Trouble in July

by Erskine Caldwell

  “No female is going to spit in my face and get away with it!” he shouted at her.

  With a swiftness she did not know she was capable of, she reached down and scooped up a handful of dust. The dust was yellow and powdery, and she had trouble keeping it from flowing between her fingers. She gripped it with all her might.

  Leroy swung his arms at his side threateningly. Katy’s grip on the dust tightened.

  “You ain’t been raped,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. “Hell, no! You’re bragging! Or else you turned on that nigger boy because he wouldn’t lay out with you. You ain’t been raped, Katy Barlow.”

  She spat at his face as hard as she could.

  “You shut your mouth, Leroy Luggit!” she cried at him.

  “They ought to do something to you for lying about it. Females like you ought to be beaten till you can’t see straight. I’ve got a good mind—”

  He drew an arm across his face, wiping away the perspiration with his shirtsleeve.

  “You’re nothing to be scared of, Leroy Luggit,” she said, trembling as she tried to hide her fright. “You can’t scare me with that kind of talk.”

  “You’d better be scared,” he said, going towards her, “because I’m going to beat the life out of you.”

  She waited alertly where she was, her eyes fixed on Leroy’s hands. He came closer, and when he was only four or five feet from her, and when she dared not wait any longer, she threw the handful of dust into his eyes and, turning, ran like a young fox through the patch of Jimson weeds beside the road.

  As she ran she could hear him cursing her, but she did not dare look back over her shoulder until she felt she was a safe distance away. When she saw him standing in the road, she stopped and turned around. He stood where he had stopped in his tracks when the dust blinded him, digging at his eyes and cursing her at the top of his voice.

  Katy shuddered as she looked at him. She knew he was angry enough to hurt her if he could have got his hands on her, and he was strong enough to do anything once he had her in his grasp. She was glad she had thought of scooping up a handful of dust and throwing it into his eyes. He might even have killed her right there in the road before he had finished. While she was thinking about it, she began walking slowly backward until there was an even greater distance between them.

  While she watched him try to rub the dust from his eyes, the things he had said to her earlier, the things that had made her so angry, began coming back to her and reminding her of his scornful attitude. The words he had spoken rang in her ears maddeningly.

  “Why don’t you stop being a slut and get yourself a man who’ll keep you, Katy?” he had said. She even remembered how he had looked when he said it. His face was solemn and earnest, but he had the manner of scorn about him. “I can’t afford to take chances with you any longer. I’d be a fool to drink water out of every tin can I found lying beside the road, anyway. That’s what I mean. You’re nothing but a cotton-field slut.”

  The blood rose in her face as the words came back to her.

  “You ought to be ashamed of yourself for letting people lynch a little nigger boy that’s as innocent as the day is long. If I thought you was telling the truth about it, I’d be out there with the rest of them tracking him down. Lynching would be too good for him, if there was any truth in it. But you don’t see me out there doing it, do you?”

  She had believed for a long time that she and Leroy were going to be married. Only a few weeks before that they had talked about renting a vacant house on Earnshaw Ridge and buying some bedroom and dining-room furniture on weekly payments at the store in Andrewjones. They were afraid that her father would not give his consent, because she was so young, but they had several plans for running away to be married. At that very minute at home there was a dress she had been making secretly; keeping it hidden from her father in a cardboard box under her bed. The dress was only half finished, but in the bottom of the box there were six napkins she had cut and hemmed and two towels that she had embroidered. Wrapped up in a piece of cloth in one corner of the box was the money she had saved with which to buy muslin for their wedding sheet the next time she went to the store. Tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away in order to be able to watch Leroy.

  She had waited for nearly two hours for him to come along the road. It was almost sundown when she finally heard the noise of his logging truck as it rumbled over the wooden bridge at Flowery Branch. Then she jumped up and stood in the middle of the road waving to him. She thought at the time that he looked glad to see her. She had almost cried with joy when he smiled at her.

