by Londyn Skye
Jesse was nearly hoarse when he got done unraveling on Tex and his young counterparts. But the vocal exertion turned out to be worth it. His speech left his fellow Ghost Riders speechless after realizing that they truly had made a grave mistake. It was that zero-tolerance ideology that made Tex’s cousin, Duke Dixon, feel as though Jesse Adams was worthy of being a leader and the true definition of a Ghost Rider Grand Master. And it was that impassioned speech that was the catalyst for the war the terrorist group waged against William Werthington. After Jesse left, Tex and his Ghost Rider brethren immediately began putting together the plan for the gift they delivered to William on Christmas night that forever changed his life and put an end to Anna Mae and Ben’s.
Chapter Four
Jesse needed a stiff drink to calm his nerves after dealing with the ignorance of his fellow Ghost Riders. He moseyed into Buck’s Tavern after his meeting with them and was well into his second drink when an uninvited visitor joined him at the bar. “You the man lookin’ for his slave?”
“Who the hell’re you?” Jesse replied in between sips of his gin.
“I’m a man who knows where to find ’er,” Tucker McCormick answered after sitting on the barstool next to him.
“Well then, where is she?”
“Now you know it don’t work that easy.”
“I don’t have time f’ur y’ur bullshit. If you ain’t come down here to talk then stumble y’ur drunk ass back down to the otha’ end ‘a the bar where ya’ come from.”
“You might just wanna consida’ bein’ a little sweeta’ to a guy like me,” Tucker said sarcastically, “’cause, trust me, ain’t nobody ’round this town gon’ be willin’ to tell shit to no outsida’s.”
“I don’t need you eitha’ drunkard.”
“Suit ya’self, but with the way y’ur little slave’s show’s been travelin’ from city to city, you’d end up chasin’ ’er for months. With me, you’d get direct knowledge of ’er whereabouts. By the time you get to a city, she’d normally be long gone. But I can guide you right to where she’ll be in the next three days and deliva’ you to ’er doorstep before she even gets there.”
“And why the hell should I trust anything you have to say?”
“’Cause I wanna send that little bitch back to the cottonfields just as badly as you do.”
“I ain’t payin’ ya’ shit,” Jesse made clear.
“You don’t have to.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Well, not right away anyway.”
“What you s’pectin’ outta me?”
“The question is, what am I expectin’ outta her?”
“The only thing she got to offa’, I can promise ya’, I ain’t willin’ to let ’er give ya’!”
“That ain’t what I want … well, not the only thing.”
“Get to y’ur goddamn point!”
“She gets paid afta’ her shows, far more money than you probably realize.”
“And?”
“And if I take ya’ to where she’s at, all I ask is that you wait ’til the end of ’er next show to get ’er. It won’t be ’til then that she gets paid. Once she gets ’er cut, you give me fifty percent. Consida’ it as the fee for my personal tour guide services,” Tucker laughed.
“Why should I trust you?”
“It’s an all-expenses paid trip. I’m even willin’ to pay f’ur y’ur meals. And judgin’ by the size of ya’ that ain’t gonna be cheap,” Tucker snickered.
Jesse gave him a look that stopped his laughter cold.
Tucker cleared his throat. “Anyway, the point is, I wouldn’t waste my time and my money if I thought I wasn’t gonna make it all back and then some.”
“I’ll give ya’ ten percent,” Jesse replied calmly after taking another sip of his gin.
“Forty.”
“I said! Ten! Fuckin’! Percent!”
“Ten percent!” Tucker got up to leave. “I wouldn’t break even with that afta’ feedin’ y’ur fat ass.”
Jesse hopped up from his stool and grabbed Tucker by the shirt collar.
“Now I see where y’ur son gets it,” Tucker said, having an instant flashback of the way James had manhandled him.
“What?!” Jesse snarled, shaking him hard one good time. Everyone in the bar suddenly turned in their direction.
“Look, I-I don’t want no trouble,” Tucker cowardly whined. “I-I’m just tryna help ya’ out. B-but ya’ gotta be reasonable about this.”
Jesse shoved Tucker and sat back down.
Tucker adjusted his shirt and rubbed his neck. “What the fuck’re all ‘a y’all lookin’ at?! Mind y’ur own damn business!” he yelled at all the patrons who had their eyes on him. When the social chatter went back to normal, he sat down again next to Jesse. “Look, you and I both know a man’s time is valuable. I can save you from wastin’ a whole lotta y’urs, but you gotta do a little betta’ than ten percent if I’m gonna have to waste a whole lotta mine while I’m helpin’ ya’ out.”
“Twenty percent and not a goddamn penny more.”
“You got y’urself a deal, big boy.” Tucker extended his hand for Jesse to shake.
“Go on and get the goddamn train tickets,” Jesse replied, knocking his hand away.
“Anotha’ round f’ur big boy ova’ here … on me!” Tucker shouted to the bartender before heading to the train station to pick up a pair of train tickets bound for New York.
