barbandpat66@suddenlink.net Pat Thanks for your time, and your attention.
It galled Slim considerably that Sam was
so weak and soft about even killing a squirrel, much less a man. He talked to
Dolly and Millie about it.
“That
dern Sam ain’t never even killed a squirrel. She’ll shoot at um and pretend,
but I know what the trouble is. She’s chicken hearted through n’ through. Well,
it takes some kids longer than others to get hardened up. I’ll just use her on
guard duty awhile. She’s smart. She won’t never let a man coming up here get
anywhere close. Shoot his hat off, shoot his gunstock, er somethin’ like that.
She can scare ‘im off. Let her grow up a little. Give her a little time. She’ll
be more valuable than gold to us after the war, when she comes around. Last
resort, I may have to make a peddler outa her. She’d make a dandy one, way she
likes people.”
Under normal circumstances, Slim would
probably not be so patient with Sam. But he was too busy right now finding new and
creative places to hide all that money and other valuables that was coming in
to be too worried about Sam.
So, Sam spent most of the war years on
guard duty. She had to shoot close enough to several men to scare them off, but
she never hit a man. And she never would. She’d rather die. Or, at the very
least, she’d rather not.
Chapter Two
Bad Bob Dudley was always a trouble maker
in the clan. He did not take bossing well from Slim, and he loved to go into
town, get dog drunk, and talk too much. Bob was twenty-four years old. Even by
Slim’s standards, he was far too rough and mean to younger members of the clan,
and he was not overly smart. Truth be known, he was dumb as a rock. Slim knew
stupidity and a mean, vindictive nature, on top of being a loudmouth and
spouting off too much added up to make him a loose cannon in the clan, and Slim
didn’t need a loose cannon. He was sick of Bad Bob. Slim took him aside one
day.
“ Bob, you’re a grown man now. You don’t
seem to fit in well here. Pack up and leave. In two days, if you’re still here,
we’ll have another talk. There are Dudley kinfolk in Tennessee, one of Ted
Dudley’s brothers, Clint. They left here some years ago. Talk to Ted. Maybe you
would fit in better with them. Hope you and I don’t talk again. You won’t like
it if we do.” Slim had to smile to himself as he left Bad Bob in tears. He shut
the door behind himself, thinking; Clint
and that uppity wife of his got ta
thankin’ they were jest a wee bit better than the rest of us Dudley’s. Let them
deal with th’ likes of Bob awhile. Then we’ll see jest how good they really are.
That Serenity was always crowin’ about comin’ direct from th’ founders of this
whole outfit. Well, that ain’t really much ta’ be proud of.” Slim was
clever, and he knew it.
Bob knew full well what Slim had meant.
Leave here, or pay a heavy price. The next day, Bob was well up the trail
toward Tennessee at good daylight. He didn’t really know much about where he
was going, but he was beginning to feel like, maybe, he was riding there in a handbasket.
*
Clint Dudley and his wife Serenity had
three young boys, back when they lived in Taledega County. Neither Clint nor
his wife were happy with the direction the Dudley Clan was going. They saw
little prospect that their boys would grow up to be anything other than killers
and robbers, like the rest of the clan, if they stayed here.
Clint’s wife, Serenity, brought the
subject up one night, much like she had on a number of other occasions
recently.
“Clint,
we got three boys. Right now, they ain’t been polluted by this bunch of scum
here. Not too bad, anyways. But that won’t last. Tommy is almost old enough to
start making these “business trips.” Is that the kind of life we want for our
kids? We’ve got ta take them away. Anywhere away from this place. They say
Tennessee is a really nice place. Come on, Clint, we’ve jest gotta get them
outa here! If we don’t, I’m not too sure what’s gonna happen to our proud
family.
Over the last few months, Clint had begun
to see his wife’s side of things. She had always had good judgement. She was a
strong woman, always been the backbone of the family. Clint, though, was no
angel. Though he never mentioned it to Serenity, he sorta liked these little business trips with the Dudley’s. Sure
made life easier. But Slim didn’t handle things right, Clint decided. Even
Clint could see that this was not a really good profession to drag their boys
into, the way Slim insisted they handle things. Killing men, like Slim made
them do, could get them hung. Clint was more of a sneak thief, himself. Slim’s
ideas were just a bit too radical. No self-respectin’ sneak thief wants ta be a
part of all that.
Clint knew he had married a long way up
when he got Serenity, and he planned to keep her. She often reminded him that
she carried the name of one of the founders of the clan, generations ago,
though the honor in that was questionable. “OK, Serenity, if that’s what you
want. I’ve always had a hankerin’ to see Tennessee myself. Let’s jest do it.”
So they did. The move was hard. But they
had a good wagon and a good team of mules, thanks to some luckless farmer who
had lived two days ride from Taladega. With emphasis on the word had lived. They had found a place to settle, a few miles out from a nice
little town, back behind the Swamps. It was sort of a hidden location, where
nobody would bother them, except maybe a few old wild hogs. He could free-lance
on his on a little from here, along with having a little farm as his cover.
Serenity need never know all the sordid details of their farming operation.
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