“All right, then,” Jones grumbled. “Where can we talk in private?”
J.D. stayed at the edge of the tree line and gave him directions to their place, telling Jones that he and Charley would cut across the fields and be at the shack when he got there. Jones verified the directions with J.D. and started down the road. The two men untethered their horses and took off across a fallow field in the direction of Ol’ Man Smith’s property. J.D. figured it’d take Jones about ten minutes if he followed the instructions he’d given him, and he and Charley could get there in half that time.
The broken-down shack was about fifty yards off a farm road nearly a half mile from the county road. It was hidden by some old oaks and was nearly invisible because of its faded boards. They put their horses in the small pen at the back of the building and waited for Jones. When J.D. saw the tobacco buyer coming down the farm road, he stepped out of the trees and guided him toward the shack.
With controlled sarcasm, Jones said, “This is quite a place you have here.” He looked around the yard at the piles of trash and broken farm implements and added, “A regular little cottage in the woods.”
“It’ll work just fine for the business we gotta do. Tie your horse to that post and come on in,” he said, turning away from Jones, bending over and walking into the shack.
Jones hesitated in front of the short doorway. Not sure what he’d find inside, he thought, Nothing ventured nothing gained, took of his derby and went in.
“Have a seat,” said J.D.
Jones looked around the tiny room for a chair, but there were none. The only place open for him was on one of the two pallets that served as beds. He took out his kerchief and dusted off something that looked like mouse droppings, frowned as he sniffed the air and sat down. The two men sat across from him on the other pallet, watching him and waiting for him to speak.
“So, gentlemen, here we are, meeting in your secret hideout, away from the prying eyes of the men you fear.” He put his derby on his lap and waited for a response, but all he got was blank stares. “I assume that you have something you’d like to share with me. A list, perhaps?”
J.D. spoke before Charley had a chance to say something stupid. “Look, Mr. Jones, I know this ain’t some fancy hotel, but you gotta understand that what we’re doin’ could get all of us, includin’ you, in a lot of trouble. This is the only safe place we know, so why don’t we get down to business, and then you can get out of here.”
“That sounds like a great plan. What have you got for me?”
J.D. turned to Charley and put his hand out, waiting for the list his partner held crushed in his hand. He took a second to smooth out the wrinkled piece of paper bag and handed it to Jones. While the buyer scanned the poorly written list of names and locations, J.D. told him what they’d discovered in the few days since they last met.
“There’s four names on the list, and we’ve marked down where they live. All four of ’em are pretty desperate and need money to get through this year. We think the one on the bottom of the list is pretty ripe and may be your best chance to make a deal. He’s got a bunch of kids, so he could really use the money. All of them fellas are afraid of the Night Riders and maybe they should be.” He looked quickly at Charley. “But we figure they’d jump at the chance to sell their crop and wouldn’t care if they had to clear out after harvest.”
“According to our arrangement, I owe you fifty cents for each of these names. If any of them sells me his crop, then I’ll owe you another fifty cents.” He reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded leather wallet. “That means I owe you two dollars,” he said, handing the paper bills to J.D. “If any of these men decide to work with me, how will I find you to pay the additional money?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll know and we can find you.” J.D. shoved the money into his shirt pocket. “Now, you better take off and get into town. You need to be damned sure that you don’t tell anyone where you got those names, ’cause if we get found out, we’ll know that you’re the only one who could’ve put our names out there.” He looked at Jones, expecting to see fear, but was surprised by the lack of it.
“J.D., is it? Well, J.D., I’ve been doing this type of business for a long time, and I’ve never revealed one of my...informants. I know how to keep a secret, and I always pay what I promise.” He folded the list, slipped it into his wallet and returned it to his coat pocket. He looked across the crowded little room at each of them and then said, “I suspect that things would get very difficult for you gentlemen if word got out that you were, shall we say, helping the enemy, so I think it would be wise for each of us to keep our promises and to tell no one of our agreement.” Jones paused and said, “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I agree,” Charley blurted out.
J.D. looked at Charley, clearly annoyed, and turned to Jones. “Agreed.”
“Good. Well then, gentlemen, I need to get on into the metropolis of Lynnville and get started on my work day. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your business.” He got up from the pallet, brushed off the back of his pants and ducked out through the door. Putting on his hat, he walked straight to his horse and pulled himself onto the saddle. He tipped his derby to them, spun the large bay around and rode out of the yard.
When Jones was out of sight, J.D. turned to Charley, planning to give him hell for speaking up, but changed his mind. He pulled the money from his pocket and gave one of the dollars to Charley. “Here, just keep your mouth shut and quit acting so scared. If you didn’t always look like that, the fear on your face would give us away in a minute. Now get outta here and leave me alone for a while.” He went back into the shack and slammed the door. Charley looked at the money in his hand and thought, thirty pieces of silver, and rushed off to the outhouse, feeling a sudden pain in his gut.