Chapter Five
Ghost Rider Code of Ethics
Section 1.1
One of the disgusting evils of this era is the mixture of white blood with that of the Negro. All sworn Ghost Rider’s must abstain from and prevent such carnal physical contact with the Negro race, thereby preventing their inferior blood from infecting and contaminating the superior precious blood of the Caucasian race. We must especially protect our women from such degradation. A woman’s chastity must be kept inviolate. It is therefore a Ghost Rider’s sworn duty to devise any means necessary to preserve her sacred right of an uninfected, unstained body by the foul touch of a lower stock.
CHRISTMAS 1859
WINTER GARDEN THEATER
NOW PLAYING:
THE DREAM SYMPHONY
James could not exhale. He could not inhale. He literally could not breathe. He never saw it coming. Samuel, one of the security bandits, had just picked James up from the Manhattan train station after he had returned from dropping off Anna Mae and Ben in Ohio. The Dream Symphony was already in progress by the time they arrived at the theater. In James’s haste to get in to see the remainder of the show, he had forgotten his ticket and Lily’s Christmas gift in the carriage. He told Samuel to go ahead without him while he went to retrieve the missing items. It was a decision that left James vulnerable and ultimately seeing a moment of black after the back of his head was slammed against the exterior of his carriage. When he opened his eyes and caught sight of the man who had him pinned there, he prayed that he was experiencing yet another unwanted nightmare. His father had a death grip on his throat that threatened to end his life right there in the middle of Broadway.
Unfortunately, the near-death feeling was not foreign to James at all. His throat had been in the clutches of his father’s hands in much the same way when he was sixteen. As he stood in the middle of Broadway, struggling to catch his breath, it instantly brought that haunting day flooding back to his mind. “Why’d you hit her?!” was the question that James had demanded his father answer nearly a decade ago, after he backhanded Lily in the face the day he caught them laughing together while scrubbing the kitchen floor. “She’s my friend!” was his raging confession when his father questioned his motive for helping Lily. Now, as James stood in front of Winter Garden with his life literally in his father’s hands, both sentences echoed repeatedly in his mind. Those two simple sentences were the catalyst for an event that would cause James to suffer post traumatic night terrors for years afterward …
After the altercation in the kitchen with his fath
er that fateful afternoon, sixteen-year-old James was forced to go to the confines of his room for the remainder of the night. He lay in his bed, his face throbbing where his father had split his lip after his heated confession about his friendship with Lily. But the deep gash was the last thing on James’s mind. Thoughts of Lily eclipsed everything. He could not sleep, nor could he settle his anger. In all his young life, James had not ever felt that level of rage toward anyone. He never even knew his mind was capable of conjuring up such violent methods of revenge until the moment his father laid his hands on Lily.
Tears of fury coursed down James’s cheeks as he waited impatiently for his father to fall into his usual drunken slumber. He was eager to sneak out to the slave quarters to check on the young woman whom he had yet to admit had become so much more to him than just his best friend. Despite fighting hard to stay awake, James’s body finally gave in to exhaustion around midnight. A half hour into his slumber, his father clutched a handful of his hair and violently dragged him out of bed and onto the floor. “Get y’ur ass up, boy!” Jesse yelled, nudging James in the back of the head with his foot after his demand.
“A-am, I late for school?” James asked in the haze of his sleepy confusion.
“I said get y’ur ass up! NOW!”
Still feeling confused, James jumped up off the floor while holding on to his aching head.
“Get dressed and meet me downstairs! You got five minutes!” Jesse demanded.
James quickly did as he was told. Not long after that, he found himself in his father’s wagon, riding into the darkness of the woods. “W-where we goin’?” he asked after they had ridden for a good fifteen minutes in silence.
His father refused to answer and simply continued guiding his horses deeper into the woods. James knew not to say another word after that, figuring it would be best to let the silence persist if he did not want any more trouble for himself. Instead, he listened to the way his heart beat erratically from fear about the possibilities of their destination. After being yanked out of bed by his hair, he was positive that nothing good was going to come of their midnight excursion.
After riding a while longer in the darkness, James finally saw the light of a large bonfire and heard a multitude of faint voices cutting through the quiet. Jesse guided his wagon straight toward the small gathering of men and climbed down once he halted the horses. James just sat there stiffly, staring at all the other men who were gathered near the bonfire. “Get y’ur ass outta that wagon!” Jesse demanded.
James quickly scurried down without a word and walked around to the front of the horses. When he stepped around them, his eyes were immediately drawn to a particular man there that stood out more than all the others.
Jesse’s childhood friend, Duke Dixon, turned and saw that the pair had arrived. He immediately stumbled toward them, thoroughly intoxicated. “Ya’ finally made it! Thought we’s gonna have to start this party without ya’!” Duke slurred, slapping Jesse on the shoulder. “Brought y’all some ‘a my finest homemade ’shine.” He shoved a flask full of moonshine into Jesse’s hand. Duke then turned to James. “Here boy, take you a sip,” he said, tossing him his flask. “It’ll put some hair on that bony little chest ‘a y’urs,” he laughed.
James caught the flask and stared at it. “N-no thanks. I-I don’t want any.”
Jesse stomped over to him. “Do as y’ur told!” he barked.
