Morris was watching his son when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone calling his name. He turned back toward the line of wagons and spotted one of the men from church. He raised his hand when he recognized him, and the man walked toward him.
“Good mornin’, Charles.”
“Mornin’, Deacon. Sure is a busy day, ain’t it.”
“That it is,” he said. “Seems like everyone decided to come into town today. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was time for the county fair.” He paused a moment and asked, “Have you heard about the news from up in Christian County?”
“What news?”
“Everybody’s talkin’ about it. It seems that last night a tobacco farmer up there was killed by the Night Riders. According to the fella over at the newspaper, the man’s wife said they whipped him and then gut-shot him. She said they wanted him to join up and hold back his crop, and even after he agreed to do it, they shot him.” The deacon waited to make sure Morris understood and then added, “Left the woman a widow with five children.”
Morris’s face twitched, his jaw muscles clenched. “That’s not good at all,” he said. “This kind of thing is gettin’ out of hand if the Riders are killin’ someone who agrees to do what they want.” He struggled with his thoughts for a moment and added, “I’ve got a wife and children of my own, and I sure hope nothin’ like that happens down here.”
“You’re right about that. I hear that there’s some Night Riders in the county, but so far there hasn’t been any trouble that I’m aware of. Have you heard anything different?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m gonna have to do a lot of thinkin’ about what to do.”
The line of wagons had moved again, and the deacon said, “Looks like we can get back to work. I’d better get movin’. See you in church, Charles. Give my best to your wife.” He tipped his hat and walked away.
Morris tried to absorb the news about the murder. If that kind of thing can happen, a man has to think real hard before he decides to go against the Association. It won’t make any difference to that woman and her children what happens with the tobacco prices, no difference at all. He looked across the street and saw that Odie was still gazing into the window of the drugstore. He released the wagon brake, clucked at his horse and moved the wagon closer to the store. Killin’ a man for doin’ what they wanted him to do don’t make any sense at all.
* * *
Wes came outside to the bench after he walked John Stanley back up to his bedroom. He sat looking at the yard, listening to Zora working in the kitchen. He wanted to tell her about the storm inside his head because he thought she might understand and would maybe even comfort him, give him some sense of peace. But he was unwilling to let her see his weakness. This is my problem, not hers, he thought. He knew he needed to act as if he was strong and in control, even if he truly wasn’t.
When Connie came around from the back of the house, Wes motioned for him to sit on the bench.
“I’m countin’ on you to keep an eye on things today.”
“I know, Pa. I will.”
“I’d stay and help, but I need to go to a meetin’ in town. I know your ma will be watchin’ your brother, but I want you to check in on him a few times too. You oughta be able to see if he’s really gettin’ better or just tryin’ not to work.”
“I’ll look in on him, Pa.”
“I thought of another thing I want you to do today. Maybe you could do it out in the barn so you don’t concern your ma.” He paused, looking first at Connie and then over his shoulder. “I want you to take the shotgun out to the barn and make sure it’s clean. With all of the rain and mud lately, it might need to be checked.”
“Sure, Pa. I can do that. Do you want me to leave it out there?”
“No. Wait ’til your ma is upstairs with your brother and then put it back where it belongs.”
“Pa, are you sure it’s okay for me to go see Maud tomorrow? I could stick around here if you want me to.”
“I’m sure. You just do this for me today, and I’ll stay home with John Stanley tomorrow. Anthie can take your ma and sisters to church.” He stood up and put his hand on Connie’s shoulder. “I need to get goin’.”
Wes waited until Connie left and then stepped up to the open door and asked Zora to come outside. After a moment, she walked onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Wes looked up at her and then patted the empty spot on the bench.
“Sit down for a minute,” he said.
Zora straightened her apron and sat silently next to Wes.
“I need to get goin’, but I wanted to tell you somethin’ before I left. The things that are goin’ on around here—the things I been thinkin’ about—are all important and need to be looked at.”
“I know they are, Wes,” Zora replied.
“I’m gonna figure out a way for us to get through all of this,” he said, gazing out into the yard. “I’m gonna meet with Art and Mark this afternoon, and we’re gonna come up with a plan that’ll work for all of us. Mark may have some good ideas, too.” He paused again and then sat up straighter. “I’m not sure when I’ll get back, but I don’t think it’ll be much later than suppertime.”
Zora was surprised about the meeting; she was also very pleased. Maybe now that Wes’ll have someone to share his frustration he can settle down. Lord knows he ain’t doin’ well on his own. She looked over at her husband and said, “Wes, all I want you to do is take care of us and yourself. Be smart. Be careful. Pay attention to what’s goin’ on around you in town. We’ll be fine here.”
“I know you will. Connie’s a good man. He knows what to do.”
“He does.” She looked at her husband and smiled. “Now you get goin’, and I’ll have somethin’ nice for supper when you get back.”
She stood up, hugged Wes tightly and then turned and went back inside the house. Wes watched her go and then started down the lane to the road. When he got to his brother’s house, he and George talked for a while about the rain and John Stanley. Malinda stood next to her husband, listening intently. She promised to look in on Zora, but Wes said that everything was fine and that Connie would let them know if he needed any help.
