"That's what I do want. This thing's too harebrained already. No use
makin' it more so by actin' without thinkin'."
"I'll come in in the morning."
"If you think best. So long for now."
The door opened and closed and they were gone. Ted heard Loring Blade
start his pickup and watched the red taillight bobbing down their
driveway. They reached the Lorton Road and Loring Blade gunned his
motor.
Ted sank dully into a chair and Tammie came to sit comfortingly beside
him. The big dog shoved his slender muzzle into Ted's cupped hand, and,
getting no response, he laid his sleek head on his master's knee. The
measured ticking of the clock on the mantel seemed like the measured
ringing of tiny bells. Ted fastened his gaze on it, and because he had
to do something, he watched the clock's black hands creep slowly around.
Like everything else, he thought, time was a relative thing. Fifteen
minutes seemed no more than an eyewink when one was busy, but it was an
age when you could do nothing except struggle with your own tortured
thoughts.
Another fifteen minutes passed, and another, and an exact hour had
elapsed when Tammie sprang up and trotted to the door. He stood, head
raised and tail wagging. Ted opened the door.
"Dad!"
"'Fraid I got to move, Ted. Help me pack all thet grub we cooked for
supper, will you? Hills'll be full of posse men for the next few days
and I can't be startin' any fires."
"But--"
"I kept my promise," Al assured him, "and all I promised was that I
wouldn't raise a hand 'gainst Lorin' or Jack. Never did say I wouldn't
jump out of the truck when it slowed for Dead Man's Curve."
"They'll be on your trail!"
"Not right away, they won't. I went into the woods when I took off and
they're lookin' for me there." He grinned briefly. "Callahan found me.
'Come out or I'll shoot!' he said. I didn't come out and he shot. Hope
the beech tree he thought was me don't mind."
"You could have run from here if you were going to run anyhow!"
"When I run," Al Harkness said, "nobody 'cept me gets in the way of any
bullets I might draw. Think I want 'em shootin' up you or Tammie?"
Al laid a canvas pack sack on the kitchen table. While Ted wrapped the
cooked pork chops in double thicknesses of waxed paper and the excess
biscuits in single, his father spooned the potatoes into glass quart
jars and mashed them down. He packed everything into the rucksack and
added a package of coffee, one of tea, some salt and a few
miscellaneous items. Donning his hunting jacket, he shouldered the pack.
Filling two pockets with matches, he slid two unopened boxes of
cartridges into another. Finally he strung a belt ax and hunting knife
on a leather belt, strapped it around his middle and took his rifle from
its rack.
"Don't try to find me, Ted."
"What shall I say if they come?" Ted whispered.
"Tell the truth and say I was here. They'll find it out anyhow."
"What are you going to do?"
"Lay in the hills 'til somethin' turns up. Can't do nothin' else now."
"Dad, don't go!" Ted pleaded. "Stay and face it out. It's the best way."
"It might have been," Al agreed, "and I was most tempted to go clear in.
But it ain't any more."
"Why?"
"Lorin' had his radio on; listened on the way down. Smoky Delbert come
to and talked. He named me as the man who shot him and said I shot from
ambush! Be seein' you, Ted."
5