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Authors: Greg Walker
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still on the ground with his hands on his head, but looking out towards the stream. The gun , Jon thought. He prayed Will wouldn’t try to get it, certain that Jim would shoot him dead before he even got close. But was that better than waiting to see what he planned to do with them both?
Jim continued talking to the boy. He put a hand on his shoulder, and then removed the hat from his own head and handed it to Isaiah. “But here’s the thing. You’re going to forget about anything you saw here. Me, these guys, and the big guy too. You’re going to go find your buggy and when you get home, you tell them the truth, that someone beat you up. But that’s it. You’re supposed to forgive those who trespass against you, right?”
The boy stared sullenly at the ground. Jim gave him a little shake, his hand still firmly on his shoulder. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You do that. No here’s where it gets tricky. If anyone asks, you didn’t get a good look at whoever did it. Nothing about motorcycles and buggy rides. And when you talk to God about that little fib, you tell him to put it on my tab, all right?”
Jon watched, noting the posture and demeanor of Jim, like a father addressing his son, that to an outside observer could easily be mistaken for tenderness. But Jim exuded a quiet menace that troubled him more than Chris for all of his size and ferocity; Chris was brute force all up front, Jimbo was cunning and hurt coiled up and waiting just under his skin.
“Okay, that’s it. Except one more thing and this is most important. I suppose you have some brothers, sisters. Most of you people got big families, I think. So if you don’t listen, and go talking about what happened here, I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll find your little brother or sister, and they will be punished for your sins. I’m not joking about that, Isaiah. So you think about what concerns God more – you telling a little lie, or something bad happening to one of them. And I do mean bad. Are we clear here?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, put her there and we’ll shake on it. Go on, not letting you go until we seal it.”
Isaiah slowly took Jim’s hand, and then turned and looked him in the eye, holding his gaze with a stony expression.
“I can see you’re angry. I don’t blame you. And that’s one of the reasons I’m not threatening you, cause I’m not sure which way it would go. I can admire that, but there’s a lot at stake here. So you think about what I said. Maybe you don’t have a little brother or sister, but an older one, a cousin, your mama…any of those will do. And now that we shook on it, I’m taking that as your word. Now get up and go. You ain’t hurt bad, you’ll heal, and this will all be a memory soon. Hurt your pride more than anything else. But pride goeth before the fall, as the Good Book says, so you might need to tell God about that, too. Go.”
Isaiah stood up and gently placed his hat back on his head. He swayed and Jon stepped forward instinctively to catch him.
“You stay put,” Jim said, and pointed the gun at him. “He’s fine, and if he ain’t his own people will take care of him. We can get to our business, soon as he goes.”
The Amish boy turned and looked at Jon, and he believed he read an expression of apology before Isaiah turned and walked through the campground towards the exit, stopping several times and putting his hands to his head before resuming. When he had reached the highway, Jim turned his attention to Will.
“Now what did you find so interesting over there?” He walked beyond Will towards the stream and came to the gun. He looked down at it for several seconds before crouching down to retrieve it, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He sprung the magazine and looked inside, then pushed it back into the grip, and finally tucked it into his pants.
“This doesn’t belong to Chris. Sure getting
Jim continued talking to the boy. He put a hand on his shoulder, and then removed the hat from his own head and handed it to Isaiah. “But here’s the thing. You’re going to forget about anything you saw here. Me, these guys, and the big guy too. You’re going to go find your buggy and when you get home, you tell them the truth, that someone beat you up. But that’s it. You’re supposed to forgive those who trespass against you, right?”
The boy stared sullenly at the ground. Jim gave him a little shake, his hand still firmly on his shoulder. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You do that. No here’s where it gets tricky. If anyone asks, you didn’t get a good look at whoever did it. Nothing about motorcycles and buggy rides. And when you talk to God about that little fib, you tell him to put it on my tab, all right?”
Jon watched, noting the posture and demeanor of Jim, like a father addressing his son, that to an outside observer could easily be mistaken for tenderness. But Jim exuded a quiet menace that troubled him more than Chris for all of his size and ferocity; Chris was brute force all up front, Jimbo was cunning and hurt coiled up and waiting just under his skin.
“Okay, that’s it. Except one more thing and this is most important. I suppose you have some brothers, sisters. Most of you people got big families, I think. So if you don’t listen, and go talking about what happened here, I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll find your little brother or sister, and they will be punished for your sins. I’m not joking about that, Isaiah. So you think about what concerns God more – you telling a little lie, or something bad happening to one of them. And I do mean bad. Are we clear here?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, put her there and we’ll shake on it. Go on, not letting you go until we seal it.”
Isaiah slowly took Jim’s hand, and then turned and looked him in the eye, holding his gaze with a stony expression.
“I can see you’re angry. I don’t blame you. And that’s one of the reasons I’m not threatening you, cause I’m not sure which way it would go. I can admire that, but there’s a lot at stake here. So you think about what I said. Maybe you don’t have a little brother or sister, but an older one, a cousin, your mama…any of those will do. And now that we shook on it, I’m taking that as your word. Now get up and go. You ain’t hurt bad, you’ll heal, and this will all be a memory soon. Hurt your pride more than anything else. But pride goeth before the fall, as the Good Book says, so you might need to tell God about that, too. Go.”
Isaiah stood up and gently placed his hat back on his head. He swayed and Jon stepped forward instinctively to catch him.
“You stay put,” Jim said, and pointed the gun at him. “He’s fine, and if he ain’t his own people will take care of him. We can get to our business, soon as he goes.”
The Amish boy turned and looked at Jon, and he believed he read an expression of apology before Isaiah turned and walked through the campground towards the exit, stopping several times and putting his hands to his head before resuming. When he had reached the highway, Jim turned his attention to Will.
“Now what did you find so interesting over there?” He walked beyond Will towards the stream and came to the gun. He looked down at it for several seconds before crouching down to retrieve it, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He sprung the magazine and looked inside, then pushed it back into the grip, and finally tucked it into his pants.
“This doesn’t belong to Chris. Sure getting
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