Shadows of St. Louis

by Leslie DuBois

  Rebecca Jane squeezed Emma Lynn's arm in a sign of reassurance. Emma Lynn was so lost in her tears and her fears that she didn't even notice the car behind them.

  Rebecca Jane could see the entrance to Clarence's small shack. Another few steps and they would be safe. She could snuggle into his strong arms and feel safe, forgetting all about Frank Gibson.

  ***

  "Stop the car," Frank ordered just as Rebecca Jane and Emma Lynn entered a filthy, disease-ridden structure that the Negros called a house.

  Maxim pulled over and turned off the engine.

  "What are you going to do?" Bart asked.

  Frank lit a cigarette then stared at the match until it almost burned his fingers. After throwing the match outside the window, he pulled out his gun and said, "Drive."

  ***

  Rebecca Jane had just reached for the arms she'd longed for all day when the first gunshots rang through the building. Clarence pushed her down to the ground as screams filled the neighborhood.

  She saw Emma Lynn grab Jessie and cover his small body with her own. Tears filled Rebecca Jane's eyes as she realized that the shots most likely came from her no good former companion, Frank. This was her fault. If anyone got hurt from this shooting spree, she would only have herself to blame. Well, herself and her mother. It was her mother's fault that she was ever involved with the likes of Frank Gibson at all.

  The shooting seemed to last forever. The glass shattered. The screams in and out of the building filled the air. Clarence's arms tightened around her.

  When the shots finally subsided, Clarence released her and said, "Stay down. I'll make sure it's safe." He hopped up, grabbed a gun from the shelf and went outside.

  "Call the police!" someone cried.

  "Grab your guns. Protect your family," someone else cried.

  Staying low, Rebecca Jane crawled over to Emma Lynn and Jessie. "Are you all right?" she asked through her tears.

  Emma Lynn nodded numbly as she held on to Jessie. "What's going on? What happened?" Emma Lynn asked, her voice full of shock.

  "It was Frank. I know it was. I saw him following us here."

  Just then Rebecca Jane saw Cecilia clutching her chest. She removed her hand and blood dripped from it. Then her eyes rolled to the back of her head and then her body went limp. "Oh God," Rebecca Jane gasped. "She's been shot! Clarence! Clarence!"

  "Jane!" Clarence yelled, rushing back into the room. "Are you okay?"

  Rebecca Jane pointed to his sister lying in the corner. Clarence dropped his gun, gathered Cecilia in his arms and cried into her hair.

  "No! No! No!" Rebecca Jane cried as she pulled at her own hair. Why did he do this? It was her Frank wanted. How could he kill an innocent person like Cecilia? She was like the only mother Jesse had ever known and now she was dead. Dead because of Rebecca Jane.

  The room was near silent. The only sound was the sobbing of Clarence. The man she loved. The man that meant everything to her. She hated to see him in pain.

  "They're coming back!" someone outside shouted.

  Rebecca Jane heard the sound of a car screeching through the neighborhood. She looked down and saw Clarence's gun on the ground. Without thinking, she picked it up and pointed it out the window. She fired at the vehicle several times before she noticed in horror that it wasn't the right car.

  The Sirens

  Henry heard police sirens heading to the wrong side of town as he made his way to Emma Lynn's house. He wasn't sure at what time she wanted him to come, but he couldn't stay away any longer. He also really needed to know if there had been any repercussions in the Goodwin home due to his mother's visit.

  He hoped they would be able to share a bed together that night. Not in a sexual sense, but just share the bed as they had a couple of nights ago after Emma Lynn's injury. He would be perfectly content just holding her in his arms for the rest of the night. Besides, he wasn't even sure if he would be welcome back in his own home later. His mother promised to keep his intentions with Emma Lynn a secret, but he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted anymore. He was tired of the lies and the secrecy. He didn't care who knew he loved Emma Lynn. Unfortunately, his newfound strength and confidence would almost certainly result in him being permanently ostracized from his family. He didn't care though. As far as he was concerned, Emma Lynn was his family.

  A teenage boy holding a torch nearly ran Henry over as he crossed the street. "What's going on?" Henry asked.

  "You haven't heard?" the boy said. "The Negros shot and killed two white police officers driving through their neighborhood. A bunch of us are gathering to make sure they get justice. You wanna come?"

  Henry glanced down the street. He could almost see the Goodwin home from where he was standing. His Emma would be waiting for him. "Sorry, I have an appointment."

  "Suit yourself," the boy said with a shrug before running toward the colored part of town.

  Emma Lynn's cellar was dark. Was she already asleep? He tried her window, but apparently it had been fixed and wouldn’t open. He peered inside and saw that not only was her bed empty but most of her belongings were gone. She was gone.

  In a panic, he ran up the stairs to their back porch, bumping into Charles.

  "Henry, what are you doing here?" he asked.

  "I was supposed to meet Emma here. Where is she? Her stuff is all gone."

  Charles nodded guiltily. "Mother kicked her out. Rebecca Jane is currently taking her to Clarence's house for the night. I'm on my way there as well. I'll —"

  "Oh no."

  "What?"

