Five Miles to Paradise

22

"Here they come, Heck," I said, looking out the front sitting room sheers.

Three or four rag-tattered pickup trucks filled with dirt farmers in sweat-stained hats and overalls were rounding the corner. Sticking out of the cab and the backs of the trucks and stuffed in like cord wood, their pale faces, grimy with the day's work, peered straight ahead. The vehicles rolled to a stop outside Heck's front door.

"Good Lord," Heck muttered, reaching for his holster and strapping on his gun. "It's Clancy. I knew he'd show up sooner or later. Guess, it's gonna be sooner."

Heck finished buttoning his khaki shirt. I noticed the slight tremble of his fingers as he tried to force the buttons into the buttonholes.

"Klan?"

"Hell, yes. And some of the meanest 'uns I ever run across. You listen to me, Leah. You do exactly as I say, you hear me?"

I shook my head.

"Take this shotgun. No! Don't be skiddish. Take this shotgun. It's loaded and ready to fire," Heck said, taking the gun from the closet.

Now, I was the one trembling.

"Don't worry about trying to aim. If things go bad, just point it towards the front yard. Blow the hell out of the sittin' room windows, you hear me?"

I shook my head, again.

"Blow the hell out of them windows, but don't waste no time tryin' to see if you hit nuthin.' Run straight out the back. Fire at anythin' that moves, and get yourself over to Anjohn's. You hear me?"

I was in shock.

"Leah, get to Anjohn's! Fire at anythin' that moves!"

"Heck, they'll be in the back, too?"

"Yeah. I'm sure they'll have the house surrounded, but it's the only thing I can think of to do, right now."

"Heck!" I said, as he opened the front door.

"Don't say it, Leah. The walls may have ears."

I never said the words, but I knew Heck knew.

"Pray for us, Leah. Start prayin', and don't stop," he said, walking out onto the front porch.

The group who confronted Heck was dirty and sweaty from a long day's work. Heck glimpsed up at the sky. Dusk was falling. These men had been sharecropping all day in the hot sun, but roused by Clancy's venom, Heck knew they'd sprang into those trucks faster than fleas jumping on a prize coon hound.

They were ignorant and dirt poor. Many were on the verge of losing everything. Heck was certain some had gone without supper, breakfast, and maybe even lunch, today. When he stared into the crowd, he was struck by the haunted look of desperation in their eyes.

Rayanne blurred before his vision.

Great God in Heaven, please not now, he prayed.

His eyes rested on Clancy, and his head suddenly cleared.

There the old man stood, in all his glory, ruler of these ragged minions one meal shy of starvation. Heck knew he'd have to be careful. These were dangerous men, made so because they'd sunk to rock bottom. The only place left to fall was Hell.

Heck watched Clancy pull a hawk wad from deep inside his black lungs. The old man's throat rumbled and vibrated, and dark phlegm came spewing from his pressed lips, landing near Heck's boot. Heck never acknowledged the gesture.

His soft brown eye and steely ice-blue eye stared straight ahead into Clancy's black pupils.

"State yer biz'ness, Clancy. My supper's gittin' cold."