Jake loosened his hold. I twisted away and scrambled to my feet.
Jake was panting, his mouth spraying red with every breath. We were both spattered with blood. Jake’s.
Abe screamed at Caleb. “Damn it, boy, finish him!”
Hearing this, I glanced over to see how Georgie was doing. Caleb was trying to wrestle Georgie down but couldn’t seem to get a grip.
Without warning, Jake was on me. I never should have taken my eyes off him. He got his arms around me and lifted me off the floor and slammed me down on the wooden planks so hard I thought he’d broken my back. I couldn’t move.
Dripping blood from his nose and mouth, Jake stood over me, eyes brimming with hate. Old man McClintock yelled something. Jake ignored him. With a snarl, he lifted his boot over my face and stomped down with all his might. I turned, taking most of the blow on my temple.
“No kicking!” yelled Pete.
Ignoring him, Jake used his boot again , catching me in the ribs. The blow lifted me off the floor. My head was ringing. I couldn’t breathe. I lay helpless, retching.
Jake’s lips curled in a grotesque red grimace. Reaching down, he grabbed my hair and jerked me up. I saw him cock his fist.
“Damn it, Jake, he’s down!” Abe shouted, bursting into the circle and shoving his son aside. “Go help your brother!”
Reluctantly, Jake left me puking and hurried over to Caleb.
Eventually I got my breath. The spots before my eyes cleared. I rolled over and peered across the room.
Somehow Georgie was still up, even though both Caleb and Jake were now trying to bring him down. Everybody was yelling. Pa and Abe were shouting at each other—Pa contending two against one wasn’t fair, McClintock arguing that it was. Pete called out the time. There were still two minutes to go.
I could see what Georgie was doing. He wasn’t throwing any punches. He was just trying to stay on his feet, and he was using his “skin” to do it—employing it occasionally to break a hold or slip a punch. I smiled, recollecting just how slippery that “skin” was. Nonetheless, Georgie was having a tough time keeping track of both the McClintocks at the same time. One would approach from the front while the other threw a punch from behind. Some of them were landing. Georgie was getting tired.
Most in the room had money on the McClintocks, so naturally they were cheering for Caleb and Jake. The mood of frustration turned ugly as the final seconds slipped by. At one point Caleb and Jake piled on Georgie together, slid down his “skin,” and wound up sprawled at his feet . If you didn’t know what was happening , you’d have thought they were clowning around. Abe was furious.
Pa was laughing, catcalling the McClintock boys, mocking them.
Caleb and Jake didn’t like getting laughed at any more than they liked getting beat. They looked ready to explode.
In a fig ht, five minutes is a long time. Nearly exhausted, t he McClintock boys made one last run at Georgie, closing from opposite sides. It seemed as if Georgie just put out his hand and brushed Caleb aside, then neatly sidestepped Jake. Once again they wound up sprawled on the floor. Above all the shouts of anger and derision, I could hear Pa laughing.
“Time!” Pete yelled. “John Neuman wins the wager.”
“Hold on,” Abe shouted. “Jake got the younger one down. That makes it a draw.”
Pa stopped laughing. “The bet was you’d get both my boys down. One ain’t both.”
At that point everyone with a money interest began voicing his opinion. I was fed up with the whole thing. Georgie started over to join me , a big grin on his face. He knew he’d done good.
Georgie was almost there when I saw Caleb sneaking up behind him , his eyes blazing with fury. Caleb had a wooden stool from the bar clenched in both hands.
“Georgie, look out!” I screamed.
Too late.
Caleb slammed the stool down
Learning to Kill: Stories