“Old Freeman did that to you boys?”
Half the boys replied, “Yes sir,” the other half simply nodded. None of them made eye contact.
“Well I’ll be damned.” The father continued to slice his meat and potatoes. “He doesn’t own any rights to that land, you hear me? The next time he tells you to get off his property, tell him his pappy left that land for the entire neighborhood. We were all there we heard it.”
The biggest boy looked up, “We ain’t goin’ back, daddy.”
“Why is that?”
The boys looked at each other nervously. “He threatened us with a shotgun.”
The father blinked then stared angrily at the boy as if Freeman had said it himself. The twelve-year-old shrunk lower.
“He did what now, boy?”
“Speak up now.”
“He said’ee’d kill us if we step foot on’is daddy’s land again.”
The skin on his jaw rippled with emotion. He stood abruptly without care for his chair or the table. “That does it. I’ma kill that featherhead. Ma get the phone and call the neighbors. Tell em we’re assemblin’ a posse tonight.”

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