Emmett met the gaze of the stranger, then turned back to Jake.
—If we’ve got unfinished business, Jake, let’s finish it.
Jake looked like he was struggling with how to begin, like the anger that he’d expected to feel—that he was supposed to feel—after all these months was suddenly eluding him. Taking a page from his brother’s book, he started with a question.
—You think of yourself as quite a fighter, don’t you, Watson?
Emmett didn’t reply.
—And maybe you are something of a fighter—as long as you get to hit a man unprovoked.
—It wasn’t unprovoked, Jake.
Jake took half a step forward, feeling something closer to anger now.
—Are you saying Jimmy tried to hit you first?
—No. He didn’t try to hit me.
Jake nodded with his jaw clenched, then took another half step.
—Seeing as you like to take the first swing so much, why don’t you take the first swing at me?
—I’m not going to take a swing at you, Jake.
Jake stared at Emmett for a moment, then looked away. He didn’t look at his two friends. He didn’t look at the townspeople who had gathered behind him. He turned his gaze in order to look at nothing in particular. And when he turned back, he hit Emmett with a right cross.
Given that Jake hadn’t been looking at Emmett when he went into motion, his fist glanced off the top of Emmett’s cheek rather than hitting him squarely in the jaw. But he made enough contact that Emmett stumbled to his right.
Everyone took a step forward now. Eddie and the stranger, the onlookers, even the woman with the stroller who had just joined the crowd. Everyone, that is, but Jake. He remained where he was standing, watching Emmett.
Emmett returned to the spot where he’d been the moment before, his hands back at his side.
Jake was red in the face with some combination of exertion and anger and maybe a hint of embarrassment too.
—Put up your fists, he said.
Emmett didn’t move.
—Put up your goddamn fists!
Emmett raised his fists high enough to be in the stance of a fighter, but not so high as to defend himself effectively.
This time, Jake hit him in the mouth. Emmett stumbled three steps back, tasting blood on his lips. He regained his footing and advanced the three steps that would bring him back within Jake’s reach. As he heard the stranger egging Jake on, Emmett halfway raised his fists and Jake knocked him to the ground.
Suddenly, the world was out of kilter, sloping away at a thirty-degree angle. To get onto his knees, Emmett had to support himself with both hands on the pavement. As he pushed himself upward, he could feel the heat of the day rising up from the concrete through his palms.
On all fours, Emmett waited for his head to clear, then he began to stand.
Jake took a step forward.
—Don’t you get up again, he said, his voice thick with emotion. Don’t you get up again, Emmett Watson.
When Emmett reached his full height, he started to raise his fists, but he hadn’t been ready to stand, after all. The earth reeled and angled upward, and Emmett landed back on the pavement with a grunt.
—That’s enough, someone called out. That’s enough, Jake.
It was Sheriff Petersen pushing through the onlookers.
The sheriff instructed one of his deputies to pull Jake aside and the other to disperse the crowd. Then he got down on his haunches to assess Emmett’s condition. He even reached out and turned Emmett’s head so he could get a better look at the left side of his face.
—Doesn’t seem like anything’s broken. You gonna be all right, Emmett?
—I’m gonna be all right.
Sheriff Petersen stayed on his haunches.
—You gonna want to press charges?
—For what.
The sheriff signaled to a deputy that he could let Jake go, then turned back to Emmett, who was sitting on the pavement now, wiping the blood from his lip.
—How long have you been back?
—Since yesterday.
—Didn’t take long for Jake to find you.
—No, sir, it didn’t.
—Well, I can’t say as I’m surprised.
The sheriff was quiet for a moment.
—You staying out at your place?
—Yes, sir.
—All right then. Let’s get you cleaned up before we send you home.
The sheriff took Emmett’s hand in order to help him off the ground. But as he did so, he took the opportunity to look at Emmett’s knuckles.
* * *
? ? ?
The sheriff and Emmett were driving through town in the Studebaker with Emmett in the passenger seat and the sheriff behind the wheel, moving at a nice easy pace. Emmett was checking his teeth with the tip of his tongue when the sheriff, who had been whistling a Hank Williams song, interrupted himself.