Devil's Dream Part 4

"Glad to see you back," Aunt Sarah said. "He won't eat nuthen since you left."

"Who'd a'thought he'd miss me that much?"

Aunt Sarah ducked her head to hide a quick grin. Forrest walked up to Benjamin's door, peered in. The big man sat slumped on his stool in the corner. There were a couple of small whittled objects in the dust by his shoe, but Forrest couldn't see them plain in the dim light. He wondered what became of the bed k.n.o.b or whatever it was. If Ben had made something useful maybe somebody was using it now.

Forrest had been gone about thirty-six hours, and if Ben had really taken no nourishment in that time he'd have a right to be feeling low.

"Ben," he said. "Benjamin."

The man moved his head but didn't look up. Forrest turned away from the door, his eye drawn by a movement at the second-story house window, above the posts of the stockade. The wisteria was just barely in leaf, just beginning to put out the tight purple cones that would soon open into blossom, and through the vine he could see Mary Ann, pulling back the white curtain to look down at him with a curious interest. Or maybe she was looking at the back of Nancy's head. The girl had got down from the wagon and stood like a dark little shrub rooted in the hard dirt of the yard.

Forrest thought he saw Fan pull herself up to peep over the windowsill, but her dark eyes were there for only a second. He turned back to Ben's stall, unlatched the door and pulled it open a crack. Enough of the fading light spilled in for him to see the little carvings on the ground by the legs of the stool: a stump-tail bobcat and some kind of fice dog. Small as they were they both looked like they'd bite you.

"Ben," he said. "I got somethen for ye."

"Don't want any d.a.m.n thing you got."

Forrest sighed. "Well never mind whar hit come from, then. Fer I'm right sh.o.r.e hit's somethen ye want."

He pulled the door wide and stepped out from between the man and the woman. Nancy made some kind of low sound, took half a step forward and paused as if leaning over the edge of something. Forrest waited a long moment, watching, till Ben got up shakily from his stool and came toward her, holding out both his hands.

CHAPTER SIX.

February 1862 THE WEATHER TURNED BITTER overnight and in the morning the spa.r.s.e trees around the camp between the Fort Henry road and the river were glazed over with ice that gleamed like crystal. The sun was pale and distant and by midday its light was near blotted out by the rain of iron that the four Federal gunboats were hurling into Fort Donelson from the c.u.mberland. All who remained in Forrest's camp had taken such cover as they could find, save Major Kelley, the Methodist preacher, who sat placidly by his open tent flap, reading his Bible with all apparent absorption. overnight and in the morning the spa.r.s.e trees around the camp between the Fort Henry road and the river were glazed over with ice that gleamed like crystal. The sun was pale and distant and by midday its light was near blotted out by the rain of iron that the four Federal gunboats were hurling into Fort Donelson from the c.u.mberland. All who remained in Forrest's camp had taken such cover as they could find, save Major Kelley, the Methodist preacher, who sat placidly by his open tent flap, reading his Bible with all apparent absorption.

Sergeant Major Strange nudged Henri and pointed; the two of them went crouching toward Kelley's tent. Once Henri's feet almost shot out from under him on the sheet of ice that covered the ground. There had been heavy rain before the freeze. Kelley read on, with no sign he was aware of their approach or of anything else in his surroundings.

"I don't see how you can hold your mind to a book with all this racket going on," Strange began.

Kelley raised his head, holding his place in the text with one finger, cupping his other hand behind his ear. As Strange opened his mouth to go on there was a nasty whistle and a rush of wind. A rag of iron crashed down to splinter the ice pack just past his boot toes. Strange went skipping backward over a fallen log and dropped out of sight behind it.

"Ah," Kelley said deliberately. "Henri." He was one of the few men among Forrest's Rangers to give the name its proper French p.r.o.nunciation. Others called him Henry, or more rarely Hank. Forrest, when he was feeling humorous, addressed Henri as Ornery.

"You wonder why I sit here reading?" Kelley asked, and Henri nodded, though in truth he wondered just as much why he himself kept standing there.

