Gabriel's Story by David Anthony Durham

no greeting or kinship could be read.
    Gabriel lowered his eyes, and the two approached the men like nervous schoolchildren. They stood waiting for some time before Marshall noticed them. “You two after something?” he asked.
    James nodded that they were.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œWe . . . Mr. Hogg, we was wondering if you might be needing some hands.” It took James a great effort to get the sentence out. Once he had done so, he exhaled a pent-up breath and seemed to relax considerably.
    Marshall eyed James briefly, then studied Gabriel. “Is that right?”
    Gabriel nodded that it was. He wondered if the man recognized him from the day he’d spoken with him and Solomon. If he did, he gave no sign of it.
    â€œAnd what can you do?”
    â€œWe do everything,” James said. “I mean, we’ll do anything you put us to.”
    The white boy looked askance at the two newcomers, his eyes loath to touch on them. He seemed to be preparing some speech in his head but came out with mucus instead, which he sent in the vague direction of Gabriel and James.
    Marshall shared a smile with the man next to him. “Here’s two young colored boys who figure they can do everything,” he repeated for the man’s benefit. “They call me Mr. Hogg, too. Polite chiggers.” He looked back at the boys. “In my years of ranching, I never have come across a hand that could do
every
thing. I’ve found some that can do
some
thing. A few that could do
this
thing or
that
thing. But the only ones I ever heard try to do everything ended up doing
no
thing. What do you make of that?”
    James hesitated. He glanced at Gabriel. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I was saying was, Gabe here knows farming, and I been working with—”
    â€œDon’t waste your breath, boy. What do they call you two?”
    â€œJames and Gabriel.”
    Marshall feigned surprise at the improbability of this. “The king and the archangel! Very impressive. Well, damned if I could be luckier.” He looked at another of his companions. “They look to be two strong ones, don’t they? Probably got some fight in them.” The man to whom he was speaking smiled a toothless grin and nodded complete agreement. “Tell you what, you boys follow me, all three of you. Got a test for you, if you’re up for it.” He spun on his heel and started walking off, not looking back.
    The boys hesitated. James mouthed some words that Gabriel couldn’t make out. He shrugged in answer, and they followed the group of men who had moved off with Marshall. Only the black man remained. He didn’t move till the boys did, slowly bringing up the rear.
    As the group reformed within the confines of a barn, Gabriel found himself standing close to Marshall. The man raised his arm in a gesture to another, and for a moment the silver glint of a pistol flashed from inside his jacket. The boy craned to see it better but caught only the black handle of the thing, smooth and curving and engraved with some design he couldn’t make out. He straightened up when he realized Marshall was watching him. The man grinned and whispered to the boy, “Don’t trust a man with a fancy gun. It may be pretty, but it’ll kill you just as dead as a plain shotgun.”
    He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder for a moment, then walked into the center of the group, creating with his circular path a ring of sorts. He moved a few of the men back with his hands, gesturing, treating the whole thing like some solemn work. When the circle was to his liking, he beckoned Gabriel and James forward and had them stand facing each other. “Now, look into the eyes of your competition.” From the position he had put them in, it was clear to each that the other was who he referred to. “You both want a job, but there’s room for only one. Question one is whether it’s one of you. Question two is