Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 (13 page)

 
          
"They
brag they don't believe in
no
Devil?” Mr. Ben
yammered. "All right, folks, they’ll plumb believe in him before they get
through with me. I'll give them the Devil— I'll give them hell with the lid off
and the bottom of it a-shining right up into their faces!”

 
          
The
way he sounded, you'd have reckoned he had it already done.

 
          
"I
say sure
enough,
let them come here,” he told us one
more time, and he sounded calmer now. "Let them come with their meanness
and try it on with me. I'm tired of just a-waiting round. I'll be here when
they show up. They won't find this place of mine
no
joyful place to visit.”

 
          
"By
which,” said
Warren
, "you mean that you'll be ready for their coming.”

 
          
"That's
the natural truth,” Mr. Ben nodded to him. "Hark at me, son, my old
grandsire come back from a-fighting in the Yankee war, to heir this piece of
land from his daddy, and he built this here very house on it, with his own
hands. He raised twelve youngins in it, and my daddy was the eleventh. And in
time I heired it from him—my daddy.”

           
"You feel it’s yours,” said
Jackson
.

 
          
"You
can bet your neck I feel it's mine,” said Mr. Ben, "spite of all them
Godforsaken eternal Shonokins who ain't even got the final common sense to
believe in the Devil. I swear to youins, one and all, if they come, I ain't
a-going to be hard to find. I'll be right here on my ground, with blood in my
eye and a chip on my shoulder. I want to get the thing settled with them. I'm
a-getting dog-tired of all this here grief and trouble and hell raising they're
a-trying to put on me.”

 
          
He
fell silent and waited for somebody else to say something.

 
          
"That
was spoken like the brave, good man you are, Mr. Ben,” I said, "and I'll
be right here with you.”

 
          
"And
I,” said his brave daughter, Callie.

 
          
"And
I,” said Jackson Warren, a-standing close to her.
"Naturally.”

           
“All right, Mr. Ben,” I said to him,
and tried to keep my voice cheerful. “You’ve heard all of us say, we’re in it
with you to make a stand against them. And since you’re in command—”

 
          
“Not
me, I ain’t in command, John,” he chipped in on me. “I ain’t a-going to be in
command here, not by a long shot with a bush in the way. You’re a-going to be.”

 
          
I
goggled when he said that thing, and I reckon that maybe so did the others. It
was sure enough the last word on earth I’d expected from him.

 
          
“Looky
here, John,” said Mr. Ben, stubborn as a mule, air inch of him. “You purely got
to be our captain in this here Shonokin business. And I call on Callie and
Jackson to say likewise.”

 
          
I
shook my head at him. “Me?” I said. “Now, hold on. This is your place, and this
is your part of the world. You know it like the palm of your hand. And I’ve not
yet been hereabouts for more than about thirty hours.”

 
          
“I’ll
tell you how come I said what I said,” he came back. “It’s because you know
more than the whole rest of us about this kind of hellacious, spellbinding
stuff, what them Shonokins want to try on here. John, just let me put it
thisaway. You’ve been up against witch stuff and hant stuff and devil stuff
before this, time and time again. And, what’s more, you’ve whupped it—made it
quit. By God, you're veteran against it. You're champion.
So
you'll be our captain and we'll be your troops.''

 
          
"I
agree with that/' said Jackson Warren.

 
          
“But,
Mr. Ben, you told me you'd been a sergeant once," I tried to argue him.
“On my part, I nair in all my service got higher than
PFC.,
nor yet wanted to."

 
          
“Oh,"
said
Warren
, “you could have made sergeant without half
trying."

 
          
I
recollected how, one time another they'd wanted to send me to noncom school,
and how I'd always talked myself out of it. But I didn't say that.

 
          
“And
I'll bet air man a dollar you've commanded men in your time,” said Mr. Ben,
still a-being stubborn.

 
          
“Well
now,” I had to admit, “
there
were times in the
fighting when things got rugged in there. And other fellows sort of turned to
me and wanted me to do the saying about what to do and what not to do.”

 
          
“Naturally
they'd be bound to turn to you," said Mr. Ben. “And that's what we're
a-doing now.
A-wanting you to say what to do."

 
          
“Exactly,”
Warren
seconded him, and watched me as he spoke.

 
          
“Amen,"
said Callie, almost bright in her voice. “Amen."

 
          
“Well,"
I said again, “if you truly mean it, all right."

 
          
Mr.
Ben
grinned
his teeth under his moustache. It was as
harsh a grin as you could call for.

 
          
“Then
it's settled, and we start to call you captain."

 
          
“No,
you just call me John, and I'll call you all Callie and Mr. Ben and Jackson.”

 
          
“Agreed,"
said Callie. “No formalities, but you tell us what to do. And right now, what
is there for us to do?"

 
          
I
knew right well that there'd be lots to be thought out and told. “What’s the
time just now?” I inquired them, and looked out at the sun.

 
          
“It’s
just past three-thirty,” said
Warren
, his eyes on the watch on his wrist.

 
          
“At
this time of year,” I figured, “the sunset will come round about six-thirty.
We’ve got us a good three hours, as I make it. From now on, we keep here inside
this cabin all we can.
If somebody must go out, then only one
at a time, with the rest on the alert.”

 
          
“That
there’s a good order, John,” said Mr. Ben, a-strok- ing his moustache.

 
          
“We’ll
close up all the windows, with boards or some such matter,” I went on. “The
last thing we do as the dark begins to come down, we’ll likewise board up the
doors. How many doors do you have in this house, Mr. Ben?”

 
          
“Just
only the front and back, small a place as it is,” replied Mr. Ben. “The front
one
here,
and a back door in my room.”

