Savannah Page #4

Here!

Christmas, you haven't

said a word since Lynah's.

No, sir.

Why?

I got nothin' to say, sir.

Since when?

All I'm saying is,

it would have been

different it was just me.

You still mad about that?

All I'm for saying is.

Listen up now.

Lynah was aiming to hit me,

and every man around here

has a right to defend

his own property.

All right, then.

Afternoon, Mr. Ward.

Hey.

It is an absolute

preposterous statement

the outcome would have been

different had I not been there.

Lynah was aimed to

shoot me, all right?

He missed and we got away!

No, sir, you got away!

I just be along there with

you like the dog here!

Well, if I hadn't been there,

he wouldn't have chased Rock

down the river and killed him!

No, sir, he would have

let your dog live!

All I'm sa...

Your world ain't mine,

you understand?

Can I be of any

assistance, Mr. Allen?

Gimme a whiskey.

Why do you hunt, sir?

It's a gentleman's sport.

Makes you feel sporty,

does it, huh,

to shoot a bird or two?

Do you know these birds?

Can you tell a canvasback

from a widgeon

from the way it turns in the air,

from how it feeds?

Do you know the journeys they take,

their determination, power of will

wrapped up in that small little breast

you fill so carelessly with shot?

Do you?

Listen to you, the

original noble savage.

You know nothin',

and you think about nothin'.

200 taken my way is an honest act.

It is a transaction

as old as our two species.

See, I know what I do.

Two single birds taken your way,

now, that's what I

call a slaughter.

A gun room has guns in it!

And a home has a husband in it.

Mr. John says you was worrisome.

What else did my uncle

say, Mr. Moultrie?

Call me Christmas that's all.

Christmas.

Well, Mr. John say they

won't take the summer duck.

Oh, hell will freeze over

before they take mine.

I'll take it all the way to the

Supreme Court if I have to.

Young blood doth not

obey an old decree.

We cannot cross the

cause why we were born.

Well, Mr. Judge, the

alligator got no limit,

and the raccoon ain't got no limit,

so why should Christmas

have a limit?

Well, this is serious, Christmas.

Repeated probationary sentences

cannot be supported.

Sir, Warden Rossignol

clearly states

that he identified me

at the distance of

200 yards at sunset.

Your Honor, this is a

matter of undisputed fact.

Excuse me, Your Honor,

but the undisputed facts are these.

200 yards, sunset,

saw grass this time

of year this high.

Person firing at ducks,

who must have stood at least

this deep in the mire,

meaning that at 200 yards,

Warden Rossignol might deduce

what species of God's

creation fired the gun,

but would not have been

able to sex the shooter,

much less identify

him... or her.

Or anyone for that matter who

owns a shotgun in the county.

By the way, Your Honor, you

still own that Greener?

Yes, I do.

Yeah, it's beautifully

made, isn't it?

Oh, yes.

If the English made kings

the way they made guns,

we'd still be a colony.

Your Honor!

Of course, of course.

Uh, of course.

Uh, Christmas, uh,

you knew it was against the

law to shoot summer duck.

Yes, sir.

Well, Christmas, why then did

you not dispose of the ducks?

Sir?

What I mean is, Christmas,

when you saw the warden coming,

why didn't you throw

away the summer duck?

Mr. Judge, you must

never et a summer duck.

Case dismissed.

Well, go on, open it.

You've nothing left to prove

with guns and bluster, Ward.

Try a different weapon.

They're building a new factory.

Imperial.

Imperial, my ass.

They cleared all but

that patch over there.

The boss man's new hunting ground.

What kind of fool thinks a duck,

with all the low country

from here to the Everglades,

is gonna fly in that

concrete patch?

It's no good here.

Hey. Wh... where's Rock?

Rock!

Last I seen him,

he was over by that tree there.

Mr. Ward...

Rock always done us his best.

Now he done his last.

Shakespeare could not have

said it better, Christmas.

"How a Duck Hunter

Avoids Being a Sinner."

Oh, did I tell you I found

some of Ward's newspaper articles?

Listen to this.

Called "How the Duck Hunter

Avoids Being a Sinner."

"With all sorts of unreasonable

"and absurd restrictions

on duck shootin' now,

"fella can't go out in

the short open season

"without transgressing

some of the fool don'ts.

"So the safest way to

avoid being a sinner

"when a fella goes duck shootin',

is not to shoot anything at all".

Yeah, Ward was prolific.

Holding back the tide

with that fountain

pen Lucy gave him.

Yeah.

Trying to, anyway.

Everybody's emptying

out their attics

for Lila's historical society.

Homer built her, got

to be 200 crates.

Won't take a nickel for them.

Homer's daddy the same.

Settled Ward's account for

a couple of old guns.

You know, my daddy was on the

search party found Ward's body.

Said he found him in...

wearing his pajamas.

Some say it wasn't an accident.

What is?

Yeah.

Well, whatever it is Ward

was searching for...

it eluded him.

Might as well add that

to your collection.

Christmas, I...

I found you a place to live.

It's comfortable.

It's not home, but

I made sure of it.

You're gonna be comfortable.

All right.

What'd I tell you about

the fire, Christmas?

Don't get lazy while I'm gone

and let it burn out.

Jack t' the rack back,

stick it ball a hack

Low ball high ball, scallion jack

Jack t' the rack back,

stick it ball a hack

Low ball high ball, scallion jack

Jack t' the rack back,

stick it ball a hack

Low ball high ball, scallion jack

Jack t' the rack back,

stick it ball a hack

Low ball high ball, scallion jack

Jack t' the rack back,

stick it ball a hack

Low ball high ball, scallion jack

Jack t' the rack back,

stick it ball a hack

Low ball high ball, scallion...

But I feel like a hunter

with two coveys flushed at once!

So, I ask you, which

way do I shoot?

Well, not at your fellow

hunter, for God's sake.

What'd you say?

What'd you say?

Then at the city bird that

created this abominable law?

Why, his is but empty bravado,

amateur posturing.

A creature with duck's feet,

snake's heart and an

ass's disposition.

No!

It is our country cousin who,

by failing to be conscientious

in the use of his gun,

has made our city cousin

write this dreaded law.

Aye, aye, aye!

Doodly do.

Hello, Miss Lucy.

Whatever it is you think

you're hidin' from...

I'm doin' no such thing.

You know exactly where to find me.

I don't mean from me.

What, then?

I see you, Ward Allen.

I see what you're capable of,

and I see how far

you've missed the mark.

Sweetheart, you questioning

my marksmanship?

I question your choices,

especially the ones that will

send you to an early grave.

Woman, you'd have me your lap dog,

sittin' at your heels,

fetchin' at your command.

Well, I tell you what, little lady,

even a retriever must

have its own instincts,

act on its own accord,

if it's to be worth its salt.

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