by Sam Halpern
I considered calling the airline immediately and asking for an earlier return flight but rejected the idea. I was tired and didn’t have the energy to go through the inevitable stream of questions that would follow. I would do it when I was fresh.
I thought of calling Penny, then decided against it. Both of my daughters were sensitive to my ways and it was getting late back East. If I made the call now, they would be in Lexington in a matter of hours.
That time, that day, the significance of it in my life, rolled and churned through my mind. The love of Lonnie for his pa, a man who nearly beat him to death. LD! He was just a scared kid with a lunatic for a father. I hated LD then, and it bothered me that now, though I could rationalize his behavior, my emotions still wouldn’t let me say truthfully, “I forgive you, LD.”
But Fred dominated my thoughts. I could feel the stifling heat and hear the rustle of Levi’s. And I could hear Fred’s voice.
“LD’s lyin’!”
Fred had come through for me in my hour of need. My friend, maybe the only real friend of my life. I owed him so much.
But it wasn’t all one way. I had come through for him too, for the whole Mulligan family back when Fred really needed me. “You did a lot for the whole Mulligan family!” I said aloud.
I did do things! Important things! But for sixty years I had totally avoided Fred. That was the way it was, the way it would always be. What was I trying to prove by wandering through my memories? Yet, I could not stop thinking about that night . . .
. . . I tried hard but I couldn’t sleep although a couple times I must have been close because my body would give a jerk and the whole bed would squeak. It wudn’t just because I was excited; somehow I was too tired to sleep. Tomorrow we were gonna be finished with the crazy man and I could go back to being without worry.
I thought about Mom, and how people went flying as she come busting through to get me. She wudn’t scared of nothing! I mean, she stood up to men with guns! I thought about how much I loved my mama and hot tears come up in my eyes.
I tossed and rolled, then I heard the sound of tires on gravel and a light come through the window. I jumped out of bed and ran to look. It was a car, okay. Out on the pike I could see other lights. In just a few minutes a bunch of people were at the house and Mom was heating coffee and letting everybody through the door. The smell of the crazy man was there again.
By a quarter after four, everybody was back except LD and his pa. Fred and Lonnie looked like they hadn’t slept either. We greeted each other with hi’s, squeezes on the arms, and nervous grins. Even Lonnie looked nervous. We waited until 4:30 and when the Howards didn’t show, the sheriff said we couldn’t wait any longer.
We were going to split into three groups. One group would be led by a deputy and Fred and go straight to the top of the cliff above the cave. Another deputy would lead my group and go up the river above the cave and walk downstream. The third group would follow Lonnie upstream from below the Blue Hole. It was this last group that had the hardest walk and was most likely to hit trouble. The sheriff was going to lead that party himself. The first group on the low bottoms that got within a hundred yards of the cave was to stop walking, give a whippoorwill call, then wait for it to be answered. When that happened, we were to come forward and join up. This way we would have swept the territory from above and both sides of the cave and the escape from inside it would be blocked.
“What happens then?” asked Bess.
“Then you people cover us while my deputy and me go in and get him.”
“Nobody else goes with you?” asked Dad.
“No, you all are our cover. All hell breaks loose, I expect you people with rifles t’ pick him off while he’s on th’ cliff face. Those with shotguns will move in and finish him off if he makes it down before a rifleman gets him. Now, you men remember we’re up there, and nobody fires unless the suspect has made it past th’ mouth of th’ cave! I don’t want my carcass full of lead again . . . had enough of that at Anzio. I don’t expect him t’ get out of th’ cave, though.”
“Just plan to go in shootin’, huh?” said Dad.
“That’s not so,” said the sheriff. “I don’t do things that way. When we get t’ th’ cave, I’m gonna call on him t’ come out. Shootin’ is a last resort.”
When Dad spoke again, he had a softer voice. “What I had in mind was George and Bess goin’ along. George can identify him, and Bess knew Collins. If it is him, maybe Bess could talk him into comin’ out and you wouldn’t have t’ shoot.”
The sheriff thought for a moment, then looked at Mr. Mac. “Can you climb that cliff?”
