The sheriff was tall and broad, seeming to fill the entire entryway of the newspaper office. “Stranger, you’re gonna have to come with me.”
Royce Lee tightened one side of his mouth and blinked slowly in disgust. “Did you talk to Bill Townsend?”
“Who?”
“Bill Townsend. He witnessed the gunfight. I acted strictly in self-defense, Sheriff.”
“All I know is that you killed Jim and Tommy Campbell last night. The
“Yes Sheriff, I’ll come. But you have to talk to Bill Townsend. He’ll back my story. Those two were looking for trouble. I gave them every chance to walk away.”
“Unstrap that gun belt and hand it over.”
Again Lee tightened his mouth. He hung his head and shook it. “This is terrible bad luck.” He unbuckled the belt and held it out.
The sheriff stepped forward and took it. “Come along.”
“Can you give me a minute to talk to my friend here?”
Lee turned to Elijah. “Your business here is finished. I want you to head to
“Oh, Mr. Lee, you’ve done enough already. I couldn’t possibly take any more.”
“No, you take it. You’ll need it for the journey and to settle down up north. When you find somewhere safe to make your home, learn a trade. Serve as an apprentice until you know everything about the job. Then set up your own business so you won’t have to depend on others to make a living. Good luck, Elijah, and I hope you find your family.” He took hold of Elijah’s wrist, lifting his friend’s hand, and placed the money in his palm. “Go on now, and keep your eyes and ears open on the trail. Understand?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Lee, I understand. Thank you for everything. I’ll be praying for you.”
Lee noticed tears in Elijah’s eyes. “Listen now, I’ll be okay, as soon as Bill Townsend tells what he saw.” Lee turned back to the sheriff. “Okay I’m ready.”
XLIII.
No one knows what freedom is until it has been taken away. All of a man’s desires, which he otherwise satisfies to whatever degree, are immediately denied. One cannot eat or drink what he wants, when he wants. One cannot smell the grass, or enjoy the warmth of the sun, or gaze upon the moon and the stars at night. But worst of all, one cannot freely move about, except within a ten foot by ten foot cage.
Lee had been in jail before and had hated every second of it. When he had been released, he promised himself he would never spend another night behind bars. Yet, here he was, after a long sleepless night in the
Sitting on a cot, elbows on his knees, and hands pressed against the sides of his head, he again realized what all prisoners know: No one owns anything that can be taken away. At best a man can only care for and appreciate what he has, for however long he has it. And next to life itself, the most valuable possession a man has is his freedom.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Lee failed to notice a lanky deputy who had walked into the cell area. Propping himself against the wall, the deputy drank long drafts of coffee from a tin cup, which caused his Adam’s apple to bob up and down like a cork on a fishing line. Finally the deputy stepped forward and raked the cup across the bars.
Startled, Lee looked up.
The deputy leaned close to the bars and grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “Whatcha doin’ in there?”
“What’s it to ya?”
The deputy grinned again. “Nothin’ much really.”
“Make yourself useful and get some coffee for me too.”
“You want some coffee?” The deputy took the tin cup and hurled the remainder of its contents onto the cell floor, splashing it onto Lee’s new boots. “There’s your coffee.”
“Your mother teach ya to do that?”
“Jim Campbell was a friend of mine.”
“Has the sheriff talked to Bill Townsend yet?”
“We don’t know no Bill Townsend.”
“That’s odd, because he was in the saloon when your friend forced me into a fight.”
“You mean when you murdered my friend and his kid brother.”
“Self-defense ain’t murder and you know it. What about other witnesses? There were a lot of people in that saloon.”
“That’s a lie. Besides, those who saw from the window could only see the two in the street. Bill Townsend saw your friend draw first. I had no choice but to kill him. Your friend’s brother raised his hands in the air. But then he went for his gun. That’s when I shot him—after he went for his gun. It was all self-defense. There ain’t no law against that.”
“Yeah well, that’s your story. Let’s see what a jury says.”
“This won’t go to trial, once you find Bill Townsend. He’s the one who saw everything clearly. I made sure I had a witness.”
“Your one witness, against our five, ain’t gonna count for much.”
The deputy laughed and turned to walk through the doorway into the front office. He glanced over his shoulder. “Alright mister. We’ll see how tough you are, dangling from the end of a rope.”
