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Robinson had sensed, a fraction of a second before it had happened, that Kennedy was going to fire the rifle. He leaped for him. The chains that bound him to Morisson hampered him; the gun went off before he reached Kennedy.
But Robinson pulled Morisson off balance, along with him. The bullet only grazed the big man's shoulder.
Morisson howled in anguished surprise.
Before Kennedy could fire again Robinson had his fingers on his neck and was applying pressure.
The trapper yelled with pain, the rifle fell from his possession. "Leggo me," he said.
"You will remove these manacles from us," Robinson told him.
"Yer askin' a lot o' me," protested Kennedy. "I dunno if I can...."
"You will do it," Robinson said, "now." He tightened his grip.
"All right, all right, don't break m' neck," said Kennedy. "Wait there by th' anvil whiles I collect all th' tools I gotta have."
"I will stay with you while you do that."
Morisson had lugged a wadded blue bandanna out of an overall pocket and was pressing it to his bleeding left shoulder. "It don't feel like th' bullet's in there."
"Good," said Robinson. "I will attend to your wound once we are free of our chains."
As Kennedy worked at the manacles, Robinson's fingers resting on his neck, Morisson said, "You was a killer before, Kennedy, an' yer still a dang killer. You ain't changed none."
Kennedy went on working with hammer and chisel. At last he said, "There," and Robinson's manacles snapped open.
"Do mine now, ya ol' toad," said Morisson. "An' ya better not slip once't with that there chisel."
In ten more minutes the giant was free of his chains.
Kennedy took two steps back from the anvil. "Don't let 'im git me," he said to Robinson.
"Old toad," roared the bearded hulk. He snatched up the fallen length of chain and swung it with all his might at Kennedy.
"No," Robinson intervened, catching the free end of the whistling chain. His wrist flicked and Morisson, who couldn't let go of the other end in time, went dancing sideways across the barn.
"Ow!" He slammed into the wooden wall. A half-moon scythe fell free of its peg and nearly nipped him on its way to the ground. Fragments of an abandoned bird's nest flickered down into his matted hair.
"He's plumb loco," said Kennedy, cowering. "He's way off his rocker."
"This old man killed her, Robinson. I just gotta get him for it."
"I never did. I never did kill her. Good ol' Kennedy wouldn't do anything like that."
Robinson asked. "Who was it that died?"
Morisson, narrowed eyes on the trapper, said, "Cherry, m'sister."
"I never done nuthin' t' her."
"He beat her like an animal, let her die out in the snow."
"She was m'wife," Kennedy appealed to Robinson. "Would a man hurt 'is own wifey? I treated her like a queen. Nobody can say good ol' Kennedy didn't treat 'er like a queen."
"Used a whip on 'er," said Morisson. "I saw the marks. She showed 'em t' me."
The trapper didn't look at the giant. He aimed his words at Robinson. "A man's gotta teach his wife, don't he? Teach 'er how t' behave," he said. " Ain't nuttin' wrong wi' that. Never did treat 'er no worse than any of m' Injun wives."
"Yet she died?" asked Robinson.
"He killed 'er, killed my sister Cherry." In a frenzy of grief and rage, Morisson picked up a chain and hurled it through the window of the shack.
"I wasn't even here when she kicked th' bucket," insisted Kennedy. " "Twas while I was gone. She went out in a blizzard to fetch wood. That's how it happened, no matter what that muttonhead says. If I'd a'been able to toughen 'er up s'more she might...."
"I come all th' way from home," said the big man, "all th' way from Missouri t' find m'sister. He made a slave outtta her, worked 'er near t' death."
"I done 'er a favor, considerin' th' kinda life she come from," Kennedy told Robinson, pointing to Morisson. "Then this......side-a'-beef tries t' do me in. Y' really oughta lemme shoot 'im, pardner."
Once again, as he stood still and straight in the dim barn, Robinson's mind carried him far away from there. Away to Korea and the Hwarangdo temple, to his young manhood.223Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhYe7Lwnxbu
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In his hands, an adolescent Robinson held a smoky-white long-haired cat.
"The question of evil is not to be taken lightly," said Grand Master Kim. "It lurks in the shadows, concealing itself within the hearts of both man and beast. Its whereabouts are ever-changing, yet its presence remains constant, ready to ensnare the unsuspecting." He turned his blind eyes towards the sunlight that awaited them at the foot of the gently curving temple staircase. "Do you find it in the rat, whose nature it is to steal grain? Or in the cat, who, by nature, slays the rat?"
"The rat steals," said Robinson thoughtfully, "yet to him the cat is evil."
Grand Master Kim continued his slow descent. "To the cat goes the rat, dear boy." Sunlight began to touch his crimson robes.
"Yet, grand master, surely one is evil?"
"The rodent abstains from thievery, while the feline refrains from committing acts of murder!" said blind Kim. "Observe how the rain descends, the stream gracefully meanders, and the mountain steadfastly endures. Each entity dutifully follows its inherent nature."
The cat twisted from Robinson's arms and leaped down to roll in the bright sun. "Then there is no evil for men? Each tells himself what he does is good, or at least for himself.
A smile appeared on Grand Master Kim's face. "Dragonfly, a man can fill his mind with countless notions," he said. "But does he truly believe that the entire universe revolves around him?"
"If a man hurts and I punish him," Robinson said, "perhaps he will not then hurt another."
"And what shall befall you if you take no action?"
Puzzled, Robinson said the only thing he could. "He will believe he can do as he wishes."
"Perchance," said Kim, stopping on the final step. "Perchance he shall discover that certain individuals endure harm, yet still bestow benevolence."
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Robinson looked from Morisson to Kennedy. "You will not harm Mr. Morisson," he told the trapper. "He will not harm you."
"Dang you, Robinson!"
"No, Mr. Morisson."
"He killed m' sister." Taking his hand from his wounded shoulder, the big man grabbed a sledgehammer from against the wall. He came charging towards Kennedy.
Robinson placed himself in the giant's path.
Morisson pulled up short, the hammer poised high. "Git outta m' way, ya crazy hill."
"No," said Robinson in a quiet voice.
After several long seconds, Morisson lowered the heavy hammer. He dropped it beside him.
Breathing again, Morisson asked, "How d'ye do it, mister?"
"Do what?"
"Control that animal."
"Mr. Morisson controlled himself," replied Robinson.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
