"Don't get fancy. You enjoy bullying Mother. You enjoyed spanking me as a kid... until Mother put her foot down and made you stop."
His father said, "We had better start back." He reached for his belt and rifle.
"Just a second. I want to show you something. Never mind your gear, this won't take a moment."
Hugh stood up. "What is it?"
"Just this. Your Captain Bligh act is finished." He clouted his father. "That's for bullying Mother!" He clouted him from the other side and harder, knocking his father off his feet. "And that's for having that nigger pull a gun on me!"
Hugh Farnham lay where he had fallen. "Not 'nigger,' Duke. Negro."
"He's a Negro as long as he behaves himself. Pulling a gun on me makes him a goddam nigger. You can get up. I won't hit you again."
Hugh Farnham got to his feet. "Let's start back."
"Is that all you've got to say? Go ahead. Hit me. I won't hit back."
"I didn't break my parole. I waited until we left the shelter."
"Conceded. Shall I lead? Better, perhaps."
"Do you think I'm afraid you might shoot me in the back? Look, Dad, I had to do it!"
"Did you?"
"Hell, yes. For my own self-respect."
"Very well." Hugh buckled on his belt, picked up his gun, and headed for the last blaze.
They hiked in silence. At last Duke said, "Dad?"
"Yes, Duke?"
"I'm sorry."
"Forget it."
They went on, found where they had forded the stream, crossed it. Hugh hurried, as it was growing darker. Duke closed up again. "Just one thing, Dad. Why didn't you assign Barbara as cook? She's the freeloader. Why pick on Mother?"
Hugh took his time in answering. "Barbara is no more a freeloader than you are, Duke, and cooking is the only thing Grace knows. Or were you suggesting that she loaf while the rest of us work?"
"No. Oh, we all have to pitch in-granted. But no more bullying, no more bawling Mother out in public. Understand me?"
"Duke."
"Yeah?"
"I've been studying karate three afternoons a week the past year."
"So?"
"Don't try it again. Shooting me in the back is safer."
"I hear you."
"Until you decide to shoot me, it would be well to accept my leadership. Or do you wish to assume the responsibility?"
"Are you offering it?"
"I am not in a position to. Perhaps the group would accept you. Your mother would. Possibly your sister would prefer you. Concerning Barbara and Joe, I offer no opinion."
"How about you, Dad?"
"I won't answer that; I owe you nothing. But until you decide to make a bid for leadership, I expect the same willing discipline you showed under parole."
"'Willing discipline' indeed!"
"In the long run there is no other sort. I can't quell a mutiny every few hours-and I've had two from you plus an utter lack of discipline from your mother. No leader can function on those terms. So I will assume your willing discipline. That includes no interference should I decide again to use what you call 'bullying.'"
"Now see here, I told you I would not stand for-"
"Quiet! Unless you make up your mind to that, your safest choice is to shoot me in the back. Don't come at me with bare hands or risk giving me a chance to shoot first. At the next sign of trouble, Duke, I will kill you. If possible. One of us will surely be killed."
They trudged along in silence, Mr. Farnham never looking back. At last Duke said, "Dad, for Christ's sake, why can't you run things democratically? I don't want to boss things, I simply want you to be fair about it."
"Mmm, you don't want to boss. You want to be a backseat driver-with a veto over the driver."
"Nuts! I simply want things run democratically."
"You do? Shall we vote on whether Grace is to work like the rest of us? Whether she shall hog the liquor? Shall we use Robert's Rules of Order? Should she withdraw while we debate it? Or should she stay and defend herself against charges of indolence and drunkenness? Do you wish to submit your mother to such ignominy?"
"Don't be silly!"
"I am trying to find out what you mean by 'democratically.' If you mean putting every decision to a vote, I am willing-if you will bind yourself to abide by every majority decision. You're welcome to run for chairman. I'm sick of the responsibility and I know that Joe does not like being my deputy."
"That's another thing. Why should Joe have any voice in these matters?"
"I thought you wanted to do it 'democratically'?"
"Yes, but he is-"
"What, Duke? A 'nigger'? Or a servant?"
"You've got a nasty way of putting things."
"You've got nasty ideas. We'll try formal democracy-rules of order, debate, secret ballot, everything-any time you want to try such foolishness. Especially any time you want to move a vote of no confidence and take over the leadership... and I'm so bitter as to hope that you succeed. In the meantime we do have democracy."
"How do you figure?"
"I'm serving by consent of the majority-four to two, I think. But that doesn't suit me; I want it to be unanimous, I can't put up indefinitely with wrangling from the minority. You and your mother, I mean. I want it to be five to one before we get back, with your assurance that you will not interfere in my efforts to persuade, or cajole, or bully, your mother into accepting her share of the load-until you care to risk a vote of no confidence."
"You're asking me to agree to that?"
"No, I'm telling you. Willing discipline on your part...r at the next clash one of us will be killed. I won't give you the slightest warning. That's why your safest course is to shoot me in the back."
"Quit talking nonsense! You know I won't shoot you in the back."
"So? I will shoot you in the back or anywhere at the next hint of trouble. Duke, I can see only one alternative. If you find it impossible to give willing disciplined consent, if you don't think you can displace me, if you can't bring yourself to kill me, if you don't care to risk a clash in which one of us will be killed, then there is still a peaceful solution."
"What is it?"
"Any time you wish, you can leave. I'll give you a rifle, ammunition, salt, matches, a knife, whatever you find needful. You don't deserve them but I won't turn you out with nothing."
Duke gave a bitter laugh. "Sending me out to play Robinson Crusoe....nd leaving all the women with you!"
"Oh, no! Any who wish are free to go. With a fair share of anything and some to boot. All three women if you can sell the idea."
"I'll think about it."
"Do. And do a little politicking and size up your chances of winning a vote against me 'democratically'-while being extraordinarily careful not to cross wills with me and thereby bring on a showdown sooner than you wish. I warn you, I'm feeling very short-tempered; you loosened one of my teeth."
"I didn't mean to."
"That wasn't the way it felt. There's the shelter; you can start that 'willing discipline' by pretending that we've had a lovely afternoon."
"Look, Dad, if you won't mention-"
"Shut up. I'm sick of you."
As they neared the shelter Karen saw them and yoo-hooed; Joe and Barbara came crawling out the tunnel. Karen waved her shovel. "Come see what I've done!"
She had dug privies on each side of the shelter. Saplings formed frameworks which had been screened by tacking cardboard from liquor cases. Seats had been built of lumber remnants from the tank room. "Well?" demanded Karen. "Aren't they gorgeous?"
"Yes," agreed Hugh. "Much more lavish than I had expected." He refrained from saying that they had cost most of the lumber.