Pickett's Gap

by Homer Greene

When Abner Pickett took down his gun from its hooks that Saturday night, and examined it, he had already determined what he should do if any attempt were made to grade the bed for a railroad through his graveyard; and his determination was in no way changed as he thought over the situation in his calmer moments on Sunday.

Monday was the first day of October. The rain had washed the air and left it clear and invigorating. The autumn foliage was in the height of its beauty. It was a day in which to live out of doors and be thankful for life; a day in which to immerse one’s self in the enjoyment of the riches of nature. But for Dannie Pickett there was no pleasure. He did not see the glorious coloring on the hills; he did not feel the exhilaration of the draughts of pure air that went into his lungs. He was too deeply absorbed in the consideration of the situation which his rash folly had brought about, to see or hear or feel anything else in his environment. If he had not removed that line of stakes, the second survey would not have been made; his grandfather would not have been deceived into selling, for a song, property rights worth many hundreds of dollars; the rival railroad companies would not have begun the battle for the gap, and, finally, the county jail would not have been staring him in the face, as it had been during the last four days and nights. For, as he saw and appreciated more and more the far-reaching and disastrous consequences of his unpardonable act, leading every day to deeper complications and graver troubles, he realized more and more deeply how serious his offence had been, he became more and more apprehensive of the punishment he would have to face if his crime should become known. He spent his days in misery and his nights in dread, starting at every footfall, losing his breath at every sudden sound, awaiting, with awful expectancy, the next development in the situation which had become, for him, a tragedy.

It was with welcome ears, therefore, that he heard his grandfather say that he need not go to school that Monday morning. He felt that he would be stifled in the schoolroom, that he must be in the open air, that he must be on the ground ready for any emergency.

After breakfast the old man strapped on his powder-horn and pouch, took down his gun, loaded it, and invited Dannie to accompany him. Aunt Martha watched them from the kitchen window, as they went down the path, her eyes filled with tears and her breast with dreadful apprehension. But she knew that it was of as little use to attempt to turn Abner Pickett from a purpose once formed as it was to try to send the Delaware River flowing back northward in its bed. As Dannie and his grandfather walked down the road, they came upon Gabriel who stood watching the engineers at their work—the same engineers who had made their survey that fateful afternoon. They had relocated their line and replaced their stakes up through the gap and across the graveyard, and were now working between the road and the brook. Abner Pickett paid little heed to them as he passed by.

“Come along, you fool!” he said to Gabriel, and the three walked on down the road. When they reached the entrance to the graveyard they opened the gate and went in. A fresh stake had been planted on the knoll in the very spot from which Dannie had removed one on that eventful night. It caught Abner Pickett’s eye at once. He strode to it, tore it from its fastening in the soil, and, with a mighty sweep of his arm, sent it whirling into the brook. Dannie looked on in wide-eyed amazement, but he said not a word. While all three knew that the object of the visit to the graveyard was to prevent, if possible, the entry into the lot of the workmen who were expected that morning to begin the grading of the railroad, not one of them mentioned it. Abner Pickett was not in a mood to talk, and the others dared not speak of it. Even as they stood there, the contractor, with his foreman and his gang of laborers, came up through the glen in wagons, with their carts, mules, tools, and appliances for grading. Between the mouth of the gap and the east wall of the graveyard, they halted and began to unload their things, while the contractor and foreman made a hasty examination of the stakes that had already been marked for grade. Abner Pickett walked deliberately to the east wall and seated himself on it, his gun resting carelessly in his lap. Dannie and Gabriel followed him, and took similar positions at his side.

“We’ll have to begin in the graveyard,” said McDonough, the contractor, “and cut down that knoll and carry it east here for this fill.”

“Then the first thing to do,” replied the foreman, “is to tear away that wall, about where them fellows are sitting on it.”

“Exactly. There’s where the line is. Bring your men up and let ’em go at it. Come, gentlemen, you’ll have to vacate your seats up there; we want those stones you’re sitting on.”

This last remark was addressed to Abner Pickett and the man and boy who kept him company.

“I’m quite comfortable here,” replied the old man; “I don’t think I shall move for the present. Besides, these stones belong to me; an’ so does the graveyard an’ the graves, and I don’t intend you shall touch any of ’em.”