Date: Sun, 23 Feb 1997 22:38:00 -0500 From: Rqymond McDowell When I got t' the Sheriff's house, he wuz already gone. Must be my rheumatism, but ever' time I go t' git somebody these days, they already done been got by some young whippersnapper whose lighter on 'is feet. This is 'ticularly true with Henry R. Cleatus, who is allays out campaignin' f'r the some political job an figgers he's gonna git one by bein' the town busybody. Seein' I wuz already there I took a break in Li'l Brick's front porch swing. I was sittin' there, catchin' my breath, when I seed this hyar parade comin' on down the road. An' wouldn't y'know it. Twas Li'l Brick, them Pidgons, that fancy dancy salesman with Bertha Mae still glued on 'is scrawny arm, an' comin' up the front, fermentin' and instigatin' as usual, wuz ol' Henry hisself, carryin' a shotgun and yelpin' 'bout how he's done been give the authority to take deadly action 'gainst anybody whose done disturbed the peace. "Now, you all hold on a minit." I says, assertin' my position. "Where y'all goin'." "Why Doc," Says Li'l brick, puffin' up his chest and lookin' all official. "We's gonna go see whut kinda ruckus done been raised on accounta Bertha Mae's allurin' ways agin. Seems some o' our local boys is right upset 'cause of a certain outsider comin' in and stealin' aways her affections." An' Li'l brick tossed his head in the direction o' that travellin' salesman feller, so's to indicate what he's a'talkin' about. Now, I tell ya', Li'l Brick is a fine feller, but he's a mite subtle among us hill folk. Lotsa times he's too polite to come out an say what's really goin' on. Matter o' fact, they's only a dozen or so folks that Li'l brick has shot since he took over the job o' sherifin', an' all them was revenuers so's they don't really count. I was a' gonna answer Li'l brick and tell him 'bout my suspicions 'bout the city slicker on Bertha Mae's arm, but ol' Henry jumped up and started hollerin' like we wuz all deaf. "It's our dooty t' keep the peace, Sheriff. As upstandin' citizens o' this comunity, we is bound by the law to take them rapscallions out and tar n' feather 'em. They is a blight on our fair township an' we is gotta do somethin' about 'er." "Now, you quiet down, Henry," says the Sheriff. "I ain't even appointed you as dep'ty yet. You go and start shootin' folks without th' proper say-so an' I'll be forced t' toss you inna jail for a day or so till you cool down." "I swears, Sheriff. I won't go a'shootin' at anybody less'n you gives the go ahead." "That's better. Now, lets git on into town and see who we gotta take aim at." An' so Li'l Brick headed off into town, along with ever'body else. I got up an' followed 'em as best I could. As usual, though, I kinda fell behind. I was just comin' up on the town square when I saw a flash o' gunfire. Then I heered some words that'll haunt me the rest o' my days. "Ohmigawd!" yelled Ma Pidgon. "They done shot Pa and Bertha Mae." Rqy