The Hawk: Part Nine

  The Snyders and Aherns were at church on Sunday morning when Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald, which was inadvertently broadcast on live television as Oswald was being transferred from Dallas’ city jail to the county jail. Stanford and his father viewed that event as millions around the globe watched, equally horrified. In Karnack, Texas, which also happened to be the childhood home of President Johnson’s wife Lady Bird, Walt Richardson wondered what the world was coming to, unable to answer his son’s question of why no one was stopping that man from killing who allegedly had shot President Kennedy. Walt then stepped outside, not wishing to see any more turmoil.

  It had been two days since life had turned upside down, not only for the Richardsons, but all they knew. Suddenly everyone Walt spoke to had voted for Kennedy, which of course was a bald-faced lie. Walt had gritted his teeth, for to air his views would be downright rude, although it was hard hearing these folks falling all over themselves about what a good president had been cut down in the prime of life. At least LBJ was a Texan, Walt wanted to say, his wife born in this tiny town. Yet Walt kept all those thoughts inside, just as he did most of his considerations. He hadn’t breathed a word of this to Dora. She was as broke up as everybody else.

  Only a few felt as Walt did, that the damn papist got what he deserved. Yes, it was awful that it had happened right in front of his wife, nothing fair about that. However Walt didn’t ponder much beyond that when it came to the Kennedy family. They were all a bunch of…. Walt stared at what constituted his front yard, which wasn’t much more than sand-covered hardpan, although grass grew around the back of the house. His truck was parked near the start of the driveway. Even though Oswald had been arrested, and was now dead, Walt hadn’t wanted the kids getting far from the house. He had moved the pick-up further away, however, when Luke and Tilda got noisy yesterday afternoon, and he hadn’t wanted to hear any more out of them.

  Walt ran a hand through his thick black hair, some gray creeping in along his temples. He was only thirty-two, but he felt old, yet he didn’t chalk that up to what had happened in Dallas. It was from further back, but maybe the assassination had aggravated what Walt never spoke aloud of, not even to Dora. Not that she was ignorant; they had known each other since grade school, dated since they were in high school. He married her two weeks after she graduated, then he was shipped off to basic training and…. Three weeks after he got home, she fell pregnant. She’d had two miscarriages, one between Luke and Tilda, another between Esther and Gail. They didn’t talk about those either, what was there to say? Dora was six weeks along now, but they wouldn’t announce it until after the first of the year. Maybe this one would be a boy, which made Walt smile. As quickly as he did, he grimaced. All this upset in Dallas might cause Dora to lose it. If that damned papist made Dora lose another baby…. Walt spat past the porch, the spittle landing in the dust. Dora and the girls had gone to church that morning, but Luke had asked to stay home. The boy had been unusually quiet all weekend, but Walt had too many other things to think over to worry about his son. Luke was a good boy for the most part. At least he wasn’t like that Hiram Bellevue, then Walt turned around, looking at the front door. Luke stood there, watching him.

  “Whatcha looking at?” Walt said flatly.

  “Nothing Daddy. Are you gonna tell Mama what happened today?”

  Walt spat again. “Gonna hafta.” Then Walt turned around. Luke had stepped out of the house, his hands shoved in his pockets. Luke had Dora’s coloring, but Walt saw his own face on this boy. It was like looking in a mirror, which chilled Walt, for no child should carry such anguish. “What?” Walt asked his son.

  “Nothing.” Luke took his hands from his pockets, then walked to the edge of the porch, near where Walt had been spitting. Luke sat down, his legs dangling over the sides.

  “I’ll tell her when they get back. Don’t you say anything, you hear?”

  “Yes Daddy.”

  Luke’s plaintive voice made Walt shiver. Dora had insisted on leaving the television on ever since Friday, when her mother called with the news. Walt wasn’t sure if listening to all that was good for his wife, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell her to turn it off. And now here was Luke, acting like the world was falling apart. Damn better for Oswald to get his, Walt thought. No trial would have to take place, dragging it out even further. “Luke, c’mere.”

  The boy went to his feet, then stood in front of his father. Walt stared at this child, and prayed that the coming baby would be another boy. “What’s wrong son?”

  “Nothing Daddy. When’s Mama coming home?”

  Walt sighed. Church was probably over now, but what with everything that had happened, Dora would be gossiping with any and every one. Her mother had come for her and the girls, maybe they would have lunch together. Was that why Luke was asking when the rest were returning? “You hungry son?” Walt asked.