Mr. Mac answered hot, “I can climb hit as well as you can.”
“I’m right with y’ too, Sheriff,” said Bess.
The sheriff turned toward Dad. “That suit y’?”
“Yes it does,” Dad answered, and they kind of gave each other a look.
After that, the sheriff turned to the deputies. “Check everybody’s guns to see they’re unloaded. Load up when we get out of the cars and order safeties on. After that, nobody’s thumb touches a safety and no finger gets inside a trigger guard unless you plan t’ fire. And when we’re on th’ cliff face, nobody fires until one of us says fire.”
Each group drove fairly close to their spot near the cliffs, which meant they were about a half mile from the river, then they turned off their lights. Mr. Shackelford led the way to the river for my group since he knew the area best. I walked beside Dad and a deputy. It seemed like we went forever, then Mr. Shackelford said, “Okay, we can get down t’ the river easy at this spot.”
The deputy spoke: “Load your guns and put th’ safeties on. Be certain those safeties are on!” And everybody did.
In the east, it was getting light and I could make out the trunks and branches of trees that just a little while before had been blobs against the skyline. Somewhere on the bottoms, an owl was calling whooo . . . whooo . . . whooo, and it echoed against the cliffs.
It was tough getting down the slopes even though they wudn’t real cliffs. You couldn’t walk, you had to climb, and everybody slipped at least once, getting skinned up and cussing under his breath. Finally, we were on the bottoms and moving downstream. The closer we got to the cave, the quieter we walked. When we had about three hundred yards to go, we were brought up short by a whippoorwill call. It was so perfect I couldn’t tell if a bird or a man did it. It come again, and this time, the deputy answered just as perfect as the one from downstream.
The first I saw of the other group was a flash of skin, then a flannel shirt and some jackets appeared through the head-high, twisted and bent river brush. On the top of the cliff, a deputy rose out of nowhere looking like he was carved out of the sky, his feet wide apart, rifle in his arms. Then three or four more people appeared beside him. One of them I could tell was Fred from his size. When I looked ahead again, we were about thirty foot from Lonnie’s group, and people were nodding.
The sheriff walked in front of us and motioned Bess and Mr. Mac and the deputy to join him. Chills were running up and down my back. Lonnie looked excited too, standing there beside his pa, who had an arm around his shoulder.
“Okay,” whispered the sheriff. “Lonnie, Samuel, and Mr. Zilkinsky, you come with us and show us th’ path up the cliff. After that, Mr. Zilkinsky, you bring th’ boys back here. You other men, spread out wide and lie down. I want th’ safeties left on on every firearm. Nobody takes his eyes off th’ mouth of th’ cave. When we get on th’ cliff face, keep our position in mind every second. Do-not-fire-your-weapon-unless-the-suspect-is-out-of-the-cave-and-coming-down-the-cliff-face. If the suspect makes it out of th’ cave and you hear our order t’ fire, shoot and keep shootin’ until he stops movin’. He-is-not-to-escape! Everyone understand?”
There were more nods, then the sheriff and deputy and us started slowly moving forward. The lawmen were in front, Bess downstream, and Mr. Mac upstream, which made a little pocket, and it was in this that Dad and Lonni
e and I walked. We crept along half bent, the scraggly river brush pulling at our clothes and water-bared roots tangling our feet. The deputy stumbled and the sheriff gave him a dirty look. It was two hundred feet or more to the bottom of the cliff and my back began to hurt from being bent over. A couple of times I glanced up toward Fred. I knew he had to be dying, wanting to be down here with us. Suddenly, the sun peeked over a hill shedding its blinding light on the cliff face, making shadows from rocks that jutted out. I could see and hear everything so clear, the sound of feet on the sand, little twigs that brushed our bodies and flipped back, and the breath moving in and out of the sheriff’s windpipe.
We were only a short way from the path up when I saw a smear of red on the cliff face. Then another, and another. I stopped and pulled at Dad, who looked at me, then to where I pointed. Lonnie had stopped too by this time, but the sheriff and everybody else kept walking.
“Sheriff!” Dad whispered.
