All Men Fear Me Read Free Page B

so evil all at once.
    Whether or not the tales of German atrocities were true, she had a very bad feeling about the hysteria that seemed to have gripped the country. The worst thing, though, was the horror in the back of her mind that she refused to allow the full light of consciousness. She had eight daughters, two sons, and four sons-in-law. One of her boys was sixteen. But the other would be twenty-one in a month. Barely too young for the draft lottery that would be held within a week, but not too young to volunteer. And there was talk of a second draft later in the year….
    She knew it was no help to worry about something that hadn’t happened yet. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
    But all the common sense and biblical philosophy in the world couldn’t keep thoughts of war and death out of her mind for long. Something evil was about to happen, she could feel it. She closed her eyes and purposefully narrowed her thoughts, banishing past and future together, as she concentrated on the slight rustle of the leaves in the breeze. One of the birds brushed her ankle, his feathers a warm tickle.
    She was so engrossed in the smell of the earth and the turkeys’ chortling contentment as they fed that it took a few seconds for her to realize that her boy Charlie was calling her. She straightened and cocked her head toward the sound, not entirely sure she had really heard him, but his voice pierced the morning again, a long call riding the breeze.
    â€œMaaaa. We’ve got companeeeee….”
    Alafair smiled. He sounded excited. As usual, Charlie was bringing home some action, something to set things aroil.
    She tossed the rest of the breadcrumbs out of the pan onto the ground, hoisted Zeltha onto her hip, and headed out of the copse toward the house.
    She cleared the tree line and stepped into the open space behind the house, then stood still for a moment with Zeltha in one arm and the old beat-up cornbread pan dangling from her hand at her side. She had emerged from the woods at enough of an angle that she could see around the house and onto the long drive that led from the front gate. Charlie and her middle daughter Ruth were walking toward the house with a slight, gray-bearded man with a rucksack. Alafair shook her head. It was just like the boy to invite a passing hobo to have a meal with the family.
    But there was something familiar about the way the stranger carried himself, a jaunty, swinging stride that caused her heart to pick up the beat. She started toward the road, and then she was trotting before she even realized it. “I declare!” she said aloud. “I declare!”

Chapter Six
    â€œAltogether Boynton is one of the most progressive cities in the state, and its future is full of brilliant promise.”
    â€”Directory of Boynton, Oklahoma, 1916
    Henry Blackwood unfolded a piece of paper that had been residing in his shirt pocket ever since he boarded the train in Brownsville. His father had penciled in a map with directions from the Boynton station to his uncle Eric Bent’s house at the end of Kenetick Street.
    He set off down the dirt street toward the dirt lane that the agent had pointed out, taking in the scenery and trying to assess the nature of the town he was about to call his new home. He was three or four blocks from the business district, so he couldn’t tell much about that, but there did seem to be quite a number of people on the back streets and residential areas, all going about their day. He passed several people who nodded a greeting or wished him a good day. It was a friendly enough place, then.
    The only thing he knew about Boynton, Oklahoma, was that his uncle lived here, along with maybe fourteen or fifteen hundred other souls. There was a large brick-plant that had a war contract and needed workers, a small oil refinery, and lots of surrounding farms.
    He turned west on Kenetick Street. His uncle had written that he lived at the far end of