"As you know, the cavalry is not called to this engagement, it being chiefly a matter for artillery," Kelley said. "The enemy compels us to study war, but he may not not compel us to depart from our civilized practice and lapse into the ways of savagery. Thus I improve an hour which otherwise might be lost to idleness. compel us to depart from our civilized practice and lapse into the ways of savagery. Thus I improve an hour which otherwise might be lost to idleness. Commit thy works unto the Commit thy works unto the Lord, Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established." and thy thoughts shall be established." He smiled, sighting down the finger that held his place. "Proverbs, sixteen-three. But as for yourself, Henri, you are still more exposed than I. Have you no thought for your own safety?" He smiled, sighting down the finger that held his place. "Proverbs, sixteen-three. But as for yourself, Henri, you are still more exposed than I. Have you no thought for your own safety?"

I was killed at Chickamauga, Henri thought to say, but it occurred to him that Chickamauga hadn't happened yet, and another tumbling sh.e.l.l was blotting out the sun. He skittered backward from under its shrieking shadow, and fell over the fallen log himself, discommoding not only Sergeant Major Strange but also Ginral Jerry, who had taken shelter with them there. Below, the fort's single 128-pounder coughed and roared, and the gunboats answered. A horse let out a screaming whinny, then fell silent.

Henri risked a peep above the log. The last chunk of shrapnel had sheared away the tent pole on which Kelley had been leaning (for the camp stool where he sat had no back to it). The minister stood up, arms akimbo, Bible pinned beneath an elbow, peering irritably at the mess of collapsed canvas. Weak sunlight glinted from his spectacles. A birdlike twittering emerged from between his lips.

"What the h.e.l.l is that chatter?" Strange inquired.

"He cussen in Chinese, thas all," Jerry explained. He had rolled onto his back and lay relaxed with one knee up and his hands laced behind his head; a straw or a splinter moved in the corner of his mouth as he talked.

"Chinese?" Strange propped up on an elbow, looking at Jerry, but Jerry was gazing further off, at a quartet of rag-winged buzzards turning in the cold wind above the fort. Strange propped up on an elbow, looking at Jerry, but Jerry was gazing further off, at a quartet of rag-winged buzzards turning in the cold wind above the fort.

"Chinese," Strange said again. His tone shifted from outraged disbelief to a sort of resignation. Jerry rolled one eye toward him.

"He been a preacher ovah theah. In China," Jerry said. Again Henri raised his head above the log. With a sigh, Kelley settled himself on the canvas triangle of his stool and bent his attention back onto the Bible. Henri snuggled into the cold gray wood. Another hail of shrapnel pelted down and Jerry rolled tighter against the log, which Henri himself embraced still more closely.

Then something changed in the pattern of the cannonade down by the riverside, as if a voice had left the choir, a bullfrog been gigged out of the pond. An exploding sh.e.l.l bloomed over Fort Donelson, and in its orange aureole the broad bearded face of Kelley appeared, hovering over the fallen log.

"Come on, boys, let's get out of this mess," he said, glancing over his shoulder as he slipped the Bible into his coat pocket. "There's too much commotion to read anymore. And the colonel went down there an hour ago-I want to see what's going on."

Jerry only smiled and stayed where he was, curling closer to the log. Henri and Strange got up and followed Kelley. They found their horses in a grove of pin oaks in back of their camp. With Kelley leading they threaded their way through a peppering of hastily dug rifle pits to the right of the trenches which Buckner's men occupied, waiting for a landward a.s.sault from the Federals. The outer works of the fort were three miles long and the Confederates on the ground were too few to man them as they were meant to be manned. Henri rode with his shoulders hunched against the swelling noise of the cannon, following Kelley down a gulley that fed into Hickman Creek, which gave them and their horses some cover from the sh.e.l.ls. At the mouth where the creek flowed into the c.u.mberland, Forrest stood beside his trembling horse, soothing it by stroking the withers as he stared at the four Federal ironclads closing in on the inner redoubt on top of the bluff to his right. Fort Donelson's 128-pounder had gone silent-only four smaller cannon remained.

"h.e.l.lo, Parson," he said, turning the whites of his eyes on them. "Ye'd best git to prayen now that ye're here-ain't nothen but G.o.damighty can save that fort."

THEY DIDN'T STAY LONG to pray or to watch, but the fort did survive, by the hardest, despite the loss of its one long gun. At closer range the smaller pieces cut up the ironclads handily and set them adrift away downriver. But Grant's reinforcements were still closing in overland. to pray or to watch, but the fort did survive, by the hardest, despite the loss of its one long gun. At closer range the smaller pieces cut up the ironclads handily and set them adrift away downriver. But Grant's reinforcements were still closing in overland.