 
          
The
front door was good and stout-made, as I’d noticed before that. “The windows to
be all closed in, then,” I said again. “If we have to do some shooting, we can
aim out betwixt these logs where the chinking’s been pulled out. Let’s go have
a look at the windows.”

 
          
I
headed into one of the bedrooms, then the other.
Only one
window to each of them, with glass in it.
In Mr. Ben’s room was the door
he’d told of, the same, I recollected, he must have come in through to take his
shot at that Shonokin. It was as good as the front door: it was made of stout
planks with cleats crossways on them, and it had both a bolt and a lock. I
turned the key and shot the bolt. Then Mr. Ben and I came out and climbed up
the ladder to the loft where
Jackson
had slept the night before. Up there, they
had just only a little small window, easy to make safe.

           
I stood and looked up at a trapdoor
betwixt two rafter logs.

 
          
"That
there goes up on the roof/' Mr. Ben said
. "
What
do you say; should we nail it shut?”

 
          
"There's
no point in a-doing that,” I decided. "We'll just make out to keep them
from a-getting up on the roof. Our big job will be to watch all four sides down
below.”

 
          
"Sure
enough,” he said, "and
there's
four of us for the
four sides, and all of us can handle guns. I'm glad I taught Callie how to aim
and pull trigger.”

 
          
We
went down again. Jackson Warren was a-waiting. "What other orders, John?”
he inquired me.

 
          
I'd
been a-wondering myself about that very thing. This command had been shoved on
me as sudden as the wink of an eye, and my mind was full of things for us to
do.

 
          
"My
judgment is that tonight is a-going to tell the whole tale,” I said. "The
tale both for us and for the Shonokins, and which one will come out top dog.
After
it’s
dark, I told you, we stay all nailed up in
here, a-keeping watch all times.
And no more than one of us
to lie down while the others will stay on their feet and ready.”

 
          
"Especially
watchful by night,”
Warren
quoted from the orders for an interior guard detail, the ones a soldier
has to know by memory before they'll give him a pass to get out of the
regimental area.

 
          
"That's
got it,” I agreed him. "And, after dark, no fire yonder on the hearth,
even if it gets airish and chilly. We’ll light one lamp but keep it turned way
low, and stand it next to the door so as to throw no shadow on us to show
through those spaces in the logs. And we've got to have some rations.”

 
          
"That
will be my assignment,” spoke up Callie. "What rations, John?”

 
          
"A
great big pot of strong, black coffee, naturally,” I decided.
“Big enough to last the four of us all through the night.
And to eat,
Fd
speak for a kettle of soup we could dip
into whenever we felt we needed some."

 
          
She
smiled about that. “I can do it. Fve got things here to make it. Chips of
ham—good ham, Daddy's own smoking—and some cut-up stew beef, and elbow
macaroni, and those green beans left over from dinner." She thought that
much over. “Yes, and about twelve different seasonings, and some canned
tomatoes."

 
          
“That
sounds right good, Callie," allowed Mr. Ben.

 
          
“Second
the endorsing motion," added in
Warren
. “Callie, let me help you."

 
          
They
started right in a-fixing the ham and beef in a kettle, as cheerful as two
folks
a-getting ready for a picnic. Mr. Ben looked over all
the guns he'd laid out for us. He’d put out ammo, too, handfuls of
different-sized cartridges, on the edge of the table. I studied those handfuls.
Too bad we didn't all have guns the same caliber, but that couldn't be helped
just then.

 
          
“Me,"
said Mr. Ben, “Fm a-going out to the shed for some boards to close up them
windows and all like that. You got us figured safe so long as
it's
daylight, John, so Fll go. And likewise Fll tend to
things one more time so's they'll not be
no
reason to
go out at night. Thank the good Lord I ain't got
no
animals on this here place to worry over."

 
          
Out
he went. I drifted to a window to watch.

 
          
Again
I said to myself, the trees all round the cabin looked good, looked trustworthy
to me. I figured my quick- said spell against Hazel Techeray must have done its
work. At last things could be natural in that yard and for maybe a good space
round it. I hoped so, anyway.

 
          
I
studied over what orders Fd given out for whatever trouble might could come,
and decided that I’d just let it be enough said right then. A man could talk
too much, without a good reason to do it. If there'd be aught else to say and
do, that could come up when the real business came up.

 
          
As
she put things into the soup kettle, Callie started in to sing. It was a song
Fd
nair yet in all my life heard, to a strange, lonesome
tune:

 
          
"The
silver is white, red is the gold,

           
The robes they lie, they lie in
fold;

           
The bailey beareth the lull away,

           
The lily, the rose,
the
rose I lay,

           
Through the glass window shines the
sun—

           
How could I love, and I so young?”

 
          
Warren
almost dropped a big iron spoon he was
a-stirring the kettle with. "Callie, that's the most beautiful thing I've
heard in years,” he said, his breath all caught up to say it.

 
          
"You
like it?” she inquired him, a-smiling. Sure enough, she'd sung that song just
for him to hear.

 
          
"I've
read it,” said
Warren
, with his breath still caught. "It's in
The Oxford Book of English Verse
, and in some other collections.
I've read it, I say, but I never heard the music. Where did you ever learn
that?”

 
          
"My
mother used to sing it when she was still alive. I imagine she got it from her
old folks. They were all musical in her family.”

 
          
"Beautiful,”
said
Warren
again, like somebody in a church house.

 
          
"Beautiful's
the true plain word,” I said, and went to pick up my guitar and turn a peg or
two to tune it. "Go through with it again, Callie, and let me see if I can
follow you along.”