Death in the Black Patch

by Wilson, Bruce;

  “Thank you, Anthie. That’s such a sweet thing to say. Please just sit back down.”

  Holding the pitcher, he looked around, trying to decide how he could sit down in the tall grass without spilling the water. Sudie held back a giggle as she watched the very tall boy’s attempts at being graceful.

  “I thought you might like to try some of Ma’s fresh bread,” she said as she kneeled down on the grass, her dress whispering. “I also brought a jar of peaches from last year. They’re very sweet, just like you.” She looked up at Anthie and smiled again when she saw the flushed look on his face.

  “Anthie, are you all right?”

  He looked away, his voice timid, “I’m sorry about what I said. I—”

  “Oh no, don’t be sorry. I like what you said. Nobody’s ever said I look like an angel.” She reached for Anthie’s hand. “Here, why don’t you let me have the pitcher?”

  Sudie took two small cups from the basket and poured water into each of them and handed one to Anthie. While she busied herself with the bread and fruit, he watched her every move. The sleeves of the white dress went all the way to her wrists, but he could still see her small graceful hands. She really is an angel, he thought, stealing a swift glance at her face.

  For the next hour, the two young people sat in the shade of the tree and talked while they nibbled on the food. The day was warm, and the gentle breeze from the west blew across the grass. They seemed to be in a world of their own and were surprised when they heard the wagon pull into the lane. Sudie’s pa didn’t see them, but Odie did, and he waved at them as the wagon rolled past the tree.

  “Is he gonna be mad that I’m here?” said Anthie, his joy rapidly melting.

  “I don’t think so, but let’s go see. Maybe you can help him unload the wagon.”

  Anthie stood and took hold of Sudie’s small hand, helping her up from the grass. He tried to let go of it, but she held on tight. Sudie picked up the basket, and they walked toward the house.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered.

  Anthie thought, He’s gonna kill me.

  They reached the house just as Morris climbed down from the wagon seat.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you unload the wagon?”

  Morris frowned at Anthie, and then looked at his daughter. His face softened only a little as he shook his head and turned back to the boy.

  “Odie’ll show you where to put things. Sudie, you come on inside with me.”

  Sudie followed her pa into the house, and the two boys walked to the back of the wagon. Neither of them spoke as they placed several sacks and boxes onto the porch.

  “The rest of this goes in the barn,” Odie said, breaking the silence. “I’ll move the wagon.” He looked at Anthie and added, “I’m surprised you came back.”

  “Yeah, me too, and I’m surprised your pa’s lettin’ me stay.”

  “He don’t much like anybody hangin’ around Sudie or Hattie, but Ma keeps tellin’ him that they’re gonna leave someday.”

  “What do you mean, leave?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know, get married or somethin’ like that.” Odie hid his smile and grabbed the horse’s reins.

  When they got back from the barn, Odie picked up the packages on the porch, opened the door and said, “You best wait outside for Sudie.”

  Anthie stepped onto the porch and sat in one of the chairs by an open window. He rested his head against the wall of the house and started to think about what Odie’d said about getting married, but his daydream was interrupted when he heard Mr. Morris talking through the window; his words were strong and clear.

  “That’s what I heard, Eddy. They whipped the man with a thorn branch and then shot him even after he said he’d join the Association.”

  “But why would they do that, especially in front of his wife and children?”

  “I don’t know. It don’t make sense.” He paused. “I’ll tell you this, though. If them damned Night Riders are doin’ that kind of thing up in Kentucky, what’s to stop the ones we got around here from doin’ the same thing?”

  Anthie knew he shouldn’t be listening, but worried that if he moved from the chair he might make a noise. He decided to stay put.

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about what to do with the tobacco,” Morris continued. “There’s a lot of pressure on all of us, and it’s hard to know what to do. Prices are so low and Night Riders so unpredictable that it seems the only safe thing to do is to hold the crop back and hope the price goes up. I won’t put the family in danger over money. Besides, we made enough extra on last year’s corn and wheat to get us through for a while.”

