The Feud Read Free

he left the car in the driveway outside the garage: washing it was among his son Tony’s duties on Saturday. Tony, a thickset lad of seventeen who wore glasses, was raking the leaves that had fallen from an elm in the corner of the yard. He was a responsible boy and had never given Dolf any trouble, perhaps because of his poor vision. Boys that had some physical defect were almost invariably hardworking and good-natured: Dolf knew that for a fact.
    “Say, Tony,” he said, walking to the boy, “you know many kids from Millville? I know you know some, from that summer job at the plant. And maybe playing football?”
    Despite his glasses, Tony played left guard on the high-school team, wearing a mask over his specs, which furthermore he taped to his head at the temples. He was a powerful lineman who could cast fear into the opposing players.
    “A few I guess,” he said now to his dad. “Any one in particular?”
    “I was wondering if you knew anybody named Bullard?” As a young fellow Dolf had had a build something like Tony’s, and when he was near his son nowadays he stood a little straighter and sucked his belly in somewhat, though he considered himself too old and too fat to be able to make much difference. He felt both pride and envy when he supposed that already Tony could probably take him. Though not yet as tall as his father, Tony was more muscular because of the weight lifting he did daily.
    Tony now said, “I’ll have to think about that.” Behind the glasses he had his mother’s face, more sensitive than Dolf’s. He banged the tines of the rake on the ground, so as to free the leaves stuck there. It was not the implement made specifically for leaves, but rather the iron-spiked rake used to scratch the ground for gardening.
    Tony asked, “Does it have to be a guy?”
    Dolf raised his eyebrows. “I guess not.”
    “Well, there was this girl,” said Tony. When seen through the thickest part of the lenses his eyes always seemed to be staring intensely.
    “Girl?”
    “They have those park dances on Friday nights over in Millville,” Tony said. “I went over there once or twice.”
    Dolf lowered his head. “What was her name?”
    “It might of been Bullard.”
    “Oh yeah?” Dolf decided he wasn’t interested in the womenfolk of that family.
    “I think her name was Eva Bullard.”
    “You wouldn’t know if her father owned that hardware store over there, would you?”
    “Naw, I don’t know.”
    Dolf asked sharply, “You didn’t take her out or anything?”
    Tony looked down and kicked the ground with the rubber toe of his gym shoe. “I only danced with her Once.”
    Dolf thrust out his chin. “You didn’t try…” He left the rest unsaid.
    Tony colored violently. “No, nothing like that.”
    Dolf said, “I don’t know if you have ever heard of what they call a social disease,” said Dolf. “I’ll tell you this, you wanna be an athlete or get an appointment to Annapolis, or be respected in life, you have to watch yourself. I’m sorry I got to use this kind of language, but you ought to get to know what a cundrum is and how to use one.” Now Dolf could feel himself color, and in reaction he said angrily, “Goddammit, Tony, you got to realize them Bullards are no good!”
    “You know them?”
    Dolf imposed a calm upon himself. He did not want to lose his dignity before his son. “I had a run-in with a few of them just now. They’re not much. But they’re sneaky, and they know all the dirty tricks. They’ll spit in your eye and hit below the belt.” He breathed awhile, looking past his son. They’re all skinny little monkeys, and they re yellow and crafty.”
    “What did they do to you?”
    Dolf was offended by the form of the question, which implied that he had been whipped. “I didn’t let ‘em get away with anything, but”—he shook his finger—”I’m going to teach them a lesson they won’t soon forget.”
    Tony hesitated for a moment and then he said, “Dad,