it.”
Feeling his life passing, Tucker went for the eyes.
Austin threw back his head and howled like a wounded cur. When his hand slipped off Tucker’s throat, Tucker sucked air in big greedy gulps that burned and revived.
“You crazy sonofabitch, I’m not my father.” He choked, gagged, and managed to haul himself to his hands and knees. He was terrified he would toss his breakfast into the crushed peonies. “Get the hell off my land.”
He turned his head and felt a moment’s thrill of satisfaction at seeing Austin’s bloodied face. He’d given as good as he’d got—and a man couldn’t ask for more. Unless it was a cool shower, an ice pack, and a bottle of aspirin. He started to sit back on his heels. Quick as a snake, Austin’s hand darted out for one of the heavy stones that circled the peonies.
“Good Christ” was all Tucker could manage as Austin levered the stone over his head.
The shotgun blast had them both jolting. Pellets skimmed through the peonies.
“I’ve got another full barrel, you bastard,” Della said from the porch. “And it’s aiming right at your useless dick. You put that stone back where you got it, and mighty quick, ’cause my finger’s dripping sweat.”
The madness was fading. Tucker could actually see it drain out of Austin’s eyes, to be replaced by a violent but somehow saner anger.
“It probably won’t kill you,” Della said conversationally. She was standing on the edge of the porch, the 30–30 resting comfortably on her shoulder, her eye at the sight and a grim smile on her face. “You might have another twenty years to pee in a plastic bag.”
Austin dropped the stone. The sickening thud it made when it hit the mulch had Tucker’s stomachlurching. “‘For judgment I am come,’” Austin quoted. “He’s going to pay for what he did to my girl.”
“Paying’s just what he’ll do,” Della said. “If that girl’s carrying what’s his, Tucker’ll see to it. But I ain’t as gullible as the boy, Austin, and we’re going to see what’s what before he signs any papers or writes any checks.”
Fists clenched at his side, Austin rose. “You saying my girl’s lying?”
Della kept the shotgun sighted mid-body. “I’m saying Edda Lou’s never been any better than she had to be, and I ain’t saying I blame her for it. Now, you get the hell off this land, and if you’re smart, you get that girl to Doc Shays and have him see if she’s breeding. We’ll talk this through, civilized. Or you can come ahead and I’ll blow you apart.”
Austin’s impotent hands clenched and unclenched. Blood ran unheeded down his cheeks like tears. “I’ll be back.” He spat again as he turned to Tucker. “And next time there won’t be no woman ’round to protect you.”
He strode back to his pick-up, gunned around the circle of flowers, and rattled down the drive. Black smoke belched in his wake.
Tucker sat in the ruined flower bed and dropped his head on his knees. He wasn’t getting up yet—no, not just yet. He’d sit a spell on the mangled blooms.
Letting out a long breath, Della lowered the gun. Carefully, she propped it against the rail, then walked down, stepping over the border stones until she could reach Tucker. He looked up, the beginnings of thanks on his tongue. She smacked the side of his head hard enough to make his ears ring.
“Christ, Della.”
“That’s for thinking with your glands.” She smacked him again. “And that’s for bringing that Bible-thumping maniac around my house.” And another flat-handed slap on the top of his head. “And that’s for ruining your mama’s flowers.” With a satisfied nod she folded her arms over her chest. “Now, when you getyour legs out from under you, you come back into the kitchen and I’ll clean you up.”
Tucker wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and looked down absently at the smear of blood. “Yes’m.”
Because she figured her hands were about steady now, she tipped a
Feeling his life passing, Tucker went for the eyes.
Austin threw back his head and howled like a wounded cur. When his hand slipped off Tucker’s throat, Tucker sucked air in big greedy gulps that burned and revived.
“You crazy sonofabitch, I’m not my father.” He choked, gagged, and managed to haul himself to his hands and knees. He was terrified he would toss his breakfast into the crushed peonies. “Get the hell off my land.”
He turned his head and felt a moment’s thrill of satisfaction at seeing Austin’s bloodied face. He’d given as good as he’d got—and a man couldn’t ask for more. Unless it was a cool shower, an ice pack, and a bottle of aspirin. He started to sit back on his heels. Quick as a snake, Austin’s hand darted out for one of the heavy stones that circled the peonies.
“Good Christ” was all Tucker could manage as Austin levered the stone over his head.
The shotgun blast had them both jolting. Pellets skimmed through the peonies.
“I’ve got another full barrel, you bastard,” Della said from the porch. “And it’s aiming right at your useless dick. You put that stone back where you got it, and mighty quick, ’cause my finger’s dripping sweat.”
The madness was fading. Tucker could actually see it drain out of Austin’s eyes, to be replaced by a violent but somehow saner anger.
“It probably won’t kill you,” Della said conversationally. She was standing on the edge of the porch, the 30–30 resting comfortably on her shoulder, her eye at the sight and a grim smile on her face. “You might have another twenty years to pee in a plastic bag.”
Austin dropped the stone. The sickening thud it made when it hit the mulch had Tucker’s stomachlurching. “‘For judgment I am come,’” Austin quoted. “He’s going to pay for what he did to my girl.”
“Paying’s just what he’ll do,” Della said. “If that girl’s carrying what’s his, Tucker’ll see to it. But I ain’t as gullible as the boy, Austin, and we’re going to see what’s what before he signs any papers or writes any checks.”
Fists clenched at his side, Austin rose. “You saying my girl’s lying?”
Della kept the shotgun sighted mid-body. “I’m saying Edda Lou’s never been any better than she had to be, and I ain’t saying I blame her for it. Now, you get the hell off this land, and if you’re smart, you get that girl to Doc Shays and have him see if she’s breeding. We’ll talk this through, civilized. Or you can come ahead and I’ll blow you apart.”
Austin’s impotent hands clenched and unclenched. Blood ran unheeded down his cheeks like tears. “I’ll be back.” He spat again as he turned to Tucker. “And next time there won’t be no woman ’round to protect you.”
He strode back to his pick-up, gunned around the circle of flowers, and rattled down the drive. Black smoke belched in his wake.
Tucker sat in the ruined flower bed and dropped his head on his knees. He wasn’t getting up yet—no, not just yet. He’d sit a spell on the mangled blooms.
Letting out a long breath, Della lowered the gun. Carefully, she propped it against the rail, then walked down, stepping over the border stones until she could reach Tucker. He looked up, the beginnings of thanks on his tongue. She smacked the side of his head hard enough to make his ears ring.
“Christ, Della.”
“That’s for thinking with your glands.” She smacked him again. “And that’s for bringing that Bible-thumping maniac around my house.” And another flat-handed slap on the top of his head. “And that’s for ruining your mama’s flowers.” With a satisfied nod she folded her arms over her chest. “Now, when you getyour legs out from under you, you come back into the kitchen and I’ll clean you up.”
Tucker wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and looked down absently at the smear of blood. “Yes’m.”
Because she figured her hands were about steady now, she tipped a
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