Hunting Scene in Calvin’s perspective p. 271-281:

I guess this young wealthy man came into town and started some sort of fight with Saul. Small Boy hasn’t stopped talkin’ about it since I picked him up. He says there were knives and broken glass and that the man wore a three-piece suit and asked where to buy a new car. Must be nice to up and buy a car whenever you please. Small Boy says the man comes from a wealthy family up North. I’m sure this man is just lost and confused; never got the sense of how to communicate with the other half of the world.

I park the car in King Walker’s lot and see the man, his three-piece suit, and a bit of fear in his eyes. He ain’t never hunted before. Shame.

“This is Calvin Breakstone and Small Boy,” Omar declares when we approach.

“Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Macon Dead.” Small Boy nods.

“That’s quite the name. Must be nice havin’ a name with some meanin’ to it. Nice to meet ya,” I reply.

“Calvin, get this city boy some shoes for his feet,” King Walker says as he looks for some guns. I run to the back and guess about a size eleven. There’s a few pairs of clean boots, but those ain’t gonna do him no good out there in the woods. He looks new to huntin’ and I don’t expect him to get along too well while we’re up there. May as well give him Omar’s old boots so he don’t ruin the nice ones.

When I come back, the boy looks about ready for battle. Everyone’s goofin’ around with his fancy clothes. Small Boy looks like an idiot tryin’ to fit into the man’s tiny jacket. The men gave Macon an old military suit from God-knows-where. He seems even more frightened now. Poor thing.

He slips off his old shoes. Boy, I’ve never seen feet so beat up before. Tore up skin, hangin’ off all loose. Blisters everywhere.

“Boy, you can’t go hunting with feet like that,” King Walker says. “Here sprinkle this Arm and Hammer on them real good and put them socks on.”

After the man finishes dressin’, King Walker opens the beer. Thank God. Can’t have a good hunt with my throat feelin’ dry. I slug mine down real quick while King Walker hands the boy a beer and his Winchester .22. I bet that man never held a gun in his life. He looks like he don’t know what to do with it. I just hope he don’t lose control and shoot one of us.

From behind me I hear,“Common, Calvin. Let’s go.” Time to see what this man can do.

We pile into my Chevy. King Walker sittin’ next to me with Luther by his side, Small Boy and Omar in the back, with Macon in the middle. Small Boy keeps teasin’ Macon about the tiny jacket.

“Leave the boy alone, Small Boy. You just too fat from eatin’ all the coon we got last week,” I say. I look back and see Macon looking out the window. He wants the trip to end.

“ ‘Course I ate it all. I shot it all; I deserved it. Best coon I ever tasted. Plump too.”

“We would’ve had more too if I hadn’t missed that deer,” King Walker replies. “Man that one looked so big, could’ve made dinner for the whole town.”

“It’s alright, man. You gonna get a good one tonight, I can feel it. Night’s clear, wind ain’t blowing too much. It’s like that night we went near the Virginia border and came back with enough deer, coon, and possum to last the whole week.”

“Ya, I remember,” Omar replies. “Same trip I hit two coons with one bullet.”

“Only good shot you ever made,” I tease.

The boys laugh and continue to reminisce as I steer the Chevy up the windin’ hill. Some headlights are following us, but it’s probably just Saul or some of the other guys from town, wantin’ a chuckle outta a rich black boy huntin’.

“Better make time, Calvin. Coon be done ate and gone home.”

I pull over. King Walker and Omar spring out of the car. “Let ‘em rip,” I tell Small Boy and hand him the keys to the trunk. The hounds leap out and begin sniffing.

“You brought Becky?” asks Luther. “Oh, man! We gonna get some coon tonight!”

The dogs look more and more anxious to get into the woods as Omar and Small Boy unload the trunk and Luther gives his gun a final cleanin’. Macon looks petrified. From the side of the car I watch him starin’ out to the forest, ponderin’ how he will get out, what lies ahead, if we are gonna shoot him. His eyes are wide and hands in fists. Looks like a breathin’ statue. Catch myself lookin’ like a statue too just gazin’ over at him.

“Ay, Macon! You wanna use a lamp or a flashlight?”

The poor kid hesitates. Doesn’t know what’s good for him out there. Wonder why a grown man like him ain’t never been in no woods before.

“He can run with me,” I say as I walk toward him. “Give him a torch.” At least I can spare him from some of the humiliation he’s gonna experience in there. “And take that change out your pocket. Makes too much noise.” I don’t need to be dead tonight just because this guy has got money to spare.

We all take a swig of liquor and I load my shotgun with .22 shells. Small Boy claps his hands and the dogs charge forward. I stay still and listen to where the dogs say to head. In the darkness, the only things I can trust are those dogs’ voices, my men’s howls, and what the earth has to say. A light breeze passes. I know Becky is in the lead before Small Boy even has to say it.

“Calvin, you and Macon go off to the right. We’ll head this a way, and circle over by the gulch. Don’t shoot no bears, now.”

I smile. “Shoot him if I see him.”

As we move out Macon turns on his flashlight.

“Better save it. You don’t need it now.”

I hear the dogs gettin’ further along in the woods and move.

