{"id":2033,"date":"2022-09-25T18:53:37","date_gmt":"2022-09-25T22:53:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/?page_id=2033"},"modified":"2022-09-25T18:53:37","modified_gmt":"2022-09-25T22:53:37","slug":"buck-brinson","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/?page_id=2033","title":{"rendered":"Buck Brinson"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Okefenokee Moon<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter I<\/p>\n\n\n\n

August 1949<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shoved over the railing, Deputy B.L. Renfro hit the water of the open well, twisting through a half-flip and landing on his back. His feet were above his head and his shoulder shrieked in agony, but the cold wetness revived him. Which meant he did not drown in the next ten seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Renfro opened his mouth and took in a half-swallow. The shock brought him further alert, and he rotated until his boots touched the bottom. Looking up, a second body was tumbling. He pushed hard against the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Deputy Marcus Spears missed Renfro by inches and his plunge sloshed water up the sides. Glancing again, the opening was now round\u2014backlit by cloud-laced stars\u2014not blocked by looming man-shapes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Renfro stretched for Spears\u2019 throat and fingered for a pulse. None. He checked the gun-holster at his waist. Empty. He touched his own throbbing scalp wound. A ballooning lesion meant the blow aimed to kill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnybody movin\u2019?\u201d said a whispery voice from above.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The words dripped with swamp-ese, slurred and bent, but Renfro did not know the speaker. He froze, closed his eyes, and lowered his head until the water tickled his nose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey was dead when they went in and they\u2019s still dead now,\u201d came the answer. This voice was deeper, louder, but also unknown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A flashlight\u2019s beam played down the well sides and onto the water. It circled Renfro\u2019s crown and hovered on Spears. After five seconds, the light snapped off and darkness returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike I said, dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll wait a few minutes,\u201d said the whisperer. \u201cListen close. Shoot down in there if you hear anything. Don\u2019t want to wake the neighbors, but better safe than treble hooked in the eyeball.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWaste of time but you the boss.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Renfro breathed slowly, shallowly. He willed himself not <\/em>to look up. A surprise flashlight reflection off his eyes would result in double-ought buck being sprayed down onto him. Now was the time to be as cautious as a cricket hiding from a mantis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hats spun down to the surface. Then two more big splashes. \u201cLet them be our guns,\u201dhe prayed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The minutes crept by. Despite the heat of August, well water was cold, and his body\u2019s temperature dropped. As the first tremble rippled his shoulders, he heard the crunch of footsteps and two truck doors slam. An engine cranked and its drone subsided into the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was alone, at the bottom of a pitch-black well, with an injured arm and a dead friend. And he was lucky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He submerged and groped for the hoped-for pistols. One was choked with mud, but the other retained the slickness of gun oil on steel. He used Spears\u2019 hat as a boat and placed both in it. His own hat he left floating in case the bastards returned, and he once more must play dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now what? He was somewhere west of the Satilla River. Though dazed, he\u2019d not lost consciousness and the bouncing truck-ride seemed short.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The unknown men picked an abandoned house and used the well as a grave. This meant they didn\u2019t care if the bodies were sniffed out long-term. You bury dead folks in the nearby Okefenokee if you want finality, but they\u2019d not taken the time. Were they just careless? He didn\u2019t think so. Probably were outsiders. And in a big hurry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he knew. They had a powerful protector and felt safe.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd there,\u201d Renfro whispered to Spears, \u201cthey are wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He tested the shoulder. Inhaling sharply, he stretched and rotated the arm. The pain was white-hot, but he could reach high, and the hand could grip. Broken bones are showstoppers. His were not. This knowledge felt like drawing to an inside straight and hitting your card. He grinned, but it wasn\u2019t a smile of friendship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled a handkerchief and wrang it out, wiped the first pistol, and sighted its barrel at a star. It was clear. He did the same for the other gun. It was blocked and he had nothing to rod it with. \u201cUse the second if I must make a last stand,\u201d he thought to himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His watch was missing, but Spears\u2019 still ticked: 3:45 a.m. Dawn was in just over two hours. Looking up, he began to figure how the hell he was going to climb out. Ten feet is a long way unless you have claws, and the well was wider at its bottom\u2014too broad to bridge up with his legs. Sheriff Tombs would not start looking for them until 8:00. What to do? Risk a shot? Create a rope out of thin air?