by Vicky Jones
"Want some more?" Ruby put the freshly fried eggs in the serving dish next to Shona’s plate as if to offer some crumb of comfort.
Tom put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Well now, see, there's this one place over the other side of town, coupla miles from here. I mean, I ain't worked there or nothin', but I've heard from people. They got trucks, tractors, you name it coming and going. It's a cotton plantation with a workshop on the side doing repairs and stuff. All depends if you get the chance to speak to the nice guy."
"Nice guy?" Shona said.
"Yeah, his name’s Jeffrey Ellis. He co-owns the business but lets that no-good Larry Bruce run it day-to-day. It's Ellis you need to find. Don't bother speaking to Bruce. The things I've heard about that man would make your hair curl! He runs the whole of Daynes through fear alone. Me and Ruby try to stay away from town as much as we can nowadays, away from that son'bitch's influence. Ruby used to be the town's nurse until about five years ago, but then Bruce made the place feel so damn dangerous for her to be out at night on call. Nah, it's Ellis you want. I hear that even coloreds get a job after speaking to him–"
"Ellis tries to give 'em a chance first, y'know?" Ruby chipped in, trying to sound optimistic.
Shona leaned forward, drinking in every word. Her keen blue eyes widened at the prospect of getting a job that would help her to stay longer with Tom and Ruby and allow her to save some money to figure out her next move. After a few moments of contemplation, she raised her eyes to Tom and Ruby.
"Where can I find this Jeffrey Ellis?"
Chapter 8
"Hayward, what the hell's in your glass? You’re talkin' like you’re drunk already."
Henry Conway stubbed out his ever-present cigar in the ash tray next to him later that evening as he laughed at another ridiculous idea coming from James Hayward, a man notorious for his harebrained schemes to make even more money for himself. The two men frequented the Copperpot Inn weekly to meet with Jeffrey Ellis and discuss their numerous investment deals. It was a high-end establishment, known for its select clientele and innate respect for privacy. Hayward and Conway were Ellis's business acquaintances, but he'd over the years tried to distance himself from their vacuous double-your-money scams and instead build a business he could be proud of.
"Can I help you … Miss?" The immaculately presented woman at the front of the house pursed her lips as she eyed the visitor up and down. Shona flicked her floppy blonde bangs out of her eyes and stood up straight, pulling at her clothes to try and make herself look more presentable. She was grateful that Ruby had expertly altered one of Tom's shirts for her.
"Hello ma'am, I'd like to talk to Mr. Ellis, please." She flashed a bright smile.
"Does he know you?" The woman raised a perfectly-shaped eyebrow in disgust.
Shona took in a calming breath. "I just need a minute of his time, ma'am."
"This is an exclusive members' bar that is men-only. Mr. Ellis is our most valued customer and we won't see him being disturbed by the likes of … you."
"Ma'am, I just need to talk to him."
"I will have you removed if you do not leave!"
This last interaction stopped the group of men mid-conversation. One of them, Brian Carson, went over to see what the problem was.
"Hey Gracie, you OK? She causin' you trouble?" He nodded his head towards Shona.
"Sir, I just need to speak to Mr. Ellis."
"What could the likes of you possibly want with Mr. Ellis?" Carson replied, curling his lip.
Ellis's name being spoken made his ears prick up. "What's going on over there?"
"Nothing, sir, it's all under control." He turned his head away from Shona, who, at that moment, saw her opportunity.
In one fluid motion, she ducked and headed straight for Ellis. Carson awkwardly rotated his body, reaching out to grab a fistful of Shona's shirt as she passed, but she wriggled free before he could wrap his arm around her. In two seconds, she was at Ellis's table, a swirling mixture of eagerness, nerves and adrenaline pulsating through her body. Carson raced after her, red-faced with frustration for not containing the menace that Shona had become.
"Sir, Mr. Ellis–" Shona gasped. As she opened her mouth to continue, Carson wrestled her into a headlock.
"Get off me!" she shrieked.
"Let her go. She's a woman, for Christ's sake." Ellis stood up sharply.