That night it snowed, and at first light, diffused by a hovering fog from the river, the Confederates led by General Pillow attacked the Federals below the little town of Dover, downriver from the fort, hoping to open a line of retreat along the road to Nashville. Henri rode between Kelley and Strange, shaking from the cold he could not get used to, following Forrest as the cavalry rode in advance of Pillow's left. They made their first charge through a fog so thick they could not see the Federals till they were in hand's reach. An hour later the sun was blazing back from the strips of snow that had not been stained crimson and Forrest was raving mad because he could not get permission to charge the retreating Federals again and run them clean off the battlefield. With his breath steaming from the chill, every curse he uttered was haloed in smoke.

He led his cavalry to the right, sweeping outside the entrenchments manned by General Buckner's troops, and cheered himself up a little by capturing a Federal battery of six guns, killing most of the men and horses that served it. Moving further to the right, he came upon General Pillow under fire of another battery at the head of a ravine.

"If you must charge something," Pillow said, "Charge that." that." Forrest said nothing, but put his head down, directing his riders with a sweep of his arm. Henri swung in after him, outdistancing Kelley and Strange-but that was his horse's idea, not his. The ravine was steep and choked with buck bushes, a few pinkish berries clinging to the scrub. Horseshoes shivered the ice and slipped on the frozen mud beneath it. At the head of the ravine the cannon thundered and Forrest's men screamed back at them. In the general uproar Henri couldn't even hear what sound was pouring out of his own raw open throat and he didn't know if he was screaming in anger or fear. To his right Captain May of the Rangers toppled, dragging his mount to a halt with his dead body trailing from one stirrup, and just behind that, Jeffrey Forrest's horse reared up and fell over backward on the steep grade, rolling over the rider. Forrest looked back for half a second, just long enough to see his youngest brother sit up coughing painfully but anyway still breathing. Two minie b.a.l.l.s tore through the sleeves of his coat, and Henri saw more bullets striking the forequarters of his horse, like fat raindrops plopping into a pond, but Forrest, impossibly, did not stop, and so none of those still in the saddle behind him stopped either. In the next moment they had ridden right over the cannon and the Federals who weren't killed were running away. Forrest said nothing, but put his head down, directing his riders with a sweep of his arm. Henri swung in after him, outdistancing Kelley and Strange-but that was his horse's idea, not his. The ravine was steep and choked with buck bushes, a few pinkish berries clinging to the scrub. Horseshoes shivered the ice and slipped on the frozen mud beneath it. At the head of the ravine the cannon thundered and Forrest's men screamed back at them. In the general uproar Henri couldn't even hear what sound was pouring out of his own raw open throat and he didn't know if he was screaming in anger or fear. To his right Captain May of the Rangers toppled, dragging his mount to a halt with his dead body trailing from one stirrup, and just behind that, Jeffrey Forrest's horse reared up and fell over backward on the steep grade, rolling over the rider. Forrest looked back for half a second, just long enough to see his youngest brother sit up coughing painfully but anyway still breathing. Two minie b.a.l.l.s tore through the sleeves of his coat, and Henri saw more bullets striking the forequarters of his horse, like fat raindrops plopping into a pond, but Forrest, impossibly, did not stop, and so none of those still in the saddle behind him stopped either. In the next moment they had ridden right over the cannon and the Federals who weren't killed were running away.

"By G.o.d we done it!" Forrest yelled, turning back to Henri, who was the first man behind him now. His black beard jutted, his face was on fire with pleasure. "Come on boys, let's go find'm!"

As he dug in his spurs, his horse went down on its front knees, spurting little fountains of blood from seven bullet holes. Forrest slipped down and held the animal's head. He didn't know which of the blood leaks to stop. Henri watched him watch the horse's eyes go dim, and for a second it looked as if Forrest would weep, but then Ginral Jerry came tearing out of the sour smoke of the captured battery, with another horse all saddled and bridled and ready go, and Forrest was astride again, beckoning Henri to follow him-there didn't seem to be anyone else with them just now.

There came a long deep droning sound like wind over the mouth of a long bottle, and a hole opened up into the next world where the Old Ones sat cross-legged smoking their pipes and playing their strange music, then out of the hole a tapered artillery sh.e.l.l came majestically sailing; it entered Forrest's fresh horse just behind the crook of Forrest's own knee, and then the horse exploded.

