“Yes, sir, Your Honor,” he sputtered.
The judge gave him stern directions to proceed to the prisoners’ holding area and escort the prisoners into the courtroom along with the missing bailiff.
When the bailiff left the courtroom, once again, it got real quiet with everyone halfway holding their breath.
The solicitor was sitting in his seat tapping his pencil on the table in frustration while he stared at the door where the prisoners should be coming through. The folks in the jury box were shuffling around in their seats, some of them leaning over and whispering to each other.
After a few moments the crowd in the courtroom began to get restless again and a low murmur of uncertainty and curiosity began to sweep through them, that is, until the judge rapped his gavel again and swept his stern gaze across the breadth of the courtroom.
Everyone’s attention became riveted to the side door when the bailiff who had just left the courtroom on the judge’s errand timidly eased the side door open and came back into the courtroom in a manner that indicated he didn’t really want to, with a pained expression on his face.
After a brief moment, Judge Garrison yelled, “Well?”
“They—they gone, Your Honor!” the bailiff stuttered.
It looked like the judge’s head was going to explode his face got so red. “Just who are you referring to as ‘gone,’ bailiff?” he shouted.
“The—the prisoners, Your Honor,” he replied in a voice just above a whisper.
The judge leaned toward him and demanded, “Speak up, man!”
“I said the two prisoners, Your Honor, they both gone!”
Mr. Pierce, the solicitor, leapt to his feet and shouted at the bailiff, “Where’s the other bailiff and the deputy?”
“They both back there in the holding area, sir,” he meekly replied.
Mr. Jackson just sat there at the defense table, still scribbling on a legal pad.
Now the judge was on his feet. “Well, what are they doing in the holding cell, bailiff?” he shouted out.
“They both just laying there on the floor all tied up, you honor.”
“Tied up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tied up with what? They need to be in this courtroom!”
“They tied up with the neckties the prisoners were wearing, your honor.”
Bedlam brook loose in the courtroom. The judge was banging his gavel, the solicitor was shaking his fist and yelling at Mr. Jackson, “This is all your fault, sir!”
The crowd was surging through the double doors leading from the courtroom while the judge kept beating his gavel and shouting, “Order, order in this court!”
Poudlum nudged me and asked, “What you think we ought to do?”
“Let’s go out to the truck and wait on Uncle Curvin,” I told him.
When we got outside the first thing we saw was the sheriff’s car come tearing around from behind the courthouse and take off down toward Coffeeville.
First a bank robbery, then a trial, and now a jailbreak. All right before Christmas. It was almost too much for the folks outside the courthouse to stand.
We hung around town with Uncle Curvin until well after sundown. A lot of people were milling around to see if they caught Frank and Jesse and brought them back to jail.
It began to get cold, I mean real cold. After all, it was only a few days before Christmas, and it was way past time for some cold weather to set in. Uncle Curvin pulled his old dungaree jacket out from behind the seat of his truck and slipped it on while he shivered and talked to folks still hanging around the parking lot of the courthouse.
Poudlum and I had only worn our light jackets so we got inside the cab of the truck and rolled up the windows. It wasn’t real warm, but it was better than being outside. “When you think Mister Curvin gon head on toward home?” Poudlum asked.
“I believe it won’t be long,” I told him. “Lots of folks done gone home and give up on Jesse and Frank being brought back in.”
“Dat was real sneaky de way dey got away,” Poudlum said.
“Yeah it was. You know where they heading, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh, dey probably heading to de Cypress Hole to pull dat money out of de water.”
“Naw, it’ll be too cold and dark for them to get it tonight.”
“Yeah, you is probably right, but what about tomorrow. Dey will probably get dat money and it’ll be gone forever. We should’ve tried to get it soon as you found dat arrow carved in dey black gum tree. Should’ve got it while de gettin’ was good.”
About that time the door of the truck opened and Uncle Curvin hobbled inside and closed the door. “You boys about ready to get on home? I don’t think nothing else is going to happen around here tonight.”
“Yes, sir, we ’bout freezing,” Poudlum said.
“Yep, it do seem like we a fixing to have us a cold snap,” Uncle Curvin said while he was cranking up the truck. “It’ll get warm in here once we get the motor running for a while.”
He put the gear in reverse and backed us out of our parking space. That’s when I noticed the first few drops of rain spattering on the windshield. The glass had some cracks in it and had faded around the edges with a milky-white tone, but I could definitely see fine rain flowing over the cracks and down onto the hood.
We were barely out of town when the first welcome warm air came blowing up from the floorboard to warm our cold feet and hands. Then the fine rain began to make a clicking and popping sound on the metal hood and the glass windshield.
My uncle turned on the windshield wipers and said, “I do believe we got some sleet coming down on us, boys. Doggone, I wish we had left earlier.”
It got heavier as we went along. Uncle Curvin kept pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the fog off the inside of the windshield, and a steady peppering sound permeated the cozy cab of the truck as the sleet got thicker and beat down on us with a sound like hard rain on dry leaves.
Pretty soon I was having a difficult time seeing the road through the windshield because the sleet was beginning to come down harder and thicker.
