Camp Pleasant

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Be cute. Be as cute as ya like. You’ll be crawlin’ before I’m done with ya. You’ll be beggin’ me t’fire ya.”

  “Take it easy, Ed,” Doc said. “Harper was only trying to—” “Keep out o’ this, Doc,” Ed said. “This isn’t your business.” “I run this camp too, Ed,” Doc said, suddenly cold. Ed glanced at him, looking blank. “Awright, Doc,” he said. “Take it easy. I didn’t mean nothin’ against you. It’s this jaybird I got my eye on.” Finger pointing at me again. “Good luck,” I told him.

  2.

  When I entered the Nolan cabin that night, Mack, Ed and two other counselors were playing poker at a card table, Bob was sitting in a wicker chair reading a book, Ellen was on the couch, looking at a Life magazine. I sat down beside her.

  “How have you been?” I asked.

  “Fine,” she murmured.

  “Good,” I said, then looked over at Bob. “What are you reading?” I asked.

  He held up the book. “I can’t see it,” I said loudly.

  “Passage to India,” he said.

  “That’s a good book,” I said. “I read it twice.”

  “I don’t care if ya read it ten times, Harper,” Ed cut in. “Pipe down if ya want t’stay here.”

  “Sure, Ed,” I said. “Sure, I’ll pipe down.”

  I looked back at Ellen. “You look very pretty tonight,” I said.

  Her smile was more flustered than pleased. “Thank you,” she managed. I nodded, glancing at Ed who was just lowering wary eyes.

  “That a new dress?”

  “What? Why … why no, I’ve—”

  “You heard what I said, Harper,” Ed Nolan said.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Yes, I did.”

  “Shut up then or clear out.”

  “Sure, Ed,” I said. “Sure. I’ll shut up.” I looked at Bob. “Chess, Bob?” I asked.

  He smiled nervously. “Okay,” he said softly.

  “Excuse me, Ellen,” I said.

  She didn’t answer but, for a moment, our eyes held and I got the feeling that she understood.

  Bob and I set up the board on the other card table. As I put my men on the squares, I kept glancing at Mack. Abruptly I swept half my pieces off the board onto the floor and saw the poker players start out of their rapt concentration. Ed’s head snapped around and he glared at me.

  “Butter fingers,” I said.

  I made the first move without thought, then rested my chin on my palms and stared at Mack. From the corners of my eyes, I noticed Ellen looking at me and I glanced over and smiled. Her lips seemed to stir but she said nothing.

  Then I stared at Mack again. After a few moments he glanced over.

  “Whattaya lookin’ at?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, and he went back to his cards. I kept staring at him.

  “Your move,” Bob said.

  “My move?” I said loudly.

  “Listen, boy—” Ed started angrily, and I made a face of much concern.

  “Oh … gee, Ed, I’m sorry. I forgot myself.”

  I made another thoughtless move and stared at Mack again. Mack glanced over at me, growing suspicious.

  “You lookin’ at me?” he asked.

  I shook my head, a sincere expression of negation on my face. Then I saw him lean over and whisper something to Ed and Ed looked up at me, a contemptuous curl to his lips. I knew exactly what they were talking about.

  “How come you’re not in your cabin, boy?” Ed asked me.

  “My cabin?” I asked. “Why should I be in my cabin, Ed?”

  “Thought ya might want t’tell your boys some stories,” said Ed, winking at Mack. Mack snickered.

  “No, I’m not as good as Merv was,” I said. I could feel Bob looking at me.

  “I bet you’re not,” Ed said, hopelessly unbland. “Loomis was good at lots o’ things, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. He was. That’s because he was so intelligent.”

  Ed and Mack exchanged a man-of-the-world look. “That’s because he was so intelligent,” said Ed to Mack.

  “Oh, is that why?” Mack said. “I thought it was somethin’ else.” They both chuckled.

  “No,” I said. “It was because he was so intelligent. What did you think it was?”

  “Not a thing,” said Mack, exchanging a grin with Ed. “Not a thing.” Snicker. “Dear boy.”

  “Oh,” I said. Loudly. “I see. I thought maybe you had something intelligent to offer the conversation.”