Henri lay facedown, embracing the frozen dirt. He had stopped feeling the cold during the first charge that morning, eight hours before. But now he felt frozen all the way through and the only warm spot in the entire world was his horse's nostrils nuzzling the back of his neck, wanting to know that he was all right, wanting him to get on again. But the last place Henri wanted to be was on a horse right now.

"Git up if ye don't want me to kick ye." Forrest's long shadow stretched over him; Forrest shaking his head. "Git up now, Henry, if ye ain't dead."

Reluctantly Henri sat up. He let Forrest help him to his feet.

"G.o.ddammit!" Forrest said, his beard's point shaking. Henri felt his sorrow trans.m.u.ted to rage. "That's two good horses in less'n five minutes-by d.a.m.n, them Yankees need to pay-"

Down the slope, General Pillow was calling for his men to retreat to their breastworks.

"The devil!" Forrest hollered. "G.o.ddammit to the eternal fires of h.e.l.l, cain't ye see we got'm on the run? cain't ye see we got'm on the run? There's three good hours of daylight left, we ought to be killen Yankees with that!" There's three good hours of daylight left, we ought to be killen Yankees with that!"

Henri leaned against his horse's shoulder, stooping enough to shelter his head from whatever projectile might yet come hurtling out of the next world in his direction. Forrest's face had turned that hot-iron color. He kicked shale loose from the frozen ground.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n if I aim to go back to any G.o.dd.a.m.n breastworks," he said.

AT DUSK they gathered around a campfire Ginral Jerry had built in the lee of a s...o...b..nk, which did something, though not exactly enough, to cut the bitter rising wind. Forrest sat on a tripod camp stool, his long arms wrapped around his knees, reflected firelight flickering from the deep hollow of his eyes. Though he was in his shirtsleeves he didn't seem to feel the cold. Is he even human? Henri thought. they gathered around a campfire Ginral Jerry had built in the lee of a s...o...b..nk, which did something, though not exactly enough, to cut the bitter rising wind. Forrest sat on a tripod camp stool, his long arms wrapped around his knees, reflected firelight flickering from the deep hollow of his eyes. Though he was in his shirtsleeves he didn't seem to feel the cold. Is he even human? Henri thought.

Kelley sat across the fire from Forrest, quietly contemplating him. No one spoke except for Jerry, who was counting out loud slowly.

"Thirteen, fo'teen ... Cunnel Forrest, you done leff me a whole whole lotta menden to do ... Fifteen bullet holes in dis here coat ... doan even know as I got enough thread ..." Jerry spread the coat so that the firelight shone through minie ball tears, to Henri it looked for a second as if the coat was studded with glowing jewels, or more like a dozen-odd lightning bugs had lit among its folds. lotta menden to do ... Fifteen bullet holes in dis here coat ... doan even know as I got enough thread ..." Jerry spread the coat so that the firelight shone through minie ball tears, to Henri it looked for a second as if the coat was studded with glowing jewels, or more like a dozen-odd lightning bugs had lit among its folds.

"I got a mind to ax Ole Miss to he'p with dis job a work," Jerry grumbled.

"Miz Forrest has gone back to Memphis," Forrest said.

"May G.o.d keep her safe there," Kelley added.

Forrest looked at him thoughtfully, then turned to Jerry with a smile on at least one side of his mouth. "Don't know as she's so far off yet she caint hear ye callen her 'Ole Miss,'"Then he stood up, as Jerry mimed a cower at the thought of Ole Miss's wrath. Forrest's gangling shadow lay back a long way from the fire. "Hand me over that coat," he said, reaching for it. "Ye can sew on it some more later, I reckon. Right now I got to go down to Dover and parley parley with them ginrals." Shrugging into the coat, he turned from the fire and spat into the snow. with them ginrals." Shrugging into the coat, he turned from the fire and spat into the snow.

"Too many cooks spoil the broth," Kelley said.

"That they do." Forrest looked into the shadows beyond the ring of firelight. "Brother Bill?"

"Brother Bedford." William Forrest stepped into the fire's glow. He was as tall as his brother, and favored him considerably, except that his hair and beard had gone to an early gray, while Bedford Forrest's were still hard black.

"How's Jeff a-maken it?"

"He'll live," Bill Forrest said. "Got a sore bruisen but it aint a-goen to kill him."

"Would ye take a couple of the boys and go scout out the Nashville road? I'd admire to know what's out thar, if anything is."

Bill Forrest nodded to his brother, and turned toward the trees where the horses were hitched. Henri stood up. "I'll go," he said. The fire only got one side of him warm anyway, while the other side was frozen numb.