  “What, oh yeah, a little.”

  Walt spat once more, then nodded. “All right, let’s go see what’s in the icebox.”

  “Yes sir,” Luke answered, following his father into the house.

  The rest of the Richardsons didn’t return until nearly two o’clock. Luke spent most of the time loitering near his father’s truck, wishing Hiram would wave from the trees near the road. Other than thinking about Lee Harvey Oswald getting what was rightly coming to him, all Luke pondered was what had happened to that hawk.

  Yet, Hiram hadn’t been seen since the boys split up on Friday afternoon. And since school was cancelled for tomorrow, Luke wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until Tuesday. If that hawk hadn’t been killed right off, it must be dead by now. Thinking that way made Luke’s stomach ache. Why had that bird stayed on the branch, didn’t it know how surly Hiram could be, how determined? Hiram often got his way at school; he wasn’t more than a bully, but Luke had always been nice to him, in part to save his own skin and that something about Hiram was attractive, maybe that underneath Hiram’s bluster was a boy much like Luke himself, someone who wanted others to like him but was afraid of being made fun of. Hiram’s daddy beat Hiram with a strap; Luke had seen the bruises, welts too on occasion. That was why Hiram was mean to other kids, although Luke wasn’t sure how he understood that. Maybe it was just how things worked; if you were pleasant to others, they were usually nice back. Hiram had never known much kindness, so it wasn’t surprising he acted as he did.

  Luke had been born with a fair amount of common sense, a trait his parents and grandparents attributed to him being the eldest child. Tilda was smart too, but she could be impetuous, and of course, the menfolk noted, she was female. Esther and Gail were too little for their characters to yet be determined, but at least Walt and Dora’s first child had his wits about him. However, sometimes it was a burden for Luke to be so perceptive, although none of the adults realized it. Luke was aware his mother had lost two babies, and how much that had hurt her, as well as his daddy. Yet at this juncture of Dora’s confinement, Luke was as ignorant as everyone else, save Dora, Walt, and Dora’s mother Hannah. If Luke had known about the coming baby, he probably never would have accompanied Hiram to Caddo Lake.

  What had happened at the lake preyed on Luke’s tender mind. He considered Hiram’s behavior, as well as his language. He wished he had seen that hawk first, then somehow had changed Hiram’s mind, or at least moved them further along the shore. Ultimately, Luke accepted that Hiram had killed that hawk for no better reason that it was perched high in a tree where Hiram could see it. And since it was way up there, what else would Hiram want to do but bring it down as meanly as possible. Was that why Lee Harvey Oswald had shot President Kennedy, Luke had wondered, although he didn’t feel that was why the other man shot Oswald. That was purely for revenge, Luke’s daddy had said, during lunch, out of the blue. Luke had been thinking about Hiram and the hawk when his father made that statement. Then Walt had cleared his throat, telling Luke that when he was done eating to go outside until his mother got home.

  But even afte
r the Richardson women returned, Luke was still obsessing over the hawk. His mother had cried a little when she learned what had happened, and it was all Tilda wanted to talk about. Luke brushed her off, then went outside, walking until he reached his father’s truck. His daddy was right, just revenge. Then Luke swallowed hard; that’s why Hiram shot that hawk, like it was his father, getting ready to swat his backside with a strap. Luke felt chilled, then turned around, facing his house. He needed to find that hawk for by now it was dead and deserved a decent burial. President Kennedy’s coffin was on display at the White House where thousands of people were waiting to pay their respects. The only way Luke could start to forget about that hawk was if it received a similar send-off. But what excuse could he offer his parents to suddenly want to walk to the lake, with a shovel in hand no less?

  It had been larger than any other bird Luke had ever seen. Then Luke shivered; after two days in the wild, there might not be much of it left. How could he have let Hiram shoot it down? Luke was so lost in thought he didn’t hear Tilda calling his name. It wasn’t until she stood a few feet away that he acknowledged her. “What, what is it?”

  “Daddy wants you to come inside.” Tilda stepped toward her brother. “You looking for Hiram?”

  “No, I’m not looking for Hiram.” Luke scowled, then kicked the ground, stubbing his toe. He bit his lip, then gazed at his foot where a thin trail of blood now ran. “You see him at church today?”

  “He was there, had a black eye. Said he ran into a door.” Tilda raised her eyebrows. “He asked where you were, but Mama called for me, so I didn’t hafta answer him.”

  Luke’s stomach churned. “Daddy say what he wanted me for?”

  “Nope. Hey Luke, Luke?”

