Darnell frowned. “Often, I thought Ricky was one of them homosexuals. But when he married you I knew he was only stupid.” He stood and started away.
“Where are you going?” Clomer asked.
“I’m going to sit guard for awhile.” He stopped and turned to her. “When you’ve a mind to, cast an eye out back.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Anything that ain’t a tree or a chicken.” He went into the front room and took his pistol from the mantel. On the porch, he sat and rocked and stared off into the woods and down the dirt drive. He looked for a while at his pickup, recalling the first time he’d driven it after Jamie dropped in that souped-up engine. It had been parked at Judd Carlton’s garage. He had barely touched the gas and truck kicked out like a shot. Shame about Judd’s dog. “Can’t that baby move,” he muttered.
After some time, Clomer was at the screen door. “Darnell, something fuzzy out back.” He didn’t look at her and she went on. “Too tall for a chicken. Trees don’t move.”
He pulled himself up. “Then I guess I’d best come have a look.”
“I wish you would.”
“Weren’t no person now?”
“Awful fuzzy.”
They walked through the house and into the kitchen. Darnell stood, looking through the screen of the back door while Clomer screwed up her face and peered out the window over the sink. A couple of hens dashed across the yard. “Somethin’s got the gals nervous, all right,” Darnell said. He flipped open the chamber of his revolver, observed the shells, slammed it shut.
“There it is,” said Clomer.
And there it was, stepping from behind the shed, a black bear four feet high. Darnell cocked his weapon. “It’s a bear, Clomer.”
“Oh yeah,” she said as if the knowledge had helped her to see more clearly. “You gonna shoot him?”
He let the hammer forward to rest. “I can’t shoot him, Clomer. He’s a sign.” He turned away from the door. “I’ve got to wrassle him, knife-fight him.”
“With all due respect,” said Clomer, “that don’t sound like the swiftest of ideas.”
Darnell sat at the table. “Nonetheless.”
“The critter’s leaving,” Clomer said. “Getting away.”
“He’ll be back.”
“He was right big. What I could see of him.”
“He’s got to be wrassled, knife-fought.”
Clomer tried to call Mavis Johnson on the telephone. Mavis’s husband, Ed, answered. “Well, hey, Clomer.”
“Hey, Ed. Mavis in?”
“Why, sure she is. You know, Mavis don’t get out like she used to. Bad legs. I’m takin’ the phone to her now. We got us one of the princesses with a long cord put on so Mavis won’t have to get up. She has so much trouble with her legs. Well, here’s Mavis.” Then, away from the phone, “It’s Clomer Tellsy calling. I mentioned your legs.”
“Clomer?” said Mavis.
“Hey, Mavis. How your legs?”
“They’ll do. Don’t heed Ed; you’d think they was his legs.”
“I’m calling to tell you that there’s a bear over here.”
“Where’s Darnell?”
“He’s up front. He says he plans to knife-fight the thing.”
“You don’t say. Don’t that beat all?”
“I just called to tell you.”
“Where’s the bear right now?”
“He’s gone back off into the woods,” said Clomer, “but Darnell is certain he’ll be back.”
“Well, my my my.”
“I’d best be off now.”
“All right, Clomer. Thanks for calling.”
Soon, word was all over Coy about how Darnell Aimes intended to engage a bear in hand-to-hand mortal combat.
Judd Carlton said, “Darnell, you can’t be serious.”
Darnell looked at the man’s feet; the rest of him was down under a Buick. “Oh, I’m serious, all right.”
Mitch Biter was in the garage along with young Randy Volker. Randy couldn’t swallow it; it bothered him something awful. He paced, shaking his head and laughing.
“I’m taking a knife with me,” Darnell said.
“Good move,” mumbled Mitch. “Need something.” He tried to spit his tobacco juice out the door, but it just dribbled down his chin and made the stain on his white shirt wider.
“An old coot like you,” Randy said, “wrasslin’ a bear?”
“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
“Hell,” said Judd, rolling on his creeper from beneath the car, “why don’t you just run him over with your truck.”
“When are you going to forgive about that dog?”
Judd went to his tool chest. “It’s damn silly if you ask me.”
“How big is the bear?” asked Randy.
“Oh, he’s a big ‘un. Five feet, at least.”
“Why not shoot him,” the youngest asked.
Darnell straightened his back and looked out through the door. “Can’t do that.”
“Can’t do that,” Mitch echoed, tried to spit.
Darnell tossed Mitch an annoyed look which went unnoticed, then said, “I think the thing was let loose on my land. They’re trying to scare me off.”
“Now, why would they want to do that?” Judd asked.
“Hell, if I know,” said Darnell. “Maybe the highway’s comin’ through. They got their reasons. Maybe they want to build one of them malls, full of boo-tiques.”
“Man’s got to have a fight,” mumbled Mitch.
“Well, this is one I’d like to see,” said Randy.
“Ain’t nobody goin’ stop you from comin’ out to take a peek.” Darnell took a deep breath. “Reckon the beast’ll be back tomorrow morning.” He took his time walking to his truck, his head held high. He tore out in the vehicle, kicking up a wake of dust which settled slowly on Mitch and Randy who had stepped out to watch him leave.
The town of Coy was one which rallied behind its citizens in any endeavors, and the pursuit of premature and imbecilic death would not go unobserved. Aside from Judd, Randy and Mitch, there were Ed and Mavis Johnson (bad legs and all), Deke Bumgardner, Raff and Rufus Winslow, and Pixie Hayes along with her seven kids and one on the way. There were others. They were all in the kitchen, lining the walls, crammed in between the counter and the refrigerator, huddled around Darnell who just sat at the table sharpening his Case knife with a whetting stone. It was a hot day. They drank lemonade and sweated. An hour passed.
“That bear ain’t comin’,” said Randy.
“There he is,” said Mitch and a hush fell over the room.
There was no pause. Darnell stood and marched past the bodies out into the yard, knife in hand.
“Man has no sense of drama,” complained young Randy.
“Ricky would be appalled if he weren’t dead,” said Clomer. “He would say that violence was a form of deviant sexual sublimation or something like that. Of course, then Darnell would kill him.”
Everyone was crowded at the doors and windows. Darnell stood in the middle of the yard, shouting obscenities at the bear, the blade of his knife reflecting the sun back at the spectators. The bear approached. Darnell faced the animal and they moved slowly in a circle, studying each other.
“Oh, my my my,” said Mavis Johnson.
“You children turn away, don’t look,” Pixie Hayes said, but the kids watched.
The bear took a swipe at Darnell with a paw, but the old man leaned away from it, then lunged forward with his blade and drew blood from the bear’s shoulder.
“What’s happening?” asked Clomer.
“I don’t believe it,” said Randy. “He got in a lick.”
“He’s doin’it,” Judd said.