"Too many cooks," Kelley repeated ruefully, thumbing the edges of his beard. Starnes, sitting to his left, poked a wet stick into the fire. There were three Confederate general officers on the ground at Fort Donelson-Pillow, Floyd, and Buckner-and so far their cooperation had been less than perfectly harmonious.

"You know?" Kelley said to the fire, "The first time I saw him run at the Federals that way I thought there was a good chance he was out of his mind. When he did it today I saw he was right. This army ought to be halfway to Nashville by now."

"Don't you know it," Starnes said.

"Fifteen bullet holes," Jerry muttered from the depths of a blanket he'd furled over his head. "You'd think Cunnel be satisfied he still alive. But you know he ain't."

"I got a bad feeling," Starnes said, and then they all were quiet.

No sooner had Bill Forrest and Henri found their horses than the mulatto boy Matthew came out to join their scout. Since the weather had turned cold most of the men had been sleeping in pairs to improve their chances of not freezing to death. Matthew had been sharing Henri's shebang-distinguished by a rubber ground cloth scavenged from the Federals, as well as the square of canvas stretched over a low branch to shed the rain and snow. Henri felt a certain sympathy for the boy, though usually he was sullen. Matthew was supposed to be a teamster, it appeared, but he didn't seem to be very thick with the other wagoneering slaves, except when somebody needed a harness fixed, for Matthew was handy with that work, and had been trained to it, back in Memphis, it appeared. He had a good pistol, but no sword, and a horse strong enough to keep up with the cavalry, though as a rule he rode toward the rear.

Under chill starlight they rode over the jaggedly torn and trampled snow, trotting their horses outside the Confederate trench lines. They followed the curve of the works to the southeast and once they had crossed the Fort Henry road they halted to look out over the field where the Federals under McClernand had been camped the night before. Tonight a good number of fires were burning brightly in that area.

"What do you think?" Bill Forrest said.

"We were all over there this afternoon, before dark," Henri said. "Seeing to the wounded and picking up guns and cartridges. There was no enemy left there then, none sound enough to get away."

"Ain't none thar now neither," Bill Forrest said. "That's the wind blowen up the fires from this mornen, effen ye ast me."

South of Dover they found the Nashville road flooded from a slough off the c.u.mberland. A wide expanse of water lay eerily still under the starlight. Bill Forrest rode out into the water, while Henri and Matthew watched him from the bank. Ripples swirled around his horse's legs. When the bottom of his stirrup touched the water, he reined up and looked over his shoulder.

"h.e.l.l yes we can git acrost this," he said. "And I expect we will."

FORREST WAS in such a state when they returned to camp that he seemed hardly to listen to their report. "We got ginrals don't know when they're a-winnen-and we got three of'm too!" he complained. "They got the idee the Federals all have come back right to whar they were yestiddy-when we just got through runnen'm out of there today. Brother Bill, did ye see anything such as that?" in such a state when they returned to camp that he seemed hardly to listen to their report. "We got ginrals don't know when they're a-winnen-and we got three of'm too!" he complained. "They got the idee the Federals all have come back right to whar they were yestiddy-when we just got through runnen'm out of there today. Brother Bill, did ye see anything such as that?"

"No," Bill Forrest said.

"I'll wager ye didn't," Forrest said. "How much water is it down there anyhow?"

"Some," Bill said. "Might git yore feet wet."

"Might git yore feet wet," Forrest repeated. "Them three ginrals got a doctor a-tellen'm the whole army'll die if it gits they feet wet. Doctor Cowan?" He called to the surgeon who sat on a stone beside the fire. "Is this army all bound to catch pneumonia and die if they was to oncet get their feet wet?"

"Some might catch cold," Doctor Cowan said.

"Some might catch cold," said Forrest. "Now that is such a G.o.dawful risk I druther have my sorry a.s.s drug off to a Federal prison not to run it. How about you?"

"Not necessarily," Doctor Cowan said.

"Well jest you try tellen that to them three ginrals down there," Forrest said. "They're a-setten up in that there Dover Inn a-studyen jest how how to set about surrenderen nigh fifteen thousand men to an army they just got done whuppen. So they won't get their to set about surrenderen nigh fifteen thousand men to an army they just got done whuppen. So they won't get their G.o.dd.a.m.n G.o.dd.a.m.n feet wet! Jesus Christ nailed on the cross wept tears of burning blood!" feet wet! Jesus Christ nailed on the cross wept tears of burning blood!"

