by Ann Towell
Once the service was done, the crowd followed the minister behind the hearse to the cemetery. The sucking sounds of boots in mud and the piercing cold wind was enough to make anyone miserable. Uncle Amos looked like a sleepwalker. Every once in awhile he would stumble, but Lemuel was on his other side to hold him up.
The minister held his black hat in his hand so it wouldn’t blow away. His hair stood up straight, and to my mind he looked like a stork. His long legs led us all straight to the cemetery.
Adam’s wife had come in from London by the train the night before. I couldn’t see her face on account of her veil, but I imagined her the way she looked that day by the creek. Everyone knew she wanted Adam to move back home and manage the store he’d left behind in the care of his brother. She had refused to set foot in our town once she left.
The story around town was that Adam had asked her to stay in Oil Springs, but she’d said, “Over my dead body.” Well, she was finally here, but it wasn’t her dead body that brought her. It was right sad to think of those words and how she must regret them.
My mind wandered the whole time we were in the procession. The wind was bitter even though the drip of snow melting from the trees was all around us. We came to the cemetery, a clearing in the bush and stopped at the newly dug grave. Had Mr. McCabe died a few weeks earlier we would not have been able to bury him right away, the ground would have been frozen hard like rock.
The minister read again from the Book of Job, something about God’s light guiding us through the darkness. His voice was deep and solemn.
“Is it dark where he’s going?” I whispered to Mrs. Ryan, who stood on the other side of me. She supposed it was, though she told me to be still and ask questions once we were back home.
Then something happened that I don’t think any of us expected. Mrs. McCabe collapsed in a heap right at the foot of her husband’s grave. The minister was holding the Bible so he couldn’t help, and a man standing close by was too late in catching her. She was lucky not to hit her head on the ground.
Adam’s brother, the one who minds the store, bent down and lifted her up. The minister gave his Bible to someone and helped in taking Mrs. McCabe back to the hearse. We all followed, like a herd of sheep.
Once she was seated and looking a mite better, the minister headed back to the gravesite. We all followed again excepting Mrs. McCabe and Mr. Cyrus McCabe. It was then I noticed Max McQuarrie and John Longville. They were standing off to the side. The colored folks were at the cemetery too, those who could get the time off work. You could feel the tension, it was that strong.
I went and stood next to Moses and his family while the gravediggers shoveled dirt onto the coffin. That’s when John and Max walked up to us.
“You’ll be sorry you ever set foot in Oil Springs,” he threatened. I wasn’t quite sure then if he was speaking to the Crouchers or me. But those were his words. I’ll swear that on the Bible.
CHAPTER
20
That March was cold and miserable. People were tired of winter and bad tempers took a hold of the townsfolk. They complained about the weather, they complained about the mud, but mostly – thanks to John Longville, I suspect – they complained about the blacks working for less pay than the whites and stealing jobs away.
Uncle Amos came home one day very angry and upset. Mrs. Ryan was with him. It was starting to get natural, seeing those two together. Uncle Amos’s shoulders were stiff with anger and I didn’t even dare ask him what was wrong.
He was awfully tired these days because there was another outbreak of cholera, and the beds were full up at our house. I was told to stay out of the hospital parlor even though Mercy was allowed in. She was constantly washing and scrubbing the sick room. I didn’t envy her for that.
A couple of times I leaned forward in my seat, at the kitchen table to see what was going on while Uncle Amos checked his patients. Mrs. Ryan caught me at it and smiled but shook her head just in case I was thinking of going in to them. Uncle Amos was talking about John and Max and how they were upstarts and dissatisfied souls who could do great damage in our community.
Oil Springs had one constable, and that was enough because people here treated each other pretty well most of the time. But what Uncle Amos was saying scared me. According to him, people were talking of driving the blacks out of town because of their lower wages.
“They already live outside of town,” I called out. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to be part of the conversation because I cared about Moses Croucher and his family. I had spent enough time on Crooked Line to get to know most of their neighbors and they were decent enough folks. I got out of my seat and peeked around the corner of the door.
