Cain's Mark

2

I drove up and parked near the barn. I figured anybody with livestock would have to feed, water, and sometime, clean the stalls. My hunch was correct. Cephas was in the last stall shoveling manure.

I heard the rhythmic scraping and dumping of the shovel. I made sure he heard me coming.

Alerted to my presence, Cephas was smiling when I rounded the corner and appeared in front of the stall door.

"Well," he said. "I ain't had the pleasure since Gearldean got mad and knocked out Lugene Birts at the Feed 'n Seed several years back."

"I know," I said. "I remember. Your wife packed a killer right hook."

"Ex-wife," Cephas said.

"My mistake," I said.

"What do you want, Harlest?" he asked.

"I am on official business, Cephas," I said. "What do I call it. I'm tryin' to check your welfare."

"I'm getting money?" Cephas asked.

"Not that kind of check," I said. "I'm just making sure you're okay. Neighbors and folks in town ain't seen you for quite a spell. Some got kinda' worried you was maybe sick."

"Or laid up dead," he said.

"That too, maybe," I said. "Anyway, they ain't seen you in a month of Sundays, and I was tasked with making sure you were still walking among us living."

Cephas bent over, shoveling a particularly large amount of manure and straw mix and slinging it at his cart.

'At' being the operative word.

I watched as clumps of dried dung bounced off my shoe nearest Cephas.

"Good aim," I said. "And since I see for myself that you ain't dead or incapacitated, I'm going to head back into town. Nice chattin' with you, Cephas."

"Sorry I can't say the same," he said, resuming his work.

I drove back into town, parked at the station, ready to fill out my report, call the sheriff, and be done with Cephas Stump.