Richard, with the superiority of his eleven years, answered, ""When they"re dead, n.o.body comes back, "cept if n they"re a ghost."

""Will she be a good ghost or a bad ghost?" Alice wanted to know, Rachel, now the oldest daughter, answered in an annoyed tone of voice, "There is no sech things as ghosts. Besides, Molly Ann is now an angel in Heaven at G.o.d"s side. An" he ain"t about to let her come back."

By that time Marylou and the children were down the hill out of earshot. Jeb turned to the two men. "I think a bit of squeezin"s mought be of he"p."

Preacher Dan nodded. "Gain"t hurt none. I"m bone-dry."

"Poller me up to the still," Jeb said. "I"ll lead the way."

After lunch, Jeb and Roscoe went out front, while Preacher Dan remained in the kitchen to speak to Marylou. The men sat down on the steps and lit up small black cigars. "I don" unnerstan"," Jeb said.

Roscoe looked down at the ground. "It was the on"y way they could break the strike. Ever"body trusted Jimmy. Now that he"s gone, they"s n.o.body. Already some of "em are goin" back to the mill."

"I don" know "bout that," Jeb said. "The Richfields alius been good friends. Why"d Glint do a thing like that?"

*"His pappy"s a mill foreman. The whole family"s scabbed through the strike."

""That"s no cause fer killin"," Jeb said. "We never done no thin" to them."

Roscoe glanced at Jeb. The mountain man had no conception of the differences between the workers and the millowners. To Jeb, everything was translated into very personal terms. Feuds were one thing-he had grown up with that; the strike was something else. He would never understand it. But then again, he couldn"t blame Jeb. He himself had not understood until after his father and his eldest son had been killed. At first, he too had been fighting a very personal war. But then he had come to understand just what it really was. It was obvious to him now that it was power and money feeding on the labor of people to create more power and money for itself.

""I know how you feel, Jeb," he said awkwardly. **I los" my paw and my oldest to them."

Jeb looked at him. ""And what did you do?"

"You know what I did," Roscoe answered. "I fought back. But now I don" know."

"Don" know what?"

"We been talkin", my woman an" me," Roscoe said. "We don" see no chance here now. Mebbe we"ll go up Detroit way. We hear the auto companies are hirin"."

Jeb was silent. After a moment he spoke. "I don" know as you^"d be content up there. Yer farmin" people, not city folk."

"What other choice we got?" Roscoe questioned. "It"s between workin" an" starvin". My woman got letters from her kinfolk. They makin" good money up there. Three dollars a day, sometimes more."

They fell silent for a long while. Finally, Jeb spoke. "I"ll be comm" down to town."

Roscoe looked at him. Jeb"s face was impa.s.sive. "When?" he said.

"Tomorrow momin"." Jeb looked at Roscoe. "Kin I count on you?"

Roscoe didn"t say anything for a moment, then nodded slowly. ""You know you kin."

She heard him stirring in the night. Then she felt him leave the bed and walk silently from the room. She lay there until she couldn"t stand it any longer. She got out of bed and went into the kitchen. It was empty.

She opened the door and looked out into the yard. He wasn"t there either. She went out into the chill night air and looked up the hill to the small cemetery. He was standing in the pale moonlight, looking down at the graves. The night chill ran through her.

Quickly she went back into the house and wrapped a warm shawl around her, then went up the hill to him. He heard her footsteps but did not look up. The small wooden crosses shone silver with the dew of night.

After a moment he spoke. "There was no reason fer Clint Richfield to shoot her. She was on"y a girl an" no part of their fight."

"You musn"t dwell on it," she said. "I"m tryin" not to."

"The Richfields "n" us"n has alius been friends. It don" make sense."

"The Lord"s will be done," she said. "We got to count our blessin"s. We got the other children, an" Dan"l"s doin" us proud. We got to be thankful fer that."

He turned to her. "Yer soundin" like Preacher Dan."

She looked up into his face. "He makes sense. Look to the future, not the past, he says."

"It"s easy fer him to say." Jeb"s voice was flat. "It"s not his daughter lay in" in that grave." Abruptly he started back down the hill to the house.

She watched him walking down the hill, then turned to look at the grave for a moment before starting down the hill after him. By the time she entered the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with the shiny black Win- Chester rifle in his hand and was slipping sh.e.l.ls into the magazine. A cold dread came over her. ""No, Jeb," she said. ""Don" doit."

He looked at her with the distant eyes of a stranger. He didn"t answer.

