Circle of Fire (Mysteries through History)
Page 10
Mendy hid herself in the bushes nearby, holding the end of the rope loosely in her hand. While she waited, she thought about Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt and tried to keep her mind off the Klan. Grandma had told her many times, ain’t no reason for a sane person to think about evil more than they think about good. And Mendy Anna Thompson was as sane as they come.
As Mendy waited patiently for the light of morning to filter through the trees, she began to doze. The rope slowly dropped from her closed fist. Mendy dreamed of Mr. Hare.
A rustle in the bushes startled Mendy awake. She grabbed the rope and strained to listen. Probably just a coon snacking on berries, she thought.
Then Mendy heard a thud. She twisted her body slowly in the direction of the sound, careful not to make any noise herself. Shadows pranced in and out among the trees. Mendy knew they might be merely the shadows of dawn playing tricks. She listened, fighting to slow her breathing. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest.
Then she heard it: something moving steadily through the trees. Mend’s daddy had taught her to distinguish the sounds of animals, birds, and people in the woods. There was no doubt, this was not an animal or a bird. These were footfalls on leaves—a person. Someone had avoided the other traps. Whoever it was, he was not limping but walking steady.
Mendy wrapped the rope around her hand and grasped it tightly. She waited.
The person moved swiftly through the woods, coming from the direction Mendy knew he’d have to come from. Whoever it was, to have gotten this far he must be either a good hunter or plain lucky.
The footsteps came closer. Mendy held her breath, prepared to pull the rope across the path if she needed to. Suddenly Mendy heard someone whispering her name. “Mend. Mend. I know you’re in here.” It was Jeffrey.
Jeffrey. Of course. Mendy was angry and relieved at the same time. He knew her traps, her secrets. She’d taught him all of them but the secret of the briar traps.
“Where are you?” Jeffrey asked.
Mendy could see him turning around, looking for her. “Don’t be mad, Mend. Aunt Sis told me she thought you came here to try to stop the Klan.”
Mendy hissed, “I want you to leave now.”
“I came to help you,” Jeffrey said. “What I said yesterday was wrong, Mend. I’m sorry.” He took a step forward on the trail.
“Stop. Stop right there, Jeffrey.” One more step and he might trip on the first set of ropes.
Jeffrey stood still. “Where are you?” he asked again.
Just then a crash and swearing sounded through the woods. Someone had hit a trap farther back on the trail. It sounded like the steel fox trap.
Mendy squeezed out of her hiding place. She jumped up and whispered to Jeffrey, “Follow me. Be careful. There might be more than one of ’em.” They hurried back along the trail and scrambled up the bluff.
Then Mendy saw it—a rifle lying on the trail. A few feet from it, halfway in the bushes, was a man. He was on his side, tugging frantically at the steel trap on his ankle. Blood stained his pants leg. Mendy could see he’d hit the trap, but he must have come down in an awkward position or hit a sharp rock. His ankle looked broken.
When he caught sight of Mendy, he tried to drag himself over to the rifle, the trap still clamped on his ankle. “I’ll kill you, you little nigger,” he said. His face twisted as he struggled to reach the rifle. His fingers splayed out, and beads of sweat poured from his reddened face. “Just you wait, nigger.”
Jeffrey shouted, “Don’t you ever call her that.” He dove for the rifle.
Mendy heard the snap of a trap closing on Jeffrey’s hand. Her body jerked involuntarily.
Mendy ran to Jeffrey and pulled with all her strength to release the trap. Jeffrey yanked his hand free with a groan and cradled it in his other hand.
In that second, Mendy spotted two things out of the corner of her eye—the glint of a big silver ring with a triangle-shaped stone, and the barrel of a rifle in mid-air.
“Get ready to die, nigger,” the man growled. He had managed to stand, and he was lifting the rifle awkwardly to his chin to aim.
Mendy moved her hand to the hilt of the hunting knife at her belt. She knew she couldn’t throw it at him. She just couldn’t throw a knife directly at a person. But maybe if she threw it hard toward the tree to his right, he’d flinch just enough for her to get away She gripped the hilt as he raised his rifle.