  Eddy was quiet for a moment. “I agree with you, Charles. You’ve gotta join up before anythin’ like that happens down here.”

  Anthie didn’t want to be caught listening to Sudie’s folks, so he crept away from the window, stepped off the porch and walked out into the yard. Now I don’t have to ask about prices, or the Night Riders or the Association, he thought as he stood in the grass.

  “Anthie, what’re you doin’ standin’ out there in the yard?” said Sudie. “I brought some of Ma’s pie. Let’s go finish our picnic.”

  Anthie’s face was pale and lacked the warmth Sudie had seen earlier. “What’s wrong?” she said as they sat down on the grass.

  “I guess I’m a little worried about your pa.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him. I already told you he’s not that mean. Besides, I left him a big piece of pie in the kitchen. That’ll make him happy. Let’s just go eat and talk some more.”

  Anthie looked back toward the house for a moment and then turned to Sudie. As they sat under the tree, he let her do most of the talking. While she chattered like a tiny sparrow, he listened and nodded occasionally, but he kept thinking about the killing and all he’d heard.

  Sudie was talking about her friends at church when Odie came walking toward them from the house. When he got to the tree, he said, “Sudie, Pa wants you two to come back to the house. He says he wants to talk to your friend.”

  Oh Lord, thought Anthie. Did he know I was listening?

  “C’mon, Anthie. Let’s go see what Pa wants.” She stood and picked up the pie plates, and the three of them walked back to the house.

  I guess this is the last time I’ll ever see Sudie, he thought. It may be the last time I breathe, if he wants to kill me.

  As they got to the porch, Morris came out of the house to meet them.

  “Sudie, you and Odie go inside for a bit. I want to talk to young mister Wilson.”

  Odie went into the house, and Sudie looked at her pa. She wanted to ask him what was going on, but knew better than to question him. She turned to Anthie and gave him a comforting smile. Then she followed her brother.

  Anthie froze, wondering what Sudie’s pa was going to say. All alone and facing Mr. Morris, he felt like a rabbit caught in a trap, snared with no chance of escape.

  “Tell me about your family, son.” He led Anthie out into the yard.

  “Sir?” said Anthie.

  “Tell me about your family. What does your pa do? Where do you live?”

  “Oh,” he squeaked, no longer confused. “We’re farmers just like you. We live about five miles south of Lynnville.”

  “Does your pa grow tobacco?”

  “Yes sir, he does.” His voice stronger now, more confident since Mr. Morris hadn’t said anything about eavesdropping. “I think we’ve got about six acres, plus corn and wheat.”

  “I’d like to know what your pa is gonna do about his crop this year. I may be askin’ somethin’ you can’t answer. Or maybe it’s somethin’ you won’t answer since it’s private business. But I’m interested in knowin’ if your pa has decided to sell his crop or just hang onto it like so many folks are doin’.”

  Anthie relaxed a bit. “I’m not sure that my p
a knows what he’s gonna do yet. He is plannin’ on goin’ to a meetin’ next week, but I’m pretty sure he ain’t decided yet.”

  Morris pondered the boy’s answer for a moment and felt he’d likely learned all he would today. He looked at Anthie’s face and then put his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. “Thanks, young man,” he said and walked off toward his barn.

  Oh my Lord, Anthie thought as he sucked in a huge breath of air and let it out slowly. He watched Morris disappear inside the barn and then looked toward the house and saw Sudie’s smiling face staring at him through the window. She quickly disappeared and a moment later came running across the yard toward him.

  “Is everythin’ all right?”

  “I think so,” he said through a smile. “He just wanted to ask about my pa’s tobacco. He didn’t even get mad at me or nothin’.”

  “See, I told you he wasn’t mean.”

  Sudie took his hand and walked him toward the tree. Anthie couldn’t believe he’d been able to find out a lot of information for his pa without even asking a single question. Better yet, he got to spend the day with Sudie, and she still liked him. I’m not ready to go home yet, he thought. I’m gonna stay right where I am.