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then he heard a mewling whine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His heart hammered. McCue?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d left his dog with the squad car with orders to stay<\/em>. McCue had found him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He gave the \u201ccome to me\u201d<\/em> whistle, low but clear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two thumps overhead and a bark. \u201cStay!\u201d shouted Renfro. The last thing he wanted was the animal to plummet down here with him. \u201cStay McCue \u2013 good boy.\u201d A softer bark from above.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now what? The dog was his loyal partner. But the creature could not understand detailed instructions \u2013 especially without eye-contact. And at the bottom of this dark well, all Renfro had was his voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he remembered. Thirty minutes before he and Spears went in on foot, they passed the house of Willie and Ada Mae Perkins. Ten-acre sharecroppers along a lonely dirt road, the Perkins were friends and he often stopped when out on patrol. They owned two tawny dogs that McCue joust-played with during the visits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Renfro knew that dogs smell each other for miles and can navigate across a dark countryside with ease.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What did she call them? They had Muscogee-Creek names for Ada was descended from that people. Echo? Iffen? Iffow?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At last: If\u00e1<\/em>. She called them both if\u00e1.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMcCue! Go get the if\u00e1s.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sound of sprinting dog disappeared and the whispers of the darkness\u2014night-wind rustles and the haunting calls of owls\u2014closed in. He now had a prayer to hold onto and a gun if the killers came back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

***<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McCue spun and bolted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Partner say GO TO If\u00e1s! Smell if\u00e1s faintly. Run fast.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The shepherd cleared the house\u2019s yard in four bounds and hurdled the roadside ditch. He skittered sideways with paws scratching as he turned down the dirt road, lowered his head, and began the gallop he grasped was needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Big if\u00e1 always want to fight. Not afraid. Run hard!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A mile down, a diamondback huntress was crossing. She sensed the pounding and coiled for protection, her rattle warning the stranger to stand clear. McCue saw her\u2014glowing in his night vision\u2014and bayed. His big feet hammered the road, and his roar trembled the air. The viper retreated, winding into the grass at top speed with head lifted and rattles whirring. McCue was lost to her tongue-sense in three seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He passed one side-pathway and did not hesitate \u2013 continuing his sprint down the road\u2019s middle for more miles. The repeating drum-roll of his feet on the packed sand alerted the small creatures of the night. At the second byway, he paused and lifted his nose to the wind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If\u00e1s beyond grass field. Leave road. Partner say GO TO If\u00e1s.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He resumed his run and entered the field, stretching and leaping high to see. Nine rabbits made choices to race from the noise or freeze. One keeled over as its heart cracked from the stress. McCue saw them, but his orders were clear, and he bored a tunnel across the eight-acre hayfield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A big stand of forest rose before him. He hesitated and sniffed again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes! If\u00e1s closer. Not far now. Straight through trees<\/em>.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He slowed to a trot, winding through the woods while gulping air, stopping for two tongue-laps from a stream. A mob of deer, big and small, exploded away from the water. Splashing through it, McCue climbed the slope from the stream bottom. A cotton patch opened, and he drove in, following the bright odors of the if\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two yellow dogs, glowing white in the moonlight, rose on a house porch and stared at the thrashing noise in the cotton. The union with their human partners gave them many duties. Without doubt, the primary of these was to guard. Intruders were not tolerated and here comes one now. Low grumblings began in their throats as they snuffed the August pre-dawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bigger of the two threw a warning bark to whatever it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do NOT come in this yard!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

McCue cleared the cotton and stopped in the road fronting the house. He erupted in staccato yelps indicating emergency, assist me<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No time to fight. Get your partners,<\/em> barked McCue. My partner hurt!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s McCue. We know him<\/em>, yipped the smaller if\u00e1.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shut up! I\u2019m in charge. Get back stranger!<\/em> howled the big one. An erect ruff and bared canines signaled full-combat mode.