“Come in then,” Uncle Amos sighed and shook his head.
“What do you mean, Uncle Amos?”
“Exactly what I said, boyo. They want to drive the Negroes out of town and far away from here.”
“But … don’t they have a right to live here too?” I asked.
“Yes, of course they do.”
Uncle Amos was staring at the carpet in front of him.
“That’s why they came here, right?” I had gotten farther into the room. “That’s why we came too, right?”
“What?”
“To be free. We all came here to be free,” I insisted.
Uncle Amos reached out to me and pulled me closer to him. “You have the right of it, Titus. They came to be free. So did we. But not everyone sees it that way. People like John Longville and Max McQuarrie think we should drive them back into the United States of America, send them ‘home.’”
“But they’d be caught and made to be slaves again!”
“You’re right. We can’t let loudmouths like Longville control this town. We’re all better than that.” With those words, Uncle Amos left the parlor, grabbed his coat, and stomped out of the house. Mrs. Ryan stayed back with me. I don’t think she knew whether to follow him or not.
“It’s my night to cook supper,” I said. “You could help, if you want, and then stay to eat.”
“That’s kind of you to offer,” she said as she wrapped a scarf around her neck. “But I have things that need to be done. Tell your uncle I’ll see him tomorrow at church.”
I watched Mrs. Ryan walk away until she disappeared from sight. I really didn’t want to make supper, but it was my turn. I was peeling potatoes when Lem came home. He was full of the news downtown. Seemed there was some colored man that had pushed Mrs. Mabee off of the sidewalk into the muck.
“Did you see it happen?” I asked.
“No, but McQuarrie said it did,” he replied.
I told you Lem wasn’t the smartest man alive. Even I knew better than to believe McQuarrie. Uncle Amos had called him and John braggarts so why would anyone believe them now?
I waited impatiently for Uncle Amos to return, but he didn’t come back until real late. Lem told him what he’d heard downtown. I could see Uncle Amos was downright worried. “Seems they’re using the oldest trick in the book,” he said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“When you can’t get people riled enough over what’s really the issue, you make them believe their womenfolk are being threatened. Every man will come to the aid of their womenfolk.”
As we sat down to eat our supper, there came a loud, persistent banging on the front door. Lem answered it, and there was Righteous Freeman, one of the Negroes who lived on Crooked Line.
“You gotta come quick, Amos,” he pleaded. “It’s Randall Croucher’s baby. He’s took real bad with the croup.”
Uncle Amos rose from the table. “We’ll wrap him up good and bring him here. Lem, you get the horse and buggy set up. Titus, you go and get Mrs. Ryan real quick.” I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and explained to her that Uncle Amos needed her something bad. There were too many sick people in our house for two people to look after. I couldn’t think of anyone else to help Mercy or my uncle.
We saw quite a crowd of men
walking down the street together, carrying pitch torches. When I stopped to watch them, Mrs. Ryan pulled me along and said it wasn’t any of my business. Well sir, if it wasn’t mine, then whose was it? I think it was all of our business because we’re a community. I was starting to put two and two together by the time we reached the house.
Another crowd of men passed by, heading toward the center of town. I wanted to go see what was happening, but right then Uncle Amos came back with Mrs. Croucher, the baby, and Beulah. Moses wasn’t with them, since he and his daddy were still working at one of the sites.
The baby was crying and fretting something terrible. Mrs. Croucher was crying too, but quietly, the way grownups do. Tears ran down her face like rain on a window.
Uncle Amos took baby Ogden out of Mrs. Croucher’s arms, handed him to Mrs. Ryan, and immediately took the kettle off of the stove. He put it on the tabletop and told her to sit next to it, then he covered them with a blanket. The steam from the kettle was supposed to help Ogden breathe.