* * *
As pleased as he was with the corn and wheat crops, when Wes looked at his five acres of tobacco, his thoughts turned not to satisfaction, but to his own deception. He was tired of pretending. The mask was growing heavy, and it added to the host of problems squeezing their way into his thoughts. He yearned for peace, but his brain never rested. Wes had tried as hard as he could to create a visual image of himself as being in control, no longer afraid or confused. He tried to keep his voice softer and less harsh. He smiled rather than frowned, asked rather than told, and most of the family gladly accepted the change. Only Zora and Anthie seemed doubtful when they looked at him.
Even if Wes suspected their caution, he couldn’t acknowledge it without revealing the falseness of his act. He had to keep up the charade and hope that his wife and son would begin to believe him. But in his head, like a pack of dogs fighting over a captured rabbit, his thoughts circled, snarled and growled for control of his mind. Each of the dogs was hungry and wanted a piece of him. The possible riches of Jones’s offer, the risk of shunning by his friends and the danger posed by the Night Riders kept snapping at him. He couldn’t run from them, nor could he hide. Wes had to face them head-on and would, if only he knew how. But for the moment, he just stood in his field and stared into the woods.
Chapter 16
Monday Evening, May 14
Red Miller had told the Night Rider captains to meet at his place on Monday evening. One by one they came through the great wooden gate at the entrance to the farm and rode down the lane. They passed dozens of acres of dark green tobacco plants spread out on the russet brown dirt; each neat row glowed in the light of the setting sun. Along one side of the lane, three thoroughbred geldings grazed in a lush pasture behind a white rail fence.
After passing the large white house, they dismounted and tied their horses to the post next to the barn and walked into the tool shed. From a hook on a crossbeam, a single lantern glowed, casting strange shadows on the men already gathered around an old plow.
“We’ve got ourselves a problem,” Red said, looking at the men. “Not
enough of the farmers around here are joinin’ up. Best I can tell is maybe half of ’em have committed, and that clearly ain’t enough if we’re gonna force the Trust to give us a fair price.” He paused, smoothing his bushy mustache. “You fellas have any ideas why they’re holdin’ back?”
“Only thing I can figure is that Trust buyer, Jones, is stirrin’ up some trouble,” replied one of the men. “We know he’s been out to a bunch of the farms, talkin’ prices with some of the hillbillies.”
“Anybody heard any numbers?” Red asked.
“Nothin’ specific,” said another man, “but they’ve likely been high enough to interest some of the farmers.”
“We could maybe cause that tobacco buyer a little trouble, couldn’t we Red?” said the first speaker.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, maybe we could get a few fellas together and rough him up a bit. That’d slow him down, wouldn’t it?”
Red nodded, and then he paused and lit a cigar. He blew a smoke ring up toward the lantern and said, “Let me think some more on that. In the meantime, we got another problem, but it may not be as bad as it seems. What those fellas did over in Christian County was foolish. I want you to make it clear to all of our Riders that I won’t stand for any killin’ by any of ’em.” He searched each of their faces, looking for agreement. When he was sure that they understood, he continued.
“However, I think we can use the threat of what they did to get more of these hillbillies to quit stallin’ and join us. I want a raid early next week to show ’em we mean business, but I’m not sure yet whose place we’ll hit. I heard that Wes Wilson’s gonna be at our meetin’ on Wednesday. If he joins up, then we’ll raid someone else. If he doesn’t, then we’ll hit his farm. He’s a strong and ornery son of a bitch, but the farmers sure like him; so if we can convince him to join, then these other fellas’ll fall in line. If we can’t change his mind, we’ll have to make an example of him—teach him a harsh lesson.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, clearly thinking about something.
“Just in case, though, we’ll need to get a few names together so we have an alternate target if Wilson does join. I was thinkin’ that we get some of the Riders to listen around and see if they can find anyone who’s thinkin’ of sellin’ out to the Trust. I’ll put up some money, but I can’t be seen makin’ the deal with ’em.”
“I’ll do it, Red,” said the youngest of the group. “There’s a couple of the fellas we’ve used before who live near me. I think they’d be willin’ to do it.”
“Good. Here’s five dollars for each of ’em. See if you can set this up tonight, but be sure to do it no later than tomorrow. Tell ’em that you need a list before Wednesday night’s meetin’.”
As the men turned to go, he stopped them. “Be sure to pass the word to the Riders that we’ll be doin’ somethin’ next week, and remind ’em that we won’t be killin’ any farmers.”
Red watched them leave and reached up to pull down the lantern. He lifted up the glass and blew out the flame. Then he walked over to his front porch. Before going in the house, he turned and looked at his vast tobacco fields, thinking that someday he’d defeat the Trust. “Someday soon, I hope,” he murmured and walked into the house.
* * *
Charley and J.D. were sitting outside the shack in the growing darkness, listening to the crickets and supplementing their meager meal with occasional sips from the jug they’d bought with the money from Jones.
“I hate beans,” said Charley. Using a scrap of bread, he scooped the last few off his tin plate.
“Beans are cheap, Charley, and until you get the inheritance from your rich uncle, you’re gonna have to get used to ’em.” J.D. was trying to cheer Charley up, but his tone of voice was gruff.
“I ain’t got a rich uncle and you know it.” Charley threw the plate on the ground. “Why do you always have somethin’ mean to say to me? I thought we were partners.”
