Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 (11 page)

 
          
“Hazel
Techeray,” I said, a-remembering the thing as I repeated it over, “I forbid you
this house and premises. I forbid you the sheds and stables. I forbid you each
bed, that
you may not breathe upon them. Breathe elsewhere,
until you have climbed air hill, until you have counted air fence post, until
you have crossed air water. And thus dear day may come again into this house,
in the name of the three holy ones of power.”

 
          
Right
as I finished, the fire blinked out, like as if somebody had doused water on it.
And that sense of the crowd all drawn up behind and round us, it went, too, and
I well knew that she and I stood there alone.

 
          
“What's
all that you said?” she sort of jerked out.

 
          
“Something
I recollected pretty well from a book called
The Long Lost Friend
,” I replied her, a-keeping my voice easy.
“It's not a far off different from another thing I've heard said from another
book called
Albertus Magnus.
And it
backs a witch spell away from a place, away from people.” I smiled. “Appears to
be a-working right well here, doesn't it?”

 
          
She
tried to give me a smile back, but her wide, red mouth shook and twisted and
her eyes couldn't look straight into mine.

 
          
“So
you know witch stuff too, John,” she said.

 
          
I
shook my head no.
“Only just enough of it to do something
against it.”

 
          
She
reached out a hand to me. It was a slim one and a soft-looking one, with a ring
on it, but I didn’t take it.

 
          
“John,”
she said, “you’re a witchman and I’m a witch- woman. We can help each other. If
you’re a stranger hereabouts, why not do
yourself
some
good? You’ve got power—”

 
          
“At least enough to blink out your spell-fire for you, Miss Hazel.
I don’t guess it will do you aught of good to build another against Ben Gray
and his place.” I made a guess. “What will the Shonokins say if you go back and
tell them you failed? What would Sim Drogus say
,
if
you care about him?”

 
          
“Care
about that skimpy little Sim Drogus?” Her voice climbed high and sharp. “Care
about that little old scrap of nothing? John, you and I are more the right kind
to care about one another.”

 
          
“I
don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I said, “but I’m not the right kind for you,
not for a second.”

 
          
“Wouldn’t
you want to be happy, John?” she almost squealed. “Don’t you want
money,
want a big place in this world? You need money, I can
tell that. I doubt if you have as much as four dollars in those old clothes of
yours.”

 
          
“No,
ma’am,” I agreed her.
“Nowhere as much as that.
Nor do
I need it. I’m a kind of expert in a-doing without money.”

 
          
I
looked her up and down. Her pink face wadded itself up with anger. She
dived
her slim hand down into the front of her blue blouse.
Out it came again with a long, lean knife, sharpened bright on both edges.

           
"We'll see,” she gritted at me,
and made a slash at me, a-trying to give me both edge and point at the same
time.

 
          
Only,
she nair gave me the one or the other. When I saw the knife flash out, I made a
step clear of it. She struck so hard that when she missed she all but fell
down. She scrabbled her feet back under her and turned. The knife came up
again. I quick recited something else:

 
          
"I
conjure you,
knife, that
would injure or harm me, by
the priest of all prayers, who had gone into the holy
temple
of
Jerusalem
, and said: An edged sword shall pierce your
soul that you may not injure me, who am a child of truth.” She'd fetched the
knife high to make another stroke, but it fell out of her hand and went clank
on the ground. She bent and tried to grab it up, and it slipped away from her.
Again she reached for it, but I was there first. I kicked it out of her reach
and got hold of it myself. I whirled it round my head and flung it far off
amongst the pine trees.

 
          
"What
I said against you then is likewise out of
The
Long Lost Friend”
I told her. “Miss Hazel, you'd better try your witch ways
on somebody else, because they won't work at all on me. Nor yet on Mr. Ben
Gray, after what I spoke, nor yet on his property. Why don't you go home?''

 
          
"We'll
see,” she spit out again, and her pink face looked near about green.
"We’ll see.”