“I ain’t seen nothing like this in quite a spell,” my uncle said as he mopped the fog off the windshield in front of him.
“I can’t see nothing. Where is we Mister Curvin?” Poudlum asked.
“I can’t see too much myself, but I can tell we fixing to turn off the paved road onto Center Point Road, and it ain’t but seven or eight more miles to home.”
After we had crept along for about a mile Uncle Curvin rolled his window down. The damp, frigid air came rushing in while he stuck his head out the window and maneuvered the truck off on the side of the road. “I can’t see good enough to drive anymore, boys. Let’s just sit here for awhile and see if it’ll slack up.”
He rolled his window up, cut off the engine and the lights, and it immediately got colder in the truck. “I’ll crank the motor up every once in a while and warm us up,” he promised while Poudlum and I scrunched up close to each other. “Reach back there behind the seat and there’s an old army blanket. Pull it out and y’all can wrap up in it. It’ll keep you little fellers warm.”
The old blanket was rough and stiff, but it was a welcome buffer against the increasing cold after Poudlum and I spread it over us and tucked in the edges all around us.
“Y’all warm now?” Uncle Curvin asked.
“A little bit,” I told him. “But it’s still real cold.”
“I got to see what time it is,” Uncle Curvin said as he struck a wooden match so he could see his pocket watch.
When the flare of the match lit up the cab of the truck, Poudlum said, “I can see yo’ breath.”
“Huh?”
“Yo’ breath, I can see it when you breathes out. It’s all frosty and white. You knows it’s cold when you can see yo’ breat
h.”
We sat there and shivered in silence for a while. Then Poudlum said, “I think my nose gon fall off it’s so cold.”
“All right,” Uncle Curvin said. “I’ll crank up the engine and warm us up.”
Not long afterwards it got toasty warm in the truck. While the engine was running I noticed the little circle on the dashboard that was the gas gauge. The needle was just barely above the empty mark. After my uncle cut the engine off I asked him, “How much gas you think we got left?”
I could hear the concern in his voice when he replied, “Not nearly enough as we probably gonna need to get through this cold night.”
Chapter Fifteen
Stranded
If Uncle Curvin had had any teeth they would have been chattering like mine and Poudlum’s. The sleet kept pouring down and ice was beginning to accumulate around the windshield wipers.
“I’m going to start the motor one more time and warm us up a little, boys,” my uncle said. “But they ain’t enough gas to do it many more times.”
“You got any more of dem matches, Mister Curvin?” Poudlum asked.
“Uh-huh, I got plenty of matches, but they won’t keep us warm.”
“Dey would if we built us a fire,” Poudlum told him.
“We can’t build no fire, son, what with ice coming down like it is.”
“I knows a dry place nearby where we could get one going.”
Poudlum had my attention now. “What you talking about, Poudlum?”
“If we could use what gas we got left to make it to the Satilfa, we could get up under de bridge and build us a fire.”
Uncle Curvin straightened up in the seat and said, “Why that’s about the most sensible thing I heard all day, including everything they said in the courtroom.
“It’s gonna be a cold ride,” he said as he started the engine of the truck and rolled down his window. “I’ll have to hang out the window to see. Y’all just wrap up real tight in that blanket and we’ll see if we can make it to the bridge.”
There was a long downhill grade for about half of a mile before the road got to the Satilfa Creek Bridge. About halfway down it the old truck ran out of gas, sputtered and went dead. Uncle Curvin shifted the gear into neutral and said, “I think we can coast on down to the bridge. Y’all just hang on.”
The road leveled out and the truck coasted to a halt about a hundred yards from the bridge. Uncle Curvin rolled up his window and said, “We gonna have to walk the rest of the way. Y’all bring the blanket along with you.”
The sleet pelted us pretty good on the walk down to the bridge. When we got to it Uncle Curvin said, “I’ll hold the light to show us the way, you boys just follow me, and be careful ’cause it’s starting to get a little slick.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” I told him as Poudlum and I grabbed hold of each other while we climbed down the bank as Uncle Curvin lit the way. It was treacherous, but we made it by grabbing hold of small pine trees with our free hands.
It was cold and eerie when we got under the bridge. Everything was still and the only sounds were the swish of the creek as it went by and the peppering sound of the sleet on the bridge above us.
“If we get up in the secret place and build us a fire in it we can stay warm all night,” I whispered to Poudlum.
“Shore can,” he whispered back. “But yo’ brother ain’t gon be happy about us showing it to Mister Curvin.”
“Naw, I don’t think he’ll care. He’ll understand it was something we had to do.”
“What y’all a-whispering about?” Uncle Curvin demanded.
“We’ll show you,” I told him as I took his flashlight and pointed it up toward the secret place my brother had discovered. We struggled a bit, but we finally tumbled into the secret place.
Uncle Curvin took his flashlight back and cast the beam about inside it. “Good Lord!” he declared. “This is some kind of nice hidey hole. Why we can build us just a little fire in here and be as warm as if we was in your momma’s kitchen.