  * * *

  “Why can’t you just talk to them out here?” whined Gertrude.

  “Will you please keep your voice down? We’ve got customers in here.” Mark guided his wife toward the back of the store. “I told you that I need to talk to my brother and Art someplace where we won’t be interrupted.”

  “But what’s so secret that you can’t talk to them in the store? I’ve got things to do at the house, and I don’t want to waste my time standing around your store talking to a bunch of smelly farmers.”

  “Shush,” Mark growled. “These farmers are the people who paid for your nice house. Now you just watch the store, sell them what they want and be nice.” Mark untied his canvas apron, hooked it over her head, spun her around and tied it. Looking at her perpetual scowl, he said, “I won’t be gone long. As soon as I’m done, you can go back to sittin’ in your rocker.”

  “Don’t you go sassin’ me, Mark Wilson. I won’t stand for it.” Gertrude’s face darkened as she walked to the front of the store to help a woman sorting through some bolts of cloth. Mark watched her march down the aisle, wondering why he’d ever married her. I just hope she don’t get someone so mad they stop comin’ in here, he thought as he slipped out the back door.

  Wes and Art were waiting for him at the house. He opened the door, and they followed him inside. Except for the ticking clock on the fireplace mantle, the room was quiet. Mark looked at the large rocking chair by the window and cringed as he walked past it into the kitchen.

  “You want some coffee?”

  “No,” said Wes, pulling a chair away from the table and sitting down.

  “None for me either, Mark,” added Art. “I’m full up with the stuff today. I need to get back home soon as I can anyway.”

  “Is Mollie any better?”

  “Some, but I don’t want her to get too tired.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take for Gertrude to start a fight in the store?” asked Wes.

  Mark turned to his brother, ready to defend his wife, but stopped short when he saw the broad smile that spread across Wes’s face.

  “Sorry, Mark. I was just havin’ some fun.” All of them laughed, and Wes said, “Sit down so we can talk and get you back to the store.”

  When his brother was seated, Wes laid his hands flat on the table and asked, “What’s the news since Thursday?”

  Mark looked across the table at each of them. “Cleary came by to see me first thing this mornin’ and said the Night Riders killed a farmer over in Christian County last night.”

  “Killed a farmer?” said Wes, his mind reeling.

  “Why would they do that?” added Art.

  “Cleary said that he was whipped first and then killed with a shotgun. It happened in front of his wife and children.”

  “But did Cleary say why?” asked Wes. “Why would they kill somebody?”

  “No, he didn’t. They probably haven’t got any information from his wife yet, and who knows if they even have any other witnesses.” Mark clasped his hands in front of him and looked at his brother. “Maybe they killed him because he wouldn’t join the Association.” Again the ticking clock was the only sound in the room.

  “This is not good news,” said Wes. “If they’re doin’ this in Christian County, they could do it here.”

  “But we don’t know that’s why he got killed, do we?” said Art.

  “What do you mean? What else could it be?”

  “Well, maybe they shot him because he pulled a gun on ’em, or maybe because they wanted him dead for somethin’ else.”

  “Either way, he’s dead and the Riders killed him.” Wes stared down at the table. “Christian County is too far away for the Riders to be from around here. It won’t take long for the news of the killing to spread around town and right into the ears of the Night Riders in Lynnville. We gotta expect that they’ll use this killing as an example to push more fellas to join up.”

  Art squirmed in his chair. He looked at the two brothers and said, “I ain’t gonna risk gettin’ killed over my tobacco. I got a sick wife and four kids, and I ain’t gonna leave ’em to starve.”

  “What’re you sayin’?” asked Wes.

  “I’m sayin’ that I ain’t gonna get killed. If that means I gotta join up, then I guess I’ll join up.”

  “But, that’s what they want us to do. They wanna scare us into joinin’. Remember, we don’t know why they shot him. You just said it coulda been for another reason.”

  “It could have, but I don’t really think it was. I think they shot him because he wouldn’t join.”

