such a fool. It pained him greatly to know he caused Addy enough distress to have her brother come hunt him down.
âI love your sister well and truly and ifââ Chester didnât have the breath to finish as Zach Heron snuck up behind him and used his big hamhock arm to put a choke-hold on the boyâs neck.
It was disturbing to Lâil Leam that Chester didnât seem to understand how wrong heâd been to pluck Addy in the brutal way he must have. And a further wrong to run away like he had and never to inquire about her spirit or condition. But looking into the choking boyâs wide bewildered eyes, it was clear Chester thought himself without fault. Lâil Leamâs blood boiled at his disregard. Zach Heron hissed, âDo it. Do it.â
The knife had been Zach Heronâs idea. He thought to mark Chesterâs face, a slash on his cheek or above his eye, to brand him as the one that had done Addy wrong and to keep him away from Rusholme forever. Lâil Leamagreed. It seemed a right and fair thing to do, and more lasting than whatever minor discomfort his own small fists might inflict. Slowly, Lâil Leam pulled the long blade from his pocket.
Chester Monk looked at him, not comprehending why this boy he called brother might have come here with a knife, nor what exactly he intended to do with it. He tried to cry out, but Zach Heron clamped his huge salty hand over his mouth. Lâil Leam raised the knife and caught the glint of the automobile light. A north wind kicked up a maelstrom of dry maple leaves at their feet. Chester tried to shake his head. Zach Heron throttled him, shouting, âDo it, Boy! Do it!â
Lâil Leam couldnât cut his friend, but it wasnât because he thought Chester was innocent. He couldnât do it because he had not the spirit to make a man suffer no matter what suffering that man made. Lâil Leam stood there, watching Chesterâs eyes bulge and redden, listening to the sickening quiver of air stuck in his closed-off throat. Zach Heron sucked his teeth, feeling powerful, tightening his grip.
With some extraordinary effort, for his fight was fading and he could sense peace in some near place, Chester Monk decided he would not die like this. It was his foot he thought to use, and wished heâd thought it sooner. With the scant strength he still possessed, he lifted his leg, then brought the full force of his heel into the kneecap of the huge man behind him. Heron yelped in pain and lost his hold and that was enough for Chester to break free.
It was not that Chester planned it as such, but Lâil Leam was standing only a foot away with the knife. Chester snatched the knife when he was clear of Zach Heron and held it up against both men as he struggled to fill his lungs with air.
Zach Heron sneered at Lâil Leam and spat mightily. âCoward! After what that devil done to your sister?! How you gonna live with yourself, Leam?â
Chester Monk turned to Lâil Leam, his chest heaving as he spoke. âI donât know what you think I done, or what Addy told you I done, or even what been done. But Iâll tell you, brother, and may I be struck by the Almightyâs hand, that I never hurt your sister in any way I know, except to suppose sheâd understand Iâd come back for her. Thatâs all. And I donât see you stabbing me for that. And I donât see why you come all the way here to hurt me and brung him along to help.â
Lâil Leam didnât care he was crying like a baby. He didnât care Zach Heron would lose respect forever. He only knew he was betrayed by his friend and deeply grievous for his younger sister. He couldnât think what to do then, except to recount for Chester his crime, like he was standing on a hanging platform, waiting to hear why heâs got to die.
Chester had a hard time grasping, at first, what Lâil Leam was saying through his blubber
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