The crunch of heels upon the gravel. Terror! His eyes snapped open. Dwarfed between the huge gas tanks, his father rounded the path. Eyes downcast as always, he hurried, jangling the empty grey bottles in their trays. Louder, louder, nearer, they seemed to clank in David’s heart as well. With every step his father took, the breath in his own body became more labored, more suffocating. At the wagon he paused, lifted sombre eyes to heave the trays on board. Their gaze met. The first tray hung poised a split second before it came to rest.
“What’s the matter?”
David began to weep.
“What’s the matter?” His voice sharpened to a sudden edge. “Speak!”
“The — the bottles there—” he stammered—“They took them.”
“What?” He leaned in, swiftly swept the ice aside, looked up again in stormy surprise. “Who took them?”
He quailed. “T-Two men.”
“Who? Stop your slobbering!”
“Two men. A big one and a short one. And they — Hennesy they said. Hennesy.”
“Hennesy?” He cocked his head, his frown darkening. “Where did they say they worked?”
“They didn’t say!”
“Were you on the wagon?” His lips thinned, voice changed pitch in mid-word, the signs of gathering wrath.
“Yes! I was here! Papa, I was here!” The words gushed, being prepared. “They came and they said you knew them, and I thought you knew them. And they took—”
“And you let them? Cursed fool!” He slammed the last tray in the wagon, sprang after it. “Which way did they go?”
“That w-way! Around the corner!”
“Paid yourself again!” he snarled. “Giddap! Giddap, Billy!” He snatched the whip out of the socket, lashed the horse. Stung, the beast plunged forward. The wheels ground against the curb. “Giddap!” Again the whip. Hooves rang out in a pounding, powerful gallop. The wagon lurched, careened around the corner on creaking axle, empty bottles banging in their boxes. His father, jaws working in fury, eyes blazing, swept the street with one glance. It was empty, sunlit and empty. “Where are they?” he muttered through writhing lips. “Ah, to lay my hands on them!”
No sign of them anywhere, though he scoured every building and hallway. They were gone. The horse galloped on. But at the very next intersection, two men on the left strolled out of an alley — A glimpse of empty milk bottles in their hands!
“They?” he snapped eagerly.
“They!”
“Aah!” His suppressed cry rattled exultantly in his throat. “Giddap, Billy! Giddap!” He dragged savagely at the left rein. The horse mounted the sidewalk. The wagon heeled over, shifting its cargo with a roar.
“Cheesit, Augie!” the stocky one yelled out suddenly. “He’s after us!”
They broke into a clumsy run, the shorter one lagging. The wagon gained. With a hoarse cry of “Let ’im have it, Wally!” the lean one slowed down momentarily, drew back his arm. The heavy bottle arched toward them hung in the sun, shattered like a bomb before the horse. He reared, flung his head sideways, nostrils crimson, wild eyes rolling. A second later, another bottle flew in the air, fell short, smashed on the ground. Again the whip flashed down.
“Now I’ll get you!” His father gnashed his teeth. “Now I’ll get you!” And David knew they were doomed.
The charging horse bore down on them. At the corner, with only a few yards between them and the wagon, both men as if by a common impulse, shoved each other in opposite directions. His father turned after the stockier running on the sidewalk. A moment more, the horse was abreast. One yank at the reins and the reins were flung at David. “Hold, you!” Whip in hand, his father leaped from the rolling wagon into the street. The fugitive, trapped before a stable door that wouldn’t open, spun about, crouched savagely at bay.
“Waddayuh chasin’ me fuh?” His yellow teeth were bared, the round eyes now slits of fear and fury.
“Hanh!” His father’s snarl was almost like laughter, but the grinding of his teeth creaked like a strong cable stretching. “Yuhv’ll take my milk!”
“Me? Waddaye shittin’ about? I never seen it.”
“An’ de bottles you t’rew?” He seemed merely to be toying with the man. David knew the answers didn’t matter. He grew faint, waiting for the end.
“Yea! I t’rew ’em!” The other was blustering savagely. “An de nex’ time watch out who de fuck yer chas—”
Swish! The hiss of the whip cut off his words; the long, stiff thong curled over his shoulder, whacked!
“Owoo!” he howled with pain and fury. “Yuh Jew bastard! You hit me?” He flung himself at David’s father, arms thrashing.
“Hanh!” Again that mad cry of mirth. One long, rigid arm shot out, thrust his kicking, flailing adversary back like a ram — while the whip lashed out in the other. Again! Again it fell! It sickened David watching it. He screamed. Suddenly with a sharp crack the whip snapped. His father flung it aside. And as the other, howling with rage, charged in to tackle, he drew up his fist, clenched it like a sledge, and grunting with the effort, crashed it down on his neck.
“Uh!” A small, almost infantile groan broke from the man’s open mouth. Then he crumpled, slid down David’s father’s legs and fell sideways to the ground. Once more he stirred, the cap slipping from his head. The vague, sparse strands of his hair sank leisurely to one side as if on a hinge, revealing the splotched yellow scalp. He lay still.
For a moment longer, David’s father towered above him, rage billowing from him, shimmering in sunlight almost, like an aura; then with a last, fierce glance about the empty streets, scooped up the broken whip, stalked to the wagon, leaped in, and leaning out flogged the horse with the end of the rein. The beast bounded forward. Swiftly they left the street, turned south, mingled with the gathering traffic.
The minutes passed in horrible silence. Little by little, his father’s dark face grew grey, the fierce blaze in his eyes clouding. In his trembling hands, the reins began to shake out in tiny ripples. His hoarse breath grew louder, rushing through his burred throat in short violent gasps that set his jaw quivering each time as if on springs. In Brownsville was the last time David had seen him look that way. It recalled all the old horror.
“You!” He said at last, and his words were so harsh and guttural, they barely took form. “False son! You, the cause!”
His hand moved. Like the fangs of a snake the brass-buckled ends of the reins bit twice into David’s shoulder. He never winced. He hardly even felt them, so frozen with terror he was.
“Say anything to your mother,” the strangled voice went on, “and I’ll beat you to death! Hear me?”