TRAGEDY OF BLOOD

a novel by Gary Canup

Chapter 8

It had been Quint and Marty's turn that afternoon to accompany Andrew and Lavinia down to the river to work on the raft, Mark and Lucas's turn to stay behind and guard the Old One and the house, and they sat on homemade chairs on the porch with their rifles resting across their laps. The door stood open, and they were half-listening to the Old One at the spinning wheel in the main room singing, quite feebly, an old mountain tune, humming at those places where she had forgotten the lyrics.

"Looks like Pa was right," Lucas remarked. "The feud does seem to be over."

"Peers that way," Mark said. "I reckon it's startin to look pretty good."

"If you really believe that, Uncle Mark, then how come you continue to carry your rifle wherever you go?"

"A rifle don't weigh much," the old man explained. "I never go nowheres withouten my old friend. I'd miss his company."

"Uncle Mark, why is it you never took leadership of the clan, seeing as how you're two years older than Pa?"

"Ain't never been the leader type, Luke. I'm a loyal follower, that's the way I prefer it. I don't reckon I could stomach havin to live with my decisions. I'd always be a-worryin if I done the right thing. Besides, I ain't never married. Clan leader should be a wedded man who sires many young-uns."

"How come you never married, Uncle Mark?"

"Ain't never found a woman I loved. In these here mountains, yer durn lucky if yeh can find one yeh can even tolerate."

Lucas was silent for a long time, and when Mark looked over, he saw that the youth was staring somberly into the wilderness.

"Yer thinkin bout Robbie agin, ain't yeh. I can always tell by that there distant look yeh git in yer eye."

"Uncle Mark . . . there's something about Robbie I never told anyone, not even Pa. I'm the only one who knew anything about it. I've been keeping it to myself for so long . . . I guess I kind of need to talk about it with someone."

"Sounds downright serious," Mark said.

"I can't talk to Pa about it. Quint and Marty're out of the question. Lavinia's too young. I ain't even sure I should be telling you."

"Well, Luke, yeh know yeh can talk to me bout anythin yeh like. I'm willin to listen anytime."

"Would you be willing to keep it a secret, Uncle Mark? I mean, not tell anyone about it ever? It's really important."

"If that's the way yeh want it, Luke."

Still the youth hesitated. He peeked over his shoulder into the main room.

"Yeh ain't got to worry bout the Old One overhearin none," Mark assured him. "The poor old gal's all but deef."

"It's kind of a long story," Lucas said.

"We got a lot a time to kill afore the others git back."

"Sounds like the perfect time then."

"I reckon so," Mark agreed.

Lucas took a deep breath and stared into the wilderness. "As you know, Uncle Mark, Robbie and me were nearest in age, just like Quint and Marty are nearest in age. Me and Robbie never could relate much to Quint and Marty. They were always deeper into the violence of the feud than we were, probably because, by the time we were born, Pa was getting tired of the feud and didn't breed as much hatred into us as he did into them. Me and Robbie used to talk about how senseless it was killing Groths just because they were Groths. We both agreed that if we met a fellow on the road who was friendly and shared his canteen with us on a hot day that we would probably like him, till we found out that his last name was Groth, and then we'd have to shoot him? It didn't make any sense to us. Robbie was even more dead-set against the feud than I was.

"You remember early this spring when Robbie began to act very strange? Kind of quiet and withdrawn?"

"I remember," Mark said.

"We all thought he was sick or something. He lost his appetite, couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate on whatever chore he was doing, and went off by himself a lot just to sit and gaze off into the distance. He didn't say much to any of us back then, not even to me. I didn't know what was going on in his head.

"Well, remember not to tell anyone this, Uncle Mark, but one night Robbie got out of bed and climbed out the window and sneaked off into the woods. The next night the same thing happened. I told myself if it happened again, I'd get out of bed and follow him. He thought I was asleep, you see, when he sneaked off.

