Mendy gasped, “You mean the principal hates colored people? But isn’t he your pa’s friend?”
“So what?” Jeffrey said. “Pa don’t know he’s with the Klan. Only we know it.”
Mendy could see that Jeffrey looked as sad as she felt. She said, “Let’s go to the sheriff. This ought to be enough names to get him started arresting people. He’ll make sure nothing happens to Mr. Horton and Mrs. Roosevelt.”
“Hold on, Mend,” Jeffrey said. “Maybe we should think about what we’re doing. Mr. Poole, Mr. Connor—those are two of the biggest names in town.”
“There ain’t no time to think,” Mendy argued. “Mrs. Roosevelt’s coming in two more days. We need to tell the sheriff now.”
Jeffrey finally nodded. “But we can’t go to the sheriff together,” he said. “My pa will kill me if he finds out I’m with you. And besides that, it’d look mighty suspicious to folks if you and me went marching into the sheriff’s office together.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Mendy admitted. “But I want to be there to back you up. I know what. I noticed a big pile of crates stacked up behind the jail, right by the sheriff’s back window. I’ll climb up there and wait. You go into the sheriff’s office and try to get him alone. Then bring him over to the window. That way we can both talk to him and nobody’ll see us together.”
Jeffrey nodded. “It sounds crazy, Mend, but it just might work.”
“What’ll we say if the sheriff asks how we ended up on Jeb Connor’s land?”
Jeffrey thought a moment. “We can say that we was fishing out by the stream one evening, the part that runs on Miss Sis’s land. And your mare took off into the woods. While we was looking for her, we stumbled onto the men before they put on their robes and hoods.”
“You think he’ll believe us?”
“Let’s hope so.”
They split up, and Mendy sneaked around to the back of the jail. She climbed carefully up the shaky pile of crates and crouched on top, keeping her head just below the window. She could hear the sheriff moving around in his office. Then she heard the door open and shut. Surprised that Jeffrey had gotten there so fast, she peeped up into the window. Her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn’t Jeffrey who had just walked into the office, it was the deputy sheriff. Mendy didn’t know him that well—she didn’t even know his name—but she’d seen those shoes before.
CHAPTER 9
MORE BAD NEWS
The deputy talked louder than the sheriff did, but they both were keeping their voices low. Mendy strained to make out what they were saying. Her heart sounded like a drum in a parade.
“What you gon’ do about it?” she heard the deputy asking. His voice sounded tense.
“Why, buddy, I just decided to take my vacation next week. That way, when the boys hit the place with their fireworks on Tuesday, well, I’ll be on my holiday.”
Mendy could hear them laughing. She couldn’t believe it. The sheriff already knew about the bombing, and he wasn’t going to stop it. Mendy felt cold all over. The sheriff couldn’t let something like that happen, not to the wife of the former President of the United States. Could he?
Then she heard the deputy say, “You know what? You doing the right thing. Let me read this to you. Come right out of the Chattanooga News-Free Press:
“The Highlander Folk School has earned its bad reputation over the years as a result of its left-wing programs, the Communist taint of its leadership, and the disgraceful conduct of school leaders.” Mendy could hear the newspaper crackle as the deputy turned the page. “More recently, attention has been centered on the folk school because of its emphasis on forcing racial integration and the accompanying—uh—deteration—”
“Deterioration,” the sheriff interrupted.
“I got it,” the deputy said, sounding annoyed. Then he continued reading: “—of harmony and disruption of goodwill upon the South. It is a gathering place for leaders in agitation of racial issues. Dah, dah, dah. Mrs. Roosevelt’s name long has been linked with the school, she having been one of its early contributors and sponsors. Got any doubts now that we’re doing right? We gotta let folks stand up and fight for their country.”
Mendy couldn’t even swallow. She heard the door opening and peeked in again. It was Jeffrey. Mendy had to warn him. She stood higher on the crates and flung her hands in front of the window. Jeffrey didn’t even look. As a last resort, she whistled one of the bird signals they knew, and he glanced up toward her. But so did the others. Mendy ducked out of sight.
At that moment, the crates gave way. The splitting of the wooden slats echoed in her ears as she crashed to the ground.