 
          
"We've
done already seen, and that's a fact,” I said. And I turned round and walked
off from her, out of the clearing. And I knew she didn't make to follow.

           
I came along to the little stream
and made a big step across it and headed back toward Mr. Ben’s. Still I didn't
look back to see was she a-following after me. Some of the strangeness had gone
since I'd been in that clearing, but the woods still had an unchancy feel. I
told myself that these were Mr. Ben's own woods, and most time must be good to be
in, but not just now. Most of all, I felt I'd not want to be in them by night,
when in the dark you hear dead voices talk and the trees are different from
what they are by day, when they seem to move and reach for you with claws
instead of branches.

 
          
I
got to where I saw the house and the sheds and so on. No movement there. I
walked round to the front door and in, and they all hailed me.

 
          
“Just
in time to eat, John,” said Callie. She was a-dishing up the green beans and
bacon, with a plate of hot com pone to go with them. Warren poured out some
more coffee.

 
          
It
looked too good a dinner to spoil by a-talking right off about what
Fd
been up to with Hazel Techeray. I ate with a true
appetite. Not till we'd done and Callie and Warren gathered up the dishes did
Mr. Ben ask me straight out what
Fd
seen and done.
Then I gave them my tale.

 
          
They
heard me out without them uttering a word, Callie with eyes big and round,
Warren a-locking his brow’s to think, Mr. Ben with his hand a-going tap-tap-tap
on the table next to his coffee cup. When I was done:

 
          
“What
does it all mean?” Warren wanted to know. “What's this woman up to?"

 
          
“No
good is what she's up to, and no good's what she's been up to in years,” Mr.
Ben said. “John, I do thank you for what you done for us out there.”

 
          
“One
thing's plain enough,” I made offer. “At this stage, the Shonokins are a-fixing
to get some things done for them by just ordinary human folks. Brooke Altic
told me, they use men for some things, lawyers mostly.”

 
          
“Sim
Drogus ain't
no
lawyer,” snorted Mr. Ben, “though he's
sneaky enough for some kinds of polly-foxing lawyers. All I get out of him is,
he'll sell land to the Shonokins, and I don’t reckon he'll get asked to do that
till they can get my land first But a-catching Hazel Techeray up in their
doings—what in hell's she to do for them, and why?"

 
          
“For
profit, obviously," said
Warren
. "From what John says, she tried to
put a spell on this place; only John took it right off again."

 
          
"They've
flat got to use folks against us right now," I said. "They're not any
much in a hasty way to come along at us past where that dead one lies in the
ditch. Jackson here says that's one way of a-scaring them out. So they'll use
ordinary folks that have joined their thing."

 
          
"I've
always mistrusted Sim Drogus and Hazel Techeray," added on Callie, serving
more beans to her daddy.

 
          
"And
you had the right notion to mistrust them," he told her. "They're
flat out the most mistrustable folks in all this part of the mountains."

 
          
"And,"
I said again, "since Brooke Altic and his Shonokins are held up by that
dead one on their way here, they try to use our own kind against us."

 
          
Mr.
Ben snorted. "Sim Drogus and Hazel Techeray ain't our kind," he said,
and his moustache stood out on his face like a tom
cat's
.
"And well Brooke Altic knows it.”

 
          
"At
least the Shonokins are checked just now," said Warren, his face
thoughtful all the time. "I gather that if they want to use power, they
must travel their track of power.
Which, at present, they
don't dare to do."

 
          
Mr.
Ben flung down his fork. "Holy jumping Jerusalem!" he busted out, mad
as a bear with ingrowing toenails.
"Jerusalem, the
golden name ever dear to me!
Just what kind of a common, low-down, sorry
sort of a creature is a Shonokin? They allow they ain't
human,
they act proud not to be human. And they ain't human, not when they don't dare
face—"

 
          
"It's
all right, Daddy," Callie tried to calm him down.