“Any bears out here?” I can’t help but chuckle at how cool Macon’s tryin’ to be. He’s anxious. First time in the woods is scary, no doubt about that. Sad that this grown man never experienced the woods, talked to the woods, felt the woods. Nothin’ gonna hurt him if he just talks to Mother Nature.

“Just us, and we got guns.”  

The darkness calls to me. I walk ahead a bit. The trees are so still, peaceful. The silence takes me away, quickens my pace. Good ol’ Ryna’s Gulch breaks the silence. Ryna must be missing her husband a awful lot tonight. Maybe hopin’ in the clear night he’ll fly back to her.

The dogs have stopped their screamin’ and so have the men. It’s me and the night now. The wind picks up and sloughs through the trees. Macon stumbles behind me.

I’m losin’ my way to the game. I stop at a tree. Feeling the light I throw on its rough bark, the tree speaks in its soft voice. Assuring, safe, it will protect me. I trust the whispers it tells me and continue on to the game ahead. After a few moments, the dirt calls to me. I can’t help but answer its rich voice.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“Bigger game ahead, son. Trust your instincts and you’ll find it.”

I continue on.

“What the hell is that?” Ah, Ryna’s gentle weeping. Feels almost like a song after huntin’ here for so many years. Reminds us townsfolk of sorrow and freedom.

“Echo. Ryna’s Gulch up ahead. It makes that sound when the wind hits a certain way.” I know that wind is Solomon callin’ back to her. His voice whisper, “I’m sorry,” every time the gulch moans.

“Sounds like a woman crying.”

“Ryna. Folks say a woman named Ryna is cryin in there. That’s how it got the name.”

There’s a rustle in the wind. “Hush!” I say to Macon. The dogs call out, “A bobcat!” Shit! I knew somethin’ was wrong when ol’ Ryna began her sobbing. I send out a whistle hopin’ that the men send a message that it was just a scare.

“Son of a fuckin bitch!” Luther’s whistle is too faint. He’s keepin’ quiet to avoid detection from a beast. “Bobcat! Come on, man!” We gotta move. All I got is my gun and a man who’s never shot a thing in his life. Heck, he’ll shoot me before he shoots the bobcat. This is what I get for lookin’ out for a man lost in the South. But I can trust the earth to guide me. It knows the way and can take me there if I listen. Each step I take, the ground guides me to a clear spot, keeps my stride steady and constant. Earth’s gonna keep me safe tonight. I shout for the men, prayin’ the coast is clear. Small Boy’s ee’s tell me to hold off a little longer. The men and I are one in these woods. Each tree connects us. They’ll know if we’re in danger and will come to rescue us. It’s funny how I never feel completely in danger in the woods, not even when a bobcat could swoop out at any moment.

I bend down to touch the soil, feel where the bobcat prowls. He’s still close. I need to make it to the men. It must’ve been about two hours or so since they signaled that the bobcat was near, but I want to put some good distance between us and that cat.

“Unh unh unh.” It’s Omar, tellin’ me to come join them. I send out a long “yah,” to find out where he is. The dogs softly bark and I follow, thankin’ the trees on the way there for their protection. The mens’ lanterns shine through a small openin’ in the bushes and I ease my way out of the branches, so as not to scare them.

“Where’s Macon?”

“What?” I turn around. He is no where in sight. “He was trailin’ behind me, honest to God. I must’ve been walkin’ too fast for him to keep up. The poor kid’s never been huntin’ before. I’m sure he’s just restin’ on a tree stump somewhere.”

How could I have been so stupid as to let him out of my sight? The boy don’t know a thing about nature and won’t stand a chance out there without someone who knows the woods inside and out. God, I hope the bobcat don’t catch him.

“Well, come on.” Omar says. “It ain’t gonna do us no good standin’ around here waitin’ for him to find us. We’ll go back the way you came, Calvin.”

I take the lead, racin’ through the trees, touchin’ the bark, rememberin’ where I came from. Bang. Jesus, the kid’s shot somethin’. We run faster only to meet Macon, runnin’, horror-stricken. It’s like he’s just seen the ghost of his dead grandfather or somethin’. There’s blood and scratches on his neck. That scratch ain’t come from no animal in this woods. Man’s got a secret.

We all take a few more steps ahead and wouldn’t you know the first-timer shot the damn bobcat! The creature is sufferin’, though. I send the dogs to finish him off. No use in lettin’ a majestic creature like that spend the rest of his days in pain cuz a gunshot wound. Better off dead. Can’t hurt us that way neither. Sad when beautiful beasts die from a man’s mistake or fear.

Somethin’ is different in Macon’s eyes now. When he fell behind, he finally listened to what nature had to tell him. There’s peace in his eyes, the relief of not only being safe, but having a connection to the world around him. Someone, not something tried to kill him, but he listened to the Earth and he’s alive. Even the other men see it and don’t ask a question. We just walk back to the car, carryin’ the bobcat, talkin’ about dinner for the next week. Macon walks a few steps behind us. He’s listenin’ again. Tryin’ to hear where the woods will guide him towards. Man can’t no better mentor than the one that lies beyond the boundaries of civilization. Glad Macon sees it.