  Even Mack couldn’t miss that. I sat looking at his glowing face, thinking about the rain check.

  “You lookin’ for trouble?” Arthur MacNeil asked me.

  “Who, me?” I said. “No, not me. I never look for trouble. I like peace and quiet.”

  “I thought ya would,” Mack said scornfully.

  “Would what, Mack?”

  “Wouldn’t want no trouble.” He glanced aside to a pleased Ed Nolan.

  “Trouble, Mack?” I said, my voice getting harder. “That’s my middle name, Mack. Didn’t you know that?” I stared into the eyes of Arthur MacNeil without blinking.

  He put down his cards.

  “I think you’re all bull,” he said. “What d’ya think o’ that?”

  “Ed.” Ellen’s voice was faint, lost in the shuffle.

  “I don’t think anything of it,” I said. “It isn’t worth thinking about. Have you got something in your files that’s worth thinking about?”

  “Ya wanna step outside!” Mack flared.

  “Now that’s worth thinking about,” I said.

  “Listen, you—”

  “Awright, hold it!” Ed ordered. He looked over at me. “Are ya just blowin’ off gas as usual, boy, or have ya got the guts t’back up all your noise?”

  “No, I have no guts,” I said. “I’m scared to death. I’m quaking in my boots. All of us fellas who have an I.Q. of over forty always quake in our boots at the thought of a fight.”

  “I thought s—” he stared, then figured it out. Red splotches moved up his cheeks and he stood up suddenly. “Maybe y’don’t wanna fight, Harper,” he said, “but you’re gonna.”

  “Ed.” Ellen unheard.

  “Is that right?” I said. “Who do you have in mind, Ed?”

  Mack was standing now beside Ed.

  “Get your ass off that chair, Harper,” Ed said furiously, “and get outside.”

  “Ed, pleasel” Ellen said.

  “That’s enough, El,” Ed told her. He gestured with his head toward the kitchen. “Go on. Getl You’re gonna fight!“

  “Fight!” I said. “Fight! The very thought appalls me. We fellas who read books never fight! We fellas who like good music and have a vocabulary of more than twenty words are scared to death of fighting! We fellas who can conceive of anything in the world that isn’t brutish and ignorant and vicious and cruel!” A deep, shuddering breath emptied my lungs. “We never fight,” I said, “except—” I glared at Mack—”Maybe once in a while.” I flung off Ed’s arm. “Let go,” I said in a low voice, “I’m fighting him. You don’t have to escort me.”

  “Ed, stop it,” Ellen begged, following. “You can’t let—”

  “Stay out o this, El,” Ed demanded. “This jaybird’s been askin’ for it a long time. Now he finally talked himself into it.”

  “Looks like it,” I said. “Sure looks like it.” I wasn’t feeling quite as flippant as I sounded. I took off my jacket. “Hold this, will you?” I asked Ed. He showed teeth. “Oh,” I said, “I thought you’d like to hold it.” I tossed it to a tight-faced Bob, then turned back to Mack.

  “All right, Mack,” I said, “let’s get into high gear.”

  He let go with a haymaker that would have ended the whole thing one-two-three if I hadn’t leaned back, fast. The impetus of his swing sent him flailing to one side and down on one knee.

  “Good show,” I said. “That’s what I like about you, Mack. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

 
Mack lunged at me again, his right fist driving into my left shoulder. I staggered to one side and drove a right into his face which grazed his cheek. He fell back a little, then dove in again. We clinched and I saw the glaring bulb over the kitchen doorway spinning around us as we ripped and stumbled over the uneven ground. I could feel the hard blocks of muscles in Mack’s arms too and I realized, with not a little shock, that he was probably three times as strong as I was.

  Abruptly, his right hand was free and he drove it at my stomach. My flung-down left arm deflected his hard fist a little but it drove into the flesh over my left hip, sending a knife of pain into my guts. I sucked in air through gritted teeth and managed to knock aside the left he was throwing at my face. I could feel the wind of it.

