Chapter Twenty-Five

CORN POE DROPS THE REINS • A SCUFFLE • SHOTS FIRED • GREETINGS • JUNEBUG • THE LODGE

LIONEL STRAINED his eyes as best he could, but no matter how hard he tried, he could no longer see Beatrice. He knew that she was somewhere toward the edge of the woods, not twenty paces or so ahead, but to the eye, she was gone.

“You can’t spot her, huh?” Corn Poe whispered.

“Shhh. Beatrice said not to say nothing,” Lionel insisted.

“Oh, I can still see her,” Corn Poe went on. “I got what they call the eagle eye.”

Corn Poe’s eyes darted from side to side, tree-to-tree. Lionel didn’t believe him. He was sure that Corn Poe had lost sight of her about the same time as he had, if not sooner. If Beatrice didn’t want to be seen, she would not be seen.

“We should just stay here with Ulysses like Beatrice said,” Lionel whispered, turning back to the horse—but Ulysses was gone.

Lionel whipped around to see that Ulysses was wandering toward the meadow and the strange horse that stood grazing in front of their lodge.

“The reins,” Lionel stammered to Corn Poe. “You were supposed to hold the reins.”

Corn Poe spun around. “Where the hell does he think he’s off to?”

“Beatrice told you to hold the reins. where are you going?” Lionel asked.

“To get Ulysses.”

“But she told us not to move.”

“Well, which is it? were we supposed to watch the horse or not move? ’Cause the horse, he’s movin’!” Corn Poe took off, trailing Ulysses, who was getting closer and closer to the tree line at the edge of the meadow. Lionel followed.

Ulysses made his way through the low brush and across the meadow. He stopped and nudged the strange horse with his long nose. The strange horse did the same, and then the two horses took to standing next to each other, calmly ripping up the grass.

Lionel and Corn Poe crouched at the edge of the Great wood, watching the horses.

“What in the hell are they doing?” Corn Poe whispered.

“I suppose they’re bein’ social,” Lionel offered, “but Ulysses shouldn’t be out there in the first place. You were supposed to hold him.”

“Well, what do you want me to do now?” Corn Poe pleaded through clenched teeth.

“We’ll wait,” Lionel told the older boy with authority.

They crawled on their bellies through the scrub, following a series of broken and decaying timber to where the tree line came closest to the lodge. That’s when they saw Beatrice.

She appeared from the far side of the meadow and in a crouched run was soon standing at Ulysses’s side. The big warhorse nuzzled her with his long head and let out a loud whinny. when the other horse responded, the shadow of a man appeared, ducking under the crooked doorframe of the lodge. Beatrice slipped behind Ulysses and the man’s horse, but there was nowhere good for her to hide.

The man scanned the perimeter of the Great wood and then stepped back into the darkness of the lodge. Beatrice took the opportunity to swing up onto Ulysses’s back, but before she could turn the horse, the man sprang from the shadows of the lodge and in two running steps had Ulysses by the harness. The man’s horse spun violently from the commotion.

Beatrice pulled back on the reins, trying in vain to free Ulysses, who instead sidestepped, mimicking the other horse, dragging the man and throwing Beatrice from his back: a sight that Lionel had never before seen. Beatrice and the man tumbled into each other as Ulysses and the other horse bolted from the lodge toward the edge of the woods. The man rolled over and in a flurry of movement was on top of Beatrice.

Lionel froze at the edge of the wood until Corn Poe broke him from his stupor.

“That sonuvabitch is fixin’ to kill your sister!” Corn Poe proclaimed, and then burst forward from their cover and ran screaming toward the man and Beatrice, who struggled in the high grass.

Without thinking, Lionel followed; and before he knew it, had joined Corn Poe on the man’s back. The man tried to shake the two boys with a series of bucking motions, but did not find success until he reached around and grabbed hold of first Corn Poe and then Lionel. He yanked the two screaming boys from his back and threw them to the side, where they rolled toward the sag of the crooked doorframe.

Corn Poe scrambled to his feet, brandishing the small wooden stool that Grandpa had sat on while making the straw man. He raised it high over his head as though he aimed to bring it down, if possible, through the man’s skull.

“Now, hold on!” the man shouted, still pinning Beatrice to the ground but craning his neck sideways to keep an eye on Corn Poe and Lionel.

Corn Poe lifted the stool higher but was interrupted by a shot that rang like thunder across the small valley. The four of them froze and looked toward the woods and the cloud of black, burning gunpowder that rose from the barrel of a large rifle held by a small boy on horseback.

“Let’s all just hold on,” the man repeated, trying to catch his breath and loosening his grip on Beatrice.

The small boy rode across the meadow, his gun pointed directly at Corn Poe.

“Now why don’t you put that there stool down and we can talk, okay?” said the man.

The boy reached the front of the lodge and pulled his horse to a stop, the rifle still trained on Corn Poe.

“Everyone agree? Then, if you still want to put that stool through my head, you’re more than welcome to try it. what’a say? we can talk, huh?” the man repeated.

Beatrice motioned to Corn Poe, who answered by lowering the stool.

“Now, for starters, some names. My name is Hawkins, Avery John Hawkins, and that there is my boy Joshua, but he goes by the name of Junebug.”

“Junebug Hawkins? what the hell kinda name is that?” Corn Poe eyed the boy on the horse. “Sounds made up if you ask me.”

“Made up? well, all names are made up at some point and be that as it may, that’s his name.” Avery John Hawkins stood and extended his hand.

Lionel looked up at him for the first time and realized that he was different from the men at the outpost. To start, his skin was dark like his and Beatrice’s, darker, actually, and his hair at its peak sat about six inches from the top of his head. It wasn’t straight like his or Beatrice’s, either, but clung wildly in dry, tight curls, reminding Lionel of the tuft of hair on the mounted buffalo head that hung in the captain’s office.

Lionel took Mr. Hawkins’s big hand. “I’m Lionel. That’s my sister, Beatrice, and that there is Corn Poe, Corn Poe Boss Ribs.”

“And Junebug Hawkins sounds made up?” Hawkins said, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Corn Poe.”

“My name ain’t made up. It’s what my paps calls me,” Corn Poe said, still eyeing Junebug and the rifle with suspicion.

“Why, come on down, son, and put the rifle away,” Mr. Hawkins said to the boy he called Junebug. Then, turning to Beatrice, he extended his hand once again, which Beatrice reluctantly took hold of, and Hawkins pulled her to her feet.

“Sorry about that, Beatrice, right? I thought you were fixin’ to take old Mr. Hawkins’s horse or worse.”

Beatrice stood, collecting herself. Lionel watched her, amazed at how small she looked next to Mr.

Hawkins. He was a big man, almost the same size as Corn Poe’s father, but not as wide.

“Now, it’s gettin’ late. If we can agree to be friends, maybe we could get some supper goin’.” Mr. Hawkins rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Then we’ll figure out what we’re all doin’ in each other’s lodge.”