Wes was anxious to get started into town, so he told George he’d have the horse back by sundown. Wes pulled himself up on the saddle and rode out to the road. I’d sure like to have a horse of my own someday, he thought. As he trotted past his own farm, he saw Zora standing on the porch, holding the baby, and he waved at her. She waved back at him and then walked into the house. Wes rode on toward Lynnville and his meeting with Mark and Art.
* * *
With Odie at his side, Charles Morris walked into the crowded general store and went right to the counter. He handed his list of supplies to the clerk and told his son to stay close.
“I don’t want you wandering around and gettin’ into any trouble. Besides, as soon as the supplies are ready, I want to get ’em loaded and head on home.”
As much as Odie wanted to look at all the goods on the shelves, he could tell his pa was serious, so he stayed put. He followed his pa over to the back corner of the store, where a group of men were standing around, talking quietly. Several of them noticed Morris and nodded in recognition. Odie stayed behind his pa, trying to hear the discussion.
“Damn it, I know it didn’t happen here,” said one man, “but it still means trouble.” There were murmurs of assent from the group and the man continued. “It don’t make no sense for them fellas to kill somebody who’s agreed to do what they want. It’s just plain murder.”
“Anybody know if the man that was killed was white?” asked a large man smoking a cigar.
“What does it matter?” said another.
“If he wasn’t, maybe it was the Klan instead of the Night Riders.” This caused another round of mumbling from the group.
“I heard
he was white,” said the first man, “and that they whipped him before they shot him.”
“It seems to me we probably don’t need to get all fired up about somethin’ that happened so far away,” Morris said, looking around the group. “Just because they’re gettin’ a little crazy up in Kentucky don’t mean it’ll happen here.” As he spoke, Morris hoped that what he was thinking was true.
There was more mumbling from the group, but it stopped when the large man spoke again. “What about last Sunday night over in Henry County? Just because nobody got hurt don’t mean we ain’t havin’ trouble down here.” Several of the men seemed to agree. “So any of us who’re growin’ tobacco oughta be sure we know what the hell we’re gonna do with our crops come harvest time.” Whether the men standing around the stove took his comments as advice or as a warning, the words abruptly ended the conversation. Morris and the large man exchanged an unspoken, indecipherable look. Odie watched from his pa’s side and reached up to hold onto his hand. Morris stood silently for a moment, realizing that he was wrong about the Night Riders only being in Kentucky; now they were in Tennessee.
“Mr. Morris, your goods are ready,” said the clerk, interrupting his thoughts.
“Let’s go, son. We need to get on home.” Feeling a sudden urgency to get out of the store, Morris went to the counter, paid the clerk and then he and Odie headed outside to load up the wagon.
* * *
For most of the morning, the constable, Dan Cleary, sat on the porch of the hotel. He talked to everyone who walked by or came into town on their wagons. He told them what happened in Christian County and then asked them questions about Night Riders and raids. The people of the district were used to Cleary’s methods and knew he was just doing his job. But that didn’t mean they told him anything useful. Not one of the people he talked to had heard of the shooting. The news made many of them uneasy and even a few of them afraid. None of them seemed to know of any Night Rider activity in the area.
By noon Dan decided to give up and headed back to his office. When he saw J.D. and Charley riding into town from the north, he stopped in the middle of the crossroad and waited for them. When they reached the spot where he was standing, they stopped their horses and waited for him to speak.
“You fellas got a minute?” he asked. “I got somethin’ I wanna ask you.”
“We’re kind of busy,” said J.D., looking away.
Charley didn’t respond, but thought, Please don’t start any more trouble, J.D.
“This won’t take long. Let’s go over here.” He pointed back toward the hotel.
Charley’s stomach churned as he climbed down from his saddle and walked with Cleary over to the porch. This is not good, he thought. He must know what we’re up to.
J.D. didn’t move, but watched the others walk away. Cleary looked back over his shoulder and stopped. He turned to face J.D. and said, “C’mon over here, J.D. This is important, and it includes you too.”
J.D. stalled, waiting while a farmer drove his wagon by, and then rode over to the hotel. “What’s so important that you gotta talk to us? We’ve got things to do.”
“Have either of you heard about what happened over in Christian County last night?”
Neither of the men responded, but Charley looked worried.
“So you haven’t heard about the Night Riders murdering a farmer in front of his family?”
“No,” said Charley, clearly surprised at the news. J.D. remained silent, but both of them were nervous, hoping that Cleary wasn’t trying to connect them to the raids.
“Apparently they paid a visit to the man, whipped him and then shot him dead. What I want to know is have either of you fellas heard about any Night Riders bein’ in Lynnville?”
Before Charley could speak, J.D. said, “No sir, we ain’t heard anythin’ about raiders around here.” He looked at his partner over Cleary’s shoulder, the expression on his face signaling Charley to keep quiet. “If we hear anythin’,” J.D. added, “we’ll let you know.”