  Before he could recover, I drove another right into his face and got me a rewarding splash of blood from both nostrils. “Son-of-a- bitch!” he snarled, leaping at me again. I jumped to the side, gasping at the pain under my heart. “Temper, temper, Mack,” I managed. “You mustn’t—”

  He caught me on the chest with a miscalculated blow at my head and I fell back toward the tree that stood before the kitchen window. In a flash of side vision, I saw Ed Nolan’s face, twisted into a mask of vicious exultance. It gave me back the strengthening anger I needed to regain balance as Mack rushed in again.

  I knocked aside his right but it was so strongly driven that it still grazed the side of my head. I threw a right at his stomach but hit his belt buckle instead. I felt his left driving into my right arm, numbing it and, with a lunge, I rammed my left into his face again, putting my body behind it. More blood.

  “Son- of-a!” he gasped, wiping the blood away furiously.

  I should have taken advantage of his pause but I stood there, breathing heavily, until he caught his breath and advanced on me again, slowly now.

  “That last one was for Merv,” I said, wondering why I was trying to make him angrier than he already was. “The one on the nose, I mean.”

  “Queer!” he snarled, swinging at me.

  I jumped in so close that his wrist banged against my shoulder. Then I drove a hard left into his chest and a right to his jaw. A flash of terrible pain ran up my right arm as I hit his rock-like jaw. I tried not to show it. Mack staggered back.

  “Queer?” I gasped, grateful for the temper he was recalling. I drove a furious, body-weighted right into his face and couldn’t help the groan as fiery pain flew up my arm again. With a furious sob, Mack drove his right into my stomach and that was almost that. I doubled over with a gasp, then felt something like a mallet blow on my head and went reeling back into the tree, getting my breath knocked out.

  “Finish ‘im!” Ed cried suddenly and, once more, gave me the strength to get up.

  Three Macks came running out of the wavering night and one of them hit me—hard. I went flinging back against the tree again, banging my head against the trunk.

  “Stop it!” Ellen screamed but no one did.

  Mack drove a fist into my stomach again but I doubled over so fast he missed with his next punch at my head. I felt him stumble heavily, off balance, against me and, straightening up I accidentally drove the top of my skull against his jaw. I don’t know what he felt but, for me, it was like getting hit with a shillelagh.

  Mack staggered back, one hand to his face. I took a feeble swing at one of him but it was the wrong one. He lurched forward and hit me in the face. I put what I had left into a left to his stomach and, this time, got a sucked-in breath for my efforts.

  “Bastid!” Mack gasped.

  “Get ‘im!” roared Ed. “Get ‘im!”

  Mack swung and missed as I ducked and I hit him weakly in the nose again. He cried out in furious pain, then, with a lunge, threw himself against me, pinning me to the tree and pummeling at my body. It felt like someone beating me with a log. I started slumping.

  I don’t know when it was he drew back a little to get a final ending haymaker at my jaw. It seemed like days. All I know is that I could see it coming and sensed that either I got out of the way or it was all over. So, as it came, I fell heavily to one knee and jerked in my head.

  Mack’s cry of agony was awful as, swinging with all his might, he hit the tree instead of my face.

  I fell back limply against the trunk and, through a mist, saw him stumble back, crying hoarsely, “My wrist, my wristl “

  “Come ‘ere, boy,” Ed ordered suddenly, rushing to him

  Everything was silent then except for Mack’s teeth-clenched whines.

  “Uh-oh,” I heard Ed say. “Let’s get t’the dispensary.”

  I watched dizzily as he led the whimpering Mack up the path. I tried to struggle up but fell back weakly against the tree. Legs appeared beside me, then a blurred face and I felt a hand slide under my armpit.

  “Come on, Matt,” Bob said. “Upsy daisy.”

  “Uzzy daizy,” I muttered, groggily, pushing to one knee. “Oh!” I doubled over sharply, hands clutched over my stomach as pain exploded therein. I opened my mouth, gagging. Then, after a few seconds, I closed it and gasped for breath as I realized I wasn’t going to lose my supper after all. I felt cold night wind on my sweat-dewed forehead as Bob helped me to straighten up on wobbly legs. I blinked and shook my head a little, clearing things up in time to see the other two counselors leaving.