Lee shimmied his feet out of his boots and lay back on the cot. He closed his eyes but could not relax. Every muscle was tight and his mind raced like the wind. Who was Bill Townsend if both the sheriff and the deputy did not know him? Was Townsend some drifter who was in town for only one night? Lee massaged his eyelids. That would be his luck, picking someone as a witness who would never be seen again. He turned his head and spit on the floor.
“You’re gonna clean that up.”
Lee looked up to see the sheriff standing at the bars.
“Come on, get your boots on.”
“Where we goin’?”
The sheriff put the key in the lock and turned it. “I ain’t going nowhere, but if I was you, I’d get out of town and never come back.”
“What do ya mean?”
“I found your Bill Townsend. Turns out he’s the brother-in-law of Joe Safford, the blacksmith. Safford and his wife are honest people. I figure Safford’s brother-in-law, if he’s anything like Safford and his wife, is just as honest. Townsend’s visiting from
“Where’s my horse?”
“Out front. You owe me a dollar for the livery charge.”
The sheriff turned and Lee followed him into the front office. The sheriff opened a drawer and withdrew Lee’s gun belt, which held the two .45s.
When Lee reached out to take the belt, the sheriff slapped a small towel into his hand instead. “The spit.”
Lee opened his mouth to object but he saw the sheriff raise his eyebrows. “Alright Sheriff, I’ll clean it up.” Lee walked back into the cell and wiped the spit, along with the deputy’s coffee, off the floor. When he walked out of the cell door he cursed under his breath and defiantly kicked one of the bars with the heel of his boot.
When he walked back into the front office, he held out the towel. The sheriff pointed to a wastebasket and Lee tossed it in.
“Got that dollar?”
Lee reached for his wad of bills. His pocket was empty. “Uh, I gave all my money to Elijah.”
The deputy grinned. “It’s either the dollar you owe or a night in jail. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”
Lee desperately checked every pocket he had. He did not have a cent on him.
The sheriff nodded to the deputy. “Yeah, that’s right. Except tomorrow he’ll owe two dollars and he ain’t got that either. No use charging the town to house and feed him till he dies of old age.”
“I got money, Sheriff. Just let me telegraph my bank.”
“Forget it. I’m tired of lookin’ at ya. Here.” The sheriff held out the gun belt and Lee took it, examining it quickly.
“They’re empty,” the sheriff said, reaching into the drawer. “Here’s the cartridges.”
Lee took the cartridges and stuffed them into his pocket.
The deputy eyed Lee’s guns. “Hey, Sheriff. What about one of those new Colts to pay the livery charge?”
“No, we ain’t thieves. Besides, I’m thinkin’ about taking that dollar out of your pay.”
“Why? What did I do?”
Lee glanced at the deputy and chuckled under his breath. Then he turned, strapping on the gun belt as he walked outside. When he mounted up he jerked the horse’s head around and spurred the animal hard. “Let’s go. I never want to see this town again!”
The horse bolted, and Lee rode out of town at full speed.
XLIV.
A quarter mile out of
As he rode, Lee occasionally glanced over his shoulder. Before long the town was out of sight. The sun was high in the sky and Lee felt drowsy in the withering heat. Now and then his eyelids drooped before he caught himself and straightened up in the saddle. He had not slept a wink the night before. The deputy had served him eggs that morning, but they smelled bad and did not look like any eggs he had ever seen. He had not eaten a bite.
By mid-afternoon, Lee knew he could travel no farther without a meal and some rest. He turned the horse toward the river and brought the animal to a lope.
When Lee reached the river, the breeze off the water, coupled with the shade of the trees, began to cool his dry sweltering skin. He swung down from the saddle and tied the horse to a low-hanging branch of a tree. Then he walked to the water and splashed his face.
After he collected some wood to build a small fire, Lee stripped the horse of saddle and gear and staked him in a patch of lush green grass.
Lee arranged the wood and lit the fire. Then he added water to some beans he had kept in his knapsack and placed them over the fire. When the beans had cooked, he pulled them from the fire and gobbled them down. He then pulled a .45 from one of his holsters and lay back against the saddle. Placing the gun on his chest, he closed his eyes.
After a few moments he felt his muscles begin to relax and soon he fell asleep. He dreamt he was on a log raft floating on water as smooth as glass. A cool breeze caressed his face and lifted strands of his unruly hair. The sky was violet, and golden rays of the sun filtered through voluminous white and blue clouds. Soon the wind kicked up and skimmed across the water, causing the surface to become choppy. The raft rocked back and forth and Lee heard the rope that held the logs together creak and whine under the strain. The creaking of the rope became loud and ominous as the wind grew fierce, tossing the raft like a toothpick in the rapidly churning water. A giant wave crashed against the tiny vessel, causing it to capsize. Flung from the raft, Lee plunged into the water and began to sink. As he rapidly descended into the deathly dark abyss, his lungs burned from lack of oxygen.
