The Heavenly Table

68

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, after the Lewis Family finished their encore and took their final bow, Cane and Cob exited the Majestic just in time to see throngs of people heading down Second Street toward the center of town as if in a hurry. Falling in behind them, Cob started talking about Mr. Bentley, about how he wished he could buy him and set him free in an apple orchard somewhere. “Or maybe we could take him to Canada with us,” he said, looking over to see how his brother reacted.

“Ah, I don’t think he’d like—” Cane started to say as they got to the corner, but then he stopped in mid-sentence. Coming down the street was the group of soldiers they’d seen earlier, only now two of them were pulling with their horses a car that looked exactly like the one Chimney had bought. “Clear the way,” the stout man who’d been giving orders earlier called out as citizens jammed around the auto. “Get back, I said! Get back!”

“Stay here and don’t move,” Cane told Cob. He pushed his way through the swarm until he was within five or six feet of the car, and that’s when he saw Chimney, bound in manacles and sitting with a stony look on his face beside a soldier manning the steering wheel. In the backseat lay another man partly dressed in a bloody uniform, obviously badly hurt. Jesus Christ, two hours ago everything was fine. A sick feeling swept over Cane, and his ears buzzed with all the voices going on around him.

“What the hell happened?”

“Goddamn it, people, clear the way!”

“They say that skinny boy shot Pollard that owns the Blind Owl, but the soldiers caught him ’fore he could get away.”

“Back off!”

“Someone said he’s one of them Jewetts they been hunting.”

“No way.”

“Hey, quit your shoving, goddamn it.”

“What about the one in the uniform? Did the boy mess him up like that?”

“No, it was Pollard did it. Had him chained up in his back room cuttin’ on him.”

“I told my wife just the other day that damn army camp was going to lead to trouble.”

“Jimmy Beulah said the same thing.”

“Aw, shit, Fuller, you don’t want to listen to anything that ol’ coot says. He put some boy’s eye out the other night at the Big Penny.”

“Look there. Is his fingers cut off?”

“Just on the one hand it looks like.”

“They say Triplett sold him that car.”

“Well, that explains why they’re pulling it then.”

“Be just like Trip to sell a car to a bandit.”

“Here comes Chief Wallingford. You wait and see, he’ll try to take credit for the whole shebang.”

“Jack Meadows said he’s got a new lady friend over in Fayette County.”

“Shit, she can’t be much of a lady if she’s hangin’ around with ol’ Pus Gut.”

“Wonder where the other ones are?”

“Who you talkin’ about?”

“The other Jewetts. There’s supposed to be three of ’em, ain’t they?”

Cane swallowed some bile and hurried back through the crowd to where Cob stood eating from a bag of peanuts he’s picked up on the way out of the lobby. “Come on,” he said in a low voice, “we got to get out of here.”

“But what about Mr. Bentley? Think we could—”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Cane said, grabbing Cob by the sleeve. “Come on, I need you to hurry.”

“Don’t go too fast,” Cob complained after only a few yards. “My leg’s hurtin’ me.”

“All right,” Cane said, “all right.” He slowed down and glanced behind them, tried to steady himself with a deep breath. “Just do the best ye can.”

“What’s going on back there anyway?”

“I’ll tell ye later,” Cane said. “Right now we got to get back to the hotel.”