The War to End All Wars by Randy Krehbiel

Author:Randy Krehbiel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: oklahoma, world war i, fiction historical
Publisher: Randy Krehbiel

Chapter Eleven

Every farmer in the county seemed to be in Rasher’s Hollow, and that concerned Laz Mabry. He had convinced Zeph and Zec they had a responsibility to be here, if only to watch and listen, but now he thought perhaps he had been mistaken. Too many people were here, too much was being said; word was sure to get out, to get around, to carry with it names to go with the blurred forms and muffled voices merging and separating in the darkness like wisps of swirling fog.

Laz had learned of the gathering from Elmer Logan, Elmer having turned up at their door the previous evening, unexpected, bringing a half-dozen black summer squash he pressed on them despite Willa’s protestations. We have plenty, she said, thinking of Laz’ garden, saying Daisy and the children need this more than we do. But Elmer insisted, almost desperately. Please, he said, they had been too good to him and his family. So Willa accepted the squash, saying, “And how is Daisy? How are the children?”

Elmer had shuffled uneasily, not quite looking Willa in the eye, saying, “Daisy is better, thankee. The child’rn ‘ve gone to stay with Daisy’s sisters for awhile, until she’s back on her feet.”

“I must get down to see her soon,” said Willa.

Elmer made as if to reply but Laz interrupted.

“I’m surprised they’d agree to that,” he said, recalling those three stony young faces and the oldest one declaring they would not be sent away.

Elmer nodded and said, “A chance to visit their cousins kinda changed the angle for ‘em.”

Willa invited him to sit in the yard with them, catching what breeze they could, but he declined, saying he had to get back to Daisy. As Elmer turned to go, he asked hesitantly, as an afterthought, “You goin’ to that meetin’ over t’ Rasher’s t’marra night?”

And then, seeing Laz’ expression, he added, “Gonna be some speakers. You know the type.”

When Logan was gone, Laz stroked his chin and said, “Maybe we ought to go see what this is about.”

“Sounds like trouble to me,” said Zephaniah. “Zec ‘n me‘ve had enough a that for awhile.”

Zephaniah had not told his father about Will Martin or that they might not be finished with the business at Four Mile Creek, but he had confided in Zec. He had, in fact, encouraged Zec to take off, to disappear until matters settled, but Zec had said no. No the brothers exchanged looks, and Zechariah shrugged.

“Might be interestin’,” he said.

“Somethin’s happenin’,” said Laz. “We need to know what it is. Waitin’ for somethin’ t’ happen t’ ya is the same as a turkey waitin’ on Thanksgivin’.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, we’ll be courtin’ grief,” said Zeph.

Laz stared at him.

“You weren’t worried just a few weeks ago. Somethin’ happen on these trips t’ town you been makin’, Zephaniah?”

“No, I, I jus’ been thinkin’.”

“Thinkin’, huh? Well, jus’ because we go don’t mean we got to get involved. Keep your eyes and ears open, your mouth closed, your hat pulled low.”

And

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