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The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 46

The Finish

By Dan BrawnerPublished 2 years ago 8 min read
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The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 46
Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash

The grogginess was now gone, and Marshall was fully back to his senses. Lawrence had the pistol jammed hard into the side of his head, but the youth still knew he had to do something. He couldn’t count on anyone else saving Jenny and himself. If they did, fine. But he wasn’t about to turn the saving of his, and especially his little sister’s life, over to anyone else.

He knew Conners .38 was still in his jacket pocket, he could feel the weight of it on his leg. But his hand wasn’t very close to it and Lawrence might notice if he started inching toward it. Plus, the man might snap anyway and start shooting before he had time to get to it.

But Marshall knew the only real solution was to get the gun and shoot Lawrence before he shot them. And so, he began moving his hand imperceptibly toward the pocket.

“Lawrence,” Talmadge tried again. “Look, if ya say ya didn’t kill Barnes then you didn’t kill ‘im. We’re not out to pin anything on ya. We just want the killin’ to stop.”

“Fine. It’ll stop rat aftuh ah get through hea.”

Marshall’s hand was now only an inch from the pocket and Lawrence was too preoccupied to notice. In less than a minute, he would have the gun in his hand.

“Yea,” Lawrence continued. “Rat aftuh I get through wit ‘is boy. But’cha know I done told ‘im ‘at he’s gona hurt first. He’s’a gonna hurt jest like ah did when ah saw muh boy and when I saw muh Sally here. Yea, he’s gonna hurt jest like I am rat now.”

Marshall had his hand on the pistol, now. He could shoot through the jacket if he had to, but he had rather have it out because, in that position, all he would hit would be Lawrence’s stomach. It would obviously hurt, but considering his natural padding he had, it would hardly phase him for at least a few seconds if at all. And in those seconds, he and his sister could die.

No, Marshall thought, if this is going to work, it has got to be the head or the heart. So, he began gently pulling the pistol out.

“And ya know,” Lawrence went on and looked down at Marshall. “Ah think ere’s been ‘nough talk. Time ta pay da bill, boy.”

Marshall felt the pressure on the side of his head ease up as Lawrence pulled the gun away and swung it toward his sister who was still curled under the tree. But before he could get his right arm fully extended toward his Jenny, Marshall swung his elbow back and jammed it into Lawrence’s broken left arm. Lawrence screamed and fired at the same time.

Six inches above Jenny’s head, the tree splintered as the .45 shell drove into the bark. As it did, Marshall turned as far as he could to his left, thrust the .38 over his left shoulder and fired three quick shots into Lawrence’s face.

Marshall felt a burning sensation as the scalding powder peppered his cheek and ear, but he could, also, feel Lawrence, tensing and jerking with each shot. Unfortunately, all three bullets embedded in Lawrence’s cheekbones and chin, none going into his brains or eyes. As a result, Lawrence instantly went mad.

He flailed about and tried to curse all involved, but his mouth was now useless. Instead, a guttural half scream, half roar came from his throat as he brought the .45 down on Marshall’s scull. The .38 fell from the youth’s hand and he flopped over forward, unconscious.

Lawrence rose to his knees, leaned forward, and put the pistol to Jenny’s head. He looked skyward and screamed again preparing to pull the trigger, but before he could, the side of his head exploded. His gun arm dropped to his side as limp and useless as his broken arm. He remained upright for a moment, then slowly toppled to the side, kicking up a small cloud of snow.

The officers looked at each other. All four of them had their guns out and trained on Lawrence, but none of them had shot.

“Did one of ya’ll shoot ‘im?” Lampkin asked.

“I didn’t!” Frost said. Talmadge and Champion just shook their heads. Suddenly a voice came out of the darkness in front of them.

“Don’t shoot. Commin’ in.”

The officers looked up and could make out three figures approaching through the snow-covered trees. It was Carl, Gerald, and Mag Johnson. Gerald was leading Marshall’s horse while Carl and Mag were each carrying rifles.

No one said anything as Carl handed the Winchester to Gerald then reached down and took his daughter up in his arms. Jenny buried her face in her father’s shoulder as he gently rubbed her back.

