“It is,” said Two. “It’s about them and this Zendo.”
“But Zendo, he don’t know nothing,” Plug said.
“He may know something now,” the Other Two said. “But what about Henry?”
“He’s with them,” Hillbilly said. “Ain’t nobody around here gonna help them. They got to have him with them. If they’re at Clyde’s, he’ll be there too. They got to be at Clyde’s, or Marilyn’s, Sunset’s mother-in-law, and I don’t think they’d go there. Too obvious, too easy. But Clyde’s, that would be the place.”
“That’s good,” said Two. “And the mother-in-law?”
“I don’t know she’s a problem,” Hillbilly said.
The Other Two said, “We’ll consider on that. I’ll tell Brother McBride, and he’ll consider on it. Hillbilly, you direct us. And Plug, drive us, please.”
“I ought to have to do something important,” Goose said. “Good as you been to me, miss. Good as Lee’s been.”
“What I want you to do,” Sunset said, “is help Clyde out. Me and Daddy, we’re going over to Zendo’s, see how it’s going with Bull. I’ve had an idea I think might be good.”
“I just want to help,” Goose said.
“I know, and thanks for asking. Stay with Clyde and Karen and Ben, watch old Henry here and the tent. That’s your job and it’s important.”
They were standing outside the tent, near the post where Henry was chained, sitting in his chair in the moonlight.
A plate he had eaten off of was on the ground and Ben was licking it.
“Can’t you make this dog go on?” Henry said. “He peed on the post a while ago. I don’t like having him around. He keeps sniffing me.”
“If I wanted to do something about him, guess I could,” Sunset said.
Lee came out of the tent. Sunset and Lee got in Sunset’s car. Lee said, “Sure we should leave them here?”
“No one knows about this place, not even people that know Clyde. He doesn’t have visitors. It’s a good idea, being here.”
“Living under a tarp, I can see that he doesn’t have visitors,” Lee said.
“Actually,” Sunset said, “it’s nicer than the house he burned down. And now, there’s the tent.”
“That tent is getting pretty crowded,” Lee said. “When this is over, back on your land, we ought to build a house, help Clyde build one here.”
“We’ll see,” Sunset said.
After they hit the main road the lights were full of grasshoppers and a tan Plymouth passing them.
“Slow here,” Hillbilly said. “It ain’t so easy to see the place in the dark. Right there. Turn there. Road ends at his place.”
“How far?” Two asked.
“Not real far,” Hillbilly said. “A piece. But not far.”
“Go down a ways, pull over and park,” said Two. “We’ll walk down and see them.”
“We’ll take what God needs,” the Other Two said.
Plug took the turn and the road was dusty and the dust rose up as they went, like a heavy mist, and grasshoppers jumped out of it, splattered against the windshield, which was already greasy with them. Plug drove a short piece, pulled in where there was a stretch of clearing, turned off the lights and parked.
Hillbilly and Two had twelve-gauge pumps. Plug had a.45 revolver. Two said, “We’ll say what and when and how.”
“Yeah,” Hillbilly said, “you fellas are the boss.”
“You say we, you mean, you, right?” Plug said.
“I mean the both of us,” Two said.
Plug nodded. “All right. I see that-I think.”
They got out of the car, walked down the road a ways, then Two stopped them.
“We’ll go ahead,” Two said. “You come down the road walking. When you hear us cut down, you come running.”
“Why don’t we just sneak up on them?” Plug said.
Two turned his head slowly. He took off his bowler and shook out the sweat. The horseshoe scar looked raw in the moonlight. “We’ll sneak.”
“We as in… you two?” Plug asked.
“Correct,” the Other Two said. “Understand?”
“Sure,” Plug said.
Two nodded, went down the road quickly, then went into the woods and was gone.
Plug said, “I say we go back to the car, drive away and keep driving.”
“There’s lots of money in this,” Hillbilly said.
“Wasn’t saying there wasn’t money in it. I’m saying I don’t care anymore. Tootie was supposed to get money too, wasn’t he? He ain’t getting no money now. So what’s money to him?”
“Nothing to him,” Hillbilly said, “but maybe it’s more for us. We could ask McBride about Tootie’s share. We could maybe split it.”
Plug looked at the dirt road. “Don’t know I want to kill no woman. Don’t know I want to kill nobody. Tootie… dying like that, that was bad enough. I once shot a deer and got sick.”
“You can’t think of them as people. Got to think of them as targets. That’s the way you do it, Plug.”
“You was her friend,” Plug said.
“I don’t feel any different about her now than I did before. I don’t care for her daddy, or Clyde, cause of what they done, but her, I don’t feel any different. It hasn’t got anything to do with the way you feel.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
“You going in, or not?”
About that time they heard a shotgun blast, and Hillbilly said, “That’s Two. Means it’s time for us.”
Hillbilly started trotting down the road, and Plug, after a moment’s hesitation, went after him.
Way it went down was Two came up on the left side of Clyde’s place, came through the woods with his shotgun ready, quiet as a dead mouse in a cotton ball, moving toe heel, and when he got where he could see Henry chained to the post, he thought about what McBride had said. He said, “Brother, Henry ain’t no good to us. He’s got too big a mouth, and he ain’t ever gonna be happy having a nigger get part of it. Henry don’t need the money he’s supposed to get. Me and you, we do. Henry, he’s played his string and he’s just another soul for you to gather.”
Two went out of the woods and started walking toward Henry. Henry looked up, smiled, said softly, “Good to see you, Two.”
“Good to see you,” Two said, lifted the shotgun and fired, knocked Henry out of his chair, drove him back against the post.
Two pumped up another load as Ben came running, growling. He shot Ben and Ben’s legs went out from under him. Ben skidded in the dirt, yelped and fell, his side puffing up and down in big motions.
Inside the tent, the first shot caused Clyde to poke his head out, then pull it back in as the second shot was fired and Ben went down. Clyde wasn’t near a gun when the shots went off, and when he pulled his head back in, he grabbed his shotgun. When he looked back out the colored assassin was much closer, putting the finishing touches on Henry, shooting him a second time in the body, leaning over him, putting his face close to Henry’s face. Clyde was about to shoot, looked up, saw trotting down the dusty road Hillbilly and Plug, Hillbilly with a shotgun, Plug with pistol drawn, and he knew then how they had found them.
“Out the back,” Clyde said, and pushed Goose, who was trying to come forward with one of Clyde’s pistols, toward Karen, who was already at the back of the tent.
Clyde pulled out his clasp knife and flipped it open. Just before Two lifted the front tent flap, he cut the back of the tent open and they all three went out and started running through the woods, grasshoppers exploding all around them with a beat of wings. Behind them they could hear running, and when Clyde looked over his shoulder he saw the big colored man in the bowler was gaining, running fast for a big man, so smooth it was like he was part of the night itself.
“Go left,” Clyde said, knowing a trail was coming up. “Go left.”
And Karen did. It was a narrow trail through the woods and the moonlight was not as bright there. Karen was wearing a dress and blackberry vines tore at it and Clyde could hear it rip and hear her grunt as the blackberry thorns tore her flesh.
Goose fell behind Clyde as they ran, and Clyde turned to look for him.