Men of Honor

Aunt Suse lived four doors down in the house she'd been born and raised in. A bulky woman with misshapen teeth and wide hips, she'd birthed four strapping boys by the time she was twenty and declared she was done with having any more. Uncle Ned took this news in stride, philosophically shrugging his bent shoulders and thin back - his duty to his woman done and his family complete, he left for parts unknown, returning a few times each year and sending money and gifts on the first of every month. Regular as clockwork, Aunt Suse liked to tell people, Always could count on ol' Ned to keep his word. Too many men underfoot as it is. She told the boys their daddy worked off shore to keep them in shoes - they accepted this and asked no questions - absent parents were not uncommon on the small island, and for all Suse knew, Ol' Ned could actually have been on some oil rig off the Alaskan coast. She didn't ask, he never told. Don't much matter, she would say cheerfully, He ain't here but he's doin' right by us and that's a sight more'n I can say for some. Got me no cause to complain.

The boys were in their teens - a rough and tumble pack, some said, Hard drinkin', hard livin' but honest and hard workin' - when Suse met Snooky, a recently widowed seiner from St. John, a big man with blue eyes and a face that looked like a road map to a troubled past, lonely and still adjusting to the loss of his pretty young wife. The attraction was immediate and powerful ( the less kind natured of the village women were inclined to add and damned mysterious ) and the boys were wary. While it was true that Suse and Ol' Ned had never been formally wed, all four sons respected the common law marriage and didn't take kindly to the idea of a stranger in their midst. Suse and Snooky conducted themselves discreetly by island standards and for a good while the money and first of the month gifts kept coming - but talk travels - it reached the mainland and kept on going until Ol' Ned heard rumors that the mother of his children had taken up with a new man. Astonished by this turn of events, he made an unscheduled and unannounced trip home, arriving on a Saturday afternoon and going straight to the house where Suse and Snooky were sitting innocently enough on the front porch, playing gin rummy while Spike Jones blared from the old turntable.

Neighbors braced themselves and Sparrow, who lived next door, put aside his wood carving and reached for his scattergun in the event that it became necessary to intervene - but being men of honor, Snooky and Ned shook hands, shared a Molson's, and then agreed to a shoot off for Suse's hand. It was to be held the following day in Uncle Willie's front pasture and the Sparrow would judge the winner. Never did hear of such foolishness, Suse declared with a pleased grin and laid down a winning hand.

Dawn came and a crowd gathered. Aluminum cans had been arranged on fence posts, distances measured out, both men were clean shaven and Sunday dressed. Suse and the boys took their places on the sidelines, anxious and excited for the outcome. At precisely seven o'clock the competition began - one man, one shot - in ever increasing distances away from the targets, until one of them missed. After a half hour's shooting, it was clear that they were exquisitely evenly matched and the crowd grew restless. Alternatives were discussed - plates could be thrown into the air, but no one was willing to provide the dinnerware. Coins could be tossed but they would likely need to be
half dollars and no one felt that generous with their pocket change. It was Uncle Willie, bored and already behind on his Sunday chores who finally suggested -only half seriously - pistols at twenty paces. Whoa, there, John Sullivan protested, Ain't lookin' to get nobody killed here. Uncle Willie shrugged, Don't reckon blanks would do much harm, he said, And it could always be fifty paces. Let the woman decide.

And that was how the duel of Ol' Ned and Snooky the Seiner came about. The two men stood back to back then each took fifty paces. They turned and fired - and with the crowd holding its collective breath, both anticlimactically missed by a mile - and then began laughing, dropping their guns into the high grass and falling to the ground, weak in the knees and relieved to be unharmed. Aunt Suse ordered them to shake hands and then hugged them both before suggesting they go to breakfast and work things out, Like civilized folk do, she said with a proud smile. But men of honor who have been willing to face each other with drawn pistols don't downstep that easily - Snooky packed his things and told her goodbye that very day while Ol' Ned caught the last night ferry back to the land of parts unknown. Neither ever returned and a tearful Aunt Suse gave Uncle Willie twenty dollars for the pair of pistols and mounted them over her bedroom door.

I need to remember this, she told John Sullivan, 'cause if another man shows up, I'll be wantin' to shoot him myself.