  “Bring him inside, Bob,” I heard Ellen say then and I looked over to where she wavered in the kitchen doorway.

  “I’m all right,” I said.

  “Come on, Matt.”

  I walked unsteadily through the kitchen and into the living room with Bob’s hand under my elbow. Ellen disappeared into the hall and I heard the light flick on as Bob put me down on the couch.

  “Oh,” I said and grimaced at the stomach pain. “Oh.”

  Bob looked worried. “You all right, Matt?” he asked.

  I shook my head dizzily. “Sure,” I said. “Sure. For a guy that got killed.”

  “You didn’t get killed,” he said. “You put him in his place.”

  “Huh,” I grunted. “He killed me.”

  “No, he didn’t,” he said and, by God, if he didn’t sound as proud as if we’d both been fighting Mack. “He’ll never bother you again.”

  Ellen came in then with a first-aid box, looking very pale and drawn. She sat down beside me on the couch.

  “How do you feel, Matt?” she asked gently, looking at me concernedly.

  “How do I look?” I asked, smiling weakly.

  “Wonderful.” It came out before she could stop it and, even though it was barely a whisper, I knew Bob had heard it.

  “Am I cut?” I asked as she opened the first-aid box.

  She swallowed, then forced a smile. “A little,” she said. “On your forehead.”

  “What happened to Mack?”

  She shook her head.

  “I think he broke his wrist,” I heard Bob say.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Ellen started dabbing at my forehead with alcohol-soaked cotton and I winced as a thin streak of fire ignited there. Her face twitched and she bit her lower lip.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Burn away, doctor.”

  I looked into her eyes but she averted them.

  “That’s a nice dress,” I said. She smiled faintly, her eyes starting to glisten.

  I couldn’t help it. I put my hand out and closed the fingers spasmodically over her left arm. I felt how her flesh trembled under my touch.

  “Ellen,” I said.

  She looked as if she were about to cry.

  “Bob,” I said quickly, not looking at him, “would you check my cabin and see if Sammy’s all right?” Sammy Wrazolowsky was subbing for me until eleven.

  “But—”

  I looked up quickly at him and he swallowed, glancing at Ellen. “All right,” he said quietly. “All right, Matt. You … want me to come back and help you to—”

  “No, I’ll be all right,” I told him.

  My heartbeat was a slow
timpani as he turned and headed across the room. When the screen door slapped shut, I turned back to her. She was staring at her hands.

  “Ellen,” I said.

  She bit her lips and tears started to her eyes. “No, Matt,” she said. “No. You’re wrong. I’m only concerned with your—health.”

  “That’s not true,” I said.

  She raised her eyes to me, shimmering with tears.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Oh, please don’t, Matt.”

  “Are you so afraid of it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “More than you can ever know.”

  I looked at her in silence a moment. Then I said, “I love you, Ellen.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She stared at me blankly for a long while. For a moment, I thought she was going to throw herself against me, then she shuddered and drew back.

  “No,” she said. “You don’t really, Matt. You’re just trying to be sweet. You haven’t thought it out at all. I know you don’t—love me.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  She only shook her head.

  “Ellen, how do you know?”

  “Because, we haven’t known each other long enough,” she said. “Because you don’t know anything about me. Because—you just can’t.”

  I wanted so desperately to pull her against me and tell her she was wrong. But something in me kept me from it; something in me that knew she was speaking the truth. She must have seen it on my face for it seemed to provide her with the withdrawal she needed. Her hand reached out and stroked my cheek.

  “You’re very sweet, Matt,” she said. “And I appreciate your—your flattery.”

  “Is that all?” I said.

  “That’s all there can be,” she said, but that look was in her eyes again, even worse. “No matter what I—what you think you feel,” she amended hastily. “Believe me, it’s—”

  She tried to throw it off. She dabbed at my forehead again, a smile faltering on her lips.

  “You are very brave,” she said. “Mack is very strong.” She swallowed. “And … I liked what you said,” she went on. “I was very—”

  I leaned over and kissed her warm mouth. She remained motionless, neither resisting nor accepting. As I drew back my head, she smiled at me and kept it all hidden except for her eyes.