bickering as they rode, one calling the other stupid, the other retorting in kind.
They entered the trees and circled between the pines. I stood still as time, waiting for them to see me. The man my daddy had hit with the splinters from the wagon stopped at the tree next to the one where I hid. The side of his face was puffy and bloody, the eyelid swollen nearly shut. Still, if he moved, if he looked straight on ...
My heart thudded in my chest, and the terror I’d held down threatened to swoop up and out in a never-ending scream of fear and pain. My eyes streamed with the effort to be silent, to be still. The man coughed and spat, his face coming up and around to where I huddled. I closed my eyes and silently whispered my last plea for forgiveness.
“ Jake!” one of the others shouted. “Anything?”
To my left, Jake answered, but I dared not turn my head to look. I dared not move. Another of them shouted something from beyond the trees.
“ She’s gone,” the bloodied man beside me said. “I say let’s git too. Ain’t nothing she can do out here but die.”
The truth of that added another layer to my horror.
The four of them gathered close to the trees, and I trembled with the effort to remain motionless. They conferred for a moment that lasted so long my hands felt numb and my legs weak. And then single-file they rode out. As the last man spun his horse around, I caught one clear look at him.
It was Lonnie Dean Smith all right.
I bit hard on my lip, choking back the sob. I stayed where I was until they’d left the cove, until they’d ridden up and over the ridge. Unmoving I stared at their tracks. Is that how they’d found my family? Followed our tracks from our front door? But how were they free? I’d seen the brothers taken away in handcuffs to await their execution. How were they here when they should be in jail? Locked up. Ready to hang?
My daddy had known they’d break free. He’d known that they’d come for him. That’s why he’d wanted us to leave as we had, in the dead of the night with only a wagon full of possessions. Daddy had known the Smith brothers wouldn’t hang. He’d known they’d hunt for him. He hadn’t known how fast, though, or with what determination.
The horses were on the move again, and I cowered in the pine as they passed back down the valley toward the trees where I hid. They came close enough that I could have reached out and touched them as they passed by. The last man towed Daddy’s two horses behind him. Both animals were ladened with supplies they’d pilfered.
I made myself as small as I could, waiting for the moment they would see me. The earth shook as they rode past and then quieted as they continued onward. Warily I looked after them. A dust cloud followed them up the next hill and then they disappeared down the other side.
Branches pulled at my hair and snagged my clothes as I scurried down from the tree. My hands were sticky with sap, and my arms were scratched and bleeding. I hit the ground, wiggled out from under the boughs, and then raced toward the camp, silent lest my voice carry and bring them back. Great billowing waves of black smoke rose up from the valley where we’d stopped. As I reached the hilltop, I saw our wagon ablaze and all our things burning like midnight torches. I half-ran, half-stumbled down the other side to the inferno.
“ Momma!” I shouted. My daddy and brother still lay where they’d been gunned down. I ran to them, touching their bloodied and broken bodies with shaking hands. Most of Johnny’s face had been blown away, half of Daddy’s head. There would be no miracle of survival for either.
I stood, my hands red with their blood. “Momma!” I cried again. “Grandma!”
No one answered. Holding my apron up to my face, I circled the hot flames to the place where I’d seen my grandmother’s wheelchair. Now I saw what had been hidden before, my grandmother’s wasted body, bloody with gunshots, sprawled on the
They entered the trees and circled between the pines. I stood still as time, waiting for them to see me. The man my daddy had hit with the splinters from the wagon stopped at the tree next to the one where I hid. The side of his face was puffy and bloody, the eyelid swollen nearly shut. Still, if he moved, if he looked straight on ...
My heart thudded in my chest, and the terror I’d held down threatened to swoop up and out in a never-ending scream of fear and pain. My eyes streamed with the effort to be silent, to be still. The man coughed and spat, his face coming up and around to where I huddled. I closed my eyes and silently whispered my last plea for forgiveness.
“ Jake!” one of the others shouted. “Anything?”
To my left, Jake answered, but I dared not turn my head to look. I dared not move. Another of them shouted something from beyond the trees.
“ She’s gone,” the bloodied man beside me said. “I say let’s git too. Ain’t nothing she can do out here but die.”
The truth of that added another layer to my horror.
The four of them gathered close to the trees, and I trembled with the effort to remain motionless. They conferred for a moment that lasted so long my hands felt numb and my legs weak. And then single-file they rode out. As the last man spun his horse around, I caught one clear look at him.
It was Lonnie Dean Smith all right.
I bit hard on my lip, choking back the sob. I stayed where I was until they’d left the cove, until they’d ridden up and over the ridge. Unmoving I stared at their tracks. Is that how they’d found my family? Followed our tracks from our front door? But how were they free? I’d seen the brothers taken away in handcuffs to await their execution. How were they here when they should be in jail? Locked up. Ready to hang?
My daddy had known they’d break free. He’d known that they’d come for him. That’s why he’d wanted us to leave as we had, in the dead of the night with only a wagon full of possessions. Daddy had known the Smith brothers wouldn’t hang. He’d known they’d hunt for him. He hadn’t known how fast, though, or with what determination.
The horses were on the move again, and I cowered in the pine as they passed back down the valley toward the trees where I hid. They came close enough that I could have reached out and touched them as they passed by. The last man towed Daddy’s two horses behind him. Both animals were ladened with supplies they’d pilfered.
I made myself as small as I could, waiting for the moment they would see me. The earth shook as they rode past and then quieted as they continued onward. Warily I looked after them. A dust cloud followed them up the next hill and then they disappeared down the other side.
Branches pulled at my hair and snagged my clothes as I scurried down from the tree. My hands were sticky with sap, and my arms were scratched and bleeding. I hit the ground, wiggled out from under the boughs, and then raced toward the camp, silent lest my voice carry and bring them back. Great billowing waves of black smoke rose up from the valley where we’d stopped. As I reached the hilltop, I saw our wagon ablaze and all our things burning like midnight torches. I half-ran, half-stumbled down the other side to the inferno.
“ Momma!” I shouted. My daddy and brother still lay where they’d been gunned down. I ran to them, touching their bloodied and broken bodies with shaking hands. Most of Johnny’s face had been blown away, half of Daddy’s head. There would be no miracle of survival for either.
I stood, my hands red with their blood. “Momma!” I cried again. “Grandma!”
No one answered. Holding my apron up to my face, I circled the hot flames to the place where I’d seen my grandmother’s wheelchair. Now I saw what had been hidden before, my grandmother’s wasted body, bloody with gunshots, sprawled on the
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