Sherman and Johnson argument
Sherman’s jaw worked like a trap. He planted his feet on the dusty path and looked at Johnson with eyes that were all sharp edges. “I am ready to have the properties,” he said, voice low and brittle with something like promise and threat. The words came out halting, as if they had been swallowed and then spat back up. He looked every bit the stubborn storm people had learned to step around.
Johnson raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “And where do you think you’re going to claim them?” he asked, the question polite but threaded with caution.
Sherman’s nostrils flared. “Don’t you dare stop me.” He held Johnson’s gaze for a long beat, then added, slower this time, “I’m taking my root to Alpha Desmond’s house. When I get there he will have to release to me everything Isabella has hidden in his house.”
A corner of Johnson’s mouth twitched—half amusement, half worry. “You’re pointing your finger at the wrong place, Sherman,” he said. He wanted to sound reasonable; he wanted to be the steady one. But years of watching Sherman’s temper shorten into violence made whatever calm he offered cautious.
“She has my secret,” Sherman said, voice climbing. “She will have to explain herself. She will have to give me what is mine.” He stamped a foot and the ground answered with a small puff of dust. “I am running out of patience. Since the Alpha has denied me my rightful share of our family’s properties, it is time I take them by force.”
Johnson sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is not the right time to do this, Sherman. We agreed—”
“We agreed?” Sherman cut him off. The single word was a blade. “What agreement? That I should sit and watch while everything that belongs to us is parceled out to others? That I should swallow my blood and grin while they lock our legacy in a chest and throw away the key?”
Johnson’s voice grew calm, deliberate. He pointed with one hand, indicating a direction as if the route could rearrange fate itself. “Let’s go this way,” he said. “If you want to trace Isabella’s strength, there are other places to look. She did not get it in a single breath or by hiding it under a bed. Think—”
“She’ll have to answer for hiding my things,” Sherman said, getting nearer, his speech clipped by anger. “She’ll have to explain why she took them. Who else knows? Who else is helping her? I want every door opened.”
“You want every door opened now,” Johnson replied. He stepped closer too, and his tone hardened. “And you expect me to march with you to Alpha Desmond’s house while you go beating down doors and accusing people without proof? Do you know what that will do? Do you know what it will bring on us—on you?” “ Look here Sherman, it will be better if we fight this with sincerity.” Johnson sounded nice.
Sherman laughed—short, ugly. “You think I’m not aware?” He jabbed a finger at Johnson, “ Don't dare me Johnson.” Sherman warned him.
. “You’re the one who’s afraid. You’ve been hindering me all along. Every time I try to move, to press our claim, you pull me back. Why? Afraid of consequences? Afraid of Desmond?” His voice cracked like ice underfoot. “You slow me down. You hide behind plans and timing and ‘right moment.’ There is no right moment, Johnson. There is only one now.” “ and yet you want your position back.”
Johnson’s face tightened. He had tried to be patient, to reason the man away from rushing headlong into conflict. But there was a fine limit to his forbearance. Johnson’s voice came out with an edge of tired honesty. “Sherman, I have been protecting you. I told you to wait because a foolish charge on Desmond’s threshold could cost us everything—our names, our safety. I am not hindering you; I’m steering you away from self-destruction.” He paused, then continued. “ And when you speak of position, I will retain it back.”
“Protecting me?” Sherman sneered. “Protecting me from what? From getting what’s right? From taking back what was stolen?” He moved as if to close the space between them, the anger in him a living thing. “Or are you protecting your own skin? Did you make a deal with the Alpha? Did you stand and take bribes while our own blood goes into the ground?” “ You speak of your right, whereas you destroy it by yourself.” Sherman mocked Johnson.
Johnson’s eyes widened at the accusation. “That’s a lie,” he spat. “You know it’s a lie. I would never—”
“You would?” Sherman’s laugh was a single, ugly sound. “You would never do that? Tell the truth? Fight? I see you when you think I’m not looking. You stand and speak softly with Desmond’s men. You slip off with letters in your coat. You stall. I see it all. Don’t pretend I’m blind.” Sherman speaks and accuses Johnson in order to force Johnson out of his way.
Johnson and Sherman's argument became more severe, and their voice louder in the air.Even the birds held their breath.
Johnson’s hands rose slowly, an attempt at pacification. “You’re seeing things from one angle, Sherman. You’re threading truth with suspicion until it’s no longer recognizable. If you go to Desmond like this—accusations, threats—you will be taken, bound, humiliated. This is not about protecting my skin. This is about keeping you alive long enough to do the right thing.” “Remember, we had a deal.”
Sherman’s laugh died on his lips. “Always the sermon,” he said. “Always the father. You think yourself wiser because you know how to walk on soft ground. But when it comes to the moment of taking what is ours, you fold. You turn our loss into patience and our patience into shame.”