Our store, Adams and Martin's Grocery & Market was open on Sunday. My daddy could find a million and one reason to open. In reality, the rest of the Grocery Stores on main street were closed so we were it. Everybody who forgot something Saturday, had a second chance. I really thought he should close ilke Mrs. Owens. But, needless to say, that didn't happen. The only thing different from Monday through Friday was, we opened a few hours later. That was because we stayed open Saturday later than the rest of the stores.
       One Sunday Morning, two men had had a disagreement the  night before. That happened a lot on Saturday night. I don't know what the disagreement was about, but the commotion started when one of the men called Mick, walked to the middle of the street and called the other one a bunch of bad names and dared him to meet him in the middle of the street.                     
       "Hey you little short S O B, bring yo Black Ass out here and face me so I  can kick your a**!" There was silence; nobody came to the street.

      "Yo hear me, You Black Moth********. you wuz talking s*** las nite."           Nobody moved nor said a word. The bigger man, Mick continued to curse and rale in the street.
        "Hey Low, come on out here so I can whup that a**." Low, did not respond.
        "Come on out here you coward. Take yo a** kicking like a man."                 Everything was quiet. Most of the town was at home getting ready for church or Sunday School. It was iike the cowboy days when one gunman called another to face him in a shoot-out. These guys didn't have guns. We all waited for the drama to continue.
         i'm guessing that the man in the street was still a little drunk from the night before beause he wasn't very steady on his feet. His clothes were wrinkled, like he had slept in them all night, and he probably did because he did not go home the night before. I know that because he lived in the country and would not have been in town that early otherwise. He always wore a scowl on his face and didn't talk very much unless he was drinking.

      Nobody ventured outside to interfere with what was going on because nobody really knew if either of the men was armed or  not.
       After several minutes a short little man about five feet five or six came from between the building across the street. He was carrying two big rocks one in each hand. He walked deliberately on to the sidewalk. The man in the street started toward the sidewalk.
       "What chu gonna do wid them rocks Boy?' "Yo caint even raise them up to hit nobody, you scrowney Son of a *****."

     Just about the time the bigger man took a couple of steps closer,  and just like in slow motion, Low raised one rock and hit the bigger man in the head, followed by the other hand, a double whammy.  Mick, the larger man was so surprised; he just stood there with a stunned look on his face. Then he fell face down liked a chopped down tree.
       Men appeared from everywhere. They got to Mick and turned him over. Gravel and dirt mixed with blood stuck to his face as blood gushed from the hugh gash in his head that reached from the top of his head to his bottom lip. Mick looked like he was dead. His arms and legs were limp. His hands dangled from the end of his arms like they had no bones or muscles. He was out cold.The men gathered him up and carried him across the street to the hospital. I guess somebody had already called the doctor because Dr. Sanders arrived shortly after. 
       Low tooks the bloody rocks, walked slowly back toward the opening between the two building, and disappeared.
       I stood in the door of the store as I watched my daddy and a couple of the men go between the buildings to find Low. Someone had called the chief of Police and he arrived on the scene. My daddy met him at the store and filled him in on what had happened. Those kinds of things did not happen very often in Boley.