He snarled as he shoved Shona loose, almost knocking her into the empty glasses on the table.
"Thank you," she panted, rubbing her reddened neck. "I didn't mean to disturb you, sir. I just heard that you're a real nice guy and you've given people chances to work–" she looked intently at him.
"All this and you're looking for a job?" Ellis sat back down, his inquisitive eyes fixed on her.
"Yessir. I am." Shona set her jaw.
"The thing is–" Ellis rolled his hand, prompting her for her name.
"Shona."
"The thing is, Shona, I already have a wonderful secretary. I just don't have a job for you," he shrugged.
"No, sir, you don't understand, I can work on your trucks! I can repair any vehicle you put in front of me! I can work in the fields picking the cotton like I used to do with my father. I'll be the hardest worker you've ever had." She punched her fist into her other hand, ignoring the derisory sniggers around her.
"Trucks? I must be drunk hearing this trash." Hayward took another swig of his spirit.
"I'm serious, sir. I wouldn't let you down," she continued.
The tables' gaze switched from Shona to Ellis. After a lengthy pause, he finally spoke.
"I give chances to people who won't waste 'em, young lady. I can show 'em through the door, but then it's up to them. If they steal, they're out. They don't show up for work one day, they're out. If they're late, they're out. They refuse any kind of work given to 'em, Mr. Bruce has my blessing to toss them out. It's tough in there."
"I can handle it, sir," Shona assured him. "I've worked with men before. They'll see how hard I work. I just need the chance…please?"
Ellis's fingers were interlocked, his elbows planted on the table, the tips of his two index fingers resting against his pursed lip. He admired the courage of this young girl, who had fought her way to stand in front of him. "Shona, I'm gon' give you a chance. It's up to you from here. I'll arrange for somebody to let Mr. Bruce know. You can start Monday morning. Report at the front desk at 6:30, OK? Don't you be late!"
Her face erupted into a huge grin. "Mr. Ellis, I swear I won't let you down, sir … I promise! Thank you!" She tried to contain her excitement but it was impossible. Turning to leave, she grinned even wider as she passed the astonished front of house assistant at the door.
"You do realize, Jeffrey, you've just fed that lil' girl to a pack of damn wolves. God help her!" Hayward whispered to Ellis who silently watched Shona exit the Copperpot.
Chapter 9
"Get that son of a bitch!"
That same evening, the elder of the three huntsmen led through the open fields of Daynes, three miles from the Ellis and Bruce site. They were closing in on their target, but he was too fast. He needed to be. He was dead if they caught him.
Stopping for a moment, he looked frantically from side to side. Panting and sweating profusely, he placed his hands on his knees as panic raged through his exhausted body. The three men had split up and strategically blocked off his exit, closing in around him and pushing him closer to the edge of the rushing Weaver. In the distance, the escaping man could hear the unmistakable sound of ferocious barking.
"Let him go, boy!"
Turning around, he watched in horror as a bloodthirsty canine headed straight for him, baring its razor-sharp teeth. On the last dregs of adrenaline, the man raced towards the end of the field straight ahead, his lungs perilously close to giving up on him.
"Stop him before he gets to the river, boys!"
With fatigue finally overpowering him, he fell to the ground, causing a cloud
of dust to billow up from his crashing boots and give away his position. The men shined their flashlight in his direction, dustcloud particles catching in the beams. Dragging himself up, the target hopped forward a few more steps. Mercifully, he saw he’d reached the riverbank.
He was almost safe.
Suddenly, a searing pain flooded through the back of his right thigh. In agony, he looked behind him, his wide eyes meeting those of a massive Alsatian hound hell-bent on stripping the flesh clean from his leg. Its ferocious teeth glinted in the half-light, its mouth frothing as it locked its jaws on the man's bleeding thigh.
With no choice, he tore his leg out of the jaws of the beast, screaming as he did so. He jumped off the bank three feet down into the river heading to God knows where, but it had to be better than here. Keeping his head underwater for as long as he could, he fought against the strong current, trying to avoid getting knocked out by the rocks as it swept him downstream.
