The Journey of Little Charlie

The sheriff hummed and hawed ‘round as though he had more to say. Finally he jus’bust out with, “You got to understand your size is confusing to folk, Little Charlie. Your pa looked like two full-growed men joined into one, ain’t nothing but a boy. And a good boy too.

“I’m truly ‘shamed that I wasn’t more considerate of you at this time of your mourning. I ‘pologize for all I put you through. I hopes you can ‘cept my ‘pology.”

“Yes, sir, I do. Pap always says you’s a good man.”

The sheriff handed me the stone.

“We gouged this out the tree and thought you might want to keep it.”

I din’t know what to say. I wasn’t gonna be rude and look no gift horse in the mouth, but I didn’t know what the sheriff ‘spected me to do with a stone that had took part in killing my pap.

I guess me and Ma could drive a couple of nails into the cabin walls and set the stone on ‘em. That way if anyone ever come to call on us, we could say, “Bet you a dollar you can’t guess what this here stone done.”

And we’d win the dollar every time.

Then the sheriff picked up the burlap sack and pult out something flat and shiny.

It took me a second to see ‘twas Pap’s axe head. The striking edge had folded back on itself.

“Folks knew your pa was a wonderful man, Little Charlie, but didn’t know jus’how powerful. We fount this tn feel off the ground wedged in a oak. We wiped the blood off and figgered it’s yourn too.”