Mendy could see the man grimacing, sweat running down into his eyes. He shook his huge head like a dog, squinting as beads of water rolled down. It was her chance. She whipped the knife from her belt and threw it straight at the tree. The knife pounded the target and dropped to the ground.
The man with the rifle had flinched as she’d expected. But then the exertion and pain must have doubled him over, and he dropped the rifle.
Mendy knew she should run, but before she could move, Mr. Whitehall—Jeffrey’s pa—stepped out onto the trail and stood next to the slumped-over man. Mendy stood very still, barely breathing. His shotgun was aimed directly at her.
“Pa,” Jeffrey said, sniffling, tears running down his face. “That man was gonna shoot Mend.”
“Be quiet, son,” Mr. Whitehall said. “Don’t nobody make a move.”
Mendy’s heart pounded furiously.
“Who hurt you, son?” Mr. Whitehall asked.
Jeffrey grimaced, but he didn’t say anything.
“Did you hear me? Who did this?” his father demanded.
“I did it,” Jeffrey said. “I set the trap and forgot where I put it.”
Mendy shook all over. She was surprised to hear her own voice. “I did it. I didn’t mean it for Jeffrey, sir,” she said. “It was meant for the Klan.” As she spoke, she realized those might be the last words she’d ever say. And the only thought that came floating to her mind was that she hoped—with all her heart—that God would forgive these men.
Mr. Whitehall shouted again, “I said don’t move, dadgummit.”
Mendy froze, trying to stop trembling.
“Lower your weapon, or I’m going to blow your stinking head off,” Mr. Whitehall growled. His eyes seemed to look right at Mendy, but she had no weapon. “Now! Do it now,” Mr. Whitehall said. “And get out from behind that tree.”
Mendy heard movement behind her, heard a rough voice mutter, “All right, all right.”
She was too scared to look around. She glanced over at Jeffrey, who had sunk to the ground and was now gazing past Mendy.
“You nigger-lovers gonna get it when the rest of our brothers get here,” the man behind her said. Mendy recognized Mr. Benefield’s voice. His hatred cut into her heart like a knife.
“Well, you’re wrong,” Mr. Whitehall said. “Throw that gun down and kick it over toward me. Benefield, the only brothers you’ll see will be on the chain gang. Nobody’s coming for you but the sheriff.”
Jeffrey yelled, “Pa, the sheriff’s in on it.”
“It’s all right, son,” Mr. Whitehall said, never taking his eyes from Mr. Benefield and picking up the rifle. “I’ve got the sheriff from Memphis on his way here.”
“Where’s the rest of the Klan, Pa?” Jeffrey asked.
“Ain’t no others coming, son. Now, Mendy, see if you can help Jeffrey up and take him with you to Highlander’s main house. Somebody’s waiting for the sheriff up there. Just tell the sheriff where the rest of your traps are, Mendy. You two wait up at the school for me. See if somebody can’t take care of your hand, son.”
Mendy helped Jeffrey up. She said, “Thank you, Mr. Whitehall.” And then she whispered, “Thank you, too, Jeffrey.”
Mendy wrapped her arms around Jeffrey’s waist and helped him along the trail. When they reached the yard near Highlander’s main house, a man came running out to meet them. He grabbed Jeffrey and directed Mendy to the sheriff and two deputies. Mendy told the sheriff where to find Mr. Whitehall and the Klansmen and warned him about the remaining traps. She watched him and his men set off through the woods.
Jeffrey’s face was full of confusion. “But, Pa, I don’t understand what happened. Are you a part of the Klan?”
Mendy didn’t know if she could stand this. She got up to move away.
“Wait, Mendy,” Mr. Whitehall said, “I want to talk to you, too.”
Mendy sat back down, still refusing to look into Mr. Whitehall’s blue eyes.
“Mendy that was a brave thing you did,” Mr. Whitehall said. “I’m proud of you both. No, Jeffrey, I ain’t a member of the Klan. I’ve been pretending to be in order to get information to help stop them. In fact, that’s why the other Klarismen ain’t here—last night I told them that the FBI knew about their plan to bomb Highlander. Of course, they don’t know it was me who told the FBI.” Mr. Whitehall smiled grimly.
