Don't Poke the Bear!

Chapter 47

I HAD JUST busted the last piece from a giant rock and signaled Eddie to come shovel the pieces into his wheel barrow. It ain't my job to help him do that, and I'd get punished if I tried to, since that eight minutes or so between loads is the only time I get to put my hammer down and sit. I'm sittin' there, lookin' at the size of the rocks they're getting' ready to bring me later this afternoon and can't imagine tryin' to bust 'em, they're so big. As always, my thoughts turn to Gentry, and I try to imagine her lyin' next to me, and hope she ain't forgotten or given up on me yet. I'm much older than she is, and it would make sense for her to move on and find a young feller to raise a family with.

I hope she don't, but she probably should.

Those are the thoughts I'm havin' this hot afternoon in August when the first shots are fired. Everyone ducks for cover, as a band of men come ridin' their horses hell bent for leather from the east.

The guards have never been fired on since I been here, and they're in a panic. Several go down from that first wave. But the rest take up positions behind whatever structures they can, and begin returnin' fire, which makes the attackers turn tail and gallop off.

Just as the guards begin celebratin', another band of men attacks 'em from the west! They don't appear to be shootin' at anyone wearin' gray, but the blue coats are fallin' like flies. Just as the guards turn to face the new enemy, another group comes at 'em from the east again, and gets 'em in a crossfire. It quickly becomes clear that the attackers are just playin' with the guards, because they keep dartin' in and out from either side, back and forth, usin' a push me-pull you kind of strategy.

Within minutes, the outdoor guards are out of ammunition. They stand to surrender, and are cut down by enemy fire. The only guards with ammunition are the five or six who were in the railroad car when the attack started. But they don't last long. Every time one of 'em tries to take a shot, a hundred attackers shoot back. There must be three, maybe four hundred men doin' the attackin'. When the battle's over, twenty or thirty of 'em bust through the railroad car door and remove all the ammunition and weapons and then gather the guns from the dead guards on the ground.

When the prisoners realize the battle's over and the guards dead, they stand up and cheer fit to beat the band.

I cheer right along with 'em.

We all move to the area where the horsemen have congregated. They accept our cheers and accolades for a minute, and then motion us to quiet down.

A lone rider comes up from somewhere behind them, and works his way through the center of the sea of horses and riders. When he speaks, I recognize his voice.

It's William Clarke, the school teacher.