 
          
"It
ain't all right, no such a thing!" he kept a-yammering.
“Death?
What kind of thing is it to fear death when you see it? Death is a part of
life, folks, it's always a-hap- pening; it'll happen to air living thing.
Why!" He swung his flaming eyes from one of us to the other, all round the
table, like as if he was a-picking us up for witnesses. “I've seen death, been
close enough to death to hear the bells of hell go tingaling.
In the war, why, death was a drug on the market.
I've known
what it was to stand knee-deep in death, men down dead all round me, some of
them my choice friends. And I nair quit out, I stood up to death."

 
          
With
that, he cut off his talk. He put his paper napkin out of his lap and got up
and walked to the window.

 
          
“Is
somebody out there, sir?” asked Warren.

 
          
“Who'd
be out there?” Mr. Ben swung back to look at us again.
“Won't
be no Shonokins, that's for hellacious sure.
And not Sim Drogus, he
knows he
don’t
dare step foot on land of mine. Nor
neither Hazel Techeray; I reckon John’s done slapped her out of her sneaky,
snaky doings round here.” He drew in his breath and smiled, but it was a sort
of terrible smile. “No, folks, it's just us here, a-waiting for whatever they
dream themselves up to do against us next time.”

 
          
He
tramped back and sat down. He picked up his napkin and fork again.

 
          
“All
right,” he said, “I got all that out of my system, and I reckon it done me a
lavish of good. I thank you one and all for a-letting me blow off. Daughter,
these here beans eat right good. They're as tasty a thing to eat as air I put
in my mouth.”

 
          
He
dug in, and all of us dug in.

 
          
Mr.
Ben had finished his dinner, and I reckoned he'd enjoyed it. He got up from the
table and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin.

 
          
“I’m
a-going out,” he allowed to us. "There's one-two things to do on this here
farm, and I've got to tend to them.''

 
          
"Let
me come with you,” said Warren, but Mr. Ben shook his head.

 
          
"No, son, just me to go.
The others of youins, stay
inside here and keep an eye on things.” He looked at me.
"You
specially, John.”

 
          
Out
he tramped. He looked right big just then; he looked ready for aught that might
could
come up. I went to the side window and watched
him a-walking back to his sheds. I said to myself, yonder goes a somebody who
knows pretty much what he'll be up to in case there's trouble.

 
          
The
trees out there looked good, no creepy look to them like the ones I'd come on
to in the woods off from the house when I'd met Hazel Techeray. These trunks
looked like
trunks,
the leaves looked like just only
leaves. They didn't bunch up into funny shapes. I had a hope that the words I'd
said to Hazel Techeray had sure enough spoiled the curse she'd tried to put on
there.

 
          
Warren
and Callie had gone to the sink to do up the dishes. They acted happy to be
a-washing and a-wiping dishes together. They laughed over something one or
other of them said. I had it in
mind,
this bad
business was maybe a-turning out good for the two of them, anyway. Callie
looked at
Warren
like as if he'd hung up the sun to shine,
and he was a-feeling good, too. He looked another sight younger than he was always
a-talking about. I didn't reckon he was in much worry just then about how he
was those years older than Callie.

 
          
"Hello,
the house?''

 
          
It
wasn't air great much of a
hail, that
voice, that
woman's voice outside. It sounded more timid than friendly. Callie put down her
dishcloth and went to look out the crack of the door.

 
          
"Dear
heavens above, it's that Hazel Techeray,” she said. "Don't go out, John. I
will."

 
          
"No,
here
comes
your daddy,” I said.

 
          
For,
just as she spoke, Mr. Ben came a-walking back into the front yard. He hunched
up his shoulders, but he didn't frown, he didn't smile. His face looked as calm
and carved- out as the face on a statue. I came and stood beside Callie to
watch, and
Warren
came up behind us.

