The Last Good Day, стр. 6

”I need a hat too,” Tommy said. “I can buy my own. I got five dollars I swiped from Mr. Harden.”

“That’s the kind of talk that would have got me a serious whipping when I was a boy, Tommy” Rance said. “But considerin,’ I think he owed you that. Right, B.W.?”

“Right,” B.W. said. “You still drunk?”

“Pretty well wore off now. A couple hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m for that,” B.W. said. “How ‘bout you, Tommy, you bushed?”

“Pretty much.”

“How old are you boy?” B.W. asked.

“Twelve, I think. Not real sure.”

“Was your mama murdered?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“The blacksmith said something about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Tommy said.

“Okay,” B.W. said.

They rode into a clump of trees and dismounted.

“I’ll unsaddle the horses,” Tommy said.

“That’s right kind of you boy,” Rance said as Tommy led the horses to a low-hanging tree limb.

Next morning, Rance was having trouble tightening the girth on his saddle. Tommy ran over and grabbed the girth to help.

“I can do it, boy, don’t need your help.”

Tommy turned the girth loose and Rance continued wrestling with it.

“Boy was just trying to help, major,” B.W. said.

“Don’t need no help.”

“Yes you do,” B.W. said. “Me or the boy can tighten that for you, or you can be stubborn and take forever to do it. Which is it?”

Rance stopped pulling and dropped his head. “Yeah, go ahead,” he said and backed away from his horse. “Not much of a man anymore.”

“You’ll have to do some things different now, that’s all,” B.W. said.

Rance didn’t say anything and waited for B.W. to tighten the girth and climbed on his horse. They rode a ways and saw buzzards circling in the distance.

“Want to have a look?” Rance asked.

“Might as well,” B.W. said.

They came to a burned-out house and barn. Buzzards were swarming the half-eaten carcasses of a horse in a corral with what looked like two bullet holes in his neck.

“Think it was Indians?” Rance asked.

“No,” B.W. said. “They would have stolen that horse, to ride or eat. Don’t see any bodies.”

“Not much of anything, really,” Rance said. “Everything’s burnt to a crisp.”

“There’s wagon tracks and hoof prints leadin’ out of here,” B.W. said. “Must have made a run for it.”

Tommy came running up, carrying three jars of canned peaches. “Look what I found in the cellar. There’s more if we want them.”

“Good job, boy,” B.W. said. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Rance said.

“May taste better if we move over the hill to get away from the smell,” B.W. said.

“Yeah,” Tommy said and handed Rance and B.W. a jar of peaches. “I’ll get the horses.”

“Well one thing you gotta say for that boy, he’s helpful,” B.W. said.

“He is,” Rance said.

Tommy led the horses over the hill and Rance and B.W. followed and sat down under a big oak and the wind picked up the smell.

“Well I guess we eat with the stench or don’t eat at all,” Rance said.

“After the last four years ain’t nothin’ much gets in the way of me eatin’ when I’m hungry,” B.W. said.

“Yeah, me too,” Rance said.

“What you goin’ to do when you get to the valley, major?” B.W. asked.

“Not sure. The Union commandeered our land that’s been in the family for over a hundred years, don’t think I can get it back. Mainly just wanted to visit my wife and daughter’s graves, didn’t get a chance to bury anyone else. What about you?”

“Thought about practicin’ law. The tribe sent me to law school with the help of a white man named William Holland Thomas. He became chief after Drowning Bear died. Only white man to ever be chief of the Cherokee. He thought the tribe needed an Indian representin’ them. For all I know he could have been my papa. I may not even be an Indian.”

“Heard of him. Led the Cherokee against the Union,” Rance said. “ I’ll say one thing for him – he never lost a battle to Union troops. Probably should have been leading the Confederacy instead of Lee.”

“Lee was so impressed with himself he didn’t think he could lose,” B.W. said.

“How come you didn’t have any rank with an education like you have,” Rance said.

“Didn’t want any. Didn’t tell them about the schoolin’ or the colored part. Tried to make me a sergeant a couple of times when they found out I could read and write but I turned it down. Didn’t waste no time getting rid of me when the war was over.”

“I went to West Point,” Rance said. “Kind of the same thing in reverse. Was fighting Apaches when the war broke out. By the time I got home it was too late, everyone was dead. The Yankees hung my papa from his front porch and burned the house down around him and my mama. Nothin’ left of them to bury. Murdered my wife and daughter as they ran away. My neighbor Julie and her family found them and buried them for me. Had two brothers killed fightin’ for the union in ‘61. Don’t know where they are. Resigned my commission when I got a letter from Julie telling me what happened at home. Paid a visit to my wife. Spent some time there grieving and joined the Confederates. We never owned any slaves and my pa hadn’t fired a shot against no one. No need for what they did, no need at all. Destroyed our farms and slaughtered our families because they could.”

B.W. stared off into the distance studying the soft white clouds, wrinkling his nose at the smell, eating his peaches. “Sorry ‘bout your family,” he said. “Only one I had was my mama. I liked being an Indian. Now I can’t go back. Seams we both have good reasons for what we did. If you look at our point of view.”

“Did what I thought I had to do at the time,” Rance said.

“I had a good reason for what I did. Me and Mama was slaves,” B.W. said, digging in the can of peaches with his