“But I couldn’t find those two men last night,” he continued, jerking his thumb back toward the woods. “I didn’t think they’d carry out the raid, just the two of them. But then last night I heard you sneaking out, Jeffrey, with a horse, and I was so afraid that somehow the Klan had gotten to you. They’re good at filling young people with their poison. I should have known you better.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Anyway, Jeffrey, I saw you was heading toward Monteagle, and I followed you in my truck. If you hadn’t come out to these woods to help Mendy, I wouldn’t have gotten here in time to stop those two men.
“And, Mendy,” Mr. Whitehall went on, “I had no idea you were such a fine trapper. Jeffrey always talked about how you can trap as good as a man, and now I guess I’ll have to agree with him. You did a brave thing. And it mattered more than you know. Turns out those two men weren’t just going to bomb the school. If they’d missed getting Mrs. Roosevelt that way, they planned to shoot her on her way to the airport tonight. You saved her life, young woman.”
Mendy looked into his eyes and smiled.
Jeffrey’s pa had someone drop Mendy off at Aunt Sis’s place, and someone else drove Tandy home with the dray. Aunt Sis had good news for Mendy Uncle Steven had stopped by to say Mendy’s daddy was doing better and he and Mama would be home in a few days. Mendy cried with relief. She explained to Aunt Sis what had happened in the woods. Aunt Sis said she was truly proud of Mendy. Then Mendy got cleaned up, lay down on her pallet, and slept. A few hours later, Mr. Whitehall came by to pick her up.
Soon Mendy was standing on the front lawn of the Highlander Folk School beside Jeffrey and his father, waiting for Mrs. Roosevelt to speak. There were sixty or more people out on the lawn, coloreds and whites, milling around, chatting, some even hugging one another. Mr. Myles Horton was on the porch, seated behind a table, along with some other people. They had decided to let Mrs. Roosevelt speak from the porch, where she would be more protected.
Mendy was so excited and nervous that she wasn’t talking at all. When Mrs. Roosevelt came out on the porch and stood at the microphone, wearing a simple dress much like Mendy’s mama’s dresses and a tiny hat that looked sort of like a turtle, Mendy just wanted to shout.
She listened to every single word Mrs. Roosevelt said. But most of all, she loved it when Mrs. Roosevelt said, “It is wonderful to meet here as people—not as white people and colored people, but just people.”
After Mrs. Roosevelt finished her speech, Jeffrey’s father had a surprise for Mendy. He led Mendy right up to Mrs. Roosevelt and said, “Here is the young woman I told you about. She is as brave as you are, Mrs. Roosevelt. My son tells me her middle name is Anna, after you.”
Mendy glanced over at Jeffrey, remembering how she’d imagined herself, Grandma, and Anna Eleanor Roosevelt riding on the backs of elephants together at the Taj Mahal.
Jeffrey smiled back at Mendy and squeezed her shoulder.
“I am so honored to meet you, young lady,” Mrs. Roosevelt said, grasping Mendy’s hand in both of hers. “Miss Mendy Anna Thompson, thank you for saving my life.” Then she gave Mendy a warm hug and added, “Yes, my dear friend, I’m honored to meet such a brave young woman.”
It was a moment Mendy would never forget.
1958
GOING BACK IN TIME
LOOKING BACK: 1958
Although Mendy and Jeffrey are fictional, Circle of Fire is based on a real incident. Eleanor Roosevelt planned to speak at the Highlander Folk School in Monteagle, Tennessee, on June 17, 1958, to a mixed audience of blacks and whites. Local Ku Klux Klan members, however, despised Highlander and Mrs. Roosevelt for their stand against racism and wanted to disrupt her visit. Some Klansmen even plotted to blow up the school.
The Monteagle sheriff knew about the plot, but like many Southerners in the 1950s, he shared the Klan’s beliefs. He told the Klan members he would not stop them from carrying out their plot.
Unknown to the Klan, an FBI informant was attending their meetings and reporting their plans to the FBI, just as Jeffrey’s father does in the story The FBI warned the sheriff that he had to protect Mrs. Roosevelt and the Highlander School. When Klan leaders learned that the FBI knew what was going on, they must have dropped their plans, for Mrs. Roosevelt’s speech took place without disruption.