The sheriff whipped around. There was fire in his eyes, and he motioned us forward like he was mad. Dad didn’t speak, he just pointed and the sheriff turned back toward the cliff. He stood for an instant, then he saw the blood and swapped his rifle for the deputy’s scattergun and flicked off the safety. “Cover me,” he said softly. “Rest of you hold your fire ’til th’ deputy says shoot. Let him do any shootin’ my way.”
It took the sheriff forever to move that thirty, forty foot. His head was fixed straight in front, but I knew he was seeing everything. The deputy was near him clutching his rifle and little catches were happening in his breathing. He was scared. The second I saw that, I was scared too.
Finally, the sheriff waved us forward. When we got there he pointed to the ground. There were drops of blood, and footprints heading toward the river. They were big and straight, and made by work boots.
“He’s hurt and headin’ for th’ river,” the sheriff whispered.
“His footprints at th’ Blue Hole was bare and one was crooked,” Lonnie said soft.
“Well, they’re straight now, son, and covered with shoes,” said the sheriff. “You men go with th’ deputy and take th’ boys back t’ th’ group. I’ll join you soon.”
We did that and the sheriff followed the tracks. I watched him until he neared the river, then lost sight. He was gone a long time and people started looking worried. Boy, I was tired. I hadn’t slept since the night before last. My eyes burned and my head felt fuzzy.
“Hit’s not th’ crazy man,” Lonnie whispered to me. “He was barefooted and one foot was cloved. Bet I know who it is though.”
“Who?”
“LD’s pa,” he whispered again. “He was all het up last night and didn’t show this mornin’. I bet he come here before we did and got hisself knifed.”
It made sense. LD must have told his pa where to find the cave. Wudn’t any tracks going to the path so he probably climbed down to the cave from above, found the crazy man, got stabbed, and made it down the cliff face to the bottoms. He was probably hurt too bad to get back up the cliff and headed for the river. It was the only way out for him. But where was the crazy man? He could be anywhere by this time. A twig snapped, and I jumped.
Lonnie laughed. “Hit’s th’ sheriff. You think hit was th’ crazy man?”
I sure had.
“What’d y’ find?” asked Rags, when the sheriff got close.
The sheriff had a half-mad look on his face. “Dead end. Tracks end at the water’s edge. Whoever it was went into th’ river and didn’t come out. Something strange is goin’ on here. I don’t think those tracks were th’ suspect’s. Th’ only guy who could’ve known where th’ cave was other than th’ people here is Howard, and he’s th’ only one missin’.”
“Where’s th’ crazy man then?” asked Pers, popping his eyes.
The sheriff squenched his mouth. “Good question. Probably in some other cave by now, wilder’n ever. He could still be in that one though. Let’s do everything just like we planned. Mr. Clark, you and Mr. MacWerter come with me and th’ deputy.”
It was something to see old man Mac climb that cliff, his long-barreled pistol in its holster. When they reached th’ cave, they spread out on the edge of its mouth.
“You, in there,” the sheriff boomed. “Come on out. You’re surrounded!”
Nothing. About ten seconds later, the sheriff called again. “Come out with your hands up and you won’t be hurt. This is your final warning!”
Another ten to twenty seconds went by, then the sheriff waved to the deputy, who went in the downstream lip of the cave, while the sheriff leaped in the upstream edge. They stood there for an instant, pointing their guns, then the sheriff called for Bess and Mr. Mac. All four went inside and disappeared.
They were gone maybe five minutes. The first one out was Bess. He clambered down the cliff like a cat, half falling the last twenty feet. Everybody broke and run in his direction at the same time. Bess’ eyes were wider than I ever saw when he got to us.
“Hit’s Collins,” he gasped. “Deadest man I ever saw. Somebody shot him to pieces. Must’ve pumped two-three magazines int’ him ….30–30s,” and he opened his hands and showed spent cartridges. “Tore him to pieces . . . knife’s up there covered with blood . . . place looks like a slaughterhouse . . . God, hit’s awful,” and he kept babbling.
