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Show "Better git over to the two-seater," two-seater," said the first stranger. Port didn't move. The man pulled a pistol from his belt and cocked back the hammer. Port turned and walked slowly towards the outhouse, out-house, his eyes on the ground. The six men followed him, laughing all the way. They were leading their horses. Port paused at the door, not wanting to go in. "Inside, Mormon," ordered the man with the drawn pistol. "And don't come out unless you want a final resting place in the basement." base-ment." It was dark inside. Port could hear the men circlin g the outhouse. There was a scratching sound, the unmistakable sound of rope against wood. They were tying a rope around the little building to prevent Port's escape. He reached for his knife. It was not in his belt. He had left it in the cabin. Without a knife it would be hard to get out. "If we see the door moving, Mormon, or you trying to git out, we'll shoot this iittle house so full of holes you'll have to dive down the hole if you don't want to get shot." The men were still laughing as they galloped back to the ferry. Port decided to wait until dark to make his escape. No one would see him then. It wouldn't be long. He was angry with himself for not having his knife, and he vowed never to be outdoors without it again. There were tears in his eyes at the shame of having lost control of his bladder before a group of men. He wondered what was wrong with him, why he was not brave like other men. He wondered why his voice became high and broken, giving away his fear. He hated his voice. He hated the outhouse. out-house. He hated the men who put him there. He hated himself for allowing them to do it. The darkness didn't come, at least not at the usual time. Port could hear shouting, hoof beats, screaming, and some shooting. The approaching darkness was held back by the blaze of yellow-orange yellow-orange flames. Port guessed from the direction of the firelight that old David Bennett's cabin was burning. Port decided he couldn't remain in the outhouse while people's homes were burning. Maybe his would be next. Luana and Emily were without protection. So were his mother and sister. He began kicking furiously at the door, but before any of the boards began to give way, three or four bullets sliced through the soft pine wood. Port dropped to the floor, hearing approaching hoof beats. "Rockwell," a familiar voice shouted. "Try to git out again and forty men will open fire on this little house. Think about it, Mormon." Port could hear the horse galloping away. Cautiously he got to his feet and began pushing at the boards on the side away from the firelight, hoping he might find a loose one. The outhouse was new and sturdy. None of the boards were loose. As he continued his search Port tried to put a face to the voice that had threatened him. He kept thinking ix. belonged to Lieutenant Governor Lilburn Boggs, but it was hard for him to believe that P aggs, a high public official, would Le riding rid-ing with a gang of mobbers dressed like Indians. But Port couldn't put any other face with the voice. It had to be Boggs. During the next half-hour Port heard sounds of splintering wood, the bleating of sheep, the mooing of cattle, the screaming of people, more gun shots. When he heard what sounded like a cryingbaby, he began to cry too. His Emily wasn't even a year old, and he was helpless to defend her. Then all was quiet. The mobbers were gone, though the fire at Bennett's cabin continued to spread a flickering yellow light. Port kicked off the bottom dooi hinges and wiggled outside. He rar frantically towards his cabin. The first thing he noticed was that the roof was gone, ripped off log by log by riders with long ropes. The door had been jerked from its hinges. As he reached the open doorway he saw the white floor, thick and fluffy like it was covered with newfallen snow. The white was not snow, but millions of feathers, everywhere. The down of a thousand doves. The feather quilt he had given Luana before their marriage had been ripped to pieces. Port waded inside the cabin, feeling immediate reliel upon finding Luana and Emily, apparently unhurtbutbadly frightened, fright-ened, huddling in the corner. "Where were you?" Luana sobbed as she recognized her husband. hus-band. Port couldn't tell her. He wished he were dead. (To be continued! |