Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

in search of vampires.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
II
With no Henry to guide him, and tethered to within a few miles of New Salem (for he had to be back to open Offutt’s store every morning at seven), Abe’s vampire-killing streak ground to a halt in the summer of 1831. He wandered the surrounding woods at night; ventured up and down the banks of the Sangamon. But save for investigating the occasional noise, there was no excitement to be had. It wasn’t long before Abe began to put more stock in rest than reconnaissance, and stopped venturing out altogether.
That’s not to say there weren’t opportunities to fight.
About a half-hour’s walk from New Salem was the settlement of Clary’s Grove, home to the rather unimaginatively named Clary’s Grove Boys, a gang of mostly related young men with a penchant for getting drunk and raising hell.
They were good for no less than two brawls a night in poor Jim Rutledge’s tavern, and were known to break up river baptisms by throwing rocks at the parishioners from the woods. One dared not cross them, or they might put out your windows—even stuff you in a barrel and leave you to the mercy of the Sangamon.
Above all, the Boys loved to “wrastle.” They prided themselves on being the “meanest, toughest, rowdiest wrastlers around.” So when word came that there was a “big fella come to work” at the general store in New Salem, they considered it their duty to size him up in person and, if need be, put him in his place.
Abe knew the Clary’s Grove Boys would be looking for a fight, just as they’d looked for one with every able-bodied man who moved into their territory for years. That’s precisely why he’d avoided them at all costs, hoping they would simply grow accustomed to having him around. He’d managed to go nearly two whole months without a confrontation (a local record). Unfortunately, Denton Offutt was a little man with a big mouth, and on seeing some of the Boys about, bragged that his new clerk was not only the smartest man in Sangamon County, but that he was “big enough to lick the lot” of them.
They came unannounced to the store and called me outside. On seeing ten or more gathered there, I asked what business we had. One of them stepped forward and said they intended to put their “best man” on me, on account of Mr. Offutt’s having described me as “the toughest man he ever saw.” I told them that Mr. Offutt had been mistaken. That I was not tough at all, and that I had no use for such wooling around. My refusal was not taken well, for I was then surrounded and threatened by the whole of the gang. They would not permit me inside, they said, until I’d had a go. If I refused, all of New Salem would know me as a coward, and they would turn our store over from “top to bottom.” I agreed, but insisted it be a fair fight. “Oh it ain’t going to be much of a fight at all,” said one of them, and called Jack to the front.
Jack Armstrong was a brick wall of a man, four inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier than Abe. He was the Clary’s Grove Boys’ unquestioned leader, and it was easy to see why.
He had a mean look about him, and kept his arms and chest taut as he moved around me, as if his whole body was a drawn bowstring that could be released at any moment. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground, circling around me. Preferring to keep mine on, I began to roll up one of my sleeves. I had scarcely begun this when I was suddenly on my back—the air pressed from my lungs.
The Boys cheered as Jack sprang to his feet, and booed as Abe struggled to his.
Clearly, my insistence on a “fair fight” was to have no bearing. Jack came at me again, but this time I was ready—meeting his outstretched arms with mine, our backs and shoulders forming a tabletop as we leaned forward, pushing against each other. Our heads down; our feet kicking up dirt behind us. I suspect he was a good deal surprised at my strength. I was certainly surprised at his. I felt as if I had locked arms with a Russian bear.
But as mighty as Jack Armstrong was, he was nothing compared to the vampires Abe had grappled with in the past. With his lungs again full, Lincoln reached up and grabbed Jack’s neck with one hand, and the waist of his pants with the other.
Holding him thus, I lifted his body clean off the ground and over my head, keeping him there as he squirmed and struggled and cussed. This spectacle produced in his friends no