slavery, of course, but that was not an alternative. It must all be a cosmic jest, or a chess game. Would the Ivory and Ebony play to the last piece? Would God, or the gods, then declare a draw? Sad.
In my preoccupation, I did not see the running man coming up the hill. He was almost on me before I noticed him. A fall of loose rock warned me when he was about twenty feet away. I jumped up and started to go after the rifle. Then I recognized him. Duncan X. Panting, staggering, his clothing torn, blood oozing from a dozen gashes. His pack was gone, and his canteen belt, but he still carried the rifle. I waited till he came close.
"Mon, you gotta hep me," he said. The fear in his voice was the same I had heard before the kids and I left the mess in St. Louis. "Mon, they gon' kill me!" "What happened?"
"Dogs ... dogs caught me. Killed 'em, all but one. Mon, they chewed me bad."
"Come inside. We've got a first-aid kit. Lois!" She came out, looked at Duncan's wounds, and threw her hands to her cheeks.
"Clean up those gashes," I said. "Bandage him if we've got anything."
"Mon, they gon' kill me!" The loud, confident rebel of the morning was gone. He was a hundred and twenty years of scared nigger, running from a lynch mob. When the ropes came out, and the hounds and the guns, he was every black man who had ever run from redneck "justice." He was afraid, and running, probably a dead man, and didn't know why.
"Go ahead. Fix him up," I told Lois. "Heat up some of that stew."
She looked at me strangely, questioningly, making no move. I took the rifle from Duncan's hands, though he tried to stop me. He clung to that weapon like a drowning man to a log. It was the only salvation he knew. It was the only salvation anyone seemed to know these days. Lois watched me take the gun, then took Duncan's hand and led him into the cave. I watched her go, wondering what it was like to be an adult at fifteen.
As the moon came up, I walked back the way Duncan had come. I heard the hound baying, not more than a mile away. Hard. I didn't like things this way, but my decision had been made for me.
I chose my position carefully, behind a large log at the edge of a clearing. They were not long in coming.
The hunters had chosen to leash their remaining hound, keeping him where he could be protected. And there were only nine men. If Duncan had gotten the other three, they wanted him worse than ever. They might not quit till they were all dead, or had their "buck" swinging from a tree. I knew sadness again.
I put the first shot between the hound's eyes. He yelped once, leaping toward the moon. I emptied the clip among running men, but hit no one. They reacted quickly. Rifles and shotguns boomed, peppering the woods around me. I ran, trying to keep low. Without that hound they would have a hard time following.
The shooting stopped a moment later. They realized they were wasting ammunition, trying to murder an empty forest.
I returned to the cave. Lois had fed Duncan, and patched him, and had put him in my bed. He was sleeping, though fitfully, like a man with bad dreams.
"What'd you do?" she asked, at once frightened of and for me.
"Shot their dog. They won't be tracking Duncan or me without him."
"Oh."
"Stoke up the fire a little, will you? I want to do some writing while I'm watching. Then get to bed. It's been a bad day."
"But Duncan ..."
"I'll look after him. You just go on to bed."
She went. I wrote for a while, then leaned back to think. Eventually, I dozed off. A couple hours must have passed.
I started awake. There were sounds outside the cave. The fire had died to coals. Carefully, I reached for the water pitcher and used it to drown the remains. A figure moved across the cave mouth, outlined by the moonlight. White man! His skin shone in the light. I took the rifle from the table and fell into a prone position. I waited while they talked it over out there. They seemed certain their quarry was inside. I didn't know how they had found the cave—blind luck, probably—but once here, they knew they had their man. I remembered having seen Duncan's fatigue jacket outside, a dead giveaway. I cursed myself for being fool enough to expect them to stop after losing their hound.
They didn't bother with a warning or to-do about surrender. They came in the cave, trying to sneak up on
Duncan. I started shooting. The .30-.06 roared like a cannon in the confinement of the cave. The muzzle flashes splashed white faces with orange light.
I never was much good at killing, not in Vietnam, not here. They were less than twenty feet away, hut I only hit one, in the arm. They got out before I could get
another.
The shooting woke the kids. Lois slipped up beside me where I lay in the cave mouth, asking what had happened.
"Never mind!" I snapped. "You get the kids out the hole in back. Go up to the hiding place. I'll meet you
later."
"Aren't you coming?"
"Lois, neither Duncan nor I can get through that passage. It's too tight. Now get."
As if to punctuate my argument, the rednecks opened up. It was like a regular war, like I saw in Vietnam. They were all over the slope. Bullets whined and pinged as they bounced from one cave wall to another. Lois left, dragging the younger kids down the small tunnel which opened on the far side of the hill.
Duncan crawled up beside me. "Right side fo' me," he said. "How many?"
"Eight. Nine if you count the one I wounded. Didn't think they'd find us after I shot their dog." I "Mon, them honkies half dog themselves. One day you
gon' learn."
We shot at muzzle flashes. Funny. Of all the stuff I had in the cave, ammunition was the one thing not in short supply. And me a peaceful man.
"Hey, Duncan," someone downslope shouted, "who's that up there with you?"
"Who's that?" I asked, whispering.
"Jake Kinslow. Him an' me met befo'."
"Hey, Duncan boy," Kinslow shouted, "you better come out before you get your friend in trouble. Whoever you are, mister, this ain't none of your nevermind. We got no argument with you. We just want that rabble-rousing, baby-raping nigger in there with you."
I looked at Duncan. His teeth gleamed as he grinned. "I shacked with his daughter befo' the war. He gon' get even now."
To hide my reaction, I turned and snapped a shot in the direction of Jake's voice. There was a cry. I was surprised.
"Jake, I'm hit!" someone screamed. "God, my leg, my leg!"
Laughing, Duncan reached over and punched my shoulder. "Seven," he said.
"Mister," Jake shouted, "we're gonna hang that nigger. You don't get out, we might hang you too. We got no cause to be after you yet."
Yet. Meaning they were going to be if I didn't get out of their way. But how could I, even if I wanted to? They had put me in a position where I had no choice.
Time passed. We exchanged shots, but the firing dropped off. The moon eventually rose to where it was shining directly into the cave. I glanced at my watch, miraculously still working. Eleven. It had been a long, strange day, and still wasn't over.
A scream downslope drew my attention. I recognized it. Lois!
They dragged her into the moonlight, where I could see her. Jake shouted, "You up there! You see what we've caught hanging around, spying? Know what we're gonna do? Same thing Duncan did to my daughter, unless you come out."
I growled deep in my throat. "Let her go!" I shouted. I rose and started out, but Duncan tripped me and dragged me back.
"We'll let her go when we get Duncan!" Kinslow shouted. "Meanwhile, we're gonna have some fun."
I tried to get a clear shot at the man holding Lois, but he stayed behind her, no matter how much she struggled. Duncan dragged me back again. "They're going to rape her!" I snarled. "Let me go!"
"Mon," he said, grinning wickedly, "they gon' rape her anyway. They's honkies. Gon' kill us an' rape her anyway."