Tap, snap, crack.

Hannah didn’t say a word, just shook her moppet of blonde curls violently ‘No’.  Drawing closer to Katey, as close as she could get and then all tumbled forth from her tiny trembling mouth.

“Peter told me.  Pete said you’d be so mad you’d die, iffen I told ya an’ then Momma an’ Daddy – they’d know I told ya an’ they won’t love me never agin, an’…”

Tap, snap, crack.

“One sleeping young’un ain’t no trouble.”

Tap, snap, crack.

“Don’t ya tell, Hannah, or your Grannie Kat’ll be so mad she’ll die. An’ your Ma an’ your Pa won’t ever love you again.”

Tap, snap, crack.
Tap, snap, crack.
Tap, snap, crack.

 That evening Katey told Hannah not to worry about a thing.  This sort of thing was exactly why God made Grannies for little girls like Hannah – and it would be their secret.  She mustn’t tell Momma or Daddy since Grannie Kat was going to take care of things.  With a pinky promise Hannah’s worries were gone – but Katey’s had just begun.

 Tap, snap, crack.

 Katey knew that little girl would have a hard enough time in life as it was, and she sure didn’t need to grow up feeling her Daddy had killed a man on account of her. And he would – no doubt with help from her Momma.  No- that little girl needed them more than they needed vengeance.  Besides, being a woman of great faith, Katey was certain that the Lord would take care of him in the end.  Katey just meant to give the Lord a little help.  After all, He was a busy man.

Tap, snap, crack.
Tap, snap, crack.
Tap, snap, crack.

Now, sitting in the dark with Hannah’s bowl of beans in her lap she heard the screen door swing as Pete’s cry of ‘Evening, Mother’ pierced her eardrums, a more painful sound to them than ever before.  He sat down in the chair opposite hers and commenced to whittling.

Tap, snap, crack.

“Awful funny to be snapping your beans after dark, ain’t it Mother?”

Tap, snap, crack.

“Not looking up, Katey said –

“Well Pete – after what little Hannah told me I reckon I’m due to die any minute so I hafta snap these beans while I can.”

Tap, snap, crack.

Pete swallowed hard and stopped breathing for a moment all at once.  He stuttered, stammered, but he knew better than to offer any excuses.  But as he made all manner of uncomfortable noise, he never noticed the subtle change in the stead rhythm of bean breaking.

Tap.  (The tap of the revolver against the wooden bowl as Katey lifted it from her lap.)
Snap.  (The snap of the hammer as she drew it back.)
Crack. (The crack of the old, but trusty trigger.)

Tap, snap, crack.

“Damn opossums!”

Katey cried out as the muzzle fire created a brief moment of illumination, punctuated by Pete’s scream.  Christine came running as Katey sat back down to her beans.

Tap, snap, crack.

“Mama!  What happened?”  Christine shrieked as Pete incoherently wailed.

 Tap, snap, crack.

 “Durn opossum charged the porch!  Vicious critters they are!  I was fixin’ to get it with your daddy’s gun here when Pete went after it with his little whittlin’ knife – an’ he made me miss.  I reckon as you best take him to get sewed up proper in a hurry.”

 Tap, snap, crack.

 “Pete! Of all the idiot things to do!”  Christine cawed as she shoveled him into the backseat and sped away.

 Tap, snap, crack.

 Smiling to herself, Katey thought for a moment that it was a shame about Billy – growing up an only child now and what not.

 Tap, snap, crack.

Then she thought –
“I reckon as this’ll be the best bowl of beans my little Hannah ever had.”

Tap, snap, crack.