Boys Life

like a geyser. From the back seat, where he must’ve been restrained by cuffs or a rope, Donny hollered, “Don’t kill me ’fore you save me, Daddy!”
    I saw where Donny got his smarts from.
    Biggun reached up and grabbed the ammo bag’s strap, and he hauled it down with him to reload. Another bullet smacked into the Cadillac, and a taillight crashed. The Candystick Kid was still at work.
    “Ain’t no use!” Biggun said, snapping the shotgun shut again. “We’re gonna go through you like shit through a goose! Hear me, Sheriff Junior?”
    Dad got up. I almost shouted for him to stay down, but he ran alongside the sheriff’s car and crouched next to Sheriff Amory. I could see how pale his face was. But he was there, and that’s what counted.
    There was a lull as everybody got their second gulp of courage. Bodean and Wade began firing at the sheriff’s car again, and Donny hunkered down in the back seat. “Stop that shootin’, ya damn fools!” Biggun commanded. “You wanna blow your brother’s head off?”
    Maybe it was my imagination, but neither Wade nor Bodean stopped firing as fast as they should have.
    “Get around behind ’em, Wade!” Bodean yelled.
    “You get around behind ’em, dumb ass!”
    Bodean, proving the cunning of a poker player did not translate into common sense, stood up and sprinted for the building’s corner. He got about three strides when a single gunshot rang out and he grabbed at his right foot and fell sprawling to the pavement. “I’m shot, Daddy! Daddy, I’m shot!” he whined, his pistol lying out of reach.
    “Didn’t think you were fuckin’ tickled!” Biggun roared back. “Lord God, you got the brains of a BB in a boxcar!”
    “Gimme somethin’ else to shoot at!” the Candystick Kid urged, well-hidden in the shadow of the tow truck. “I got a gun full of lonely bullets!”
    “Give it up, Biggun!” Sheriff Amory said. “You’re washed up around here!”
    “If I am, I’ll make you choke on the soap, you bastards!”
    “Ain’t no use anybody else gettin’ hurt! Throw out your guns and let’s call it quits!”
    “Sheeeeyit!” Biggun snarled. “You think I got anywhere in this life by callin’ it quits? You think I come up from hog turds and cotton fields to let a little tin star take my boy away from me and ruin everythin’? You shoulda used that money I been payin’ you to buy a head doctor with!”
    “Biggun, it’s over! You’re surrounded!” That was my father’s voice. To my dying day I shall never forget the steel in it. He was a Blackhawk, after all.
    “Surround this!” Wade jumped up and started firing with his rifle in my father’s direction. Biggun hollered for him to get down, but Wade was balanced on the lunatic edge just like Donny. Bullets struck sparks off the concrete, and one of them thunked into a tire in my nest of concealment. My heart seized up, it was so close. Then the Candystick Kid’s gun cracked again, just once, and a chunk of Wade’s left ear spun off his head and red blood spattered the Cadillac’s hood.
    You would’ve thought the bullet had chopped off something more central, because Wade screamed like a woman. He clutched at his ragged ear, fell to the ground, and started wheeling around and around like the Three Stooges’ Curly having a caterwauling fit.
    “Oh, my soul!” Biggun moaned.
    It was obvious that, like the Branlins, the Blaylocks could dish it out but they sure couldn’t take it.
    “Damn, I missed!” the Candystick Kid said. “I was aimin’ for his head instead of his ass!”
    “I’ll kill ya!” Biggun’s voice returned to the thunder zone. “ I’ll kill every one of ya and dance on your graves!”
    It was a frightening sound. But with Bodean and Wade writhing on the pavement and Donny yelping like a sad little puppy, there wasn’t much lightning left in the storm.
    And then the pickup’s passenger-side door opened and the Moon Man stepped out. He was wearing a black suit and a red bow tie, as well as his top hat. Around his neck were six or seven strings and attached to the strings were small things that looked like tea bags. A chicken foot was pinned to one lapel, and he wore three watches on each wrist. He didn’t duck or dodge. Instead, he began walking past the sheriff’s car, past Fire Chief Marchette and my dad and Sheriff Amory. “Hey!” Chief Marchette shouted. “Get your head down!”
    But the Moon Man kept going with a deliberate stride, his head held high.