  "There's been a shooting in that part of town. We have to go find her. She could be in danger."

  Henry followed as Charles immediately dropped his bag and ran down the stairs.

  ***

  Fires blazed and tortured screams penetrated the air when Charles and Henry arrived on Clarence's street. Mobs of white men gathered in the streets, some throwing bricks through windows, others lighting wooden houses on fire and still others cutting firemen's hoses so that there would be no rescue.

  Henry turned away as a group of five white boys dragged a black, bloodied body through the streets. One of the boys had a rope. Henry knew what was coming next.

  Charles picked up a stick and brick and said, "Follow me." Blending in with the angry crowd, Charles and Henry made their way down the street. He cut around to the back of the neighborhood and wove through houses, tents, and makeshift shelters. Suddenly a gun started firing. Henry immediately fell to the ground and covered his head.

  "Don't shoot. Don't shoot!" Charles yelled. "I’m Charles Goodwin. I just want my son."

  The shooting stopped. Henry and Charles stood slowly. When they tried to keep going, Charles stumbled.

  "Charles? Are you all right?"

  "I think. I think I've been shot," Charles replied.

  “Sit down,” Henry ordered as his medical training kicked in. Kneeling beside him, Henry tried to take stock of the situation. "Where were you hit?"

  "Thigh."

  Henry ripped off the sleeve of his shirt and wrapped it around the wound.

  "You were also hit in the head," Henry said shifting away part of Charles' blood soaked hair. "It's just a graze." He ripped off another part of his shirt and held it to Charles' head. "I know you're hurt, Charles, but we have to keep moving. We have to find Emma Lynn, Rebecca Jane, and Jesse."

  Charles twinged at the mention of his son's name. He must have found some reserve of inner strength and forced himself to stand up.

  "Follow me," he said, heading down a narrow pathway between houses.

  The door Charles tried to enter was locked and apparently barricaded. Even after Charles used his key the door wouldn't open. He tried to force it open with his shoulder, but it caused too much pain. That's when more shots were fired. Charles and Henry fell to the floor covering their heads.

  “Don’t shoot, please,” Henry called.

  From the ground, Charles pounded on the door. “Clarence, Cecili
a, it’s me Charles!”

  Henry heard furniture scrape against the floor as if the barricade was being moved.

  ***

  Emma Lynn thought she'd heard the voice of her beloved Henry, but she wouldn't let herself believe it until she could see him and feel his skin against hers.

  "Henry!" she cried, burying her face in his chest. "You came for me."

  "Of course, I came for you," he said.

  Emma Lynn tried to speak. She wanted to tell Henry how much she loved him, but she was beyond words. All she could do was cling to Henry as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tighter and tighter. Her ribs protested in pain, but she couldn’t let him go. "Are you all right?" she asked finally, stepping away and taking a good look at him for the first time. "You're bleeding."

  "No, I'm not. It's not my blood. It's Charles’."

  Emma Lynn gasped as she looked at her brother for the first time. "Help me get him inside."

  Henry helped Charles to his feet but said, "I don't think we should stay here, Emma Lynn. The mob is burning down the entire city. We need to get out of here."

  "And go where, Henry?" she asked.

  "We need to get to the other side of town. Maybe we can hide out at the Goodwin home until this blows over."

  A pale and shaking Rebecca Jane said, "No, I'll never go back there. I'd rather die here. Right here where Cecilia died."

  "Cecilia?" Charles groaned.

  "She's gone, Charles. Frank shot her. I know it was him," Rebecca Jane said. "I was angry and I fired back but it wasn't Frank in the second car. I think I did something. I think I — "

  Rebecca Jane broke down in tears. Clarence tried to comfort her but he was crying just as hard over his sister's death.

  "What's that smell?" Emma Lynn asked suddenly. She didn't really need to ask. She knew exactly what the smell was. It was the smell of burning. Burning wood and burning flesh. She knew Henry was right. They couldn't stay there. The fires were spreading and they were going to be burned alive if they didn't get out.

  She focused on the screaming in the streets. She wasn't sure what fate was worse. Being burned alive or beaten to death by an angry mob.

  Escape

  "Charles will not be able to move very quickly with his injury," Clarence said out of the blue. It was the first time he had spoken since he’d found his sister dead. Emma Lynn noticed how controlled he tried to make his voice sound. He forced himself to be strong, but he couldn't completely hide the pain in his eyes. "Henry, you get the women and Jesse to safety. I'll follow behind with Charles."

  "No!" Rebecca Jane yelled. "I'm not leaving you!" She threw her arms around Clarence and buried her face in his neck.

  Emma Lynn felt her fingers tighten around Henry's hand. The thought of being separated from Henry on this night made her stomach revolt in protest. She covered her mouth to hold in the bile that had risen. She couldn't imagine the pain Rebecca Jane was going through at this moment at the thought of leaving Clarence behind.

  "Maybe I should stay with Charles instead," Henry suggested. "It will be safer for the two of us."