.30–30s! Ben! It wudn’t Howard, it was Ben! And he was hurt! Knifed! He knew somebody would find the blood and tracks so he headed for the river. He was bleeding bad but if he got a log and made it to the sandbar he could cut across country and maybe make it home. I had to get to Ben! I had to help him! While everybody was squeezed in around Bess I slipped away and headed downstream.
38
I ran bent over until past the Blue Hole, trying not to be seen, then straightened up and took off. This was a part of the bottoms I’d never seen before and it was hard going. I was already getting tired when I come to a big marsh. The only way across was to slog through since the marsh backed up against some bluffs that looked like they would crumble if I tried to climb them. The muck sucked at my legs, pulling me in up to the knees. By the time I got on solid ground I felt weak. The sandbar had to be a coming up soon. There was no choice after that but to turn inland because a little further on, the Big Bend cliffs started and they come right down to the water’s edge. I knew there was wild country ahead and I wudn’t sure what to expect. I kept on running, and when I come over top of a little mound, I saw a flattened gentle beach with big willow trees behind it and knew that was the sandbar. I went past it, then ran into the trees and away from the river.
The land went up quick, the high bottoms where running was easy only lasting about a quarter mile. Then came hills, mostly brush covered, but in places thick with blackberry and raspberry briars that ripped at my long-sleeved flannel shirt and Levi’s and pulled their thorns across the backs of my hands, leaving white tracks that popped out in blood. I kept watching for broken brush and blood, but there were no signs.
I thought about Ben while I ran. He’d saved my life and I had never done anything for him. Couple old presents he could’ve bought easy hisself. There were long stretches when I hardly even visited him. He’d always come through for me, though. If I had done what he told me to a long time ago, he wouldn’t be hurt now. Lonnie was my friend and I didn’t want him beat to pieces, but it was Ben who saved my life. All this stuff was my fault. I wudn’t a man like I should’ve been, and Ben was maybe dying because of it.
I was sucking wind when I come into taller timber. There were fewer briars, but still a lot of locust, which is worse than briars with its long needles. At the top of a hill, I got my first clear shot of the land ahead and stopped.
The river had made about half its big bend and stretched out straight into the distance. Great forests of trees and brush hid the haze-covered ground. A couple of spots looked familiar but only the river was certain. My eyes went blurry and my face felt drawn. I hadn’t slept in a long time. When I saw clear again, I took off downhil
l.
At the bottom of the hill was a ravine with a hickory grove. The ground flattened out into what looked like a silted-in creek bed with heavy dead grass and great high iron weeds with thick stalks. I raised my arms up to keep the leaves from hitting my face and crashed on through, but with my face covered like that I didn’t see th’ slanting barbwire fence until I ran into it. The top wire caught me just below the neck, then all the strands jabbed barbs into me as I spun down them like a corkscrew, their dragon’s teeth eating me alive.
When I got up, I hurt every place the barbs had touched. My left eye blurred, and I rubbed it with my shirttail. There was blood, but I could see clear again after I wiped it. Turned out my eye was okay, the blood was coming from my forehead and trickling down. I dug around one of the fence posts where the ground was loose and packed dirt from my eyebrows to my hair. That stopped the bleeding and I stood up and checked myself. There was mud nigh to my hips, my clothes were tore to pieces, and I was bleeding everywhere. Oozing though, not gushing. My left knee was a little stiff too. All in all though, things wudn’t bad. They just looked bad.
I was climbing the fence when a noise froze me straddle the wires. I held my breath and listened. Quiet. Then a squirrel leaped from one hickory tree to another. Wudn’t any other sounds but the breeze, so I figured it was the squirrel. It still bothered me because the sound seemed like it come from the ground. When nothing else moved, I swung my other leg over the barbwire and started running. It was uphill and down again and the ache that started in my upper legs sank to my calves. My side began bothering me, a real running side ache. Funny things started happening too. Trees and hillsides were stretching out of shape. I thought maybe it was more blood in my eyes and I put my hand to them but the only thing that stuck to my fingers was mud.
The hills got steeper and seemed to go up forever. At the top of one hill, the hickory trees quit and it was back to brush, locust, and blackberry briars. They took a lot of hide.