"Well, sure enough, the following night I heard him raise up on one elbow. He whispered my name, and when I pretended to be asleep, he got up and climbed out the window and was gone. I threw back the covers — I'd gone to bed with my clothes and moccasins on — and got to the window just in time to see him sneaking off into the woods. I figured he'd watch awhile to see if anyone followed, so I waited a couple of minutes, then climbed out the window and followed.

"I remember it was pretty dark that night, especially in the wilderness, but there was a half moon and you could kind of see where you were going. I followed him mostly by sound, trying to keep to the shadows behind thickets and trees as much as I could. Every once in a while he'd stop and listen, and I almost always managed to stop at the same time and stand dead still, so that after a while he became satisfied, I suppose, that no one was following him, and hurried off without further pause.

"I tracked him for about a mile or so to this little glade by the river, where he sat down on a log, and I hid in the shadows behind the bushes at the edge of the glade. It must have been after midnight by then. All he did was sit there in the moonlight, slowly tearing a leaf into tiny pieces and letting the pieces flutter to the ground between his feet, like we always seen him do around home during his funks. Every once in a while, he'd look up as if trying to peer into the wilderness around him.

"Finally he heard something in the woods and jumped to his feet. I'd heard it too, and all of a sudden, out of the woods at the other side of the glade, this girl appeared, and they sort of ran into each other's arms. I couldn't tell who she was, it was too dark, and after a while they just went over and sat on the log facing the river. They held hands and fell to talking in low serious tones. I was too far away to hear what they said. All they did was sit there and talk, so I slipped away and returned home.

"Next morning, I found him sitting out behind the barn, fidgeting with a stick. I asked him what he was doing there, why he was tired all the time, why he was acting so strange. But he wouldn't tell me. I got kind of angry about that. We'd never kept secrets from each other before. So I came right out and asked him who the girl was. He stopped fidgeting with the stick. He wouldn't look at me. He said what girl. And I said the one he sneaked off to meet last night. He asked me how I knew he'd sneaked off to meet a girl, and I said because I followed him. He smiled a little then. He said he'd kind of thought he'd heard someone following him, and he was just glad it was me instead of Marty or Quint. He didn't look angry, in fact he looked kind of relieved that I knew. He needed to talk about her with someone. He made me swear not to tell a soul. He looked all around. Then finally he told me who she was. She was Julie Groth."

"Lordy me," Uncle Mark groaned.

"I know, that's what I said too. I couldn't believe it. I sure wasn't expecting anything like that. He said he couldn't believe how deeply in love with her he was. He couldn't think about anyone or anything else. He wanted to be with her all the time. He said she felt the same way about him. He said he hadn't told me about her not because he didn't trust me with the secret but because he figured that if he told me and the others found out I'd kept it a secret from them, then I'd be in trouble too."

"How'd they even meet?" Uncle Mark wanted to know. "We ain't sposed to have nothin to do with them people."

"He was out hunting rabbit one day and she was out collecting berries on the wrong side of the river. They just sort of ran into each other, I reckon."

Uncle Mark shook his head. "Never thought no nephew a mine'd go honin fer a Groth," he said with disappointment.

"Anyway, Robbie said he didn't know what to do, so he asked my advice. Should they just run away together, so far away their kin would never find them, and get married somewhere down in the flatlands? I asked him if he didn't think he was a little too young to be running off and getting married. He was only sixteen, and so was Julie. I advised him to wait a couple of months and see how he felt about Julie Groth then. In the meantime, see some of the other girls in this valley and compare them to Julie, he might like one of them better, and who knows, in a couple of months, he might be in love with a girl whose kinfolk wasn't a blood enemy. He didn't say much after that. I could tell he didn't think much of my advice.

"About a week later he pulled me behind the barn. He told me that him and Julie had been talking it over and that they had decided to run away together and get married, they loved each other too much to wait. He would miss his family, he said, but he was too deeply in love to be without her."

"He throwed us over fer a Groth?" Uncle Mark said in disgust.

