"I do some bird hunting from time to time," Ham said.
"Peck says you're quite a shot with a pistol."
"The army trained me. It's like roller skating; you never forget how."
"I never knew anybody who could cut a cattail," Harston said. "Peck told us about your shot."
"I was in an outfit in 'Nam had half a dozen guys who could do that. It helps your accuracy if you're shooting to stay alive."
"I guess it might," Harston said.
It helps if you practice every day, too, Ham thought.
Mrs. Rawlings went into the kitchen again for a few minutes, while the men chatted and the women remained strangely silent, then she came back. "Dinner is served," she said.
Ham followed the group into a large kitchen, with a dining area at one end. A large table had been set there, and it practically groaned with food. Ham took the seat offered him and waited to see if someone would ask a blessing. No one did, so he dug in with the others. "This is very fine cooking, Betty," he said, biting into a fried chicken breast.
"Betty's the finest cook I know," Peck said, biting into his own chicken.
The food was Southern-corn, collard greens, black-eyed peas, cornbread and biscuits, and of course the chicken. Ham ate well, but saved a little room.
"How about some dessert?" Betty asked, as she and the other women cleared away the dishes. "We've got some pecan pie."
"I'd love that, Betty," Ham said.
"Be right back."
"The women'll leave us after dessert," Rawlings said, "then we can talk."
Ham nodded as if he understood. Nothing about this evening so far was any different from a hundred other evenings he'd spent at the home of fellow soldiers, except there had been less drinking. He hadn't been offered a refill after his first bourbon, and iced tea had been served with dinner.
Betty returned with the pie, and when that was gone, coffee. "I've put a pot in your den," she said to her husband.
"Gentlemen, why don't we go in there and have our coffee?" Raw-lings said. He led the way across the living room and into another room that had been paneled in pine and furnished with leather easy chairs.
Ham looked around him and saw the largest private collection of weapons he had ever seen outside a military arsenal. There were hunting rifles and shotguns, but the bulk of the weapons were
military-assault rifles, pistols, machine guns. The Barrett's rifle occupied a place of honor over the fireplace.
Ham gave a low whistle. "Hey, Peck, looks like you've been shopping at your own gun show."
Peck gave a little smile and indicated where Ham should sit. "I like to be well armed," he said.
Ham laughed. "That's an understatement."
Peck poured everybody a drink from a decanter. "On the day," he said, "it'll all get used."
The other men raised their glasses. "On the day," they said in unison.
Ham didn't have the slightest idea what they were talking about, but he raised his glass, too. Then everybody sat down.
26
Peck Rawlings got the ball rolling. "Well, Ham, tell me something: what do you think of our current president of the United States, William Henry Lee?"
Ham said nothing, but held his nose.
Everybody smiled a little.