Mendy could hear the deputy shouting, “What’s that little Negra girl doing up in the window spying?” Mendy heard them racing out the front door as she scrambled to get up. Thank goodness the jail had no back door.
Mendy jumped up and took off running as fast as she could. She hoped that Jeffrey had understood her warning. She frantically whispered the Twenty-third Psalm as she ran down Main Street and out of town.
Mendy didn’t stop running until she got home. Once she was in the yard, relief washed over her—but only for a second. Reverend Hatfield’s car was parked in the yard.
Could anything else go wrong? Mendy wondered as she stared at the Hatfield’s fancy blue Buick. She thought about hiding out at Aunt Sis’s until things blew over. But what if the sheriff figured out who she was and came looking for her? He’d give Mama a real bad time if she couldn’t tell him where Mendy was. No, she’d have to face the music, like Daddy always said. Mendy squared her shoulders and marched toward the house. A soldier stands up for what he believes in. How many times had Daddy told her that?
Mendy didn’t know why the Reverend Hatfield had shown up. But one thing was for sure: Mama would have asked him about Mendy. And once Mama found out that Mendy hadn’t gone to play with Brenda, she would be furious. Mendy took a deep breath, preparing to face Mama. But when she stepped through the door, her mouth fell open. Mama was sitting on the sofa, and she was crying. Mendy had never seen Mama cry before, and it made her hurt so bad inside she wanted to go get her own switch for the whipping. She had embarrassed Mama again.
“Mama,” Mendy said, coming into the room, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Sit down, Mendy,” her mama said. “I have something to tell you.”
Mendy sat down close to Mama on the couch. Mama was twisting a handkerchief in her hands. Suddenly the house seemed too still. “Where’s Li’l Ben?” Mendy asked, sensing now that something was seriously wrong.
“My wife took him home,” Reverend Hatfield answered in his Philadelphia accent. “How did your clothes get all messed up, young lady?”
Mama looked at the reverend. “She’s a mountain girl. She gets like that. It’s all right for her to get dirty sometimes.”
Mendy was speechless. Had Mama just defended her being a tomboy? Yes, something was wrong, something bigger than her not going to play with Brenda.
“Why you crying, Mama?” Mendy asked, wishing she didn’t have to know.
“Mendy, your daddy got sick in Chattanooga.”
“What?” Mendy said, too loudly. “Daddy is never sick.”
“People get sick,” Reverend Hatfield said. “Your daddy has a bad fever. Nobody knows for sure what it is. They had to take him to the hospital.”
“I want to see Daddy, Mama,” Mendy said. Tears slipped down her face. “I want to be with Daddy.”
“You can’t go, Mendy. Reverend Hatfield is going to drive me to Chattanooga. “You’re going to have to stay at the Hatfields’. I need you to take care of Li’l Ben for me.”
“I wish Grandma was here. She would heal Daddy—right, Mama? Isn’t that right? Grandma could heal anybody,” Mendy shouted.
Reverend Hatfield said, “Nobody can heal but God. It’s in God’s hands now.”
Mendy said, “God lets people have healing in their hands, too. Grandma taught
me that. Didn’t she, Mama?”
“Your grandma was a heathen, young lady. Only superstitious, uneducated people believe such things,” Reverend Hatfield said, shaking his head.
“Reverend!” Mama exclaimed. “Please, that’s her grandma you’re talking about.”
“Sister Thompson, I’m disappointed in you. You should be ashamed, allowing your daughter to hear that mumbo-jumbo nonsense. It’s sinning. The Devil will—”
“Reverend, that’s enough. You’re in my house,” Mama said. “Nobody calls my husband’s mother a heathen. Not even you. Please leave. I’ll come by your place and pick up my son. And then I’ll make do. Only a heathen would say such a thing to a child about her own grandma.”
“But, Sister—”
“I’d just like you to go.” Mendy’s mama stood up and opened the screen door. “I’ll be by soon to pick up Li’l Ben. We might be nothing but simple mountain folk, but at least we have common sense and manners. Thank you for coming by, Reverend.”
