United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
“Yes, the same one who got his reward yesterd,” she continued,
interpreting the expression of his eyes. “The Penningtons air
the richest family this side o' Danville. They an' the Brills an'
Fortners hev allers been mortal enemies. Thar's bin blood shed
in ev'ry gineration. Kunnel Bill's father limpt ter his grae on
'count of a bullet in his hip, which wuz lodged thar soon arter
I'd flung on the floor a ten dollar gold piece he'd crowded inter
my hand at a dance, where he'd come 'ithout ary invite. The bullet
wuz from teh rifle ov a young man named David Brill, thet I married
the next day, jest ez he wuz startin' fur Mexico. He volunteered
a little airlier then he'd intended, fur his father's wheat wuz
not nearly all harvested, but hit wuz thot best ter git himself out
o' the way o' the Penningtons, who wuz a mouty revengeful family,
an' besides they then hed the law on ther side. Ez soon ez he come
back from teh war Ole Kunnel Bill, an' Young Kunnel Bill, an' all
the rest o' the Pennington clan an' connection begun watchin' fur
a chance ter git even with him. The Ole Kunnel used ter vow an'
swar thet he'd never leave the airth ontil Dave Brill wuz under
the clods o' the valley. But he hed ter go last year, spite o'
hisself, an' leave David Brill 'live an' well an' becomin' more an'
more lookt up ter ev'ry day by the people, while the Penningtons
war gittin' wuss and wuss hated. We hed a son, too, the very apple
of our eyes, who wuz growin' up jest like his father---”
The quaver of an ill-repressed sob blurred her tones. She closed
her eyes firmly, as if to choke back the brimming tears, and then
rising from her seat, busied herself brushing the coals and ashes
back into the fire.
“Thet walnut pops so awfully,” she said, “thet a body hez to sweep
nearly ev'ry minnit ter keep the harth at all clean.”
“The death of his father made no change in the younger Col.
Pennington? He kept up the quarrel the same as ever, did he?”
asked Harry, deeply interested in teh narrative.
“Wussen ever! Wussen ever! He got bitterer ev'ry day. He laid
his defeat when he wuz runnin' fur the Legislatur at our door. He
hired bullies ter git inter a quarrel with David, at public getherin's,
an' kill him in sech a way ez ter have a plea o' self-defense ter
cla'r themselves on, but David tuck too good keer o' hisself ter
git ketched that a-way, an' he hurt one o' the bullies so bad thet
he niver quite got over hit. He an' Kunnel Pennington leveled ther
weepons on each other at a barbecue near London last Fall, but the
bystanders interfered, an' prevented bloodshed fur a time.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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