and opened the cylinder. Removing all but one bullet, I said, “We’re gonna find payment, you and me. One of us is, anyway.”

“Fer-what?”

“Our sins.”

I spun the cylinder and then closed it. “Spin yours,” I said.

He complied.

I stepped to him and placed the barrel of my weapon to his forehead and instructed him to do the same to me.

“Cock it,” I said, as I pulled back the hammer of my revolver.

I could feel him trembling as he struggled to cock his gun.

“I’m gonna give a three count.”

“Then what?”

“Pull the trigger.”

I watched a tear stream down his left cheek. “I ain’t got interest in shooting you neither.”

“Then let’s hope you’re on an empty chamber. One.”

“This ain’t right,” Darren said.

“C’mon, Mr. Augustus,” Kip said.

“I ain’t pulling no trigger,” Rusty said, with a pleading in his tone.

“Did you at Fort Pillow?”

“Ya’sir. I did, sir. I was made to, sir.”

“Two.”

“We ain’t really gonna do this, is we?”

“Who did you shoot at Fort Pillow?”

“I can’t say fer sure – I didn’t get no names.”

“Was it men in uniform.”

“Ya’sir, it was.”

“Women? Children?”

“Na’sir.”

“You’re lying.”

“I ain’t – We just shot at bluebellies and – ”

I pressed the barrel harder to his forehead. “And who?”

“Nothing but some nigger women and chill’en.”

“Three.” I pulled the trigger and heard a click but felt no report.

He stood, shaking. The smell of shit followed the release of his bowels.

“Pull your trigger,” I said.

He swallowed the dryness in his mouth and pulled his trigger. Again, only a click followed.

I pulled back the hammer of my Griswold. “One.”

“We’s done. Ain’t no need to count. Nothing come of it. We’re to leave it at that. Them’s the rules.”

“He’s right,” Darren said. “That’s the end of it. You played your game. The rules is the rules.”

“There ain’t no rules. Two.”

He whimpered, bit his lower lip, set the hammer, and pulled the trigger. Screaming in a panic, he attempted to run, but I tripped him before he could take a single full step. He fell to the ground, landing flat on his back. I quickly placed the barrel of my gun to his forehead and said, “Three.”

The weapon kicked, and the flash singed the hairs on the back of my hand. The top of his head splintered out like someone had stepped on a pumpkin.

The others scrambled back even further. They was so stunned none of them thought to pull their weapons.

I worked to steady my breathing as I opened the cylinder of my revolver and re-loaded the bullets I’d removed.

“Wha’choo do that for?” Darren said in between gasps.

“I didn’t do nothing. That was fate.” I said, re-holstering my weapon. “You’ve been invited inside Frank Bishop’s house for dinner. You will accept the invitation. You will not dither. You will be polite and complimentary towards our host, his wife, and his sons.”

Darren worked to catch a clean breath. “You could have just said, all that. You didn’t have to – You killed Rusty.”

“I told you. I didn’t kill him. He just met up with his last bit of bad luck.”

Kip went for his gun, but I trained my weapon on him before he reached the handle.

“I’m hungry, and you’re keeping me from eating. My patience has run dry.”

“He was our friend.”

“Friend, brother – Whatever – You stole a romp from his sister. That sounds like rape to me. He should’ve shot you.”

“I didn’t rape nobody or nothing.”

The man next to Rusty – Burchum – chuckled.

“Something funny?”

Burchum shook his head. “Not joke-like funny, but it is a bit amusing – Rusty’s sister give a string of fellas a romp. She had a talent for it – Can’t say Kip raped her – He didn’t give her the two-bits he promised her, but he didn’t force nothing on her but a lie.”

“I didn’t lie about nothing,” Kip said. “The two-bits escaped my pocket during our romp. I was gonna pay her.”

“That’s another lie.”

“Inside,” I said. “Smiles on faces. Nothing but kind words for the Bishops. Understood?”

“We just gonna leave Rusty out here?”

“Well, we certainly aren’t bringing him into the house. That’d be a wasted seat at the supper table.”

“But we could at least bury him.”

“He’ll still be dead after we et. You can bury him then.”

The men quickly mulled over my point and then headed for the house.

I stood over Rusty and said, “Don’t worry. I’m in my bad luck.”

I turned to see Hank Bishop standing at the front door. Darren and the others nodded at him nervously as they entered his house. When I reached him, I forced myself to look him in the eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was shaking like a leaf.

“You him?” he asked, his voice weedy and small.

“Him who?”

“Satan – The fallen one? The Lord said, the Devil was coming for me. Said, he was gonna defile my land and devour my family. Would that be you? You him?”

I turned to look at Rusty’s mangled head and then turned back to him. “No. I ain’t. I’m a different kind of evil. That gonna be a problem?”

“That depends. That fella – He got what was coming to him?”

“He did, but it’s my experience we all hold such debts. Sounds like the Lord is telling you as much.”

He sighed and nodded. “It’s true. I’ve spent sins I can’t afford.”

“Not as much as I have. The way I figure you’re safe until the Devil’s done hunting me down. I got more to answer for.”

“If that’s so, sir, I shall pray upon you a long life.”

“You do, and I’ll shoot you next.”

He looked at me, petrified.

“Relax. I’m not going to shoot you. Pray all you want. For whatever you want. Won’t do a damn bit of good.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll pray the Devil never finds you. You’ll see. He won’t never.”

“Pray he does because I’m going to kill that son-of-a-bitch if we ever have a face to face again.”

“Again?”

“He and I have had a few go arounds.”

“Then you know the Devil can’t be killed.”

“I know no such thing – I do know I’m hungry. Am I still invited in for your fatted-meat stew, or has the invitation been rescinded?”

“Don’t know your high dollar words, but nothings been re-sinned. Et up. Ge-ture strength. ‘Cause I ain’t burying that fella.”

I smiled. “Fair enough.”