  “Hello, Katy,” he had said.

  “Aren’t you going to get out, Leroy?” she had asked impatiently, wanting his arms around her.

  He was silent then. It frightened her.

  “Leroy!”

  She smiled at him bravely, trying to hide the fear that had come over her.

  That was when he had shaken his head, leaning back in his seat. He had scorned her.

  She looked down the road at him now, digging at the stinging yellow dust in his eyes. He had torn off his goggles and thrown them away. He seemed to think she was somewhere near, because he was still shouting curses at her. “You’re nothing but a cotton-field slut,” he had said.

  That was what had hurt her almost as much as being scorned. Her face felt hot and dry when she remembered it.

  The sun was going down, looking as though it had suddenly grown tired after the long day. Towards the east the country was beginning to look cool and peaceful. There was a small dark cloud drifting towards the sun on the horizon. In a few moments the cloud began turning crimson and gold as the sun’s rays struck it. For an instant the whole western sky looked as if the world were on fire; then the sun sank out of sight, leaving the cloud dark and lifeless. The air moved a little, for the first time that day, and the branches on the trees swayed, rustling the heavy green leaves.

  Katy had forgotten about Leroy momentarily. She turned quickly and saw him down the road fifty yards away. He had straightened up, and he was no longer cursing her. He watched her walk through the knee-high weeds and circle through the field towards the road.

  She knew he was through with her. She could tell by the way she felt, by the way he had looked at her, by the way he had spoken to her, and by the way the air she breathed seared her parched throat. She was sorry she had allowed herself to hide beside the road and catch Sonny Clark when he walked past, that she had permitted Mrs. Narcissa Calhoun to spread a story of rape over the country, that she had stood on the front porch and exposed herself to the crowd of men in the front yard. Leroy knew the truth about all of it. That was why he had scorned her. He was through with her.

  He was looking up the road at her then. She began walking backward away from him. Leroy slapped some of the dust out of his trousers and opened the door of his truck. He was still looking at her when he climbed inside.

  After Leroy had gone, she began to feel alone. Before she knew it, she had begun to cry. Fighting her way to the side of the road, with cool streams of tears blowing over her burning skin, she reached out and grasped her arms full of weeds and bushes. She had to have something to hold onto. Then she sank to the ground, putting her face down against her knees, and wrapping her arms around her head. She had never felt so lonely before. She sobbed, wishing her mother were alive so she could go to her. She felt if she could lose herself in her mother’s arms she would be able to endure the pain that was so intense she could not keep from screaming. For a long time she cried brokenly, hugging herself with her arms, and tried to keep from thinking of the things she had made and kept in the scarlet-colored cardboard box under her bed.

  She tried to stop thinking about all the things that filled her mind. After that the only thing she could feel was that she did not want to live any longer. She wished she were dead. She was sorry she had not stayed in the road when Leroy threatened her. If she had stayed, she would not have to lie where she was and endur
e such pain.

  Twilight had vanished when she opened her eyes and raised her head. Sudden fear in her mind made her jump to her feet. She looked all around at the close darkness. She was not sure whether she had fallen asleep in a dream, but whatever it was, she thought somebody was creeping towards her in the night. Screaming, she ran up the road, not daring to look behind her.

  When she had exhausted herself, she stopped, panting painfully. Her heart beat against her chest until it was almost unbearable. She looked down the road behind without being able to see whether anyone was following her or not. She could hear no sounds anywhere, but she felt as if somebody in the darkness were watching her. She turned and ran up the road as fast as she could, screaming. She fell almost as fast as she could get back on her feet.

  No matter how fast she was able to run, she could not get away from the fear that gripped her. She felt as if somebody in the darkness somewhere around her would at any moment strike her down with savage force. She lost the road in the darkness, finding herself stumbling and falling headlong into a thicket of briars. She struggled to her feet and ran on, torn and bleeding, in a final effort to escape.

