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Just a few months later, by a track on the edge of the enclave of the 'Men Apart', the boy
was hidden in some bushes near a battered shack with thick smoke rising from its roof.
Outside the shack a fearsome looking man stood conversing with a disheveled youngish
woman. After some time the man departed down the track, pulling his coverings tightly
about him. The woman watched him go, waving, then after an anxious look up and down
the track she turned to go inside. At this point the boy left the bushes and walked
confidently towards her. 'Excuse me, Miss...' 'The Ol' Hag save us!' The woman turned with a start. 'I thought you was the law! Where'd you come from then, young 'un?' She peered at him suspiciously. 'You from the town? You better get in here, quick!' She grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him inside. The shack was one room. It was quite large inside and full of smoke from a fire in the center making the boys eyes burn but in one corner he noticed immediately a group of men sitting on the floor, drinking. The woman grabbed the boy by both arms and shook him. 'Now, boy,' she said shrilly. 'What d'you say. Where d'you come from?' 'I.. was looking for someone. I got lost. Is this... where the 'Men Apart' live?' The woman gripped him tighter. Her nails dug into his arm. She was obviously frightened. 'Who are you boy? Who d'you say you're looking for?' 'My father is the Shopkeeper. I am looking for...' One of the men had by now arisen and crossed the room. He seized the boy, tearing him away from the woman. 'What d'you want with us then, Shopkeeper's son? We're just simple folk here.' 'I was looking for the old man, Thomas,' said the boy confidently. 'The Keeper of the Catalogues, my father calls him. I got lost.' 'Give him a glass of beer, Betty, and send him on his way,' shouted another of the men, still seated. The man and the woman looked at each other, then at the boy. 'You want some?' said Betty and the boy nodded. The man released him roughly and went to sit down again while Betty poured a mug of beer from a container at the back. She motioned that he should sit on the floor. The beer tasted unpleasant. 'You don't like our beer?' said Betty eventually. 'No.' 'Give it back then. No point in waste. You really the Shopkeeper's son, like you said?' Carl nodded modestly. 'You be Shopkeeper yourself one day?' 'I remember that 'un.' An anonymous shout came through the smoke. 'Weren't he the one Matthew caught out there and beat up on? Some people never learn.' 'But you don't know where the Keeper lives?' said Betty. Carl shook his head. He was peering through the smoke trying to get a better look at the men in the corner. 'Are those men hunters?' 'Two of 'em is hunters and two of 'em is seekers, I reckon, though I doubt it's any business of yours. Not yet anyways.' Carl paid no attention to her reproach. 'What are their names?' 'Nosy, aren't you?' she said. 'For such a young 'un.' Suddenly one of the men was standing over them. 'They call me Sam Savage, little boy. Over there is Mr. Butes Griffon, Mr. Andrews, Mr. Cullen. Say how d'you do, boy.' The boy saw the other men waving dimly through the smoke. 'That satisfy your curtiosity now?' Mr. Savage grabbed the boys hair and with it, pulled him to his feet. He brought the boy's face close to his and said, 'Hey the Mr. little Shopkeeper, what you people in that town think about us anyways?' 'They think we got a good life!' Came the anonymous shout. 'What's that father of yours say?' said Savage and the boy squirmed, trying to free his hair. 'I don't know, sir. I don't know what he thinks.' 'You must know something, boy.' Savage shook him some more, getting a firmer grip. There was no humor in his voice. His eyes were bloodshot. His breath smelled foul. 'My Ma..., 'squealed Carl.' 'Go on, boy. I'm listening. What' she say?' The boy was in too much pain by now to say anything. 'I'll tell you what she says. How we hold back on what we got to get high prices. How we got places where we lead an easy life. Well this is one of them places, boy. You found us out! She say how we suck the blood out of this town too?' 'Now, Sam Savage, remember that boy's father' said Betty, anxiously. 'I'm not going to hurt him. Just tell him a few things maybe he don't know. What's you name, boy? I know, it's Carl. Just like your pa, huh? You know how much I gotta pay in tax, Carl? You know how much nine parts of ten is?' Savage swung Carl as if he was a sack. 'If I were to pull this stinking head of yours off that'd be about all I'd get to keep!' As Carl squealed and tried desperately to cling to Savage's arm to relieve the pain, Betty was screaming and the other men were shouting and wrestling with their friend. As suddenly as he was taken Carl was released, falling to the floor while the adults continued to struggle. Abruptly, Savage tore himself away from the others and fell on top of the boy, almost crushing him with his weight. 'I'd kill you, boy, if it were up to me. That's what you'd do to me. That's what it's all about, killing folks like us. I'd get you for Pinter and his woman. They were friends of mine, boy. But all burned up now. Burned up together...' The boy's terror faded suddenly as Savage was dragged away from him. Someone was shouting 'What's going on here? Is that beer you're serving Betty Parsons? If it is there's trouble coming. Hello, who's this? Would you believe it?' said the Sheriff, 'it's young Carl!' On the way back to the town the Sheriff was kind to Carl. He said, 'I know you've been doing things you shouldn't, boy. For two pins I'd take you to the Magistrate except then they'd have to hang you for sure. Now, I've got more sense than that. I might need your pa one day in a bad winter. And one day you'll be Shopkeeper yourself. You'll remember this. You owe me one.' The boy had already recovered his self-confidence. 'What about the Pinters then, Sheriff?' he said impudently. 'I'll tell you the law and nothing more.' grunted the Sheriff. 'Then if you've got any sense at all you'll ask no more stupid questions. The law says that once them hunters go beyond the town line they've got to be alone. Two together, that's a crime. They get hanged, right there on the spot; man or woman, makes no difference. And there's another thing. If any should be so stupid as to think they can get away, you know move out, build themselves a house out there, I'll tell you what we do: we take them that built it and we put them in it and set a fire to it and burn 'em up. So we had the Pinters both ways, see?' With the Sheriff Carl confronted his father while Becky cried in another room comforted by her eldest daughter, Ruth. Becky latest baby had died and, while she was physically well, she was emotionally drained and the sound of her tears filtered in beneath the dark beams, about the single precious candle on the mantle, along the damp walls. Through the windows the faces of Carl's two younger brothers peered in through distorted glass at the terror of the Sheriff. 'I won't take him to the Magistrate' said the Sheriff, 'but he'll have to see the Pastor. You must report him yourself, Shopkeeper. It's the least that must be done.' The Shopkeeper had no choice and then they whispered behind his back: 'Poor man. He's worried about his wife. And that son of his! The Pastor had to speak to him. That boy's a problem and he'll get worse. You can be sure of that.' |
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