Giving up their pursuit, the three men and barking hound melted away into the evening. The target of their sport waited until it was completely silent before emerging from the cool waters of the Weaver, immediately feeling the intense sting rushing through his mangled leg as he continued on through the brush to find a safe place to sleep.
He was one of the lucky ones.
Chapter 10
"S'cuse me, I start work here today?"
Shona spoke loudly in the direction of the office behind the front desk that Monday morning. Through the half-open door she heard muffled voices, the occasional laugh and bad language, but she didn't care.
"Well, look what we got here," one of the voices eventually emerged. The man it belonged to leered at Shona, a sly grin breaking out over his unshaven face as he chewed a mouthful of tobacco.
"Mr. Ellis told me to report here and that somebody would show me around so I can get straight to work on the trucks," Shona said brightly.
"Did he now? Good ol' Mr. Ellis, he's really lost his mind this time! Boys, get out here, you gotta see this."
Two other guys appeared and stared open-mouthed at the slim, blonde-haired, pretty young woman. She wore baggy blue mechanic’s overalls, which on anyone else would look grungy, but Shona's perfect figure wore them well. One of the men had no shame in ogling her, his greasy black hair flopping over his seedy eyes as he mentally undressed her.
"What can we do for you, sweetheart?"
"I'm here to work on the trucks? If you show me where I need to go, I'll start straight away," Shona replied, trying hard to mask her disgust.
"Well, I'll be damned. I thought you were our new cleaning lady! Hey Paul, you gotta see this!" All three laughed loudly.
"Mr. Ellis said I could," Shona said, straightening her back.
"Oh, did he now? You and Mr. Ellis good friends, then?" The first man leaned over the counter.
"I just came to work. I don't want no trouble." She raised her voice, bored with being a figure of fun now.
"What's goin' on out there? Who are you?" Paul, the workforce deputy, pushed open the door of the office behind the counter.
"I'm Shona Jackson, sir. Mr. Ellis told me to report here at 6:30 and I'd be working on the vehicles or in the fields?"
Deputy Paul's cold eyes narrowed as he rested his hand on his hip.
"Yeah, I heard about you. I don't know what game you're playing, lil' lady. This ain't no place for a broad. But Ellis is the boss and orders are orders. Come with me," he sighed.
"This is where you'll get changed."
Deputy Paul opened a small room containing brooms, buckets and old equipment. It was dark and damp with broken cupboards and shelves that were chipped and falling down. Later, he ended the tour just outside a messy tool room. "Wait in here." He pointed to a cluttered bench and, as Shona stepped inside, he disappeared.
Alone, she looked up at the clock on the wall. It was already 7:25 a.m. Where was everybody?
Almost gagging from the musty odors in the room, she opened the metal back door leading to the fields behind the site to let the fresh air in. Bored, Shona began to tidy, almost jumping out of her skin when a loud buzzer sounded at 10 o'clock. She stopped cleaning down the benches when she heard the sound of upbeat voices passing by outside the tool room door, which could only mean one thing in a place like this – break time!
Thinking that this would be the best time to find someone who knew what was going on, Shona yanked the handle of the rickety metal door back towards her to secure the room. As she did so, a strange noise outside caught her attention. It came from behind a large mound of used tires beside the doorway.
"Hello?" She paused as she glimpsed the worn-out boots of someone who seemed desperate to remain out of sight.
"You OK?" Shona asked. The feet quickly disappeared from view. She raised her eyebrows, then edged closer. It was then that she saw the pitiful shape of a man cowering.
He didn't get up, but just sat with his head bowed. He was reluctant to make eye contact, his dark brown face wet with fresh tears.
"Who are you?" Shona asked, wearing her sternest face. She was mindful not to get too close.
"Cuban–" He sniffed. "My name is Cuban, ma'am. I just wanted to get some water from this faucet. I don't want no trouble."
He shifted positions on the gravel, wincing as he exposed the dark red blood pool underneath his right thigh.
