Free A Gathering of Old Men by Ernest J. Gaines Page A

got that shotgun Mathu keeps beside the door. And I’ll swear to that in court.”
    Mapes continued to look at her from the side. Once, while she was talking, he shot a quick glance at me. I could tell he didn’t believe anything she was saying. Now she could see it, too.
    “I’ll swear to it in court,” she said again. “And that’s my story to the press.”
    Mapes grunted and turned to look at the people again. They had been watching and listening, but remained quiet. Even the children who sat on the steps were quiet but watching. The deputy came back into the yard and stood next to Mapes.
    “Bring me one of them,” Mapes said to him.
    “Which one, Sheriff?” Griffin asked.
    “One that can talk,” Mapes said, without looking at Griffin. Griffin left.
    Candy had been standing a little behind Mapes, but now she moved in front to face him.
    “I told you I did it,” she said. “Why are you questioning them?”
    Mapes didn’t answer her.
    “Candy, please,” I said. I reached out to touch her, but she jerked her arm away from me.
    “Because they’re black and helpless, is that why you’re picking on them?”
    He ignored her. He was watching Griffin lead one of the old fellows toward him. The old man had to be eighty. Griffin was probably afraid of anyone younger. The old man wore overalls, a khaki shirt, and an old felt hat. He was a clean-shaven old fellow, walked with quick steps, leaning a bit forward. Candy moved to the side as Griffin led him up to Mapes. When Griffin released his arm, he took off his hat and held it to his chest. His head was shaved as clean as his face. He looked up at Mapes a second; then his eyes came down to Mapes’s chest. He had a nervous twitch that made his bald head bob continually as if he were always agreeing with you. He was quite a bit shorter than Mapes, maybe even a foot shorter. Mapes let him stand there awhile before saying anything to him.
    “How come you so far from home, Uncle Billy?” Mapes asked him.
    “I kilt him,” the old man said, without raising his eyes from Mapes’s chest. His bald head never stopped bobbing.
    “Now, I don’t have time for that, Uncle Billy,” Mapes said. “This is my fishing day. I ask you again, how come you so far from home?”
    “I kilt—”
    The back of Mapes’s hand went
pow
across Uncle Billy’s face, and spit shot from the old man’s mouth as his head jerked to the side. Mapes had hit him so quickly that I hadn’t seen it coming or expected it.
    I heard a groan from the women sitting on the steps.
    “Look at that, look at that,” one of them said. “A old man like Billy Washington—just look at that.”
    “Mapes, I’m going to remember that,” Candy said, stabbing her finger toward him. “I’ve got a lot of witnesses. I’m going to remember that.”
    Mapes paid her no attention.
    “Let’s try it again, Uncle Billy. How come you so far from home?”
    “I kilt him,” Uncle Billy said, his bald head bobbing.
    Pow
went Mapes’s hand again. Blood dripped from Uncle Billy’s mouth, but he would not wipe it away.
    “Stand him over there, bring me another one,” Mapes said to Griffin.
    “You’re going to beat them all, Mapes?” Candy asked him. She was mad enough to hit him, but Mapes probably would have hit her back. I didn’t like what was going on either, but I knew that had I interfered, Mapes would have knocked hell out of me and thrown me in the back of his car.
    “You better get her out of here,” he said to me.
    “Like hell he will,” Candy said. “This is my land, in case you forget.”
    “You better stay out of my way,” Mapes warned her.
    “Like hell I will.”
    “Like hell you won’t,” he said.
    He turned to the old man that Griffin had just brought up there.
    “What are you doing from behind those trees, Gable?” he asked.
    Gable was a thin, brown-skinned man with white hair andhigh, prominent cheekbones. He was impeccably dressed—brown sports coat, plaid shirt, a string tie,