The sheriff was the most affected, and I can only venture that the sight of those gnawed bones reminded him too sharply of the boy he had so recently found beneath the locust tree. He muttered something to himself, or so I thought until I saw by the way he closed his eyes that he was remembering his Psalms again.
“What the hell is out here?” Lester said. “That ain’t no dog. Dogs did not do that.”
“I don’t know,” Estel said, “but we gonna find out.”
He said it, but nobody believed him. Nobody wanted to meet what made those deep grooves. Not in his heart. Not if he was honest.
About four o’clock something moved and several men shot at it. Estel stopped them and they watched the smoke clear and several of them went in that direction to see what they had hit.
“What are you doin? Dammit, get back here!” Estel said, but they went anyway.
The brush was thick and soon the men were out of sight.
“Hey!” Estel said, but stayed where he was and the remaining men stayed, too. A long moment passed.
“Where are you?” a voice called.
“We’re here!” the sheriff said. “Follow my voice.”
“Here-here-here-here!” Buster said.
“Keep talking,” a voice said.
“Here-here-here-here-here!”
The men came back and rejoined the group.
“Did you see anything?”
“Nothin.”
“Who shot? Lester, did you shoot?”
He shook his head.
“Well, since you know how to keep your britches on, you and me are goin to walk up front. How about you, Mr. Nichols? You fire?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why don’t you take up the back.”
“I would do better near the front. Man in the back needs good ears.”
“That’s fine, then. Buster, you shoot?”
Buster shook his head.
“Alright, you take the rear.”
“I was afeared you was gonna say that.”
It was only when Buster almost tripped over Saul’s rifle that they realized Saul Gordeau was missing.
He had been the last man in the rear.
WHEN HE SAW that the boy was gone, Estel began to fall apart. We all knew that’s what was happening, but nobody tried to usurp what was left of his command because nobody else knew what to do either. It was getting late enough so we had to leave soon if we wanted to make the river by dark. Everyone wanted to make the river by dark. So we abandoned all pretense of stealth and shouted the boy’s name until all of us were hoarse. We tried to retrace our steps. We saw no sign of him. He was gone utterly and did not answer his name. I think many in the party were quietly glad to be moving back towards the river, and as long as search and retreat were both served by the same heading, there was no contention in the group.
When some of the men felt they were near the place of the shooting they slowed down and began to look more carefully. I proposed that we should walk in an ever-widening circle and keep a close eye out for blood or dropped items, and Estel nodded his assent. We called the boy’s name again and again until all the meaning washed out of it and it became like any other syllable, more related to salt or sod than to Lester or their father.
Estel touched his face a lot while we searched. I had the impression he was remembering flies, fearing to find another boy walked on by flies.
Nothing happened except that the light got weaker. One man suggested that the boy had gotten scared and headed back west. This made sense to other men who were eager to head home. A majority soon formed that professed to believe the boy had turned back, and would be waiting for them by the river or back in Whitbrow. Members of this same majority also pointed out that they had only one light, no food and very little water. By way of easing the general conscience, one suggested that if the boy wasn’t already home they could renew their search tomorrow. Lester nearly hit the man who said that. Buster came between them, but argued Lester’s part, saying if Saul was hurt they would be killing him to leave him out all night.
Estel spoke up then, saying, “He’s probably crossed the river. I’m sure he’s crossed the river home.”
And if he hasn’t, I can’t bear to find him, I could almost hear him thinking. My steps are heavy with the fear of bumping a foot into him; I will shake myself to pieces, Selah. Lord give me one night of rest before I see anything else that makes me see Thy throne empty and my own death close and final.
Those who wished to leave grabbed at the sheriff’s weakness, tried to hide their own behind it. They were sure the boy was home. They promised to come back tomorrow.
I was as scared as any of them, maybe more scared.
I have seen something in these trees, and something worse in others.
But still I spoke up and said,
The woods have not yet forgotten how to gobble men up
“Who volunteers to tell the boy’s father?
that monsters got his youngest boy
or do we let Lester do that?”
“I ain’t leavin without my brother,” Lester said.
“Now it seems we got to all go or all stay,” Buster said, “and I’m for all stayin.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“You damn fool, the boy’s gone home,” one man said. One of those who shot.
“That’s right,” another said. “He’s waitin on us.”
“Who’s goin to tell our wives if we stay?”
“And if he ain’t home, you gonna look your wife in the eye and tell her you left a boy in the woods? Cuz I will.”
The man wanted to say something back to Buster but didn’t.
His friend said, “Now, I ain’t no coward, but I ain’t no fool neither. Seems to me if they ain’t nothin bad out here, the boy’s alright. But if they is, they’s goin to give us hell tonight an us with no light or nothin.”
“I’d rather be a fool,” Buster said. “If we start now we can pick good ground and make a fire. Camp here and start first thing in the mornin stead a wastin all that time walkin home and back.”
I said, “Whatever we do, I agree that we should do it together. We’ve got good enough numbers now to discourage an attack, but if we divide, the smaller party will be…”
“Shit out a luck,” Buster finished.
“Well, I ain’t leavin,” Lester said.
“And I ain’t stayin,” one of those who shot said.
I saw that the sheriff was gone to pieces and where a good leader might have kept the group together, there was none. God, I did not want to stay out if the group was going to split, but I saw that Lester would stay and I couldn’t leave the boy alone.
The light was going.
“Seems to me we should all stay,” Buster said again, but with less strength. I was suddenly sure that Buster would leave, too, and that’s what happened. Ten left for the river. Then the sheriff, looking beaten. Then Buster said, “Come on, you two. If these sons a bitches won’t stay.”
Lester shook his head and I stood with him.
Buster handed off Saul’s Enfield to me, saying, “Here, you might want somethin more than that piece on your hip.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it. I hadn’t held one since I was nineteen, but it felt heavy and wicked and only too familiar in my hand.
“Hand down that light,” Buster said.
“We gonna need it to cross the river,” one of those who shot said.
“Hand down the light afore I break your head.”
He did.
Then Buster gave the light to Lester.
And then he left, smaller than he had been.
WE HEADED FOR Uphill Rock because it looked like a good place to have against our back. While we gathered wood by the last of the daylight Lester thought he heard something, so we got our rifles ready and Lester called “Saul!” but nothing happened. I thought of the boy with no pants and then I made myself stop thinking about it. We got a fire started just as night came on. We smoked, but didn’t talk more than we had to. We agreed to take turns sleeping but neither one of us could for the first part of the night, and then, near morning, both of us wanted to. Several times Lester heard walking and once he thought he heard voices and we pointed our guns, but we did not call out into that darkness. If the boy was out there, he’d see the fire and come to us. We were perfectly visible. I knew how easily we could both be shot with the fire going, but there was no question of staying in the dark. There were worse things than being shot.