An excerpt from Chapter Ten of Ronnie McBrayer’s Wild Wild Walton:
Within minutes of arriving Doc Spires was standing over a kitchen table that had been hurriedly converted to an impromptu operating gurney, bloody up to his elbows, digging what seemed like a thousand shotgun pellets from the back of a Walton County Sheriffs’ Deputy. Out on the porch, the somber crowd anxiously conversed as they waited for news from within – and waited for the family to arrive.
“This sure don’t look no good…”
“Lord, I know. I ain’t ever seen no doctor ever work on a man splayed out like that, right where he laid. Weren’t no ether or nothing to ease the man down. God help ‘em both…”
“The other deputy’s fairly shook up. He’s a sittin’ over yunder by the well house by hisself. Got Tommy’s blood all over him. Thank heavens he ain’t hurt none…”
“Does Sheriff Bell know about all this…”
“How did this happen…”
“I heard they was at a still over in Mossy Head when it all went to hell in a hand basket…”
Above the hushed conversation a clabbering and banging from the road could be heard. An old Model T bounded up the drive with Preacher Collins at the wheel, and with him was Kathryn Blount and her children. The porch emptied its contents into the yard to greet them.
Kathryn, emerged from the front passenger seat of the car with a grim look on her face and a baby on her hip. Spilling out behind her was Wavine, Tommy Jr., and Alva – none of them over eight years of age. They were all barefooted and harried, undone by the news that had come to them about their father. The crowd, now pressing upon them, only intensified their misgivings, so as they popped from the car each one grabbed a handful of their mother’s dress.
“Is he alive?” Kathryn asked as quickly as her feet hit the ground…