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Leroy eyed him speculatively.

"Prove it."

"Sure." Dade took an apple from his pocket.

"I was goin' to enjoy this, an' that's something' else I have agin you, Leroy." He suddenly tossed the apple into the air, and shouted, "Hit it!"

There was a shotgun blast from the rock behind me and the apple disintegrated in mid-air. Wetness splattered against my cheek.

"Could have been yo' haid, Leroy," said Dade.

"It's bigger. Mighty fine target is a swelled haid." His voice sharpened.

"Now, you heard me tellin' you, an' you know I tells no one twice. Move yo' ass." His hand pointed down the hill.

"That's the shortest way often my land."

Leroy looked uncertainly at the shotgun pointing at his belly, then he laughed shortly.

"Okay, Dade. But, listen, old man; you ain't heard the last."

"An' yo' not the last to tell me that. Better men, too." Dade spat at Leroy's feet.

Leroy turned on his heel and went out of sight and I heard the sound of many men going down the hill. Dade watched them go, his sparse grey hair moving in the slight breeze. He stood there for a long time before he moved.

From somewhere behind me the girl said, "They're gone, Pop."

"Yeah." Dade came up to the tree. He said, "I'm Dade Perkins an' this is my girl, Sherry-Lou. Now, suppose you come down outta that tree an' tell me just who the hell you are." i73 It nearly went sour even then.

I climbed down from the tree, wincing as the rough bark scraped my bruised and bloody feet. As I reached the ground I said, "Where's the nearest telephone? I need help."

Sherry-Lou laughed. She looked me up and down, taking in my bleeding arms, the tattered tee-shirt with its incongruous inscription, the ripped jeans and my bare feet.

"You sure do," she said.

"You look like you tangled with a cougar." She saw the expression on my face and the laughter vanished.

"Got a telephone back at the house," she offered.

"How far?"

"Two three miles."

"You won't make that in under an hour," said Dade.

"Yo' feet won't.

Can Sherry-Lou go ahead an' talk for you? "

I was not feeling too well. I leaned against the tree, and said, "Good idea."

"Who do I talk with?" she asked.

"What number?"

I had forgotten the number and had no secretary handy to ask.

"I

don't know but it's easy to find. Houston the Cunningham Corporation; ask for Billy Cunningham. "

There was an odd pause. Sherry-Lou seemed about to speak, then hesitated and looked at her father. He glanced at her, then looked back at me.

"You a Cunningham?" he asked, and spat at the ground.

That ought to have warned me.

"Do I sound like a Cunningham?" I said tiredly.

"No," he admitted.

"You talk funny. I reckoned you was from Californy – some place like that."

"I'm a Bahamian," I said.

"My name's Mangan – Tom Mangan."

"What's the Cunninghams to you?"

"I married one," I said.

"And Leroy's got her." Perkins said nothing to that. I looked at his expressionless face and said desperately, "For Christ's sake, do something! She was screaming her head off when I busted out this morning. I couldn't get near her." I found I was crying and felt the wetness of tears on my cheek.

Sherry-Lou said.

"Those Ainslees…"

"Cunningham or Ainslee – dunno which is worst," said Dade.

"Ainslee by a short haid, I reckon." He nodded abruptly.

"Sherry-Lou, you run to the house an' talk to Billy Cunningham." He turned to me.

"The young sprout or Billy One?"

"Young Billy would be best." I thought he would be better able to make quick decisions.

Dade said, "Tell young Billy he'll need guns, as many as he can get.

An' tell him he'd better be fast. "

"How far are we from Houston?" I did not even know where I was.

"Mebbe hundred miles."

That far! I said, "Tell him to use helicopters he'll have them."

"An' tell him to come to my place," said Dade.

"He sure knows where it is. Then come back an' bring a pair of Chuck's sneakers so as Tom here can walk comfortable."

"Sure," said Sherry-Lou, and turned away.

I watched her run up the hill until she was lost to sight among the trees, then I turned to look about.

"Where is thi s place?"

"You don't know?" said Dade, surprised.

"Close to Big Thicket country." He pointed down the hill to the right.

"Neches River down there." His arm swung in an arc.

"Big Thicket that way, an' Kountze."

His thumb jerked over his shoulder.

"Beaumont back there."

I had never heard of any of it, but it seemed I had just come out of Big Thicket.

Dade said, "Seems I remember Debbie Cunningham marryin' a Britisher a few months back. That you?"

"Yes."

"Then it's Debbie Leroy's got," he said ruminatively.

"I think you'd better talk."

'75 "So had you," I said.

"What have you got against Cunninghams?"

"The sons of bitches have been tryin' to run me of fen my own land ever since I can rememfcer. Tried to run my Paw off, too. Been tryin' a long time. They fenced off our land an' big city sportsmen came in an' shot our hogs. They reckoned they was wild; we said they belonged to people us people. We tore down their fences an' built our own, an' defended 'em with guns. They ran a lot of folks of fen their land, but not us Perkinses."

"The Cunninghams don't want your land just to hunt pigs, do they?"

"Naw. They want to bring in bulldozers an' strip the land. A lot of prime hardwood around here. Then they replant with softwoods right tidy, like a regiment of soldiers marchin' down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington like I seen on TV once. Ruinin' this country."

Dade waved his arm.

"Big Thicket was three million acres once. Not much left now an' we want to keep it the way it is. Sure, I cut my timber, but I do it right an' try not to make too many big changes."

I said, "I can promise you won't have trouble with the Cunninghams ever again."

He shook his head.

"You'll never get that past Jack Cunningham he's as stubborn as a mule. He'll never let go while there's a dollar to be made outta Big Thicket."

"Jack will be no trouble; he had a heart attack a couple of days ago."

"That so?" said Dade uninterestedly.

"Then it's Billy One that old bastard's just as bad."

"I promised," I said stubbornly.

"It'll hold, Dade."

I could see he was sceptical. He merely grunted and changed the subject.

"How come you tangled with Leroy Ainslee?"

"Debbie was kidnapped from Houston," I said.

"So was I. Next thing I knew I was at the Ainslee place locked up in a hut with Leroy on guard with a shotgun. That one," I added, pointing to the shotgun leaning against the tree where Sherry-Lou had left it.

"Kidnappin'!" said Dade blankly. He shook his head.

"Ainslees have mighty bad habits, but that ain't one of'em."

"They didn't organize it. There was an Englishman; called himself Robinson, but I doubt if that's his real name. I think all the Ainslees provided was muscle and a place to hide. Who are they, anyway?"

"A no account family of white trash," said Dade.

"No one around here likes 'em. An' they breed too damn fast. Those Ainslee women pop out brats like shelling peas." He scratched his jaw.

"How much did they ask for ransom?"

"They didn't tell me." I was not about to go into details with Dade; he would never believe me.

"Did you really kill Earl? An' gut Tukey?"

"Yes." I told him how I had done it and he whistled softly. I said, "And Debbie was screaming all the time and I couldn't get near her."

I found myself shaking.

Dade put his hand on my arm.

"Take it easy, son; we'll get her out of there." He looked down at my feet.