Uncle Amos mixed a mustard plaster, while poor Mrs. Croucher paced the floor, praying. Uncle Amos gave a spoonful of medicine to the baby, who spluttered, but swallowed most of it.
After a while, Ogden settled a bit and was breathing easier, so Mrs. Ryan gave him back to Mrs. Croucher who took a turn with him. Mrs. Ryan put some more water on to boil, so they could help Ogden again later.
I got wondering about those men. They had been carrying torches and looked set on where they were going. I asked Uncle Amos if he knew anything about it, but he gave me such a stern look, I knew enough to keep quiet. Mrs. Croucher, Beulah, and the baby went into the hospital parlor so they all could get some rest.
Mrs. Croucher sang to her baby and Beulah sat on the floor, resting her head against her mama’s knee. Mrs. Croucher would run her hand over Beulah’s head, then touch the baby’s cheek. Back and forth her hand went, as if she was caressing the greatest treasures on earth. My heart ached a little, ’cause right then I thought of my own mother. That’s when Lem came home and took Uncle Amos into the dining parlor, shutting the door behind them.
I was having trouble eavesdropping until Lem cried out, “I tell you they’re planning on going to the shanty town to cause trouble!”
“Where’s Constable Puddicombe?” Uncle Amos demanded.
I’d had enough of listening at doors. All this had something to do with Moses and his family, and I needed to know how I could help them.
“Uncle Amos,” I burst in, before they could say anything. “I need to know what’s happening. I’m scared.”
Uncle Amos motioned for me to close the door behind me. “Keep your voice down, son,” he said. “We don’t want to worry the women unnecessarily.”
“The constable was trying to talk some sense into them when I left.” Lem continued.
“What can I do?” I blurted out.
“You can stay here and behave,” Uncle Amos said sternly.
He started walking toward the hallway. I knew he and Lemuel would be out of the house in seconds. I grabbed my uncle’s arm.
“Uncle Amos, please! I need to go with you.”
He shrugged off my arm and continued walking. I grabbed at him again. He stared down at me as if I was a pesky fly.
Lemuel took me aside. “Come on Titus, what do you think you can do besides getting in the way? That’s a dangerous crowd out there, and we’ll lose track of you. Be thoughtful for once, and stay here. Isabelle may need you for something. What can you do against an army of men?”
That’s the most Lemuel had ever said at one time. I suppose you think I should have listened to him, since he put so much effort into talking. Well, I watched them leave the house. I stood there, staring out the window tears of frustration rolling down my face, and I was filled with anger. Then without another thought I went to Mrs. Ryan. “I’m not feeling well,” I told her. “I think I’ll lie down for awhile.” “You don’t seem to be hot,” she said with a puzzled look on her face. I looked at the ground. “Well, it’s not so much that I’m sick, as I’m tired.” But I couldn’t look her in the eye because I was lying.
“I guess we’re all a little tired.” Mrs. Ryan sighed as I pretended to head for my room.
In the hallway, I grabbed my coat from the hook on the wall and while the women were busy with the baby, I slipped into the night.
You got to believe me when I say that this is the first time I openly defied my uncle and went against his wishes.
CHAPTER
21
I crouched under the front windows and only straightened up once I was well away from the house. Then I began to run. Up ahead the torches the men were carrying glowed and flickered. There was a lot of yelling and carrying on.
A few of the better men in town were trying to talk over the hubbub. I inched my way through the crowd. For once, I was thankful to be small. I nudged and pushed through the throng of big men, but I got an elbow in the head and my glasses were knocked off. Someone stepped back on one of the lenses. I heard the sickening crunch. All I could think of was that I would be in big trouble when I showed my glasses to Uncle Amos. There was no one in town who could fix them for me.
I pushed the man to get him off my glasses. Finally he turned around to glare at me. When he moved his foot, I bent to grab my spectacles, but he stumbled backwards over me and into the man behind us. A fight broke out between the two. I supposed they were what Aunt Sadie would call liquored up.