A few minutes later we had us a nice fire going with a large stack of fuel, enough to last us through the frozen night. The walls of the secret place trapped the heat and with the blanket we had brought from the truck the numbness began to disappear from my fingers and toes. It got warmer still, and I knew we were going to be all right.
Uncle Curvin took his jacket off, rolled it up and used it as a pillow as he stretched out. “I believe we gonna be all right boys, thanks to this here hidey hole of y’all’s. This storm will break and come tomorrow morning we’ll walk on out of here toward home.”
The warmth of the fire, the sound of the sleet peppering down on the bridge above us, and the cozy feeling of the secret place combined to put a real drowsy feeling on me. I glanced over toward Poudlum and saw his eyelids were getting heavy, too.
I added a few more pieces of fuel to the fire, and pretty soon I got so toasty warm in the hidey hole that Poudlum and I kicked off the blanket we had been sharing.
We made us a pillow out of it and stretched out like Uncle Curvin next to the warm embers and pretty soon I felt myself drifting off. It had been a long day, and even though I was in a strange place and sleeping on the hard ground instead of in my warm, comfortable bed, I still felt secure being there with Poudlum and Uncle Curvin, so sleep came easily and soon I fell into a deep sleep.
Just before dawn Poudlum shook me gently awake. “What’s the matter?” I asked, rubbing my eyes as I sat up.
“Shhh,” Poudlum whispered. “Be real quiet.”
“What is it?” I whispered back.
“Dey is somebody walking up on de bridge,” he said in a whisper.
“It ain’t even daylight yet. Who could it be?” I whispered.
“Who you think?” Poudlum answered in a low growl.
The sleet had turned to a soft drizzle, but through the soft sound of it I heard heavy footsteps on the wooden planks up above, and knew Poudlum was correct. It sounded like maybe two people.
“You think they can see our fire?”
“Naw, it ain’t nothing but hot coals covered with white ashes. We better wake up Mister Curvin, but be real quiet about it.”
The sound of steps on the bridge stopped, but then the rustle and scraping sound of them coming down the bank toward the creek started.
“Don’t wake him up yet,” I told Poudlum. “Let’s make sure who it is first.”
“You know it’s gonna be Jesse and Frank,” Poudlum responded.
“Well, let’s just make sure.”
We both eased up and peeked over the wall of the secret place and in the pre-dawn dimness we both recognized the faint outlines of Jesse and Frank as they reached the creek bank just below the bridge and across the creek from us. We continued to observe until they disappeared into the woods heading up the creek toward the Cypress Hole.
“Dey going to get de money!” Poudlum hissed. “We ought to got it ourselves when we had de chance!”
I knew Poudlum was probably right, but I also knew we had to get up on the road and get gone because they had surely seen Uncle Curvin’s truck and suspected we were somewhere close by.
I figured they were probably out of hearing distance by now, especially with the sound of the drizzle, so I moved over close to Uncle Curvin and slowly shook his shoulder until he roused up.
He snorted and wheezed just before I leaned down and whispered into his ear and said, “Uncle Curvin, you need to wake up. Them bank robbers are just up the creek from us!”
“Are you dreaming, boy, or am I?” he said from a prone position.
“Neither one, we got to get up and get out of here while we can!”
“You seen ’em?”
“Yes, sir. Poudlum heard them up on the bridge and woke me up. Then we watched them climb down the bank and head up the creek toward the Cypress
Hole.”
Uncle Curvin sat up slowly and said, “I can’t move too fast. Besides being cripple, I’m cold and stiff from sleeping on this hard ground. Maybe you boys ought to light out and leave me here.”
“No, sir, Mister Curvin,” Poudlum piped up. “We can’t leave you here by yo’self.”
He sat up and scooted over a little closer to the bed of ashes, which still had some hot coals radiating heat. “Listen, boys, by the time y’all pulled me out of this warm hidey hole and helped me up to the bank it would probably be broad daylight. I’ll be fine here. The thing to do is for y’all to scamper on out of here real quiet-like and go get us some help. Y’all can leave that blanket with me, though.”
It didn’t take Poudlum and me but a few moments to realize he was right.
“All right,” I told him. “You just stay low in here. Me and Poudlum will get up on the road and run all the way to Uncle Curtis’s house and wake him up. He’ll know what to do.”
“Uh, before you go, boys, what do y’all think the bank robbers are doing here on the creek. I would have thought they would have been clean out of the county by now.”
Poudlum looked at me and said, “Might as well tell him.”
I knew Poudlum was right. It was too late to be keeping secrets now. “They come back to get the money,” I told him.
“Huh?”
“Yes, sir, we think they got the money sunk up there in the Cypress Hole.”
“Well now why in the world would y’all think something like that?”
“Tell him real quick,” Poudlum said. “Then we gots to get on outta here.”
After I quickly told my uncle the whole story culminating when we had found the arrow carved into the black gum tree, he said, “Lord, have mercy! You boys should have done told me about all that. In fact, y’all should have been testifying in court!’
“We wuz scared, Mister Curvin. Plus, we wuz after dat reward money,” Poudlum told him.
Secret of the Satilfa Page 12