back to your place all right?” he demanded.
“Well, he got there, and by good luck he's only got a bullet hole in his leg. Didn't you people ever hear of the curfew?”
He went as white as if he'd been bleached. “We tried to keep him, Franklin. I did everything I could. How is he?”
“He's all right. What I'd like to know is, if he started off intending to stay with you, and you did everything you could to keep him, what made him come back?”
He firmed up at that, and flushed angrily. “When Hunt comes home, it's going to be the real thing, Franklin. Nobody's going to use my house as a ... a...”
“In other words, you sent your son out to be shot at because he couldn't promise he wouldn't be assaulted.”
“No, sir—and you ought to know me better than to say that to me. I didn't send him anywhere. The only thing I asked for was that he wouldn't volunteer himself to that greasy devil. For God's sake, Franklin, what do you expect me to do—encourage him?”
“I did expect a little Christian charity and a little understanding for your own child. But it looks like that was too much to ask for.” We weren't quite shouting yet, but we were getting close.
“You're not in a very good position to—”
“—So how about a little common sense instead? The only things you've accomplished are convincing Hunt he can't get back to a normal life—not that anything's normal these days—and pushing him right into Arslan's corner. His own father drives him out, and who takes him in? Arslan! Arslan! Just putting it bluntly, Arnold, anytime Arslan wants his body he can have it, and neither you nor I nor Hunt can stop him; and it doesn't matter whose house he's living in, either. What you've done is help Arslan get hold of his soul.”
“That's a hell of a thing to say to me.” His voice shook. “That's exactly what I'm trying to stop. He wouldn't even agree—” He broke off, waving his open hand spasmodically, as if he was looking for something to hit with it. “As far as I'm concerned, it's not too late even now. My door's open whenever he's ready to come home.”
“On your terms.”
“Now, listen, Franklin. If you've got anything practical to tell me, go ahead and say it. But if you're just here to pass insults, let's call a halt right now. Jean's upstairs trying to get some rest, and I've got better things to do.”
“Yes, I've got one thing very practical—”
But he was so worked up now that he couldn't let me go on till he got in his counterattack. “And I'll tell you something, Franklin, there's a lot of people who don't think much of the way you've toadied up to that stinking Turk. Collaborator's a dirty word, but that's exactly—”
“I didn't come to discuss myself.”
“No, you came to pull that holier-than-thou act because I've insisted on a little basic morality and loyalty—and coming from you it doesn't look very good. Ever since they came shooting their way in here—”
“Nobody shot their way in.”
“—you've been preaching. ‘Cooperate! Cooperate!’ Well, I say that's just the coward's way to pronounce ‘collaborate.'”
If you think so, why haven't you done something about it?”
“If we'd had a chance, we would have! You were so damn quick to inform on anybody who had a gun.”
“Do you have any idea what this town would look like now if we'd tried to fight?”
“We'd be able to hold our heads up, anyway.”
“After you'd scraped them out of the mud, maybe. I'm not hanging mine. Now, just shut up and listen to me for five seconds. For God's sake—for Jean's sake, Arnold—get word to Hunt that you want him back, no strings attached. Don't do it through me if you don't want to. You're welcome to think whatever you want to about me, but it's more important what you do about your son.”
I left that little scene with a feeling of satisfaction, all in all. Collaborator. Well, in a sense I certainly was. I'd gone all out to get people to do what Arslan and his
“Well, he got there, and by good luck he's only got a bullet hole in his leg. Didn't you people ever hear of the curfew?”
He went as white as if he'd been bleached. “We tried to keep him, Franklin. I did everything I could. How is he?”
“He's all right. What I'd like to know is, if he started off intending to stay with you, and you did everything you could to keep him, what made him come back?”
He firmed up at that, and flushed angrily. “When Hunt comes home, it's going to be the real thing, Franklin. Nobody's going to use my house as a ... a...”
“In other words, you sent your son out to be shot at because he couldn't promise he wouldn't be assaulted.”
“No, sir—and you ought to know me better than to say that to me. I didn't send him anywhere. The only thing I asked for was that he wouldn't volunteer himself to that greasy devil. For God's sake, Franklin, what do you expect me to do—encourage him?”
“I did expect a little Christian charity and a little understanding for your own child. But it looks like that was too much to ask for.” We weren't quite shouting yet, but we were getting close.
“You're not in a very good position to—”
“—So how about a little common sense instead? The only things you've accomplished are convincing Hunt he can't get back to a normal life—not that anything's normal these days—and pushing him right into Arslan's corner. His own father drives him out, and who takes him in? Arslan! Arslan! Just putting it bluntly, Arnold, anytime Arslan wants his body he can have it, and neither you nor I nor Hunt can stop him; and it doesn't matter whose house he's living in, either. What you've done is help Arslan get hold of his soul.”
“That's a hell of a thing to say to me.” His voice shook. “That's exactly what I'm trying to stop. He wouldn't even agree—” He broke off, waving his open hand spasmodically, as if he was looking for something to hit with it. “As far as I'm concerned, it's not too late even now. My door's open whenever he's ready to come home.”
“On your terms.”
“Now, listen, Franklin. If you've got anything practical to tell me, go ahead and say it. But if you're just here to pass insults, let's call a halt right now. Jean's upstairs trying to get some rest, and I've got better things to do.”
“Yes, I've got one thing very practical—”
But he was so worked up now that he couldn't let me go on till he got in his counterattack. “And I'll tell you something, Franklin, there's a lot of people who don't think much of the way you've toadied up to that stinking Turk. Collaborator's a dirty word, but that's exactly—”
“I didn't come to discuss myself.”
“No, you came to pull that holier-than-thou act because I've insisted on a little basic morality and loyalty—and coming from you it doesn't look very good. Ever since they came shooting their way in here—”
“Nobody shot their way in.”
“—you've been preaching. ‘Cooperate! Cooperate!’ Well, I say that's just the coward's way to pronounce ‘collaborate.'”
If you think so, why haven't you done something about it?”
“If we'd had a chance, we would have! You were so damn quick to inform on anybody who had a gun.”
“Do you have any idea what this town would look like now if we'd tried to fight?”
“We'd be able to hold our heads up, anyway.”
“After you'd scraped them out of the mud, maybe. I'm not hanging mine. Now, just shut up and listen to me for five seconds. For God's sake—for Jean's sake, Arnold—get word to Hunt that you want him back, no strings attached. Don't do it through me if you don't want to. You're welcome to think whatever you want to about me, but it's more important what you do about your son.”
I left that little scene with a feeling of satisfaction, all in all. Collaborator. Well, in a sense I certainly was. I'd gone all out to get people to do what Arslan and his
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