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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Cultural · #1259161
American post slavery cultural story.
At mid-morning I was allowed to play with the dogs. I recall this frightful white man that seemed to spring up from a dust devil. His horse had a bloody leg. I thought to ask him about it but he was a sight worse than the horse. I didnt say anything and neither did he. I had left the gate open and the stranger went right in. He took a quick dislike to our dogs, looked as if he was trying to stomp on them with his horse. He hadnt noticed my folks working the field just beyond the fence. My big brother came out of the house with his shotgun. He kept it shouldered and called to my grandpa. Thats when the stranger seemed to wake up and notice us all.

Grandpa invited the stranger to tie his horse down and have a drink of water. Grandpa was a peaceful soul. He would invite the devil to dinner, my grandma would say. I went to fetch the water as he got down from his horse. When I got back my uncle was looking none too happy. He had come by to help this week because he wanted to be remembered when the sugar cane was at its sweetest and ripe for shucking.

After I gave the white man the water he pulled my grandpa away and the white man talked real low. Grandma came over near me and put her arm around me.

Softly she said to my uncle, Cleo, fetch my pistol over yonder.

Uncle Cleo responded also in a low voice, Yeah maam, Eddie.

My grandma was named Eddie, Eddie Belle. There were stories about her but I didnt believe most of them. One I did believe was that she was given a mans name because she was strong as a man. With my own eyes I saw her carry grandpa all by herself across a muddy field when he caught his foot in a bear trap in the fields.

Not a minute later my uncle returns with the pistol. My uncle said nervously holding her pistol in a cleaning cloth, Eddie, I could clean that for you.

Grandma calmly loaded the gun and spoke in her normal voice, Im not gon clean it. Im gon shoot it.

The stranger heard grandma and looked woefully toward his horse. He had left his pistols and rifle on his horse. He suddenly goes into this bloody tale about a rogue bear he just put down. It was a gory tale and heartless to even kill an animal in such a way. He said that he cornered the bear and the bear gave him a fight. The bears cubs were hid in a bush. First he killed the mother. Shot it right in the head close up he said. Blood went to flying. After that he turned to the cubs and did the same. Even my horse helped me take that devil and her cubs down! he exclaimed. Afterward he said that he buried them all in the woods.

As my grandpa made his way to grandmas side, grandma asked the stranger, You got awful bloody. You must have come near death to get scratches on your face from a bear.

Yes-um, it was a fierce fight. replied the stranger, who was making his way toward his horse.

And you killed the babies? asked grandma.

Cant have that type breeding more evil souls. said the stranger and he smiled.

Grandma shot him 5 times before he hit the ground. I was the only one confused as to why. Quickly my uncle and grandpa took his body and all his belonging far away.

Grandma explained everything to me and my brother. Grandma didnt reply to our questions directly. She just explained what was true and not true about what happened. There was no rogue bear. There werent ANY bears at all for 100 miles but there was an unmarried woman living in those woods with her children. Although I had not met her, I saw grandma give her food a couple times. The white man had told my grandpa that she was a former slave of his and said that he shouldnt interfere. Grandma said solemnly, You see children. If we let them treat us like animals then we may as well be animals.
© Copyright 2007 Sid Beverly (sidino at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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