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The front door opened, and Willie Perkins stepped out with a kerosene lantern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat the hell<\/em> is going on out here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McCue continued barking. He jumped side to side and shook his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tiny Ada Mae joined, in nightgown and shawl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Deputy Renfro\u2019s dog, ain\u2019t it?\u201d she shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThink so. McCue! What is it?\u201d said Willie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McCue began the whining he knew humans understand to mean trouble-danger or assistance-needed. He inched toward the porch and both if\u00e1s barked louder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou if\u00e1s shut up<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Things got quieter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is it boy? Where\u2019s B.L.?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDog\u2019s covered with briars and burrs,\u201d said Ada Mae. \u201cCome a long way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man stepped to McCue and felt him, looking for injury. McCue stood stock-still and the if\u00e1s watched with ears pointing and eyes wide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAin\u2019t hurt, Ada. Winded, but no cuts or broken bones. Needs water. Panting hard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get the water. You wake the mule and ride to Mr. Walker\u2019s. Get him to bring his truck. Take the if\u00e1s and let McCue show the way. Deputy Renfro\u2019s in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

***<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Renfro steadied himself at the bottom of the well. He checked the time again: 5:45 a.m.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He now knew that standing in chest-deep fifty-five-degree water sapped energy. He couldn\u2019t sit down and there was nothing above to hold onto. All the things that could go wrong with his long shot bid to get out of this mess kept whipping his wits. Sooner or later, he would weaken and slip. After that, oblivion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He thought about Charlotte \u201cCharlie\u201d Woodall, and their silly excuses for not getting married. Both felt it would happen and both wanted it to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019s the best thing that\u2019s ever happened to me,\u201d he said to Marcus. \u201cYou and I will get out of this hole and I\u2019m going to show her how important she is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Have you told her you love her?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he answered. \u201cBut she knows it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You\u2019re sure? I never said it enough to Mimi. Wish I had.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure she knows.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tell her.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He thought about Pawpaw, his grandfather, now getting on in years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho will look after him, Marcus? I can\u2019t just leave him alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then stop thinking about how cold this water is. That just makes it worse.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But dominating all were thoughts of the two men who bushwhacked them, attempted to pulp their skulls, and tossed them into a watery grave with no second thought. These last feelings sustained him, gave him endurance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you worry, my friend. I\u2019m going to find those degenerate in-breeds. And I\u2019m going to make them pay for what they\u2019ve done.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I know you will, B.L.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sound is deadened when you are at the bottom of a thirteen-foot hole. But vibrations are transmitted through the ground. He felt a slight tremor from the dirt wall his head rested against. Muffled and distant, he heard men talking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He lifted the cleanest pistol from the floating hat, aimed straight up the side while making his silhouette small. Adrenalin flooded his system and drove the coldness from his mind. He was prepared to kill the next thing that looked over the top and he was a good shot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A dog barked. Three dogs. A shouted voice: \u201cRenfro \u2013 B.L. Renfro!\u201d He squinted and heard scratching against the well\u2019s wooden top-wall. The loudest bark was from McCue, and he knew he was going to make it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A puff of relief was engulfed by a thunderhead of vengeance. \u201cNow it\u2019s my turn to be the hunter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Buck Brinson<\/strong> was farm-raised in South Georgia and earned a BA in Journalism and MS in Computer Science from the University of South Carolina. Over the past years, he has published three mystery novels: Footfalls on the Trembling Earth<\/em> (2020), The Staircase<\/em> (2021), and The Knowing Tree<\/em> (2021). His career encompassed United States Navy active duty, computer systems analysis, small business development, and ED of a Midlands non-profit. Presently, Buck is completing two novels:  Okefenokee Moon<\/em> (2023) and a science fiction epic The Pitfall of One Percent Chance<\/em> (~late 2023\/2024). He spends his spare time gardening, watching his six grandsons grow up, and taking courses in anthropology at USC.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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