than her eyes taking on a twinkle.
Ma took to Henry right off. She started mothering him like an old hen with only one chick. Don’t you know the first thing she did was to take the cover from over the food on the table and make him eat? Although he had eaten two hours before, he didn’t say a word about it.
Henry had a natural way of getting along with women. I don’t know if it was his size, good looks, big shoulders, smooth way with words, or the way he respected them, but the girls, old and young, were sure cow-eyed about him. My oldest sister Lilly was no exception. Ma wasn’t either. Ma commented later that if she had been four or five years younger she would have staked a claim. Henry didn’t chase after the girls though. Being the last of the kids at home, and being raised alone, I guess he was a little shy at first. Lilly was thunderstruck the minute Henry walked in the door. Wherever she went, and whatever she was doing, she kept looking at him. Though not yet fifteen, she looked seventeen. All the boys for twenty miles around were panting over her like a pack of hot hounds after a fox chase. Lilly was the spitting image of Ma, but was eighteen years younger.
We didn’t have a big family. In addition to Lilly, I also had a younger brother and sister, and one who died as a baby. Pa went off to the war when it first started. We already had a letter saying he had been killed.
As he finished a plate of food, Ma gave Henry a piece of pie.
After taking one bite, he said, “That’s the best pie I ever stuck a fork in.”
Lilly had made those pies and I thought she was going to melt down like butter on a hot biscuit. The strange thing was that Ma took it as a bigger compliment. But then she was the one who taught Lilly to make pies. I’m telling you Henry could do no wrong around women. Not that I’m complaining, over the years I got close to more women by just standing around him than most men do from trying.
Ma insisted on Henry having a second piece of pie, which was a little strange. She always told us kids that one piece of pie or cake was enough. I took advantage of the situation by getting a piece for myself. When no one even noticed me get the pie, I decided I was going to stick to Henry, figuring that as long as there were womenfolk around neither of us would go hungry.
After eating, Henry sat there and told us lots of the story.
Finishing the story, he turned to Ma and said, “I’ve got to be going and get my mule and things back. It would be helpful if you would let me borrow a butcher knife, or an ax, to use as a weapon. I promise to bring it back.”
I could see Ma was going to tell him he couldn’t go, but she didn’t. Lilly looked horrified when Henry said he was going, but she didn’t speak. She hadn’t said much since he set foot in the house. She had never before been that quiet in her life, except in church.
Suddenly the expression on Ma’s face changed and she said, “You’ll take Ben’s shotgun.” That’s me of course, Ben. “Ben, you’ll take the rifle and go with him.”
Once she made the decision she scurried around and got everything ready. I couldn’t believe it then and I can’t believe it now. There she was sending her own boy off with a stranger to possibly shoot someone.
When we started out the door Henry put the sauce on the goose’s tail. Without saying a word he picked up Ma’s hand, kissed the back of it, and walked off. As we vanished into the woods she was still standing in the doorway with her hand out in front of her just like he left it.
What everyone should have been doing was laughing at that overgrown barefoot boy who was wearing my pants that were five inches too short, and my shirt that was so tight he couldn’t get even one button buttoned. His shoulders and arms were exceptionally big from using an axe and grubbing hoe. Standing six feet tall and weighing 180 pounds, at almost eighteen years old, Henry was almost as big as his natural pa had been.
After getting out of sight of Ma, we switched weapons. I preferred the shotgun and Henry preferred a rifle. Also, my shotgun hadn’t been modified to use percussion caps. It still had to be primed with powder before the flint was struck. Henry had never used one like that. The rifle was also an old one but it had been modified to use percussion caps. Pa had taken the newer rifle to war with him.
Being upstream from Bud’s gang, we headed straight for the river. I had a dugout beached there and it would be easier crossing in it. Also, they wouldn’t see us cross that far upriver and around a bend.
Once across the river we eased up to where we had last seen Bud’s gang, but they were gone. Their tracks led toward Fort White, fifteen miles to the east. Dark was settling in and we were moving pretty fast on their trail when it came to me that they were going to Sam’s place. Sam’s is a two-room store and bar that Sam also lives in. They were headed straight for it.
I told Henry about Sam’s as we walked. There wasn’t much to tell. It was three more miles east of us. A big front room had store-type goods in one end and a bar with four stools across the other. The bar end is closest to the door. The other room serves as a house for Sam. In order to keep the place as busy as possible, Sam is known to keep a woman around when he can.
Henry asked, “Does Sam keep any dogs around the place?”
I said, “There has never been one when I was there. But it’s been over a year since I last went there with Pa.”
He put me in front to lead and didn’t say another word.
When we got to Sam’s, Smokey and three horses were tied up at the hitching rail.
Henry said, “You stay here.”
Squatting down in the dark, I waited.
He was back in five minutes, and said, “All three of them are here. There’s also a big ugly man behind the bar. Red’s in the back room with a woman.”
“The man behind the bar is Sam,” I said.
“You wait here and don’t start anything until I say,” Henry said.
“Why don’t we just get the mule and go?” I asked. I was thinking, Me start something, not likely.
Henry said, “They have my ten dollars and have eaten my chickens. They also have my weapons inside.”
Since I could see there would be no reasoning with him, I hunkered down in the dark to wait. I was still wondering why Ma had volunteered me for this.
Back in ten minutes, Henry said, “They’re all in the front room now except the woman. We’re going in the front door. I’ll go in first and take Bud. He’s at the far end of the bar. You step in behind me and cover Hawkface and Red, but keep your gun on Red’s belly. He’s the crazy one.”
He paused for a moment, put his hand on my shoulder, and asked, “Can you do this? Can you shoot Red if he moves?”
Feeling his hand on my shoulder, I had a warm feeling and my confidence was building. It was suddenly like he was a big brother.
I said, “Yes. Ma told me to. I can do what’s needed.”
Henry bit the percussion cap tight around the nipple of his rifle before he stepped through the door. I thought the cap might explode in his mouth but it didn’t. He then walked straight through the door to Bud, who turned as Henry came in. Henry’s left hand was on the rifle barrel and his right