“We’re partners, all right. We been through some ugly times together, ain’t we?” J.D. said, waiting to see how Charley would respond. “I been thinkin’ that we need to clear out of this town in the next couple of weeks. Things’re gettin’ complicated, and if we’re not real careful, we’ll find ourselves in jail. After what Jones said today, I trust him even less than I did before. If he lets anyone know we gave him some names, we’ll be in more trouble than just bein’ locked up.”
“We gotta make some more money before we can leave,” Charley replied. “And Art West ain’t asked us to come back to work on his farm since it rained.”
“If some solid work don’t come up this week, we’ll take what we got and move on.” The crickets stopped chirping and J.D. quit talking when he heard a noise. “Rider comin’,” he said and reached into his coat for his pistol. The faint sound of hooves on the dirt road faded and then stopped.
“Hello in the house,” shouted the rider.
“That’s the captain,” whispered Charley. “What’s he doin’ here?”
J.D. shushed him and stood up. Not sure why the man had come to the shack and fearing there might be trouble, he leaned in close to Charley’s ear and said, “Wait’ll I get around the side of the shack and then tell him to come on in.” He crept around the corner of the sagging building and waited.
“Come on in,” yelled Charley, trying to sound relaxed.
The captain got down off his horse and walked the animal into the yard in front of the shack. “Evenin’, Charley. Where’s J.D.? I got some business we need to talk about.”
“Right here, Captain,” said J.D. as he walked around to the front of the shack. “I was in the outhouse. What’s up?” He kept his hand on the pistol in his pocket.
“I wanted to let you know that we’re gonna be doin’ a raid next week. Don’t have a day yet, but you need to be ready for some night work.” He moved closer to the two men and added in a softer voice, “But I’ve got another piece of business I need you to do for me. There’s some extra money in it if you’re willin’ to do the job.”
“We can always use money,” said J.D. “What do you want us to do?”
For the next five minutes, the Night Rider told them about making the list of farmers talking to Jones and the Wednesday night deadline. When they agreed to do the job, he gave J.D. the ten dollars and reminded both of them of the oath they’d taken. “Nobody knows about this but us three, so you gotta keep it to yourselves.”
After he rode off, they sat outside the shack in near darkness. The only light was a lantern’s orange glow seeping through the cracks in the walls of the shack. The surrounding trees were black against the early night sky.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” said Charley.
“What? Of course I wanna do it. With this money and what we’ll get after next week’s raid, we can get out of Lynnville. If we can get some work with Art West for another couple of days, we’ll be able to leave the whole damned state by the end of next week.” J.D. was strutting around the yard, energized by the possibilities he saw in the situation. Smiling broadly, he nearly shouted, “We don’t even need to do any more work than we’ve already done. We can just give the captain the same names we gave Jones.”
“I don’t know, J.D.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? This is perfect. All we’ve gotta do is keep quiet. Jones ain’t gonna say anythin’, and neither will the captain. We’ll get the money and pull out of here on them two nags out back. No one’ll miss us, Charley.”
“But if someone does say somethin’, we’re not just in trouble, we’re dead.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” he growled. “The two other people who know ain’t gonna say a word. If anythin’ does get out, I’ll make sure that the fella who couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut won’t ever open it again.” He moved over to where Charley was leaning against the shed and shoved him against the wall. He lean
ed in close, their noses almost touching. Charley tried to back away, but he couldn’t move. He could smell the stink of J.D.’s breath and his own sweat, and he flinched when J.D. spoke.
“Just shut up and do what I say,” he said, putting his fist against Charley’s face.
Charley turned his head aside, away from the faint light of the lantern and J.D.’s terrible, empty eyes. He’d never been afraid of him before, but this time he knew J.D. was serious.
“I understand. Now back off a little, I gotta go to the outhouse.”
J.D. stepped back and watched Charley scuttle around the corner of the shack. “You better understand,” he mumbled. “You damned better understand and not mess this up for me.”
* * *
The crescent moon had crawled low in the sky by the time Wes headed into town for the meeting at Mark’s. The faint silvery glow made the ride easier and allowed him more time to think. The mask had become a heavy burden, and he was tired of forcing his smiles. But away from Zora and the children, he could shed the disguise, and the relief was almost physical. Still, he felt smothered by his problems. A knot had formed in his belly, and his guts felt twisted. His head pounded whenever he was awake, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the dry, gritty, burning feeling out of his eyes. But I’m a farmer, he thought, and farmers ain’t got time to be tired or sick. He nudged the mule with his heel as he rounded the curve in the road and approached the lights of Lynnville.
Lantern light glowed from inside the store on the south end of town. Wes tied the reins to the porch rail and glanced across the road. Off to one side of the door, barely lit by the lights from inside the hotel, a man sat smoking a cigar. Hunh, thought Wes, I wonder what he’s doin’ in town. Me and him are gonna have to talk about the lies he’s been tellin’ and talk about ’em soon—but not tonight. As Wes turned to go into the store, Jones tipped his derby at him and drew deeply on the cigar, the tip flaring and lighting up his face.
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