Suddenly he awoke, gasping for air. He felt genuine fear in his gut, and his ears were filled with the creaking sound of the rope in his dream.
He rolled onto his side and the .45 slid off his chest and fell onto the ground. He opened his eyes and lay still for several moments, trying to orient himself. Again and again he inhaled and exhaled large breaths of air. He still heard the creaking of the rope in his head.
After he sat up he rubbed his face and lightly scratched his temples with his fingernails. He looked up, straight ahead, and focused his gaze on the river. The wind had picked up and he heard it rustling through the trees. The sound of the rope, creaking and grinding, annoyingly persisted.
For a moment he thought he heard the creak of the rope across the way, and he began to doubt that the sound was only a lingering impression of his dream. He stood up and holstered the .45.
There it was again. The creaking of the rope!
Lee looked around cautiously. He saw nothing that could cause a sound that resembled a rope creaking and whining under strain. Yet that was precisely what he heard. Or was it still only in his head?
Momentarily he again heard the eerie sound. This time he was able to hone in on its location. It was coming from the vicinity of a large tree nearby. He pulled a .45 from his holster and cocked the hammer. He slowly walked toward the tree, all the while listening intently.
Whatever was making the sound was behind the tree, out of Lee’s line of sight. He crouched slightly and pointed the .45 toward the tree. He stepped stealthily, trying not to disturb the leaves beneath his feet, even though he doubted whether man or beast could hear his movements above the rustling wind.
When he reached the tree, he carefully began to circle it. In small increments he stepped around the trunk ever so cautiously to try to catch sight of whatever it was, before the thing spotted him.
Then he saw it. A colored man was hanging a few feet off the ground, swaying in the breeze. The man’s head was in a noose and his hands were tied behind his back. The rope creaked every time the man swung from side to side. A burlap bag had been placed over the man’s head, which protruded at a fatally odd angle from his torso.
For several moments Lee stood staring at the grisly scene. “Oh, Elijah....”
Lee slowly walked back to his gear and withdrew a sheathed bowie knife from one of his saddlebags. He bridled the horse and swung up onto the animal’s bare back. He then walked the horse over to the hanging man and reached up with his knife and cut the rope. The corpse fell to the ground in a heap.
Lee dismounted and tied off the horse. Then he studied the tracks on the ground. Five men had performed the lynching. He could tell there had been little struggle―as if the men had been tending to familiar business, and the victim had had no choice but to accept his fate.
Lee returned the knife to his saddlebag and removed his folding entrenching tool, which he customarily used for digging shallow fire pits while on the trail. A few feet from the tree he began digging a grave.
Now and then he straightened up and looked carefully in every direction. The men who had hanged his friend were long gone.
The wind rustled through the trees and the branches swayed in rhythmic waves. The sun had completed most of its arc for the day but still hung lazily in the early-evening sky.
After Lee had dug the grave, he stepped out of the rectangular hole and sat down. He wiped the sweat from his brow and swigged some water from his canteen. Something in the back of his mind had been troubling him. Earlier he had attributed the uneasy feeling to his sorrow over the loss of Elijah. But now the feeling returned, causing him to pause. He recalled that he had first noticed the puzzling feeling while reading the tracks.
He glanced at the sun’s angle and decided to read the tracks again before the light faded any more.
He stood and walked to the area where the tracks were most numerous. Then he slowly followed a widening circle, noticing every detail of the imprints left by men and horses. Something was missing. Once again he started from the center of the circle and carefully worked his way out. Then he moved farther out still. He had already identified each man’s boot prints, as well as Elijah’s. But the number of horses did not match up to the number of men.
Lee knew Elijah had left town with a trail horse and a pack horse. The two horses were freshly shod, as was his own. But the tracks did not show that. No matter how many times he examined the ground and made his calculations, he always came up a horse short. Not only that, but he could not distinguish any tracks of a pair of horses that had been freshly shod.
He stood still for several moments, trying to unravel the riddle. Then he glanced at the dead man lying near the tree. Slowly he approached the corpse. He knelt down and pulled the burlap bag from the man’s head. He blinked several times as he realized he did not recognize the man at all. The man was not Elijah!