 
          
Mr.
Ben stopped on the path where Hazel Techeray waited. If he looked calm, she
sure enough didn't. She made a sort of a gesture motion with her hands, like as
if to say she wanted to be friends, and she smiled at him.

 
          
"Yessum,”
said Mr. Ben, deep but not quite all mean. "What can I do for you, Hazel
Techeray?”

 
          
She
blinked at him, and she fiddled her hands again. "Mr. Ben,” she said,
"I come by here because I thought we
should ought
to be good neighbors. It so happens I'm plumb out of sugar at home.”

 
          
She
looked at him, a-hoping he believed her. She squinched up her face. She looked
embarrassed. Mr. Ben stood and waited.

           
She fried again: “I thought I’d come
by and ask, neighborly-can I maybe borrow half a cupful?”

 
          
She
held out a shiny tin cup she had. Mr. Ben looked at it,
then
he looked at her. At last he shook his shaggy gray head.

 
          
“Hazel
Techeray,” he said, “you well know how come I can't be a-letting you have no
sugar.”

 
          
And
well I knew, too. If a witch asks you for aught, and you give it to her, that
can let her off from whatever spell you, or maybe a wise friend, has put on
her. That's what’s been a fact, in place after place I’ve been and seen things
to happen.

 
          
“Now,
Mr. Ben, that ain't got
no
neighborly sound to it,”
said Hazel Techeray, in half a whine.

 
          
“I'm
sorry to have to agree you that, but it's up to me to look out for myself all
the time, after you’ve been a-making out to try to witch me.”

 
          
She
let the hand with the cup drop to her side. She sort of bowed her head, the way
things might have gone heavy on her.

 
          
“I'm
sorry,” Mr. Ben said, and he truly sounded sorry over it.

 
          
We
harked and watched, from there inside the door.

 
          
“I
mean,” she tried again, “what I’d like to do is forget all old troubles there's
been betwixt us.” She shuffled her feet in their canvas shoes on the path.
“Can't we maybe do that, Mr. Ben?”

 
          
He
stood there, calm and cool as a judge on the bench. “You can best answer that
question your own self,” he told her.

 
          
“I
didn't come over here to fight with you—” she started to say, and broke off.

 
          
“
No,
and neither do I want to fight with you,” he said.
“There ain’t
no
power nor glory in a-fighting and
a-whipping a woman. But no, Hazel Techeray, ma’am, I ain’t got no sugar in the
house I’d feel smart to give you.”

 
          
He
looked her up and down where she stood, and it made her to tremble herself,
there on the path in her peacock-blue blouse and her patchwork-patterned skirt.

 
          
"And
you can go tell that to the Shonokins,” Mr. Ben added on.

 
          
"Shonokins?”
she repeated him. "What would I tell to the Shonokins?”

 
          
"Just
tell them you tried to trick me out of a cup of sugar, and I wouldn’t trick out
of it worth a cent.”

 
          
As
I watched and harked at him, I could tell he wasn’t a-pleasuring himself when
he talked to her so, but he knew what he had to do and say.

 
          
She
turned herself round toward the road. She acted like as if she weighed about a
ton to do it. Her head was down again, and her brown hair looked sort of tired.

 
          
"Oh,”
she said all of a sudden, the strongest she’d spoken yet. "That flower
there, that there Indian pink—how pretty it is, Mr. Ben.”

 
          
I
could see the flower she meant, a-growing there in the yard. Some folks also
call it a fire pink. It grew up on a little, slick green stem; it bloomed like
a red star a couple of inches across. Hazel Techeray smiled down at it.

 
          
"How
pretty it is,” she repeated herself. "If you won’t give me a little bit of
sugar, Mr. Ben, couldn’t I just have that there Indian pink to take home?”

 
          
Mr.
Ben looked down at the flower, too. His face softened just a mite. He took a
step at it, but he didn’t bend down.