  “Look, fellas,” Mark said. “We really don’t know enough about this yet. Besides, there’s more news. Thursday night, before Art got here, that Trust buyer came in braggin’ about a deal he’d made with you, Wes. There were some Association fellas sittin’ around the stove, and he made sure they heard what he said.”

  “I ain’t made any deal!” shouted Wes. “Why would he say somethin’ like that? He ain’t gonna get away with lyin’ about me. I’ll kill him if I have to and stop all this madness.”

  Art stared hard at Wes. “You talked to a buyer? Why didn’t you tell me that the last time we talked?”

  “Sure, I talked to a buyer, but I didn’t make any deal. It wasn’t even worth talkin’ about the other night.”

  Art was clearly upset by Wes’s secret dealing with the Trust. He began to wonder what else his cousin hadn’t told him but was brought back to the conversation when Mark interrupted.

  “Hold on, you two. Let me finish. After I got rid of Jones, I told the other fellas that he was makin’ no sense, that you wouldn’t have made any deal. Then Art showed up and told me you two were plannin’ to go to the meetin’ next week. They heard what Art said, and I think they believed him more than they believed Jones.”

  Art stared at Wes, his jaws clenched tight. “You lied to me, Wes. Why didn’t you tell me about this? We’re family and supposed to be helpin’ each other.”

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t make a damn deal, and I didn’t lie to you,” he said, clearly growing as angry as his cousin.

  “Will you two please settle down for a minute? Let’s look at what we know. First, the fellas who were in the store are all in the Association. Second, they heard Jones and Art and I think they believed Art, so they don’t have any reason to be comin’ after you.”

  “Yes, but they were plannin’ to raid Wes’s place,” said Art, interrupting Mark.

  “Even though they were plannin’ to raid Wes, they have no reason to do it now since you two are goin’ to the meetin’. They didn’t kill anybody in that raid near Cuba last week,
and we don’t know for sure why the man in Christian County was killed. Those are the facts.”

  Wes looked over at Art. “Mark’s right. We still don’t know enough. At least I don’t know enough, since you’ve already made your decision.” His face darkened. “I gotta think about it some more. There’s too much at stake to pick one or the other without really knowin’ what’s goin’ on.”

  “Maybe you can hold out, but I don’t think I can,” replied Art. He shook his head and then looked at Wes. “But I’ll wait until we’ve been to the meetin’. That’s the best I can do, Wes.”

  “At least give me ’til then,” said Wes. “We can talk about it after we leave the meetin’. Besides, Anthie’s down in Tennessee today, talkin’ to his girl’s pa. He might have somethin’ to add to all of this.” Wes pushed the chair back from the table and stood. “Once I know what Anthie’s learned, I’ll let you know,” he said, his voice cold. “Maybe we can meet day after tomorrow?”

  Art rose from his chair. “Okay, let’s meet here on Monday night. Would that be all right, Mark?”

  “Yeah, but come after I close the store. I’d rather do it there than here at the house.”

  Wes extended his hand toward Art, hoping that his cousin would take it. When he did, the two men shook hands and quietly left the house. Mark rose from his chair and looked around the room. He made sure the chairs were pushed back against the table. I hope she hasn’t scared off all my customers, he thought as he closed the door behind him and headed back to the store.

  * * *

  All the way home, Wes’s head was filled with the new information. He stopped by the creek, got down from the horse and splashed some of the cool water on his face. He looked down the road and rubbed his forehead, trying to still the growing pressure in his mind. Sometimes it seems like I have no control. This ain’t good, he thought, but I gotta pull myself together before I get home. He breathed deeply and felt a bit calmer. As he rode past the farm, Wes saw Connie sitting on the porch with the shotgun across his lap. He waved at his son and went on to George’s to return the horse. When he turned into the lane, he saw his oldest brother walking into his barn. Might as well find out what he knows, Wes thought, and do it while Malinda ain’t hangin’ around. He rode the horse up to the barn, slid out of the saddle and led the animal inside.