Chapter 2

The carpetbagger woke up tied to a tree and the first thing he saw was an open grave. His eyes went wild and he tried to yell through the gag in his mouth. I grinned as I watched him struggle, then untied him from the tree but left his binding on him. He was calming down and I took the gag out. He immediately tried to yell and I kicked him into the grave. I was only five seven but I’d worked on a horse farm my whole life so I knew how to use a pick and shovel, so the grave was over six feet deep. I think I wanted him as close to hell as possible.

His face was a mask of fear as he stared up from the grave.

“You should have never stole from me, you bastard. My father was dead, my mother was dead, and you just decided to waltz in and take over. You took everything and ran me off on foot with just the clothes on my back. I think you’d agree right about now that was a mistake. You should have tied up all the loose ends.”

I grabbed my shovel and sent a few full loads of dirt in, focusing on his face. He was trying to scream and ended up gaggin on a mouthful of Georgia clay. I decide to toss a few more in before I dropped a rope over ths side and climbed in with him, straddling his legs.

“I’ll give you a choice, Bascomb. Tell me what happened to Uncle Pete and I’ll kill you before I bury you. Don’t and I’ll just fill this in and walk away. Now talk.”

He had more sand than I thought, yelling and screaming for help and about what he was going to do to me when he got loose. I let him ramble for a minute before I climbed out and started shoveling. When he was covered by about an inch I climbed back down and wiped it off his face. sitting until he got his breath back.

First he tried to threaten, then he tried to bargain. When he finally ran out of steam I asked if he was going to tell me what I wanted to know. Bascomb clammed up, so I went through the dirt routine again, waiting a good three minutes before I uncovered him. By now all the fight had gone out of him. “This is your last chance. I climb outta here again and I won’t stop until I smoothing the sod down. You might last an hour or better, depending on if there are any air pockets.”

I have to admit it bothered me to see a grown man cry, but I remember my mother’s face when they brough my father’s body home, then later the tears when she realized she was going to lose her home. Hearing her cry herself to sleep really bothered me, and then I found her dead from too much laudalum. Two weeks alter Bascomb and Peters showed up to take possesion of the farm, showing me papers about the nonpayment of a loan my father had taken out. It was signed and dated five weeks after his death. The fat old Sheriff wouldn’t look me in the eye as they ran me off with just the clothes on my back. I can still hear them laughing as I walked away.