Lee drew in a deep breath and exhaled a sigh of relief. At the same time, sadness tugged at his heart for the murdered man. He untied the dead man’s hands and dragged the corpse by the arms to the grave. Then he positioned the body into the hole.
An hour later, Lee had filled the grave and had fashioned a cross from a couple of tree branches. After pounding the cross into the ground, he stood silently for several minutes. He felt sure that, had he been a praying man, he would have spoken some appropriate words. But all he could think of was the cruelty of the men who had hanged a person just because of his color.
Finally he turned and walked to his horse. After saddling the animal, his thoughts turned to
He swung up into the saddle and lifted the reins. The horse stepped out in a lively trot. For a moment he thought of Elijah. As slim as the odds were, there was still a chance that his friend might find his family.
Lee again turned his attention to
Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."….[1]
Sundays in
Although
The swish, swish, swish of Mrs. Pemberton’s petticoats beneath her best Sunday dress filled the upstairs foyer as she hurried down the hall to Julie’s room. As she knocked on Julie’s door with an insistent rap, she called, “Julie, it’s time to go. We mustn’t be late for your first Sunday at church.”
When Julie Weber opened the door, Mrs. Pemberton looked the girl over from head to toe and then smiled. “Oh, my dear, you strike a pretty picture in that outfit! And wherever did you get those lovely satin and lace shoes? Surely in the East. I’ve seen nothing of such fine fashion in the shops in town.”
“Yes, ma’am, I purchased them last summer in
“Honey, you got every penny’s worth. They’re absolutely lovely. Now, let’s go, or else I’ll miss the chance to introduce you to the ladies before the service begins. This is a very special day, you know: Mother’s Day. We must never forget how horrible wars are and also our womanly responsibilities to urge peaceful resolutions to the problems faced among neighbors, just like it says in the Good Book.”
“Yes ma’am.”
XLVI.
She raised her head and opened her eyes, allowing her gaze to fall on the magnificent Risen Cross, hung above and behind the altar. The pianist played Bach’s insistently light and happy Minuet in G Major, and she found herself tilting her head back and forth as if the point of her nose were the pendulum on a metronome that kept time to the stiff unyielding rhythm.
“Do we have any new brothers or sisters attending the service this morning?” the preacher asked.
Mrs. Pemberton immediately stood up. “Reverend, I’m proud to present to the congregation Miss Julie Weber. She’s the new school teacher, and she would like to make an announcement.”
Julie stood up and turned to face the congregation. “Hello, everyone. Thank you for the warm welcome you have shown me this morning.”
As the congregation turned to look at her, Julie noticed one man in particular and her heart skipped a beat. He was the man she had noticed the day she had visited the construction site of the new church building.
When their eyes met Julie fell silent.
Julie turned to the preacher but, for another moment, she could not speak.
“What is it, dear?”
Julie cleared her throat. “I’d like to announce that the school will open tomorrow and will run for a month. Then we will break for summer vacation. For those students wishing to attend summer school, the session will begin a week after regular school lets out.”
The congregation remained completely silent, stunned by Julie’s announcement.
The preacher cocked his head, not knowing quite what to say. The congregation members turned to each other and the room erupted into a buzz of muffled conversations.
Julie looked around the room, surprised at all the commotion.
Finally the preacher stepped forward and asked, “Are there any other new brothers or sisters with us this morning?”
As the congregation continued to speak among themselves, Julie quietly sat down.
Mrs. Pemberton turned to Julie. “I’m afraid you caught everyone off guard, my dear. I should have warned you that that might happen. Since the school was already let out by Bonnie Somerset, the parents were expecting the children to help with chores until school starts up again in the fall.”
Julie lowered her head in disappointment.
When the service was over, everyone stood up. The preacher had posted himself at the exit, exchanging pleasantries with the members as they filed out. When Julie came to the preacher, she said, “Thank you, Parson Blane. I’m glad to meet you. Faye Spencer has told me so many good things about you.”
“Pardon me, Miss Weber,” the preacher said smiling, “I’m Reverend Wilcox, the minister of this congregation.”
“Oh?”
Reverend Wilcox glanced up at the man in line behind Julie. “Parson Blane is the man standing behind you.”
Julie turned around and saw the tall man who had caused her heart to flutter. When their eyes met, Blane slightly bowed from the waist. “Hello, Miss Weber.”
TO BE CONTINUED
