“Most of you got your guns there,” he said. “Hit’s a sin to have them. Hit was a sin to shoot down them gun thugs, even if they was bound to shoot you first. I’ll not have a gun with me for the purpose of shooting a man, and I bid you to pledge the same. But I’ll not condemn you for carrying those guns. You carry those guns in God’s freedom. You make mistakes because you are alive and free. You cant escape your sin, so sin boldly and know God loves you. Only try to do good for the glory of God.”

I thought these were strange sentiments for a preacher, although Doc said later that Albion was preaching straight from St. Paul. After Doc took over and launched into a tearful recitation of C.J.’s virtues and contributions to the struggle, I kept thinking about what the preacher said.

“This was a good man we lost,” Doc said.

“A good man,” I repeated, and thought of the road C.J. had urged me down so many times, the road which lead to the place where we stood that day, a terrible place which would bring all the world down upon our heads.

Eight of us carried the coffin up the hill to the town cemetery for the burying. Isom walked alongside, supporting Gladys on one arm. Violet had already agreed that the two of them should marry.

“Look a-yonder,” Isom said, and nodded up the hill.

A lone figure stood beside the open grave. I could just catch glimpses of him as we struggled up with the coffin for I had to keep a close watch on where I put my feet. But I knew who he was. He backed away as we approached, stood beside the fence like he might jump over it and run away. I looked at him steady as we set the coffin down, and he looked back. I studied him all through the final words—his rough hide jacket, his Indian brown skin, his long dark hair streaked with gray and pulled back in a ponytail.

He turned to leave before the last prayer was done, and I followed him into the woods. I doubt I would have caught up to him, but I called out “Uncle Dillon!” and he stopped and turned around.

“So you’re that boy,” he said.

We stood face to face and I searched my heart to know what I felt about him. What I found there inside me was anger.

“You come back just to leave again?” I said. “Without a word to nobody?”

“I aint much used to talk,” he said slowly.

“I reckon not. You turn your back on folks, I reckon it’s hard to know what to say to them.”

He smiled then. “I see Ermel now and again, trade him a load of liquor for what I need. He said you was a mean one.”