Confederate Money. Paul Varnes
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 hand was on the rifle stock. He didn’t even have a finger on the trigger.
While seeing all this, I had my eyes focused on Hawkface and Red. My twelve-gauge, on full cock, was pointed at Red’s belly as I heard myself say, “If you want to live, don’t move.” My voice was much stronger and more powerful than any words I had ever heard out of me.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bud reach for a pistol that was lying on the bar and Henry bring the butt of his rifle up under Bud’s jaw. Everything was a blur to me as Bud fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Then Red started talking real fast and reached for a rifle.
As I had been instructed, I pulled the trigger but the gun didn’t go off. One problem with old guns that have to be primed with powder is that sometimes the priming powder sputters for a few seconds before the gun goes off. Sometimes it doesn’t go off at all. There I was holding a sputtering gun on Red and him getting his rifle. I was praying my shotgun would fire.
At a glance Henry saw what was happening. He pulled down his rifle from having hit Bud in the jaw, and shot Red in the side of the head. Somehow in those moments I remembered Henry biting down on the percussion cap before we came inside. If he hadn’t, the cap would have come off the nipple when he hit Bud, and the rifle wouldn’t have fired when he shot Red. Henry had planned the whole thing.
I was still holding a twelve-gauge with a sputtering primer. Since Hawkface was also moving into action, I pulled the shotgun around toward him. As luck would have it, the shotgun went off when I lined it up on Hawkface. That ended the altercation except for Sam, who had reached under the bar.
Having picked up the pistol Bud had been reaching for, Henry leveled it on Sam, but spoke to me, “We can do this legal, or we can kill them all and walk out. What do you say, Ben?”
I heard myself say, still in that authoritative voice, “It don’t matter to me. Let’s let Sam decide.”
Sam said, “Boys, I’ll do whatever it takes. Let’s do it the clean way. There’s a shotgun under the bar. I’ll feel better if one of you comes around and gets it.”
As I went around the bar to get the shotgun, the woman came out of the back room screaming. I thought she was going to have a stroke.
His voice cold enough to freeze hot water, Henry said, “Shut up and sit on that stool,”
She sat, but kept on sniveling.
Henry said to Sam, “Step outside and look at those horses.”
When they returned, Sam was saying, “The three of them rode up on those horses. They were leading the mule. The Bar-S brand belongs to a little planter north of here. I don’t have any idea about the Flying W. It’s not from around here. The slick horse, the unbranded one, could be from anywhere. I’ve seen those men before but don’t know much about them.”
After going through Bud’s and his friends’ pockets, Henry said, “I only find six dollars and forty cents. They had a ten dollar gold piece that belonged to me.”
“It’s in the drawer. Take it and go,” Sam said.
Henry said, “No. You two worked for your pay. These three owe me three dollars and sixty cents, and for the chickens and eggs. Until someone claims them, and proves ownership, I’m taking these men’s outfits and weapons as payment. I’m also going to write out the story just as it happened and all four of us are going to sign