"They planned to meet at night at the secret glade. They were just gonna carry the necessities. They would set out at dawn. They would follow the river. They would hide out somewhere else in these mountains. Maybe even leave the mountains altogether. Go down to the flatlands and see what was there. He reckoned it would all be quite an adventure. Robbie had never been much of a realist, and he seemed to have no idea of the hardships before them, but I knew there'd be no talking him out of it. And that's when it hit me. We were gonna lose him. After that day I'd never see him again. I can't remember the last time I cried, Uncle Mark, but I cried then and so did Robbie. I cried even though I was mad, and I wasn't mad at him, because I knew it wasn't him that was doing it, it was the feud that was doing it."

Lucas broke off talking. Twilight had crept over them by slow and unnoticeable degrees, and the fireflies were out, each searching for another with dimly blinking beacons. The others were just now emerging from the wilderness, and Mark and Lucas looked over at them. Quint and Marty, their rifles slung across their backs, and Lavinia were on foot, and Andrew was following in the wagon. Quint and Marty were playing a game of keepaway from Lavinia with a green apple, the girl squealing and leaping about, Andrew laughing and thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of his children at play.

"The morning they were supposed to run away," Lucas resumed, "was the morning we found Robbie dead in the secret glade." He reflected on the wisdom of what he was about to say, weighing the possible consequences and deciding to take a chance, since he needed an unburdening and since his uncle had promised secrecy. "Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, Uncle Mark, because I don't have any proof. We always believed it was Alan Groth who killed Robbie. But I don't think it was the Groths at all. I think it was Quint and Marty. Somehow they found out about him and Julie and they killed him because that was the only way to keep him from running away with a Groth."

Quint made a deliberately errant toss that allowed Lavinia to intercept the apple and she squealed and jumped up and down in celebration, Andrew laughing out loud and applauding the girl.

"That's a powerful accusation," Mark said.

"It's not an accusation. It's just a suspicion."

"What evidence yeh got?"

"It was something Quint said to me after we buried Robbie, and I took it as a warning. He said, 'If there's anything worse than a Groth, it's a Nici who lies with a Groth.' It was the look in his eyes when he said it. It's just a feeling that I got."

"Yer wrong," his uncle stated bluntly. "It was Alan Groth that killed Robbie."

"I hope I'm wrong."

"No, yer wrong, Luke," his uncle asserted in an outburst of vehemence that surprised the youth. "And yeh ain't to mention this here suspicion to no one else, least a all to yer pa, yeh unnerstand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't wanna hear no more bout it neither. No good can come of it. Somethin like that'd only tear this here family apart and pizen the rest a our days."

"You're right, Uncle Mark. I won't mention it anymore."

"See that yeh don't."

Lucas looked over at the others, who were putting the wagon away in the barn. "Uncle Mark, I know it sounds strange, I never met Julie Groth, and I don't even know what she looked like. But just listening to Robbie talk about her in our room at night, in that dreamy whisper of his, about her laugh, her talk, her dreams, her fears, well, I know it sounds strange, but I sort of started to fall in love with her myself."

"Ain't wise to hone fer a Groth girl," Mark reminded him.

"I know, Uncle Mark. I know."

Lavinia was running happily towards the house.

"Uncle Mark? What do you reckon became of her? I mean, no one's seen her or heard from her since that morning."

"A girl taken up with a boy who's a family enemy? I known folks in these mountains to kill sich a girl, I heerd tell of it happenin. Cain't imagine folks killin their own kin no matter how bad a thing they done, but I reckon if anyone was capable of it, it'd be the Groths."

Lucas's eyes welled up with tears, which fortunately were not visible in the twilight. He saw his sister running towards them and he quickly and discreetly wiped his eyes and struggled to compose himself. She scampered up onto the porch and lightly perched on his lap, breathing excitedly on his face, draping her slender arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. "Hey there, Luke! How's my beau?"

Lucas smiled quiveringly. "Fine, Vinnie. Just fine."