Page 41 of Small Town Beast 2: Saverin's Duet

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

Roman had simply read the writing on the wall and yielded his throne to a successor before he could get dragged off of it by force. But Absalom now had a problem. Supposedly Roman was the richest man in Florin. Duke, Roman’s father, was known to have a private fortune in the millions, much of it in cash, gemstones, and gold. And what about the guns– hundreds of them, by some accounts, stashed across the property? Over months of plotting his rebellion, Absalom had made these riches out to be a hoard to rival King Solomon’s. His men had come expecting a score.

Hiram grew bored of the books and Absalom ignoring him, and shuffled out of the room. From the corner of his eye Absalom had noted that the man kept patting his jacket, which had a bulky square object inside it. Not a gun. Likely some trinket he’d picked up around the house.

Gold was not the only store of value in Roman’s house. There was always the wine. The whiskey. Possibly the furniture. Most definitely the art. But paintings and wine and oak tables did not excite roughnecks who’d come expecting treasure. It just wasn’t good enough. And stripping the house for parts just so his mencould get drunk seemed sacrilege to Absalom. The house should be for everybody to enjoy, because the labor of Green Trees and Mulgrews and Snatch Hills had paid for it. He’d have to pay his men off some other way.

His mind turned back to the tunnel. There had to be a tunnel. There could be no possible way Roman had slipped out with the house being watched all night. It was impossible. And yet…

By mid-afternoon,all sorts of folk had made their way to Roman’s hill to see if the rumors were true that the great leader of Florin had resigned and now young Absalom Greentree was the shot-caller in Florin.

There came whispers that Black Florin had shut down for the day and people there were bracing themselves for a rampage. It was no overreaction.

“We’ll get a set together for tonight, boys,” Hiram was saying, strutting like a peacock before the posse of Snatch Hills crowded in Roman McCall’s living room, which attached to the study where Absalom was inspecting another hoard of documents.

“We’ll go over to Black Florin and try for a bonfire, what do y’all say?”

“Let ‘em rest, Hiram,” one of the men disagreed. This one was on Absalom’s hit list– he’d been in the room when they held up him and Lorrie. Funny enough, the man was mixed race. “Surely it’s a waste of time; it’s just old folks and tumbleweeds over there now.”

“Exactly. Just easy pickings to get our beaks wet,” Hiram retorted. “Show everybody we ain’t nothing to fuck with. Hell, if you like them so much, Lloyd, you can go stay there.”

“Fuck that, I just think it’s pointless.”

“There’s always the church,” suggested Hiram. “Let’s hit that first. Reckon there’s something in the collections.”

Absalom stepped through the door of Roman’s study and pointed at them all. “Nobody is gonna be robbing any churches. Period fuckin’ full stop. And if you spit on that floor one more time I’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out, Hiram.”

Silence followed that statement. Absalom could hear the minds of seven men working out who they feared the most. If it came down to a fight, who was worth backing? The tension between Hiram and Absalom was no secret. Word of what had happened last night had already made its rounds.

Hiram’s jaw worked up and down. He moved his tobacco pouch from one cheek to the other. “I wouldn’t be robbing anybody if this house had been the prize some had suggested,” he said finally.

But he didn’t spit on the floor again.

Moving to a safer subject, the men began suggesting targets from Black Florin like farmers discussing the logistics of a cattle roundup. Somebody mentioned Ben Simpson, the owner of the chicken shop. “Keebler rewired his garage. Said there was a hollow spot. Never liked that uppity nigger or his chicken.”

“Too spicy,” came the sound agreement.

Absalom half- listened through the crack in the door of Roman’s study. He found their plans disgusting but when you put Snatch Hills in a room together such was the result. A plan began to take place in his head, a very foul and ugly plan, but one that would be more effective than feeding Hiram to pigs. He wondered where his cousin Shadrac was at right now— Shad was the one to talk to.

At the moment Shadrac and the rest of the Green Trees were busy down in the cellar stockpiling the booze and completing their search. He’d let them finish up. Absalom pulled a collection of dusty books from Roman’s shelf and opened them on the desk. They were the accounts for old harvest years, back when Roman’s father Duke had been in charge. Absalom read thenumbers with growing unease as the work before him became plain.

The operation had been dead in the water for a year now thanks to Roman. It had to be revived and that took time and collaboration with other counties and other families outside of Florin. He would have to build up trust with them. There was at least one field in bud right now, and once that crop was gathered... The old sheds needed clearing out. The drying-houses had been burned down, but some might be restored for the winter…What was Lorrie doing right now?

Laying in bed touching herself.

Laying in bed crying ‘cause I hurt her.

Laying in bed not thinking of me at all.

“Saverin is here,” someone cried.

Absalom came through the door of the study in a blink. “Put your fucking guns down,” he ordered the little Snatch Hill posse, who reluctantly obeyed. Hiram’s eyes narrowed. “I suggest you get Bailey to pay up for his whore,” he growled. “The meager pickings here won’t cut it, Green Tree.”

Absalom ignored him and addressed the group. “You boys go make yourselves useful. We got a rally tonight and you’re standing around scratching each other’s nuts. You, Guts, go set up the roasting pits. Stu, get all these books together for me. Don’t touch fuckin’ nothing else, we clear?”

“Yeth,” said Stu. Someone had apparently knocked his teeth out.

“The rest of you,” said Absalom, snapping the others to attention. “Somebody have a measuring tape?”

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