He pulled the aged scapular from his shirtfront and looked at it. It’s ears, he said.
It’s what?
Ears.
What kind of ears?
He tugged at the thong and looked down at them. They were perfectly black and hard and dry and of no shape at all.
Humans, he said. Human ears.
Aint done it, said the one with the rifle.
Dont call him a liar Elrod, he’s liable to shoot ye. Let’s see them things mister if you dont care.
He slipped the scapular over his head and handed it across to the boy who’d spoken. They pressed about and felt the strange dried pendants.
Niggers, aint it? they said.
Docked them niggers’ ears so they’d know em when they run off.
How many is there mister?
I dont know. Used to be near a hundred.
They held the thing up and turned it in the firelight.
Nigger ears, by god.
They aint niggers.
They aint?
No.
What are they?
Injins.
The hell they are.
Elrod you done been told.
How come them to be so black as that if they aint niggers.
They turned that way. They got blacker till they couldnt black no more.
Where’d you get em at?
Killed them sons of bitches. Didnt ye mister?
You been a scout on the prairies, aint ye?
I bought them ears in California off a soldier in a saloon didnt have no money to drink on.
He reached and took the scapular from them.
Shoot. I bet he’s been a scout on the prairie killed ever one of them sons of bitches.
The one called Elrod followed the trophies with his chin and sniffed the air. I dont see what you want with them things, he said. I wouldnt have em.
The others looked at him uneasily.
You dont know where them ears come from. That old boy you bought em off of might of said they was injins but that dont make it so.
The man didnt answer.
Them ears could of come off of cannibals or any other kind of foreign nigger. They tell me you can buy the whole heads in New Orleans. Sailors brings em in and you can buy em for five dollars all day long them heads.
Hush Elrod.
The man sat holding the necklace in his hands. They wasnt cannibals, he said. They was Apaches. I knowed the man that docked em. Knowed him and rode with him and seen him hung.
Elrod looked at the others and grinned. Apaches, he said. I bet them old Apaches would give a watermelon a pure fit, what about you all?
The man looked up wearily. You aint callin me a liar are ye son?
I aint ye son.
How old are you?
That’s some more of your business.
How old are you?
He’s fifteen.
You hush your damn mouth.
He turned to the man. He dont speak for me, he said.
He’s done spoke. I was fifteen year old when I was first shot.
I ain’t never been shot.
You aint sixteen yet neither.
You aim to shoot me?
I aim to try to keep from it.
Come on Elrod.
You aint goin to shoot nobody. Maybe in the back or them asleep.
Elrod we’re gone.
I knowed you for what you was when I seen ye.
You better go on.
Set there and talk about shootin somebody. They aint nobody done it yet.
The other four stood at the limits of the firelight. The youngest of them was casting glances out at the dark sanctuary of the prairie night.
Go on, the man said. They’re waitin on ye.
He spat into the man’s fire and wiped his mouth. Out on the prairie to the north a train of yoked wagons was passing and the oxen were pale and silent in the starlight and the wagons creaked faintly in the distance and a lantern with a red glass followed them out like an alien eye. This country was filled with violent children orphaned by war. His companions had started back to fetch him and perhaps this emboldened him the more and perhaps he said other things to the man for when they got to the fire the man had risen to his feet. You keep him away from me, he said. I see him back here I’ll kill him.
When they had gone he built up the fire and caught the horse and took the hobbles off and tied it and saddled it and then he moved off apart and spread his blanket and lay down in the dark.
When he woke there was still no light in the east. The boy was standing by the ashes of the fire with the rifle in his hand. The horse had snuffed and now it snuffed again.
I knowed you’d be hid out, the boy called.
He pushed back the blanket and rolled onto his stomach and cocked the pistol and leveled it at the sky where the clustered stars were burning for eternity. He centered the foresight in the milled groove of the framestrap and holding the piece so he swung it through the dark of the trees with both hands to the darker shape of the visitor.
I’m right here, he said.
The boy swung with the rifle and fired.
You wouldnt of lived anyway, the man said.
It was gray dawn when the others came up. They had no horses. They led the halfgrown boy to where the dead youth was lying on his back with his hands composed upon his chest.
We dont want no trouble mister. We just want to take him with us.
Take him.
I knowed we’d bury him on this prairie.
They come out here from Kentucky mister. This tyke and his brother. His momma and daddy both dead. His grandaddy was killed by a lunatic and buried in the woods like a dog. He’s never knowed good fortune in his life and now he aint got a soul in this world.
Randall you take a good look at the man that has made you a orphan.
The orphan in his large clothes holding the old musket with the mended stock stared at him woodenly. He was maybe twelve years old and he looked not so much dullwitted as insane. Two of the others were going through the dead boy’s pockets.
Where’s his rifle at mister?
The man stood with his hand on his belt. He nodded to where the rifle stood against a tree.