The reverend walked stiffly through the door. Mendy got up and hugged her mama. She couldn’t ever remember feeling so proud of Mama. “Everything will be all right, Mama. You’ll see. Li’l Ben and I can stay over at Aunt Sis’s house.”
Mama sat down on Grandma’s rocker and cried into her hands.
Mendy went to the bathroom and got a wet towel. “Here, Mama,” she said, wiping her mother’s face gently. “I love you, Mama. And you know what? I’m going to grow up to be a fine lady just like you want me to be.”
Her mama looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Mendy,” she said. “You’re already a fine young lady.” She hugged Mendy, and they both cried into each other’s shoulders.
Mendy helped her mama pack. They put Mama’s things into the only suitcase, since she was going on the train. Then Mendy got her things together along with Li’l Ben’s and put them in a large paper bag.
“Mendy,” Mama said when they were all packed, “I think maybe you should stay with one of the other church members. Aunt Sis’s house is barely big enough for her. And you know she gets touched in her mind sometimes.”
“Mama, I love Aunt Sis and she loves me. Besides, this way I’ll be close by to take care of Tandy and the chickens and the dogs. We’ll be fine. Li’l Ben and I can sleep on the floor on a pallet and pretend we’re camping out. Li’l Ben loves to do that. Remember?”
“Sure, honey. I remember.”
Mendy felt almost happy. Mama had called her “honey.” She usually only called Daddy and Clara “honey.” Mendy helped Mama pack a picnic lunch for the train, and they went to pick up Li’l Ben.
Reverend Hatfield was all huffy like a blowfish when they got there, but Mendy didn’t care. And Mama, she didn’t seem to care either.
By the time evening shadows were falling, Mama was on the train to Chattanooga, and Mendy and Li’l Ben were riding Tandy toward Aunt Sis’s. As they rode along, Mendy said a prayer for Daddy. Then she let herself think about the earlier events of the afternoon.
What had happened after she left the jail? Would the sheriff come looking for her? More important, what could she and Jeffrey do now to stop the Klan’s plans? There were only two days left before Mrs. Roosevelt’s speech. Mendy had no one to turn to. There was only one hope left, she realized, and that was for Jeffrey to tell his pa about the Klan. Maybe Jeffrey could manage to leave Mendy out of the story. Either way, though, his pa would believe Jeffrey, Mendy was sure.
Her worry eased a little. She knew Jeffrey. He would tell his pa. And Mr. Whitehall would do the right thing. Daddy always said Mr. Whitehall was a good man.
When Mendy and Li’l Ben reached the cabin, Aunt Sis was happy to see them and in her right mind. She gave them supper, and they all went to bed right after. Mendy hadn’t even realized how exhausted she was until she lay down on the pallet beside Li’l Ben. He hugged Mendy around the neck and fell off to sleep even before she did. It felt good to take care of him.
Mendy fell asleep praying that her daddy was fine. She hoped that Jeffrey was all right, too, and that he had talked to his pa. Mr. Whitehall would see to it that the Klan didn’t bother Mrs. Roosevelt. Mendy was sure of that.
CHAPTER 10
ALL ALONE
The next morning, Mendy set the table while Aunt Sis cooked grits. All through breakfast, Mendy kept glancing out the window to make sure the sheriff wasn’t coming.
Once the dishes were washed up and the kitchen floor swept, Aunt Sis handed Ben a tiny corncob pipe. “Here, Li’l Ben,” she said. “’Member how I showed you to blow bubbles out of here? Here’s some soap water. Go outside and play with it while I speak on your sister.”
Aunt Sis waited until Ben got settled out on the porch. Then she turned to Mendy. “Now,” she said, “what come of you and that boy?”
“What do you mean?” Mendy asked. She held her breath, hoping that word hadn’t gotten around about her being at the jail yesterday.
“I mean they’s saying you and that boy was holding hands in broad daylight. I ain’t got to tell you, some folks is riled up. Even the white folk that don’t usually mess with the coloreds is saying that’s the very thing they scared of. You young’uns know better’n be seen doing something like that, especially after what’s been going on in the woods yonder. You want to see your folks swinging from a tree?”
Mendy’s heart felt like a rock skipping across a stream. “We did no such thing,” she shouted. “They are lying about me. And him.”