"You're bleedin'," she noticed, her eyes softening.
"I got chased. I managed to outrun 'em but then I got bit by the goddamn dirty dog they set on me. I'm lucky, I got away. Lord only knows how but I did." He coughed and winced again.
"Who's out there?" a scratchy old voice called out from inside the tool room. Both Shona and Cuban froze.
"It's just me–" Shona shouted back, her eyes still fixed on the colored man below her.
The half-open metal back door to the tool room groaned on its rusty hinges as an elderly man stepped outside. His wispy white hair peeked out from underneath his tatty gray cap, and his eyebrows raised in surprise at Shona.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Shona. I start work here today."
Open mouthed, he looked down at her clothes.
"Workin' here? Doin' what?"
"I can repair trucks," Shona replied brightly.
He paused, staring at her. "Who's this?" His eyes diverted as he motioned his leathery hand downwards.
"I'm Cuban, sir."
He struggled to his feet, limping on his injured leg. As he stood up, Shona realized how tall this man was, well over six feet even with his back arched in discomfort. His hands had obviously not shirked hard work in the past. Thick, calloused fingers rested on his blood-drenched pant leg, his open-necked work shirt revealing a necklace with a small crucifix on it. She could sense the sadness within him but she was not ready yet to trust this stranger.
"I'm Elbie. You, young lady, must have really sweet-talked Mr. Ellis to get in here." He smiled at Shona, then turned to Cuban with a much graver look on his weathered face.
"See you bleedin' quite badly there. I can help fix you up but that'll be the least of your problems. Thugs 'round these parts huntin' black folks like you for sport. You should keep movin' on," Elbie warned.
Cuban shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable from the throbbing pain in his thigh.
"I know what it's like 'round here, sir, don't need no lecture. I seen this town for what it is. No one need tell me what I got to lose!"
Elbie and Shona listened in silence, Cuban's words piercing the heart of their uncertainty.
"Let's have a look at that leg, get you patched up. Shona, take his arm."
Together, they half-dragged Cuban inside the tool room and sat him on a stool.
"Hand me that box over there, will you," Elbie pointed to the shelf in the corner of the room. Shona returned with the first aid box, still not wanting to engage too much with the colored man. She'd always been told by her father they were never to be trusted, but Shona never knew which of his drunken tales to believe.
She was on her guard, though, just in case he was right on this one.
Elbie finished cleaning and dressing Cuban's wounded leg, using up half of the first aid box's supplies to stem the bleeding. He knew the man needed stitches but judging by how quickly Cuban pulled his pants up and thanked Elbie for his trouble, he knew he wasn't willing to go to the hospital.
"Alright, now that we got that dealt with, I’d like to know who the hell's been moving things around in this tool room, huh?" Elbie frowned.
Shona held her breath.
"Well, I guess that was me, sir." She ran her hand through her hair, sweeping it out of her eyes. "You see, they left me here to wait for my orders and I don't like to be idle. I was just tryin’ to clean the place up a bit–" Shona was rambling now.
"Whoa there–" Elbie held his hands up. "I was just gon' say thanks, it looks good! Folks normally treat this room like a dump. Just one thing, though, I don't want you goin' in the workshop back there, 'cos that's my space, got it?" the old man warned as he hooked his thumb over his shoulder.
Minutes later, the conversation paused as the three of them turned their heads to the doorway where Deputy Paul appeared.
"You got visitors, Jackson!" He flashed his dirty gray teeth in mock pleasure, tipping his head towards the voices behind him.
It was Larry Bruce and Jeffrey Ellis.
"Ah, there she is! Just wanted to see how my new girl was doing on her first day." Ellis approached Shona, followed closely by Bruce. Shona turned her head to smile her response but, as she did so, a colored face was revealed behind her.
"What the fuck is that?” Bruce snapped.
Before she realized what she was doing, Shona intervened.
"He just wanted to speak to Mr. Ellis about a job, sir."
Cuban held his breath but Shona continued, mesmerizing him with her bravery.