  Luke was already halfway to the house, but he stopped, waiting for Tilda to catch up. “Yeah?”

  “Hiram looked scared.”

  “Well, no fun running into a door.” Luke could picture Hiram’s father causing that injury, but he wasn’t sure if Tilda was that smart.

  “Not about his eye.” Tilda huffed, then put her hands on her hips. “When he asked about you, his voice was strange. He sounded like a girl.”

  Luke fought a smile. “What’s that mean?”

  “What’d you two shoot at the lake?”

  “Nothing, we didn’t shoot nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Inwardly Luke trembled. “I don’t care what you believe.”

  He stalked toward the house with Tilda on his heels. As they reached the porch, Tilda called his name. Luke looked up, seeing his father standing in the doorway. But his daddy wasn’t looking at Luke, he was staring at Tilda. Don’t say it, Luke thought. Don’t you dare….

  “What’d you shoot, huh Luke?”

  Luke wanted to turn right around, run up to his sister, then push her squarely into the dust. Instead he found his father now stepping onto the porch, gazing at him. “Yeah Daddy?” Luke’s voice wasn’t more than a squeak.

  His father never took his eyes off of him. “Tilda, go in the house. Now.”

  “Yes sir.” She ran past her brother, letting the screen door slam, which made their mother holler from inside. But Luke didn’t hear more than his mother’s curious tone. All his attention was on his father’s face.

  “Did you skip school on Friday?” Walt asked.

  Luke tried shaking his head, but he couldn’t. “Yes sir.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  Now Luke squirmed. “Because, well, you see….”

  Walt grabbed Luke’s arm, then walked him toward the truck. Walt didn’t stop until they were past it, no way for anyone in the house to see them. Now Luke trembled, for the few times his father had spanked him it was out of his mother’s view. “Daddy, I just wanted to, we were just gonna go, Hiram said he’d let me….”

  “What’d you shoot?” Walt’s voice wasn’t more than a whisper.

  “A, a, a….”

  “A what?”

  “A hawk.”

  “Oh sweet Jesus!” Walt released Luke’s arm, then shook his head. “A hawk? What in God’s name for?”

  “It wasn’t my idea. Hiram was just gonna let me shoot his new gun. But there was a hawk in a tree and he seen it and all he wanted was to….” Luke started crying. “He wanted to kill it and I tried to scare it away but it wouldn’t leave. Oh Daddy don’t, please don’t….”

  Walt’s right arm was suspended in the air as if to strike Luke. Then Walt dropped his arm to his side. “What the hell were you thinking boy? Skipping school’s bad enough, but what’ve I told you about guns?”

  “I know, I just wanted….” Luke kept crying, shocked that his father hadn’t slapped him. “I’ll never touch a gun again Daddy, I promise.”

  Walt shook his head, then hit the side of his truck. “Well damnit, now we gotta go see if you boys killed that…. A hawk Luke, a hawk? Good lord.” Walt kept shaking his head. “Might as well’ve shot your mother.”

  “No Daddy, don’t say that!”

  Walt had been heading toward the house, but he turned around, returning to where Luke still stood. Now Luke assumed his eye would be as black as Hiram’s. But Walt didn’t hit him; roughly he grabbed Luke by the shoulders. “If I ever hear you’ve touched a gun before you’re eighteen years old, I will, I’ll, I’ll….”

  Walt’s face was beet red, dark eyes wide in his face. Luke nodded, uncertain what his father might do, but no matter what it was, Luke would deserve it. “I won’t ever touch a gun Daddy, I promise, I promise!”

  For a few more seconds father and son stared at each other. Then Walt let loose of Luke’s shoulders, stomping away. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

  “Yes sir,” Luke said, still shaking. He wanted to see if his father was going to the house, wished they weren’t so far, or else Luke might hear something being said. Within a minute, his father had returned, his keys in one hand, a shovel in the other.

  Walt set the shovel in the back of the truck. “Get in,” he ordered.

  Luke nodded, then headed for the tailgate. As he put one foot on the bumper to climb in, his father pointed to the other side of the truck. “No, get in the front.”

  The last place Luke wanted to sit was next to his dad. “Yes sir,” he said, swallowing a hard lump in his throat.

  By the time Luke was in the cab, Walt had started the engine. A few seconds later, they were peeling out of the driveway. From the side mirror, Luke could see Tilda and Esther standing on the porch. Tilda looked to be nodding while Esther waved the men goodbye.

  Chapter 160