 
          
"If
you sure enough want it,” he said, and he sounded kind in the voice,
"you’ll have to pick it for your own self. I ain’t a-going to exactly
forbid it to you, but I ain’t either a-going to give it to you. And, what I
said before, you know just why I can't.”

 
          
Hazel
Techeray reached out her hand, but she didn't take that flower. Instead, she
went a-walking off along the path to where the road was. When she got there,
she turned herself back round.

 
          
“You
and your friends here don't know what a fix you're in," she said, her
voice a-making itself strong at last.

 
          
“We
can make a right good guess," Mr. Ben called back to her.

 
          
He
stood there where he was, with his feet set wide apart, and watched her as she
headed off along the road toward where Sim Drogus lived, toward where she
lived, too, as I reckoned. Then Mr. Ben turned and came up the steps into the
house, where we'd all been a-harking at what went on. He looked heavy with his
thoughts.

 
          
“You
want to know a fact, John?" he said to me. “Somehow, I purely hated to do
that to her just now. Refuse her thataway, I mean. I did hate it, even when I
knew right well she was up to something against me."

 
          
“You
did the right thing, Mr. Ben," I said.
“The wise
thing."

 
          
“Well,
all right for that much," he said. “It's near about time for another
little grain of blockade. I don't much drink a heap of it air one time, but I
want a taste right now. To settle my stomach down, you can call it."

 
          
I
looked past him into the front yard, at that pretty red flower Hazel Techeray
had begged to him for. Then I turned back round. We all came and sat down while
Mr. Ben poured.

 
          
“Leastways,
she nair asked me for that there alexandrite I got in my pocket," said Mr.
Ben above the rim of his glass.

 
          
“She
was bound to know better than to ask for that," I said. “Though for some
reason the Shonokins want it, and want it with all their hearts.”

 
          
“If
a Shonokin has sure enough got a heart,” he rumbled. “I'm a-beginning to wonder
myself if these here Shonokins ain't just some kind of bad dream I'm a-having.”

 
          
“The
Shonokins are a reality indeed, Mr. Ben,” said
Warren
. He'd got up with his drink and was
a-stacking up dishes on their shelf. “They were a great and real danger up
North, until my friend Thunstone checked them. Maybe they're still more or less
a danger up there.” “And another danger here,” said Mr. Ben, a-pulling his
moustache. “A danger whatair place they come to. They're a-fixing to be a
danger to me, and this here very morning they found out how I can be a danger
to them.” Morning, I thought, this morning. Such a lot had happened since this
morning. Now it was no more than
two o'clock
in the afternoon, to judge by the set of
the sun outside.

           
I finished up my own drink. “Folks,”
I said to them all, “I reckon I'll just have me a lie-down and maybe a little
nap. I didn't sleep so almighty much last night, you know.” “Go lie down on the
bed in my room,” Mr. Ben offered me, but I shook my head no.

           
“No, sir, my stuff's still out
yonder on the porch. I'll unroll it and sleep there. I've mentioned to you all
I sleep better outside. And, anyway, I can get the feel of the place while I
sleep.”

 
          
“Whatair
pleases you,” Mr. Ben granted me.

 
          
So
I went out on the porch and flung my blanket over the quilt I'd used, and
pillowed my head on my old soogin sack. I slid my hat down over my eyes to shut
out the sunlight. I must have been asleep before one minute was gone. In that
sleep, I dreamed dreams. First off, as was right usual, about my Evadare girl,
how sweet she was, how sweet she made all heaven and earth. It seemed in my
dream like as if she and I were out someplace a-picking blackberries. And then
the dream changed on me. Now I thought it was a big outdoor meeting, and there
was Brooke Altic, yonder on a platform, a-talking to a crowd of folks like at
the singing. Now and then some fellows with long sticks, maybe they were
Shonokins, poked here and there in the crowd to make the people cheer and
hooraw for Altic.

 
          
A
step sounded on the porch boards, and quick I sat up. It was Jackson Warren.