"No more killin", Jeb," she said. "It won" bring "er back."

"You don"t unnerstan"," he said. "It"s a matter of honor. How would it look if"n I let Clint git away with it?"

"I don" care how it would look!" she saicl pa.s.sionately. "You prove nothin" startin" a blood feud with the Richfields. They"ll come right back fer us an" then we"ll go after them an" soon there"ll be none of us lef to matter."

"I didn"t start it by killin" one of them," he said stubbornly.

"It don" matter who started it. On"y that you don" continue it! We got other children to think about. I don" want "em to be growin" up "thout a father."

"n.o.body goin" to kill me," he said.

"How can you be sure?" she cried.

He didn"t answer for a moment. Then he got to his feet. "Better I"d be dead an" layin" in a grave up there beside my daughter then to have the worl" lookin" down on me fer a coward."

She moved toward him, pressing herself against him, her hands gripping his shirt. "We kin have another baby, Jeb," she whispered. "Another Molly Ann."

He took a deep breath and slowly unfastened her hands and placed them back at her sides. "No, Marylou," he said gently. "That"s not the answer neither, an" you know it."

Through a blur of tears, she watched him walk to the door. He stopped and looked back at her. "I"ll be back by nightfall tomorrow," he said.

Somehow she found her voice. "Better wear somethin" warm," she said. "The night air is cold."

He nodded. "Fm takin" my sheepskin coat." Then he was gone, and she sank numbly into a chair. After a moment, she heard him clucking softly to the mule, then the rattle of the wagon as they went out of the yard onto the dark night road.

down, spreading the papers in front of him. He picked up a pencil and began scribbling laboriously on the sheets. This was the worst part of the job. Too many forms to fill out. d.a.m.n nosy state government. What business was it of theirs what went on in his county anyway?

Concentrating on his paperwork, he almost jumped out of his skin when the outside door burst open and Clint Richfield came in.

Clint was pale and sweating. ""I think Jeb Huggins is in town!"

The sheriff"s anger erupted. "G.o.d d.a.m.n you, Clint!" he roared. "Why didn"t you git outta town lak I tor you?"

"I couldn" see no reason to run," Clint said. "I was jes" performin" my sworn duty."

"Your sworn duty didn" include killin" the girl,"* the sheriff said sarcastically.

"I tol" you I saw him goin" fer a gun," Clint said.

The sheriff stared at him. "Dead men don"t reach fer guns."

"How"d I know he was dead?"

"Christ!" the sheriff swore. He looked down at his desk. Clint had been so well drilled in the story that he believed it himself. He pushed the papers on his desk back into a pile and looked up. "How d"ya know Jeb"s in town?" He got to his feet heavily. "Anybody see him?"

"My kid brother saw a strange mule "n" wagon out front of the Craig house on his way to school this momin". He came back to tell me."

"Mought be somebody else"s," the sheriff said. Inside himself he knew better. He drew a deep breath and took his gun belt from the peg on the wall behind him and strapped it on. He took out his big Ingersoll and looked at it. "The eight-fifteen"U be through here in about a half an hour. I"m goin" to put you on it."

c.u.n.t stared at him. "I gotta git home an" git my clothes."

""We"ll send you your clothes," the sheriff said. ""I got "nough to fret about "thout havin" another blood feud on my han"s."

The deputy returned from the cellblock. "They gone," he said, placing three crumpled dollar bills on the desk. "They all paid up "cept Tut. He didn" have no money."

"Tut never has no money," the sheriff said, picking up the bills and putting them in his pocket. "The cells clean?"

The deputy nodded. "I made "em sweep an" clean up afore I let "em go."

"Good." The sheriff nodded. "Now you take over here. Clint an" me"s goin" out fer a bit."

"Ain"t you goin" to git some deputies?" Clint asked nervously.

The sheriff shook his head. "Don" want to attract no attention. I know Jeb Huggins, we was kids together. An army wouldn" keep him off"n yer back. The way I figger it, we mosey along nice "n" quiet down the back streets an" come up on the railroad station from the far side of town."

The sweat ran down Clint"s cheeks. "But what if he finds us?"

The sherifTs voice was grim. "Then you better start prayin" that I kin talk him out of it. Jeb"s won every shootin" contest "roun" here fer the past twenty years." He paused for a moment, then, seeing Clint"s fear, added, "But don" worry--he won" fin" us."

Clint nodded, his Adam"s apple working tightly.