“Lying ain’t no proper word to speak to your elder, young’un. I done heard the sheriff even saw you trying to get a peek at the boy through the jailhouse window.”
“Ma’am?” Mendy said. “The sheriff said that? You sure?”
“’Course I’m sure. Old Pete that drives the rolling store told me late yestiddy. Story is, that boy told the sheriff you was sweet on him and you wouldn’t quit following him around. He was coming to the sheriff to make you stop. But his pa said he’d take care of it.”
So that’s what Jeffrey had said to the sheriff. Well, good. That meant Jeffrey didn’t tell him what they knew about the Klan. And if Jeffrey’s pa said he’d take care of it, maybe that was a signal to let Mendy know that everything would be all right. Mr. Whitehall would find a way to stop the bombing, to warn Mr. Horton and Mrs. Roosevelt. Maybe he would talk to the sheriff in Monteagle.
Mendy felt at peace for the first time since she found the cigar. She’d been right: Jeffrey and his pa were taking care of the Klan and everything would be fine. Now she could concentrate on praying that Daddy would get well.
The next morning, though, Mendy woke up with a strange feeling inside. Something was wrong. She decided it wouldn’t hurt to find Jeffrey and make sure everything was taken care of. “Aunt Sis, I’ve got to go off for a little while and take care of the animals at home. Do you mind keeping an eye on Li’l Ben?” she asked.
“No, child. Me and Li’l Ben gwan’ be just fine.” Aunt Sis took Li’l Ben by the hand. “Come on, baby, I’ll give you some more soap water, and me and you can blow some bubbles in the corncob pipe. How ’bout that?”
Mendy mounted Tandy and headed toward home. When she got there, she tied Tandy up and quickly tended to the dogs and the chickens. Then she walked straight to Jeffrey’s house. His pa’s truck wasn’t there, but Jeffrey’s bike was around back. That’s where he kept it if he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Mendy left a note in their secret code under the rock near the clothesline. She asked Jeffrey to meet her at the hog trough on the far edge of his pa’s land. His pa rarely came out there except at hog-killing time. It was one of their safest meeting places.
Mendy threw some pebbles at Jeffrey’s bedroom window, hoping he was still in bed. Then she turned and ran as fast as she could. She didn’t want his ma to see her sneaking around.
Mendy sat under a tree downwind of the hogs and waited for Jeffrey Finally she saw him walking up the hill. He was walking real slow, his head hung down, his arms behind his back.
“I’ve got some bad news, Mend,” he said when he reached her. “Really bad.”
“Don’t worry, I know what you told the sheriff about me and I don’t mind. That was quick thinking. I’m just glad you didn’t tell them about the Klan. And I already figured out what your pa meant when he said he’d take care of it himself.”
“Mend, stop it. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jeffrey wouldn’t look at her.
Mendy felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “You didn’t tell your pa about the Klan?”
“I told my pa,” Jeffrey said. His head dropped lower. He still held his arms behind him.
“Well, that’s great. I figured you did. My daddy says your pa ain’t like the rest of them. Daddy always talks about how your pa was the only one who thanked him when he came back from the war—”
“Mend, shut up a minute and listen. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened in my whole life.”
Mendy sat still and waited for him to go on. Was his pa going to send him away for real?
“I talked to the sheriff about the Klan’s raid on the Highlander.”
“Oh, no! They’re in on it, Jeffrey. Why do you think I was giving you signals through the window?” Mendy stopped finally and paid attention to the look on Jeffrey’s face. “Wait a minute, they ain’t making trouble for your pa, are they?”
“No, Mend. In fact, the sheriff and his deputy told me about the raid. They thought I’d be happy about it.”
“Why would they think that?” Mendy said, frowning.
“Well, you know, I told them you was following me around. They thought I wanted them to get you off my back, and they said they’d be happy to oblige. They said your daddy’s been uppity ever since he came back from the war. They told me your daddy’s been going to them meetings up at the Highlander and hanging out with the whites like he was just as good as them. They said they was going to get your daddy one day, too.”
Circle of Fire (Mysteries through History) Page 8