Billy looked at the liquor bottle, but when he nearly lost his supper, he focused back on his father. “Daddy, why are you telling me this?”
“I’m trying to save you. And myself. People think I’m crazy, I know that. Hell, I like ’em to think that. It makes life easier in a lot of ways. And I may be a little crazy. Who ain’t? But I’m crazy like a fox, Billy boy. Because I always rein it in before things spin quite out of control. A crop duster don’t get to be my age without knowing how to rein it in.
“But Frank . . . he was the opposite. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was cool as ice. But one time in a hundred, he was gonna jump off the rails and do something so extreme you couldn’t believe it.”
“Like?”
“Hell, it don’t matter now. Things somebody like you couldn’t even imagine. My point is, Forrest has that in him, too.”
Billy shook his head, not quite believing this.
“You ever notice how he is with women?”
Billy had heard stories, but he motioned for his father to continue.
“Sure, I’ll slap a woman around if she gives me attitude,” Snake said, “and I like rough *. But Forrest is different. He’ll really hurt a woman, and worse, he’ll enjoy it. Not just physically either. He likes breaking women down.”
“He’s been with his wife a long time.”
“His second wife. The first one died. And it’s a good thing nobody looked too close at that. But there’s two reasons that second wife has lasted. First, he learned some things the last time around. He don’t let the demon all the way out with wife number two. But more important, that woman likes being broke down. She don’t show it, but she does. There’s women who love pain, son, and she’s one. She’s also got the same ambition Forrest does. She likes shopping in Dallas and New York with those trust-fund bitches from New Orleans.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this, Dad.”
“Yeah, you do. Because you think the same way. All that bullshit sounds exciting to you. You want to fly around with rock stars and gamble in the private rooms in Vegas. But I’m here to tell you, Forrest can’t live that life long without blowing it up. It’s just his nature.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because Elam got Forrest, too.”
Billy’s face felt hot. “What?”
Snake leaned forward, his eyes burning with conviction. “You only missed it because you were born so late. Elam died in ’66—right about the time he would have started on you. But not before he got Forrest, and also his big brother, Frank Junior.”
Billy still couldn’t quite accept this. “Has Forrest ever talked to you about it?”
Snake shook his head with regret. “No. I tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he wouldn’t have it. But I know. I’ve seen it in him, man . . . that same cold fire that was in Frank.”
“Then you don’t know for sure.”
“Yes, I do. Listen close now. I’m only gonna tell this once. Forrest’s big brother—Frank Junior—enlisted in the Corps in ’64, and he went to Vietnam in ’65. I can’t tell you how proud Frank was of that boy. Junior was the reincarnation of his daddy, a born soldier. All the news we got from over there was good. The race war had heated up pretty good over here by ’64, so we were pretty busy with the Double Eagles. Old Elam came and went like he always did. He was in his sixties, but he was still a rounder and still getting in trouble—sometimes with the law. Brody got him out of the pokey a few times, as a favor to Frank. Kept him out of prison.” Snake paused, reflecting silently, then went on.
“In 1966, everything changed. Frank got a visit from a casualty team. Frank Junior had been killed. At a place called the Rockpile.”
“I’ve heard about that.”
“Not the real story, you ain’t. The government said young Frank had charged straight into machine-gun fire to save four members of his squad. He got hit getting the second guy, but he kept going back out. The fourth time he ran out there, the gun chewed him to pieces. There was talk of a Medal of Honor. In the end they gave him a posthumous Silver Star.”
Billy actually had heard all this before.
“You’d think Frank would be able to handle something like that,” Snake said, “as much war as he’d seen. But he started drinking, and he didn’t stop. He could always hold his liquor, but he was drinking enough to kill most men. Enough to put himself out every night. Then the letter came.”
“What letter? About the medal?”
“No. A letter from Frank Junior. He’d mailed it before he died. It had got delayed somehow, but it finally came.”
“What did it say?
Snake sighed and took another pull from Billy’s bottle. “Basically, Frank Junior told his daddy that he had no intention of coming back home. Junior was messed up in his head, he said; he always had been, but he’d never had the nerve to talk about it. But once he got to Vietnam, and saw war up close, he just didn’t care anymore.”
“Because of Granddaddy Elam?”
Snake nodded. “He told Frank that Elam had been messing with him since he was a little boy. The old bastard done everything imaginable to him, and he’d threatened to kill us all if Junior told his mama or daddy about it. And Elam was so damn crazy, that poor boy believed it.”
“Jesus, Pop.”
“Junior had made up his mind he was gonna push it in battle until he found some peace. He said he was gonna give the gooks all the hurt he could until his own hurt stopped.” Snake nodded once. “And that’s what he did.”
Billy sat blinking in horror, not knowing what to say.
“Something busted in Frank when he read that letter,” Snake said. “He blamed himself, see? And I blamed myself. Because I was scared as hell the same thing had happened to you.”
“It didn’t. At least I don’t think it did.”
“I know. I made it my business to find out.”
“How’d you do that?”