"He came into the Crossing lugging your rifle," Pete asserted, "and
before anybody could stop him he took a shot at Lard Head."
"I didn't take a shot at him," Tad denied. "If I had, I'd of hit him."
Joe said grimly, "Bobby, you go help your mother. Pete will work the
bellows for me when we shoe the mare."
The girl left, not looking back, and Joe faced his son. "Get off that
horse."
Tad obeyed, but his chin was outthrust and his eyes flashed. Joe flexed
his right arm.
"Take down your britches."
Tad's pants slid around his ankles, and Joe grasped him with his left
arm and turned his bare buttocks upward. With carefully measured force
Joe brought the palm of his right hand down, and the mule turned to look
curiously on this strange scene while Pete's horse danced skittishly.
Tad's normally pink seat assumed a fiery hue, but he did not cry out.
Finished, Joe set the boy gently on his feet.
"If ever, except in your own self-defense, you shoot at another man, be
he red, white, yellow, or black, you're going to get this over again and
three times as hard."
Tears welled up in Tad's eyes, but his jaw was still outthrust and his
shoulders were squared as he walked away. Joe scratched his shaggy head
in wonder.
"I'll be doggoned! Can you tie that one?"
"Nope," Pete admitted. "I can't."
"What would you have done?"
"Same thing you did, Joe. I will say, though, that it's some of the
neatest shooting I ever saw. Lard Head was standing against Frawley
Thompson's fence, and that bullet whistled close enough to curl his
hair. I'll bet there's one Indian scared sober."
"Was he drunk?"
"He's always drunk."
"Makes no difference," Joe declared. "That kid of mine has to have some
respect for people, Indians included. And he's got to realize that
rifles are dangerous."
Pete said dryly, "I kind of think he's beginning to. Shall we bring your
mare mule in and shoe her?"
"Reckon."
They roped the mare mule, dragged her to the forge, threw her, and shoed
her. She struck viciously when they let her up, but Joe had expected the
attack and he dodged it. They put both mules back in their pasture and
Joe looked uneasily at the house. Emma never struck any of the children,
and Joe had just administered Tad's first spanking. If there were to be
repercussions, they might as well be faced right now. Joe said,
"Excuse me a minute, Pete."
"Sure."
Joe walked nervously toward the house. Beyond much doubt, they would
start for Oregon tomorrow and he had had few arguments with Emma. He
felt uneasily that beginning their trip with a quarrel would be a bad
omen, and sure to bring bad luck. Joe quailed when he looked in at the
door, for Emma bristled to meet him.
"What did you do to Tad?"
Joe braced himself, then became a little angry. "I paddled his hinder
for him, hard as I wanted to lay it on!"
"If you hadn't, Joe Tower, I'd have paddled yours! The idea! Shooting at
that poor, besotted Indian!"