The sheriff reached fot his hat. "Okay, let"s go." Clint started for the door. The sheriff stopped him. "Not that way," he said. "We"ll go out through the jail door back of the building."

They came out back of the signal tower on the far side of the station. In the distance they heard the faint hoot of the train whistle. "You wait here,"* the sheriff said, "whilst I go down to the station and have a look-see. Don"t you come out less"n I signal you."

"Yes,Jase."

"Stay outta sight, now," the sheriff cautioned. "I don" want anybody spotting you."

"I will, Jase," Clint said, stepping back against the shadowed wall of the signal shack.

The sheriff glanced at him, then crossed the tracks toward the station. From what he could see, there was no one there except the usual station crowd. Pokey, the stationmaster, was trying to look important, even though he had nothing to do. A few old men and George, the porter, were waiting for the train.

Pokey was the first to see him as he stepped up onto the wooden platform in front of the station. "Howdy, Sheriff," he called out in his singsong trainman"s voice. "What brings you down our way this momin"? Plannin" to leave town?" He broke into a laugh at his own joke.

The sheriff didn"t laugh. "Not "zactly."

The voice came from the station doorway behind him. " "Zactly what brung you down here, Jase?"

The sheriff spun around. Jeb was standing in the doorway, his Winchester .30-30 resting lightly in the crook of his arm. "Howdy, Jeb," he said.

Jeb didn"t reply to the greeting. His voice was cold. "You didn" answer my question, Jase."

The sheriff eyed him warily. "I was jest moseyin" about this mornin". Happened to come down here."

"Wouldn" have happened to run across Clint Richfield in your moseyin" about, would you?"

"Now, c"mon, Jeb. You don" want no part o" that business. That strike got nothin" to do with you."

"It had nothin" to do with Molly Ann neither," Jeb said. "Still, he killed"er."

"It was an accident," the sheriff said. "They thought Jimmy was goin" fer a gun."

"Jimmy didn" have no gun," Roscoe said, appearing in the doorway behind Jeb. ""Besides, everybody knowed he was already dead."

"No way they could have," the sheriff said. He looked at Jeb. "You got to believe that, Jeb. n.o.body wanted to hurt your Molly Ann. Besides, they found a gun on the steps near Jimmy"s hand."

"They put it there after he was dead," Roscoe said.

"if n they did, I didn" now nothin" "bout it," the sheriff said quickly. "You know me since we was boys together, Jeb. You know I wouldn" have no part of a thing like that."

Jeb came out onto the platform, his eyes searching the area. The sheriff watched him cautiously. The train whistle hooted again, closer this time. Pokey and his station cronies were silent, their eyes on them. Silently, the sheriff prayed that Clint would stay in back of the signal shack and not try anything stupid. It was almost too much to hope that he would be smart enough to hide behind the train as it pulled into the station and board it from theiar side.

The whistle was louder this time. Jeb crossed to the edge of the platform, looking up the tracks to where the train would appear beyond the signal shack. He began to shift the rifle from one hand to the other, and by instinct the sheriff started to step away. He had no intention of being caught in the Une of fire, and he knew that if Jeb moved his rifle, Clint would think he had been spotted.

The sheriff was right. But not fast enough. Clint"s first shot caught him in the leg, and he tumbled to the platform.

Jeb was across the tracks and running toward the shack before the sheriflfhit the wooden planks. Roscoe jumped across the sheriff"s prostrate figure, following Jeb." He" s behind the signal shack!" he yelled after him.

The sheriff turned and pulled himself onto his hands. "G.o.d d.a.m.n it, Jeb!" he yelled. "Don" do it. It"ll on"y start another feud. They"ll come after you, then Dan"l-" The rest of his words were lost in the noise of the train as it pulled into the station, hiding their view.

He turned and saw the stationmaster and George staring at him. The Negro was the first to move. ""Yo" huht, Sher"f?"

"The son of a b.i.t.c.h shot me in the laig!" he yelled. "OfcourseTmhurt."

"Le"me he"p you, Sher"f," George said, coming toward him.

"Tokey kin help me!" the sheriff shouted. ""You git your black a.s.s up to my office an" bring back all the deputies you kin fin" there!"

George hesitated a moment, then jumped from the platform and began running up the street as the train pulled to a stop. As usual, the two mailbags tumbled to the platform, but no pa.s.sengers got on or off. "Pokey, git over here an" he"p me," the sheriff yelled at the stationmaster.