“Daddy,” Jenny said so that only her father could hear. “Marsh came to get me.”

“I know he did,” Carl whispered back into her ear.

Carl then knelt down and put his hand on Marshall’s shoulder. As he did, Marshall began to move and groan.

“Marshall,” Carl said. “How bad ya hurt. Can ya move, Son?”

It was as if a trance was broken when Carl spoke and the four officers suddenly came to life. Talmadge went to Mag and Gerald first.

“I think ya better let me have those,” He said as he reached out for the rifles. Gerald looked at Mag who nodded and they both gave up the weapons. Mag carried a Winchester .45 identical to Carl’s.

Marshall rose to his knees and gently shook his head. He reached up and touched his scalp where Lawrence had split it open. He brought his hand down and saw blood, but not enough to worry about. A greater concern to him was his left ear. The .38 had been less than two inches away from it when he fired. He had a piercing pain there now plus he couldn’t hear anything through it.

“Hello, Daddy,” Marshall said as he struggled to his feet. Carl grabbed his arm when he began to topple sideways. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Don’t be sorry for nothin’, Son,” Carl said. “I’m just glad ya home safe.”

“Which one of ya killed him?” Lampkin asked mater-of-factly, nodding toward Lawrence.

“Hanged if I know, Chief.” Mag said. “Both fired at the same time. Couldn’t tell which one got ‘im, though. But, heck, we were shootin’ a mad-dog killer so it didn’t matter much, did it?”

“Courts might look at it a little differently,” Talmadge said as he handed the rifles to his deputies.

“Sheriff,” Mag said with a laugh. “Tell me where you’re gonna find a jury ta hang the one who rid the earth of that skum? Besides that, I heard ya say Ralph Barnes is back at his house, dead? Who ya think killed him, that girl uh his? Boys, if anything, the one who finally put ole’ Cubby there away just may get a medal.”

“Ya can say what ya want to, Mag,” Lampkin said. “But there’s been a killin’ here and someone’s gotta answer for it.”

Carl turned at these words.

“Well,” He said. “You boys do what ya hafta do. But right now, I’m carrin’ my son and daughter home. Their Momma’s been waitin’ on em.”

Carl, not waiting for a response, turned and walked back into the woods carrying Jenny and walking beside his son.

“See ya, boys,” Mag said then followed after Carl and his kids.” Ya know where I am if ya need me.”

Gerald, leading Sandy, followed after Mag. In less than a minute, they were all over the knoll of the Ridge and out of sight.

Edna couldn’t stop hugging and crying. She knew it was embarrassing her son, but he just smilingly tolerated it. After a time, she calmed down, somewhat, and began concentrating on Jenny. It gave Marshall a chance to go outside for some fresh air. Gerald, who had hung around, followed him out.

The snow had ended leaving about five inches on the ground. But even though it was only 6 a.m., the temperature was beginning to warm and the snow to melt. Still, it was cool enough that Marshall and Gerald both, pulled their jackets close around themselves.

For Marshall, everything had suddenly turned very calm and serene. Conners was asleep in an extra bedroom where Doctor Camp had relegated him after coming out earlier to tend him.

Frost and Champion had already been out and picked up Katie Lawrence to take her to the county lockup. They also told both boys to stay around town for a while which was a totally unnecessary warning.

“Marsh.” Gerald said.

“Humm,” Marshall grunted without looking at his friend.

“I got somethin’ to tell ya.”

“What’s that?”

“I did some things I’m not proud of.”

“Know anybody that ain’t?”

“Well, no, but........”

“Just let it lie, Gerald. Spilled milk and all.”

“But, Marsh......”

“Gerald,” Marshall turned and leveled his eyes at his friend. “Ya were there ta help at the end and that’s what matters, so leave it be.”

Gerald stared at Marshall a moment then nodded, ending the matter. They both turned, leaning on opposing porch posts and looked out over the snow.

“It sure is pretty,” Gerald said after a moment.

Marshall silently nodded his response.

“The Ridge I mean,” Gerald added.

“I know,” Marshall said as the sun caught fire over the rim, once more bringing the world to shimmering life. “Yea, Buddy, I know.”

Historical
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