Walburns, eh? Y’aint familiar with the Walburns? Now, don’t ye go dyin’ of foolishness son. You listen ‘ere ‘cause this is a tale that’ll save yer life iffin’ ya have a notion to put down roots ‘round these parts.
Walburns have always been out ‘ere, long as anyone can remember anyhow. They say that they come out this way long affore even the most adventurous scouts an trappers first set foot on this ‘ere soil. Ya see, they say an ol’ Walburn of some name or another got a revelation from an angel. They say the Good Lord told ‘im that he were his chosen people or some such, an that it were his prominence to go all the way out ‘ere to await the second comin’.
So this ol’ Walburn, he rounds up all his closest kin and leads ‘em out into the untamed wilds. Of course, you and I know there aint been no second comin’. That ol’ Walburn, see, he waited out ‘ere his whole damn life, scratchin’ out a livin’ in them hills, with nobody else ‘round fer miles and miles and miles but his own cousins and sisters and daughters. They say they aint brung nuthin’ to read but the Good Book and had nuthin’ to do all them long nights. Now, you can pretty well figure out how this story goes. That were hundreds of years ago, mind, and no foolin’.
Today, you can find Walburns most anywhere, and I do mean Walburns. Each and every single one is a direct blood descendent of that ol’ Walburn what talked to the angel. You see, that ol’ Walburn, they say that after ten years of waitin’, surrounded by all his sisters and daughters and nieces and not touchin’ his poke on account of the Good Book, well they say he figured it’d be alright with the angels if he made sure there’d still be Walburns ‘round for the second comin’, since it looked like the Good Lord were takin’ his Good time.
And that’s what them Walburns do, every single one of ‘em. They all, down to the last one, are makin’ sure there’ll still be a blood-pure Walburn ‘roundabout fer when the Good Lord Good and decides to show up. Now, on account a’ that, them Walburns is easy to spot. They only look about two different ways, and I’d say that’s pretty lucky, and every one of ‘em gots a big ol’ red splotch on their faces. Trust me when I say ya can’t miss ‘em.
Apart from lookin’ alike, them Walburns aint too bright, but don’t make the mistake o’ thinkin’ they is all simpletons. A wolf can’t read nor write, nor can it talk to ya or work sums, but it aint stupid, you understand? Them Walburns is like wild animals. They get madder’n Hell quick as you please, and they never, ever, forget an insult. They keep to an old code of frontier justice, and let me tell you that insultin’ one Walburn is as good as insultin’ every single damn one of ‘em. Don’t ask me how, but they always know.
Their ways is strange, but you stay on their right side and you’ll be alright. Don’t ever stay overnight with ‘em, don’t ever say nuthin’ about yer thoughts on incestuous relations one way or another, don’t ever introduce ‘em to yer sister, always pay what you owe quick as you can, and make sure to bring ‘em a gift. Liquor does fine, a piglet is real good, and if all else fails, stuff a gold dollar in a pouch of tobacco. Try to be carryin’ sumthin’ in both hands too. They dance ‘round with snakes when they is prayin’, an ya never know when one of ‘em has a viper up his sleeve.
They’re all good trappers, they know the land better’n most, and they make a powerful liquor. You can trust ‘em at their word, but make damn sure to get it. It may rub ‘em the wrong way if yer insistent, but it’s better to have the word of an ornery Walburn than to get crawfished, which like as not they’ll do otherwise. Like I said, a piglet is real good, and never introduce ‘em to yer sister! They’ll fuck just about anythin’ that moves, with or without say so, and Walburn blood has to stay pure, if you understand my meanin’…