  Chapter X

  AFTER A GOOD long undisturbed afternoon nap, Jeff McCurtain went downstairs to the office to find out if anything out of the ordinary had happened between noon and dark. It was the first time in several weeks that he had been able to take a long uninterrupted nap during the day. It usually happened that when he felt like dozing in the afternoon, he was continually being waked up to serve an attachment or a writ on some farmer living in the farthest corner of the county.

  Bert was waiting for him at the foot of the stairway. He followed Jeff into the office.

  “Anything happen?” he asked Bert.

  “Nothing at all, Sheriff Jeff,” Bert said. “It’s been quiet all afternoon. You didn’t have to get up from your nap unless you wanted to. Me and Jim are watching over things.”

  Jeff looked around the office and promptly walked out again. He went to the porch, feeling rested and calm.

  The street lights had just been turned on, and the flickering rays filled him with a desire to go back to bed. Corra would be getting into bed before long, and he could lie there with her beside him and forget the worries of the outside world. The following day was Saturday, and there was certain to be a whole new batch of court papers to serve.

  Bert appeared beside him.

  “They haven’t found him yet, Sheriff Jeff,” Bert said, startling him.

  “Haven’t found who yet?”

  “That nigger boy,” Bert said, surprised.

  “Oh,” Jeff said, looking out into the street.

  After a few moments he turned to Bert.

  “But Sam’s back, ain’t he?”

  “No, Sheriff Jeff. It looks like Sam Brinson has disappeared completely. Nobody in town has heard a thing about him.”

  “That’s bad,” Jeff said slowly. “That’s real bad.”

  He walked to the corner of the porch and looked up at the sky. The stars were out bright and thick. It was too early for the moon.

  “How about Judge Ben Allen?” he asked. “Has he phoned?”

  “No, sir,” Bert said.

  Jeff was silent, thinking.

  “That nigger boy’s been at large long enough to be caught long before this,” he said after a while. “I sure would like to know what’s holding things up this way.”

  “He’s only been at large for twenty-four hours, Sheriff Jeff,” Bert reminded him. “The trouble only started about this time last night. They’ll probably catch him by morning.”

  “I reckon you must be right about the time, but I feel like I’ve already been through a week of worry. But Sam Brinson, the colored man, has been gone far too long. I’m worried about Sam.”

  Bert did not say anything. He waited to hear if Jeff had any instructions for him.

  “I sure would give a lot to know what happened to Sam,” Jeff said, gazing at the lights flickering on the pavement. “Now, people just ain’t got no right to carry off a human being like that. It’s a penal offense to abduct a law-abiding citizen, even darkies. Sam hadn’t harmed a soul in the world. He’s gentle-minded. He never went out to do a person harm.”

  Jeff walked up and down the porch several times, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Bert hovered by the door in case Jeff called him. It was another five minutes before Jeff stopped his pacing up and down.

  “Get me my hat, Bert,” he said quickly, going down the steps towards his car parked in the street “I want you to drive me out to Flowery Branch. I’m going to make some inquiries around.”

  “But, Sheriff Jeff—”

  “Get me my hat like I said!”

  When Bert came out of the jailhouse with the hat, Jeff was sitting in the car waiting. Bert got under the steeringwheel.

  “Bert, me and you is going off on an official trip to attend to some unfinished business. It ain’t political. It’s pure personal business.”

  He pointed his hand in the direction of the road to Flowery Branch, motioning to Bert to start the car.

  They drove slowly out of town and a few minutes later they were in the country rolling along behind a beam of sharp white light that pushed the darkness back on each side of the road. There were few lighted windows along the way, even though it was early in the evening. Several times they passed dwellings that revealed only a thin crack of light under the doors. All the Negro cabins were closed and dark. They looked as if they had been boarded up and deserted.

