Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 (12 page)

 
          
“You
said, wake you up in
a
hour, John, and it's been about
that.” He looked at the watch on his wrist.
“
Three
o'clock
exactly.
You
certainly sleep lightly to wake up like that, all over.”

 
          
“I
do thank you,
Jackson
.” Up I got, a-feeling good, rested, strong. I rolled my blanket and the
quilt up and carried them and the soogin inside and stowed them in a comer
where my guitar leaned.

 
          
“All
right now, what's to be a-coming next?” Mr. Ben was a-wondering. “Appears to me
like
them
Shonokins is sort of set back from us right
this minute. Sim Drogus and Hazel Techeray might
could
be in their pay, a-working for them, but their work so far ain't turned out so
good. Likewise, there's that there dead one of them John allows is a-laying on
their track, a-scaring them off, a-keeping them sort of dammed away from us
like a flood of water.” He scowled over that, but it was a sort of happy scowl.
“I don't know for certain but what I'd feel some better off if they'd just come
and try on whatair they got to try on.”

 
          
“It
isn't apt to be any magic or sorcery, whatever they might try on,” said
Warren
. “I gather that John was able to put an end
to that particular sort of business on this property of yours.”

 
          
“Oh,
the hell,” snorted Mr. Ben. “I've always heard tell that witchcraft couldn't
work against a pure heart, only my heart ain't all the time pure. Sometimes I
can be meaner than an old bear with a sore toe.'' He hiked up his brows at us.
“Folks, I been bad in my time; just now, I could wish I'd been better as a
young fellow. But the only thing I got in mind is, what if
them
Shonokins got them some kind of special witch stuff that our spells can't guard
away from us?”

 
          
“I
seriously doubt that they have that,” I offered him. “Mr. Ben, witchcraft's an
old thing. Most likely it goes back to the very beginnings of man, even the
beginnings of Shonokins if they're older, all over this world. And the ways of
whipping it are good all round. I'm not a-calling myself too easy, but at
present I'd say we were way out in front of them on that line.”

 
          
Somebody
hollered the house from outside again. This time, it was a man's voice.

 
          
“I
vow and declare, we're a-getting us a whole year's worth of company just this
last two days,” said Mr. Ben, and headed over to the door. He opened it wide
and stood in it.

 
          
“Who's
out yonder?” he yelled.

 
          
A-looking
out past him, I saw three men there by the edge of the road. One was rangy, and
the hair on his bare head was a big tawny shock. Another looked stocky and
dark-skinned, with a sort of blue baseball cap on. He might
could
have had Indian blood in him. The other was smallish made, and he had a round
face that seemed to snicker. They all of them wore rough farm clothes, but they
looked to have shaved just that morning. Lots of mountain men don’t shave once
a day, some not once a week. These men meant company doings, I figured.

 
          
"Shoo,
Mr. Ben, it’s just us,” said the rangy one. "You know us, all three of us.
We just stopped by to tell you some news.”

 
          
"Walk
on out with me, John,” said Mr. Ben, and he and I walked into the yard. The
three men came along together on the path, close to the door.

 
          
"Fellows,
this here is John, he’s a visiting with me,” Mr. Ben made the introductions.
"John, shake hands with Lew Replogle.”

 
          
The
rangy one gave me his big, calloused hand.

 
          
"And
this here is U. G. Bannion.”

 
          
That
meant the stocky one with the Indian look. "Howdy, friend,” he said as we
shook hands together.

 
          
"And
likewise little Matty Groves,” said Mr. Ben. "He’s got him the same name
as that there fellow in the old song
,
¹
only
he ain’t been killed for a-courting another man’s wife.”

 
          
"Not
yet I ain’t,”
snickered
little Matty Groves.

 
          
"I’ve
had me some word of John,” said Lew Replogle, who seemed like the one who was
to do the talking for the whole bunch. "Matter of fact, last night at
Brooke Altic’s singing I heard him a-picking guitar and he give us that 'Murder
Bull’ ballad. John, I’ve heard a right much of good about you.”

 
          
"Me,
too, I have,” said Matty Groves. "We’ve all of us heard tell good things
about John, and I’m right proud to meet him.”

 
          
They
all grinned at me. Mr. Ben studied one, then another and another.

 
          
"And
what’s there I can do for youins?” he inquired them.

 
          
"Just
only give us your idea on something,” said Lew Replogle. "We're all your
neighbor folks, we always been a-getting on well with you, Mr. Ben. Weuns
mostly reckon you for the foremost man of
all this here
neighborhood. So we naturally like to bide by your notions."

 
          
"Fact,"
U. G. Bannion seconded him.

 
          
"What
notions would
them
be?" Mr. Ben inquired again.
"I can't much speak to them without I know what youins mean."

 
          
"Well,
now," said Replogle, "it's about a burying they want us to do for
them."

 
          
"Whatair burying you a-talking about?
Who is it wants
youins to bury somebody?”

 
          
Replogle
sort of hung back at that, and Bannion spoke up in his turn:

 
          
"Brooke
Altic's done offered us a hundred dollars," he said.