Cleary looked at each of them and said, “You do that. You hear anythin’ about raids, you come and tell me.”
“One other thing,” he paused, deliberating. “You two wouldn’t be doin’ any kind of whiskey business, would you?”
“What do you mean?” asked J.D. Charley anxiously watched Cleary’s face.
“I mean you two aren’t sellin’ whiskey in town, are you? It’s illegal, and anybody caught doin’ it will end up in jail.”
J.D. looked directly at Cleary. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ that’ll put us in jail. We’re law-abidin’ citizens, Constable.”
Not entirely convinced by J.D.’s claim, but unable to prove otherwise, Cleary walked off the porch and down the road. Charley started to say something, but J.D. told him to shut up. When Cleary finally disappeared into his house, J.D. spoke.
“Haven’t you learned how to keep quiet around the law? Ain’t we got enough trouble with that fella already?”
“Sorry, J.D., but I—”
“Just shut up and listen to me. You need to stop and think before you say anythin’ to anybody. One of these days, your mouth is gonna get both of us in trouble. And when that day comes, I’m gonna be gone and you’ll be the one sittin’ in jail again.” J.D. waited to see if Charley had any more to say. When he didn’t, he added, “So let’s do like we planned. You hang around here this afternoon and listen to folks. See if you can come up with any names for that Jones fella. I’ll go over to the store and do the same thing. Whatever you do, Charley, just keep your mouth shut and listen.”
Charley stared at J.D. for a few seconds and then nodded. This double-dealin’ is gonna be nothin’ but trouble.
Chapter 13
Saturday Afternoon, May 12
By early afternoon, Mollie’s health had improved. When she woke after sleeping for nearly six hours and announced she was starving, Art knew she’d be strong enough to take care of the children and he could go into town to meet with Wes and Mark. He promptly fixed her a big helping of eggs, biscuits and a large cup of milk. Several soft pillows supported her as she ate and talked with her children. Thressie was happy to sit next to her ma and brush her hair. Clarence decided that watching his ma smile was good enough.
“You’re sure lookin’ better than you did this mornin’,” said Art.
“I feel a lot better, too. Thank you for takin’ care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Mollie, I’ll always take care of you—I love you.” He paused. Touching her cheek, it felt to him like her fever was gone, and he noticed a healthy glow on her face. “I really need to run into town this afternoon. Wes and I have to talk some more about the crop.”
“Can I go with you, Pa?” Clarence asked, standing close to his side.
“Not this time, son,” said Art. “I need you to do some chores for me while I’m gone.”
“Please, Pa, let me come with you,” pleaded Clarence.
Art kneeled in front of his son and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Clarence. I know you wanna come with me, but it’s important that you stay here today. While I’m in town meetin’ with Cousin Wes, I want you to be sure the chickens get fed and the cow has plenty of water. Can you handle that?”
“I guess so, Pa,” he mumbled, clearly disappointed.
“Good. Then when I get home, I‘ll give you a surprise.”
“Really, Pa?”
“Really. I’ll bring you somethin’ from town.”
“What, Pa? What will you bring me?” he said, his face lighting up.
“If I told you what it was, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it?”
“No, I guess not,” he said.
“I’m gonna talk to your ma for a minute. I want you to get the horse and bring it up to the house.” Eager to help his pa, Clarence left the room and he
aded to the barn. Art watched Mollie as she told Thressie a story. She looked up at him, her eyes bright again.
“How are you really feelin’?”
“I’m feelin’ good. I’ll be fine here with the children. Thressie’s gonna help me, aren’t you little girl?”
“Yes, Ma,” she said, snuggling in next to her.
“So you get goin’ and try to get back by supper. If I feel like it, I might even try to fix somethin’ for all of us to eat.”
Art bent down to kiss Mollie on the cheek. He rubbed Thressie’s shoulder and then patted her gently on the head.
“You take care of your ma, and I’ll be back by supper.”
Art put the floppy hat on his head and watched his son lead the horse from the barn. He pulled himself up onto the saddle and looked down at the boy.
“All right, son, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Be sure to do those two chores, and I’ll see you at supper.”
Clarence nodded at his pa, and Art turned the horse toward Lynnville and his meeting with Wes.
* * *
Anthie sat on the soft grass under a large tree, drinking in the sun, his back against the trunk and his long legs stretched out in front of him. Sudie had told him to stay put while she went to get them something to eat, and Anthie was happy to oblige her. He’d been daydreaming for a while when he saw her come out of the house, carrying a small basket. She was wearing a long white dress with puffy sleeves, and she’d tied white ribbons in her soft brown hair. She looks like an angel, he thought. As she walked toward the tree, she carried the basket in one hand and a pitcher of water with the other.
“Let me help you.” Anthie stood and walked toward her. He touched her sleeve and awkwardly blurted out, “You look like an angel.” Once the words were out of his mouth, he knew he couldn’t take them back. Oh Lord, I’ve gone and done it now, he thought, but Sudie just smiled and handed him the pitcher.
Death in the Black Patch Page 17