I managed to squeeze past them, while they landed a few punches on each other and, clutching my glasses, moved through a blurry world. I made it to the front of the crowd and saw my uncle with some other men, trying to convince the mob to go home.
Constable Puddicombe stood silently, smacking the palm of his hand with a cudgel.
I ducked behind someone, put on my glasses, and peeked around the back of the man. I couldn’t see my uncle clearly through the shattered lens, and I hoped he couldn’t see me. Lemuel was at the edge of the crowd leaning against the hotel wall, and the streetlight created a halo around him.
John Longville stood in front of my Uncle Amos, looking very threatening. He said something that I couldn’t hear, then he spat in my uncle’s face.
John turned to us all and yelled, “Are we going to stand here all night yammering with the likes of these mealymouthed fools, or are we going to see that justice is done?”
Uncle Amos wiped the spit from his face. I wished he would punch John right in the gob. “Justice? You call this justice?” he shouted.
Before he could say anything else, Longville turned and landed a punch on my uncle’s jaw. He fell backwards and crashed his head hard on the wooden sidewalk. He was flat out cold.
Lemuel ran and knelt beside him. “Someone get a doctor!” he yelled.
Poor Lem. In his panic he forgot Uncle Amos was the only doctor around. I admit I was feeling pretty scared myself because I saw some blood trickling onto the wood.
There was silence while everyone took in what Longville had done. It looked for a minute like people would turn around and go back to wherever they called home, whether it was a hotel or a shanty. This was too much for John and Max. They had worked hard to get this crowd on their side. They weren’t going to give up.
Max began shouting, “Let’s get a move on boys! There’s work to be done! We got to protect our town and our womenfolk. Are we cowards or men?”
Max got everyone moving toward violence again. They were even more riled up and excited than before. Simon Fish took a punch at whoever was beside him because it seemed like the thing to do. That man touched his torch to Simon’s hair, which started to burn. The smell was awful. Lucky for Simon, someone wearing work gloves patted it out.
John yelled, “Who’s with us?”
A loud shout rang out. “We are!”
By this time, Uncle Amos was struggling to get up. He tried once more. “Stop!” he cried. “Let’s not do this thing. Go home before you regret this evening for the rest of your li
ves.”
“Enough talk. It’s time for action!” John yelled.
“Hear, hear,” Max called out. “Action! We’re men of action.”
I guess Uncle Amos’s patience had just run out. He was still unsteady on his feet, but he was winding up to punch Longville, when Lemuel pulled him back. I wish he hadn’t done that. It would have been good to see Longville get what he deserved.
Mr. Shaw and Lemuel pushed Uncle Amos away from the crowd. Blood dripped down into his beard, and he dabbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched them go, then I snaked my way out of the crowd and ran down to Crooked Line to warn the Crouchers and their friends.
I’m a fairly good runner. The cold air filled my lungs, causing them to hurt, but once I went a few blocks, I found my rhythm and they didn’t bother me much. It was hard to see where I was going with my broken glasses. I was sort of crying because I was so mad at Lemuel. He should have hit Longville in revenge for Uncle Amos. John would have gone down like a poled ox. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against Lem. What was the use of being so strong and big if you didn’t stop bad people from doing wrong?
I reached the edge of town and headed down Crooked Line. I could barely see, it was such a dark night, but the snow-edged road at least kept me out of the swampy areas on either side.
All of a sudden I tripped and fell. I lay there and wondered what I was doing. What can I do? The thought rolled over in my mind. What can a small person like me do? What can I do? That was the first time I wished for a shotgun of my own. I would have scared anyone by firing it.
I got up when the sound of shouting reached me and saw light coming from another road leading to Crooked Line. I realized then that I was too late. The mob was almost upon the shantytown, and here I was, lying on the muddy earth daydreaming about shotguns. I felt such deep shame that my body burned under my coat. Though all seemed lost, I decided to try to warn Moses anyway. Maybe I could dart behind the rows of hay stooks until I reached his home.