 
          
"Brooke Altic?"
Mr. Ben said the name like a
cussword.

 
          
"All
right now, Mr. Ben,” tried Replogle one more time, "we know that
him
and you don't much agree on things together.
But that there's your business, not ours.
And he just
offered us a hundred dollars in good money bills if we'd go up there on their
track to Immer where one of their bunch is a-laying dead and gone. If we'd
carry him to the old burying ground—the one where Brushy Fork Church used to be
before they moved it to Aley's Crossing —and just put him in the ground there.”

 
          
"And
maybe we'd say a good word or two over the grave,” put in Matty Groves.

 
          
Again
Mr. Ben gave them a glittery look all round before he spoke. "All right,
boys,” he said at last. "If that's what it is, what's a-keeping you?”

 
          
Replogle
slowly churned his big feet in their patched plow shoes. "It was a sort of
funny proposition,” he made out to say.
"A hundred
dollars—that ain't no kind of money for a fellow to turn down for just a couple
hours of digging.
But at first we wondered ourselves if it was the right
thing. If maybe somebody
shouldn't ought
to go tell
the law at the county seat."

 
          
Mr.
Ben snorted so hard it fluffed his moustache. “If youins feel thataway, why not
do that thing? There's been a couple deputy sheriffs a-using hereabouts today.
They
was
right in this here yard this morning, to
wonder had I been a-shooting at something or other. Youins might could track up
on them and get their word on the matter and go by that."

 
          
“Aw
now, Mr. Ben,” Matty Groves sort of whimpered out, “we don't value them deputy
sheriffs much. They nair come round about here to do aught of good to a
hard-working man. We more-less thought we'd another sight rather inquire you
what you felt about Brooke Altic's offer.”

 
          
“It's
an offer he made to you, not to me," said Mr. Ben.
“How
come you to run across him?"

 
          
“Matter
of fact, it was him run across us," said Replogle. “We
was
all together on my place, over yonder." He pointed with his knuckly hand,
off past the rear of Mr. Ben's property. “U.G. and Matty here had come to help
me split up some shingles, and then here come Brooke Altic along and offered us
that money."

 
          
“And
being that John happens to be with us here," said Bannion, his eyes on me,
“we'd be obliged to hear him for what thought he's got about it, too."

 
          
“The
only thought I've got is, I'm a stranger guest here," I said. “I don't own
the first thing hereabouts except these clothes I wear and the pack I tote when
I'm along the way to go somewhere. I'm like you gentlemen—I'll wait to hear Mr.
Ben speak on it.”

 
          
“Yes,
sir, and we'll all of us go by his word," promised Replogle; no doubt on
earth but that he and those others set store by Mr. Ben. “Let him tell us to go
ahead or stop, walk or stay on base. We know him and the Shonokins is at a
fall-out with one another. We're neighbors to Mr. Ben and to the Shonokins,
both of them. So we've come to him with it."

 
          
Mr.
Ben wadded up his hard fists and clamped them down on his hard hips, with his
elbows a-sticking out. I saw his face set itself into those strong, thinking
lines it could take on.

 
          
“Why, hell's fire on the mountain, boys," he busted out at
last.
“Youins ain’t got
no
need to get my yes
or no in your own doings, so long as they're away off from this place I own. If
youins feel like a-taking Brooke Aide's money, why go ahead—do what he
wants."

 
          
“Bury
that there dead Shonokin?" Replogle inquired him.

 
          
“If
youins feel like a-doing it, and then there's that hundred dollars to divvy up
amongst yourselves. Who in Tophet is Ben Gray to forbid you?"

 
          
They
acted right glad to hear him speak up, like as if it was a word from a judge
their way in a court of law. One after another, they said him their thanks and
their good days, and off they went a-walking into the woods again. Mr. Ben kept
his close-creased eyes on them till they were purely out of sight.

 
          
“John,"
he said, “did I tell them three men wrong?"

 
          
“I'm
not about to answer that off the top of my head,” I replied him, “but I feel
you meant to tell them right."

 
          
“Glad
to hear you say so. Let's come on back to the house."

 
          
Once
we were inside again, he told that whole talk with the three men to Warren and
Callie. Callie's eyes got bigger and rounder and scareder than ever, and
Warren
looked just a tad tight around the mouth.

           
''And now,” Mr. Ben finished up,
"the idee of them low- flung Shonokin skunks is, if their dead can be
taken out of their way, they won't be none afraid to come here.”

 
          
"And
they're going to come here, Daddy,” stammered out Callie. "As sure as we
stand here, they'll come. Their way will be open.
Jackson
explained all that to us.”

 
          
Mr.
Ben flung out his thick arms. "Then let them come, I say!” he hollered in
our faces. "I vow and swear
,
I've got tired of
a-waiting on them here. That's how come I done told Lew Replogle and the others
to go ahead with the burying!”

 
          
And
I knew what he meant by that thing. It had been a-eating on him for hours.