Free The Axman Cometh by John Farris Page B

quarter-pound of four-inch-long cement nails which she pours into the scoop of an old-fashioned scale on the counter. "You're the first person I've met who's from Rhode Island."
    "There aren't all that many of us."
    "The ax handles are over there in that barrel. You should pick out a couple you like the feel of."
    "Thanks."
    "What do you think of Fort Riley?"
    "I like it a lot better than where I was last year. Ankara, Turkey."
    "You certainly do get around. I guess your family's used to all that traveling."
    "I'm not married," Autry Smith says, pulling a hickory ax handle from the barrel and running his fingers along the smoothed grain. "My father was a major general, so I was an army brat. I've seen what the life does to women. I won't get married until I can settle down, earn a living at what I really like to do."
    "What would that be?"
    "I'm a composer."
    "Really? What kind of music?"
    "Serious music."
    "What instruments do you play?"
    "Piano, flute, cello."
    "Where'd you find time to learn all that?"
    "I never had to work very hard. When I wanted to learn an instrument, I just—picked it up. It's as natural as breathing to me. So is composing."
    "That's how I learned to draw. Just did it. I've never had lessons."
    "Oh, you're an artist."
    "Well, I like to think I am."
    Autry Smith chooses a second ax handle, glances toward the office in back where Dab can be seen indistinctly, swimmingly, behind the pebbled glass, as if it is one side of an aquarium. He returns to where Shannon is checking off items on his list and puts the handles down on the counter.
    "We seem to have a lot in common."
    "I'd like to hear some of your music."
    "So would I. I've never heard any of it the way it should be played; that would require a full symphony orchestra. The London Philharmonic would be ideal." He shrugs, smiling. "I like the Cleveland Symphony too, since Szell took over. But so far, no one's shown much interest in what I send them."
    "It'll happen."
    "I know it will. I just have to be patient, and confident of my talent. Get through the dry spells. Well, that does it for me, Shannon, did you find everything on the list?"
    "I'm sorry we don't have the three- hundred-pound test fishing line. Not much call for it around here. A five-pound bass down at the reservoir is big news."
    "That's okay."
    "Let's see—including the ax handles, comes to thirty-six eighteen, with tax."
    Autry Smith takes four tens from a money clip with Uncle Sam's eagle embossed on it and hands them to Shannon, picks up the shopping list from the counter, refolds it and places it in one of his shirt pockets. She wonders, fleetingly, why he doesn't just throw away the torn piece of notebook paper; but some people are born savers.
    "Do you have a big family, Shannon?"
    "Well, there's my mom and Dab , which is short for Dabney , and I have two brothers. Allen Ray's going in the service next month, so it'll just be Chap and me at home then. Chap's twelve. We fight all the time, but he's about the best buddy I've got right now." She rings up the sale and takes the change from the drawer of the cash register. "Here you are. Need a hand getting your stuff outside?"
    "No. Nice meeting you, Shannon. I hope your party's a big success. Friday night, huh? Expecting a lot of people?"
    "At least a hundred. We're doing a cook- out in the backyard, and I've got a band—it's just some kids from the college, call themselves the Telstars , but they're pretty good. The whole neighborhood'll be there, except maybe the Wurzheimers ."
    "What's their problem?"
    "Oh. I don't know exactly, some sort of feud that goes back to before I was born."
    "Well, so long," he says, picking up the brown paper sack, carrying the ax handles in his other hand. Someone else has come into the hardware store, a seventyish woman wearing baggy carpenter's overalls. Autry Smith smiles, crow's feet springing up at the corners of his slightly hooded eyes, tips the rolled brim of his Stetson a little lower over