In Circle of Fire, the author imagines what might have happened if two young people had learned of the Klan’s plot and tried to foil it. Although the story is fiction, many of the situations Mendy faces were a real part of life in the rural South.
Like most southern towns in the 1950s, Cowan was segregated, or racially divided—not only by custom but by law. Race laws, called Jim Crow laws, forbade African Americans to eat at the same restaurants as white people, use the same waiting rooms, live in the same neighborhoods, hold the same jobs, or go to the same schools. Marriage between the races was outlawed, and many people believed it was wrong for a black girl of Mendy’s age to be friends with a white boy.
In the mid-1950s, African Americans began to challenge the Jim Crow laws. Black leaders said it wasn’t right that black children’s schools were short of books and teachers while white schools had plenty. It wasn’t right that black people were made to stand in the back of a bus while whites sat in the front. Some of these legal challenges went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, and during the 1950s and 1960s, the race laws came to an end.
Changing people’s actions and beliefs, however, proved even harder than changing the laws. Some white people who opposed equal rights for blacks joined the Ku Klux Klan, a group founded after the Civil War. Klan members used violence to silence black people and their supporters. As Mendy discovers, Klan members met secretly at night, wearing white robes and hoods to hide their identity. At these meetings, they planned raids to beat people up, burn crosses in front of homes or black churches, plant bombs, or even commit murder. Often, town authorities knew about the Klan’s activities, but they looked the other way and didn’t press charges. Sometimes they even took part in Klan raids themselves.
Not all white people shared the Klan’s views, but very few stood up against the Klan. Like Mendy’s and Jeffrey’s mothers, they knew that actions which drew the Klan’s attention could be dangerous. A few brave people did work to stop the Klan. Some, like Jeffrey’s father in the story, secretly reported on the Klan to the FBI.
Myles Horton took another approach. He believed education was the best way to change people’s views, so he founded the Highlander Folk School for adults of all races in 1932. At first Highlander focused on helping miners and other workers improve their working conditions. By the 1950s, the school was one of the few places in the nation where people could study ways of improving race relations. Horton hired a black woman to organize the school’s workshops—a bold step at the time.
At Highlander, blacks and whites came together to discuss problems, share experiences, and just plain get to know each other. One of the most importa
nt things people learned at Highlander was how to stand up for their rights peacefully but effectively. Black civil rights leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr., and Andrew Young attended the school. So did Rosa Parks, a young black woman whose refusal to move to the back of a bus in Montgomery Alabama, launched the civil rights movement in 1955—only a few months after she had studied at Highlander.
Simply visiting the school could be risky, especially for blacks. But Highlander had a powerful supporter: former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt.
Mrs. Roosevelt, widow of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, believed strongly that all Americans deserved equal rights. She spoke and wrote eloquently in support of African Americans, and she showed her beliefs by her actions. The incident that Mendy’s father describes from his army days, for example, when Mrs. Roosevelt shared a black soldier’s ice cream cone, is true. In the 1950s, racism ran so deep that the idea of a white person sharing a black person’s food seemed unthinkable, so when the former First Lady herself performed this small act, it had a powerful effect. Such actions earned Mrs. Roosevelt enormous respect among African Americans.
The fight against segregation was not popular in 1958, especially in the South, but the support of someone as famous and respected as Eleanor Roosevelt made people reconsider the issue—exactly what the Klan and their sympathizers were afraid of.
Although the Klan did not stop Mrs. Roosevelt’s speech, a year later the state of Tennessee shut down the Highlander School, hoping to end its influence. But Myles Horton knew that his work was too important to give up, and he later reopened the school in Knoxville, Tennessee. Although the Highlander School is not widely known, it had a profound effect on race relations and civil rights in the United States. In 1982, Highlander was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize for its historic role in educating people about human rights.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
We all owe our gratitude to the people of the Highlander Research and Education Center (formerly the Highlander Folk School) for their continued tireless effort on behalf of every citizen of the United States. In addition, I owe a large debt to the Highlander librarian, Juanita Householder, and other Highlander staff.