Kelley, sitting by the fire, uncrossed his legs and crossed them again the other way.

"Brother," Bill Forrest folded his arms across his deep chest. "What do we aim to do?"

"Boots and saddles," Forrest snapped. "We're a-goen to Nashville and we're goen right now."

YET WHEN THEY CAME near the floodplain below Dover, Forrest was taken by a spirit of caution. Earlier that night Buckner's scouts had brought in a report of Federal troops moving in, under cover of darkness, along the Nashville road. near the floodplain below Dover, Forrest was taken by a spirit of caution. Earlier that night Buckner's scouts had brought in a report of Federal troops moving in, under cover of darkness, along the Nashville road.

"Come on, boys," Forrest said to Henri and Jeffrey, who had limbered up enough to ride. "Let's run out ahead and have us a looksee."

The chilly stars of Orion glittered above a field of empty snow. Henri let his head roll back, gazed up at the hunter's jeweled sword belt. The stars where he came from were different from these.

Forrest guided them under cover of a straggle of thorn trees on the slope. When he reached the last of them he raised a hand for the party to halt, still hidden in the bristly shadow of the trees. Henri's breath clicked off when he saw a line of infantry still on the crest of the next snow-covered rise. For a long slow time no one moved or made a sound and even the horses' breath steamed out in silence.

Then Forrest let out a sour chuckle and nudged his horse from the shelter of the thorns. He pushed his mount into an even canter, turning parallel to the enemy line. Henri and Jeffrey exchanged a quick glance and went after him. At closer range the immobile rank of enemy troops was revealed by the weak starlight to be a picket fence.

MOST EVERY RIDER carried a foot soldier behind when they crossed the slough, for a good number of Buckner's infantry had chosen to take their chances with Forrest on the escape. First-dawn light was pale on the water as the horses waded through. On the far sh.o.r.e Henri's pa.s.senger thanked him as he slipped down, and Henri overtook Forrest, who was talking, though he rode alone. Maybe he was encouraging his horse, or praying. But Forrest never prayed. carried a foot soldier behind when they crossed the slough, for a good number of Buckner's infantry had chosen to take their chances with Forrest on the escape. First-dawn light was pale on the water as the horses waded through. On the far sh.o.r.e Henri's pa.s.senger thanked him as he slipped down, and Henri overtook Forrest, who was talking, though he rode alone. Maybe he was encouraging his horse, or praying. But Forrest never prayed.

"... bilepukenlilyliversnakebellysonsaJehosophat," Forrest was chanting as Henri drew alongside him. "If they think I raised up all these men and armed'm and fed'm and brung'm up here to surrender the lot of 'm to a G.o.dd.a.m.n picket fence G.o.dd.a.m.n picket fence, well they got another think comen, them fleascratchensc.u.mlickeneggsuckensonsa-"

Strange rode up on Forrest's other side. "That's kind of a rough way to talk about your superior officers, don't you think?"

"Superior to what?" Forrest said.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

November 1857 THERE WAS A PLENTY of white and dark meat both on the Thanksgiving table, for Forrest had surprised a flock of turkeys drifting across a pasture on his Coahoma County plantation, at dawn a few days before the holiday. In fact he knew they scratched there almost every morning, and there were nigh on two dozen of them too. He'd roused Willie at first light, and they crept up on the turkeys under cover of a fringe of trees that curtained the field. Kneeling by a stump at the pasture's edge, he'd helped the boy steady the long rifle and take aim on the eye-bead in the wattled head of a big gobbler. When he squeezed the trigger the turkey dropped. Willie couldn't help himself from jumping up with a shout, but still, Forrest bagged four more birds before the flock had scattered into the woods. of white and dark meat both on the Thanksgiving table, for Forrest had surprised a flock of turkeys drifting across a pasture on his Coahoma County plantation, at dawn a few days before the holiday. In fact he knew they scratched there almost every morning, and there were nigh on two dozen of them too. He'd roused Willie at first light, and they crept up on the turkeys under cover of a fringe of trees that curtained the field. Kneeling by a stump at the pasture's edge, he'd helped the boy steady the long rifle and take aim on the eye-bead in the wattled head of a big gobbler. When he squeezed the trigger the turkey dropped. Willie couldn't help himself from jumping up with a shout, but still, Forrest bagged four more birds before the flock had scattered into the woods.