  They met several cars along the road during the next half-hour, all of them moving slowly. Once they came upon a group of men around a bend in the road. The twelve or fifteen persons dashed for the bushes beside the road when the headlights suddenly flashed upon them. They had been standing around a smudge fire. The smoke had drifted ahead for several hundred yards, and Jeff and Bert drove through wisps of it during the next few minutes.

  As they approached Flowery Branch bridge, a dull glow of light appeared. After going a little closer, they could see a jumbled mass of cars that looked as if they had been hastily stopped and left where they happened to be. Many of the cars were standing with their headlights burning. There were several almost upon the bridge.

  “Hold on, Bert,” Jeff said anxiously. He sat up and peered ahead uneasily. “Switch off the lights and drive slow.”

  They crept along the road until they were only a few yards from the nearest automobiles. There were no men within sight, but up at the bridge many voices could be heard.

  “Reckon they got him, Sheriff Jeff?” Bert asked nervously, trying to keep his voice in a low whisper.

  “Got who?” Jeff asked.

  “Sonny.”

  “I don’t know,” he said impatiently.

  He motioned to Bert to drive off to one side. As soon as the car came to a stop, Jeff opened the door and got out.

  “I ain’t forgetting myself,” he said defensively. “I still aim to keep this lynching politically clean. But I’m worried about Sam.”

  Instead of walking up the road, they tramped in a roundabout way through the brush to a point that was within sight of the bridge. Standing where they were, they were fairly safe from detection. Several of the men were talking loudly. Bert and Jeff stood behind a hickory tree and tried to overhear what was being said.

  Even at that distance they could recognize by sight several men they knew. Shep Barlow and Clint Huff were in the center of the bridge facing each other. The rest of the men were crowded behind them.

  “I’m running this shooting-match,” Shep was heard to say. “If nobody don’t like the way I’m running it, then get to hell away from here. I’m running it as I God damn please.”

  Clint Huff moved several steps.

  “What you mean by stopping that car of yours in the middle of the road and blocking everything?” he said angrily. “This ain’t no way to catch a nigger. My old woman could do better at it than you’re doing. All this shouting a
nd yelling gives him the best chance in the world to get away from here. Get that car of yours out of the way!”

  Clint moved closer to Shep.

  “Get that God damn car of yours out of the road, Barlow!” he shouted. “I ain’t going to stand here all night waiting for you to sober up. I’ll knock you off this bridge, if you don’t move to do something about it.”

  Jeff nudged Bert.

  “They’re arguing over the Clark nigger,” Jeff said in a whisper. “It ain’t the same bunch that took Sam off.”

  Shep had backed up against the bridge railing.

  “I’m running this shooting-match just like I said,” he shouted, waving his arms in the air. “Everybody who wants to catch the nigger fall in with me!”

  Nobody moved.

  “I ain’t taking no orders from no drunk,” Clint said.

  “If that car of yours ain’t moved out of the way, I’m going to ram it out with a truck.”

  The two men faced each other while the crowd moved closer in order to get a better view.

  “This is the damndest nigger-hunt I ever saw,” one of the men in the crowd said. “Everybody squabbling, and the nigger hotfooting it away from here as fast as his legs will carry him. This ain’t no way to catch him at all.”

  “Let Shep Barlow alone! He knows what he’s doing!”

  “I’m putting my money on Clint!”

  “This is a hell of a way to catch a nigger!”

  “This ain’t no nigger-hunt—this here’s a jawing-match!”

  Clint reached into his pocket for his knife, but before he could draw it, Shep lunged forward, butting him down. Clint fell sprawling on his back.

  “Don’t let him pull that knife on you, Shep!” somebody shouted warningly. “He’ll rip you open like a hog!”

  “Shut up and let them fight it out. Shep Barlow can take care of himself, drunk or sober. I’ve seen him fight before when he was drunk.”

  The barber from Andrewjones rushed at Shep with a monkey wrench. Before he could strike Shep, somebody had shoved him towards the railing. He went tumbling over out of sight.