“Y-yessa’.” James slowly unscrewed the lid and sniffed it.
“Oh, go on boy! It ain’t gonna kill ya’!” Duke laughed.
James finally took a sip and coughed after the liquor instantly numbed his tongue and singed his throat.
Duke and Jesse got a good laugh at the look on James’s face as he forced himself to swallow it. Duke then snatched his flask back and took a good hard drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand afterward. “’Bout time you brought this pussy with ya’,” he said to Jesse while staring at James. “You brought Jacob and J.R. out here when they’s half his age. You been soft on this’n like a little girl.” He pushed James on the shoulder. “Thought maybe he’d be wearin’ frilly little dresses by now.”
“I admit, he was a mama’s boy,” Jesse replied. “He was always attached to ’er at the damn hip. That’s my fault. I let it go since ’Lizabeth ain’t neva’ have the girl she wanted. Since she done passed, I realize just how much sissy shit I gotta undo in this damn boy.”
The truth of the matter was that Elizabeth Adams would absolutely not let her youngest son partake in any of her husband’s late-night activities. She did not know the extent of the heinous rituals her husband was performing in the early hours in the middle of the woods. She did not want to know, nor did she ever want James to know. She viewed James as an innocent, sweet, loving little boy – a stark contrast to J.R. and Jacob – and she wanted to do everything in her power to ensure that her youngest son maintained all his beautiful attributes. Elizabeth was convinced that her older two boys had been tainted by the things their father had subjected them to at his late-night gatherings; she was not about to allow James to succumb to a similar fate. Elizabeth was a very soft-spoken, weak, and timid woman, but she would suddenly turn into a tigress when it came to the matter of protecting James. No matter what the consequences, she stood as strong as a brick wall to prevent him from attending the meetings of the secret society that Duke and Jesse took pride in being a part of. It was a brick wall that even Jesse was powerless to penetrate until after his wife’s death.
“Betta’ late than neva’,” Duke replied, slapping James hard on the back. “Don’t worry, we’ll make a man out of ya’ ’fore long.”
Despite knowing Duke his whole life, James never cared much for the man; he hated how much of a loose cannon he was. He remembered always feeling afraid of him when he was just a boy, but he noticed that his older brothers seemed to idolize him. J.R. and Jacob loved that Duke often took them camping and taught them about knives, tying nooses, and shooting. While James was off in the woods playing with Lily on Sundays, his brothers would be bonding with “uncle” Duke over old stories or while using his shotgun to shoot tin cans off wooden posts. But even before Lily came into James’s life, he rarely wanted to be around his so-called uncle. Everything about Duke made him extremely uncomfortable. But now, here was James, at age sixteen, being forced to interact with Duke. His close proximity had already elevated James’s discomfort tenfold. The discomfort was far worse for James because of a particular man that he could see just over Duke’s shoulder, sitting huddled next to a tree, looking just as terrified as James was feeling on the inside. Despite all the commotion going on around him, James could not seem to pull his eyes away from the poor soul, who sat there with his head down and his hands clasped together as though he was praying. His body was shaking so hard that it continuously rattled the chains around his ankles and wrists. Why is he here? James wondered to himself after staring at the helpless man for a short while. The potential grim answers to that is what had raised his level of fear and discomfort beyond the clouds.
“All right! Let’s get this goddamn picnic started!” Duke announced, wrapping his arm around James and ushering him toward the bonfire.
As he walked along feeling disgusted by Duke’s touch, James’s eyes were momentarily drawn to the large flames of the bonfire, but then were immediately attracted back to the man shaking in his shackles. James glanced from the helpless man over to several other men who were gathered near the fire. Again, though, he quickly looked back at the disheartening sight of the lone outcast huddled near the tree, still silently praying. To James, the laughter of the men near the fire sounded distorted in his ears compared to the crystal clarity of the poor soul’s rattling chains. How could they be laughing? James silently wondered, after being sickened by the fact that they could possibly find anything humorous while a man sat helplessly chained nearby.
After silently questioning the audacity of the group’s despicable behavior, James’s eyes then drifted to a
thick rope, lying next to where the outcast sat. It led from the ground up into the tree that the shaking man was perched underneath. The noose at the end of the rope finally answered the question as to the reason that Negro man sat alone amongst a multitude of white faces, praying, and shaking nonstop. To settle his sudden rising emotions, James had to turn away from the tree and its dangling rope after realizing that the two inanimate objects were more than likely about to put an end to an innocent life, and worse yet, that it was about to be a source of entertainment for the twisted men who were laughing nearby, including his own father.
With an ever-increasing sick feeling in his stomach, James glanced over at the group of men, who were smiling and telling stories like they were merely at a birthday party. It was then that he finally noticed their matching attire. The white robes they wore were like those of a secret society of men he had sometimes overheard his brothers describing. He had not thought much of the bits and pieces he had heard over the years, until he stood there amongst the savages in their ghostly attire, realizing that he was about to bear witness to one of their heinous rituals. If he had the courage, James would have thrown Duke’s arm off his shoulder and took off running into the woods, but he could barely get his mind to think straight, let alone coordinate his legs enough to run.