by Randy Reynolds
Margaret England was Gene’s soul mate—for the Fifth Grade,
anyway. Margaret realized it before Gene did, so she passed him a note in
class:
“Dear Gene, I like you. Do you like me?
Check Yes __ No__ Maybe___.”
He smiled conceitedly and checked Yes and they
began their courtship, which consisted mainly of making sweet eyes at each
other from across the room and sitting together on the school bus. She also
became a member of the little group of kids that played church, with Gene
preaching to them behind the chicken coops or in the woods. Because of
his desire for Margaret’s nearness, Gene spent as much time as he could playing
with her and her little brother Ralph.
It was little wonder that Margaret chose Gene to give her
heart to. He was a good-looking boy who had a huge imagination and could
make up stories and games that were fun to play. He seemed to know about every
king and general and Indian Chief in history and quoted poetry and the
Bible, and as all the neighborhood children and some of the chickens well knew,
he could preach up a storm at his play-church behind the chicken house. In addition to which, he had his own
transportation—the goat and wagon that he frequently drove up and down the road
in front of Margaret’s house. Gene was her hero. And when called to action,
the day the mad dog appeared, he responded like a man.
Margaret’s daddy had been put in the asylum for what her
mother described as a nervous condition. Miz England herself was of a
nervous disposition and it made her frantic when a dog came into her yard while
she and her children, Margaret and Ralph were on the porch talking with two
neighborhood kids, the well behaved little boy named Joel Taylor and the ever-present Gene Reynolds who smoked and dipped and told tall tales and preached to the other children.
Gene said, "that dog is foaming at the mouth" and
Miz England said,
"Don't ch'all move" and went inside and got her husband's rifle.
She hurried back to the porch with the gun shouldered and pointed directly at
the children. Margaret, Joel and Ralph got out of her way, but Gene
saw a chance to impress Margaret and said, “Gimme the gun and I’ll shoot him
for you.”
Miz England seemed
relieved to hand him the loaded single-shot .22.
Gene aimed and his brain gave the command for his
finger to press the trigger at the same moment Joel’s brain gave his hand the
command to grab the gun.
“Here, let me do it!” said Joel grabbing the barrel as Gene
fired a shot into Joel’s inner thigh just below the groin.
Blood streamed from the wound, Joel screamed at the top of his lungs, "You shot me, Gene! You shot me!" Miz England went
into hysterics. Margaret screamed, "You killed him, Gene!" Ralph picked up the empty gun. And the dog disappeared into the woods.
Gene thought Joel was dying
for sure and he could practically feel the hangman's noose—as described so many
times by his storytelling Grandpa Allen—tightening around his neck.
With strength he didn't know he had, Gene picked up Joel and ran next door. Miz
Mr. Allison saw the blood smeared over Joel’s front and
said, "It's coming from his private parts. Let's get his pants off!
Hurry!"
Gene unsnapped Joel's galluses and Miz
Gene said, "I ain't touchin' that!"
Mr. Allison grabbed Gene's hand and put it there anyway, a few inches above the bullet hole and said, "Press hard!" He accepted Miz England's apron and knotted a tourniquet above the wound.
Ralph stood over them watching every spurt of blood and every movement while Margaret kept her hands over her eyes and looked through a narrow slit between her fingers. When the adults and Gene started maneuvering Joel into the old car, Margaret came over and gave the victim a kiss on the head. She and Ralph stood in the yard and watched the old Whippet bounce down the road and out of sight.
The bullet had gone through and through so the doctor at New Holland clinic didn't
have to dig for it. As to why the bleeding was so severe he wasn't quite sure,
but inasmuch as Joel didn't die and the bleeding stopped when the doc bandaged the entry and egress wounds there was no need to keep him overnight.
Gene considered Joel’s survival a miracle, a direct result of God’s intervention. Leaning against the back wall of the clinic while having a quick smoke he prayed for one more miracle and promised he'd never ask for anything else (a promise he would break within the hour) if God would grant it. "Please, God, Don't let my daddy tear up my butt for shooting Ralph."
When Bonnell Reynolds got home from the mill he already knew
the story—news traveled fast in their world despite most people not having a
telephone. As soon as he walked through the door, he pointed a finger at Gene
and said, "Boy, you ain't got no business messing with a gun. Don't do it
again."
As soon as Gene realized that his prayer had been answered, that God had saved his butt, Gene prayed for something else. He prayed that Margaret would apologize for that peck she gave to Joel as he was being bundled into the car. He prayed for her to love him more. He prayed for Joel to move away or be called up to heaven, whichever way God wanted to do it.
He fretted and fumed all evening, and for once did his own
chores rather than leaving them for his older brother. He split kindling
with a special ferocity, missing his target as often as he hit it. The ax flew
out of his hand once and nearly hit his mama as she was walking from the
outdoor "closet" to the house. She stopped and stared at him.
"You hold that thing tight and pay attention to what
you're doing. You could'a killed me."
"Sorry," he said.
His one-word answer worried Maude because Gene usually came
up with expansive explanations to deflect all blame from himself.
"Honey, don't you be worried about Joel," she
said. "His mama said he was going to be all right. And she said it wasn't
your fault. She said Joel grabbed the gun at the last minute."
Gene nodded.
"You hardly touched your supper. Why don't you come in
the kitchen and let me fix you a glass of buttermilk and cornbread before you
go to sleep? And I'll pull you a couple of onions. Just leave the ax right
there and I’ll send Wint out to finish up."
Gene lay awake far into the night imagining what he could do
to win back Margaret's love. Finally, just before dozing off, he hit upon a plan. He'd
lure her into the woods...and preach her a sermon.
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