  "No, please." Emma begged. "Please don't leave me, Henry." Logically, it did make sense for Henry to help Charles. They were both white, at least in appearance. They would be protected against the white mobs that were currently attacking them. But what about retaliation from the Negros trying to protect themselves? Charles had already been shot within the shantytown. No, none of them were safe. On this night, it didn't matter what shade of color their skin was. They were all in danger.

  "No," Clarence said firmly. "Henry, I need you to protect Rebecca Jane, Emma Lynn, and Jesse. My skin would be no help to them." There was a sadness in his voice. He sounded as if he knew this might be the last time he saw any of them.

  "What about you?" Rebecca Jane asked. "Who is going to protect you?"

  "I can take care of myself." He tried to reassure her. "Charles can't make it on his own. I will help him to safety. I'll be right behind you."

  Rebecca Jane knelt on the floor next to Charles. "Charles," she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  "It's all right, Becky. Please take care of my son."

  Rebecca Jane's body shook with sobs. Emma Lynn was too stunned to cry anymore. It was as if her entire body was numb from the events of the day, especially the last hour.

  "I won't let him out of my sight, Charles. I swear it," Emma Lynn said.

  Charles started pushing Rebecca Jane away.

  "No. Charles, Clarence, please no."

  Just then, a lit torch was thrown into the room, instantly setting everything ablaze.

  "Henry, go, now!" Clarence yelled.

  Emma Lynn picked up Jesse and headed for the door. Rebecca Jane hugged Clarence again and clung to him, refusing to let go.

  Clarence tried to push her away with one arm as he picked up her brother with his other. Clarence looked back at Cecilia's body on the floor in a pile of blood. Emma Lynn was sure he wanted to bring her along as well and give her a proper burial, but he couldn't. He couldn't help Charles and carry Cecilia at the same time.

  "Rebecca Jane, Please. It's for the best." He kissed her deeply. "I promise I'll see you again. I swear it."

  As the flames grew around them in the small apartment, Emma Lynn knew they wouldn't be able to wait any longer. She shot a pleading glance at Henry. It was as if he understood her with just one look. He wrapped an arm around Rebecca Jane's waist and pulled her toward the door.

  Clarence practically dragged Charles up and out of the house.

  Emma Lynn looked back at Charles and Clarence and instantly regretted having to see the image. Blood poured out of the wound in Charles’ leg. He winced with every step but forced himself to keep up with Clarence's quick pace.

  The flames grew as Emma Lynn, Rebecca Jane, Henry and Jesse maneuvered through the darkness toward the back door. By the time they reached it, Charles and Clarence were out of sight.

  Rejection

  "Where the hell are you going?" Elizabeth Goodwin asked her husband.

  George paused at the door. "A riot has started. Our children are out there. I'm going to be fine."

  "Our children are white. As long as they stay out of the way of the mob, they'll be fine."

  George stared at his wife in disbelief. "What about Emma Lynn? Will she be fine?"

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. How could she put this delicately so that her husband would understand? She didn't want him out there seeking after Negros. He was liable to get himself killed. Honestly, she was thankful Emma Lynn was nowhere near. The mob might burn down their house just because of her presence. It was better that she was with her own kind. Of course, she did hope Rebecca Jane and Charles were safe. She hoped they'd had the good sense to get to safety. "Emma Lynn is getting married. She's her husband's responsibility now."

  Turning back toward the door George said, "I'm going to find my children. Don't wait up for me." Then he was gone.

  Moments after her husband left, Elizabeth heard a banging at the back door. Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw Emma Lynn at the bottom of the stairs holding Charles' bastard Negro baby. Where were Charles and Rebecca Jane?

  ***

  "No one is home," Emma Lynn said as she came back down the stairs. Her voice seemed oddly detached and mechanical. Henry had no idea how the events of this night were effecting her. He hoped they didn't leave any permanent emotional scars. He planned on spending the rest of his life trying to make her life as perfect as possible.

  Henry looked up at the kitchen window and saw the curtain move. He knew someone was there. It was most likely Elizabeth Goodwin. How could she reject her own daughter like this? He wondered if she would open the door if he knocked on it with Rebecca Jane.

  His knees weakened. Carrying Rebecca Jane for the last three blocks suddenly weighed on him. She was completely hysterical when they left Clarence's house. When she finally fainted, Henry was forced to carry her or
leave her behind. It was pure adrenalin that gave him the strength to carry her in the first place.

  After setting Rebecca Jane down, he collapsed to the ground dejected. They had nowhere else to go and nowhere to hide. The city was burning and the mob was heading toward this side of town. They were sure to find Emma and Jesse and do unspeakable things to them. It didn't matter that they were a woman and child. He had seen the crazed look in the eyes of men and women driven by a mob. He had seen that look in his own brothers and father. Anything was possible and nothing was out of the question. He had failed his Emma.

  As the sound of the mob grew closer, Henry noticed a large vehicle barreling down the alleyway.

  "Henry, it's your truck," Emma Lynn said, grabbing his arm.

  How she could tell it was his truck from such a distance and in complete darkness was a mystery to him. But as the vehicle got closer, he saw that it was indeed the Wideman's Milk Truck. He stood up as the vehicle stopped in front of him.

  "Get in!" a voice yelled from inside.

  "Mother? What are you —"

  "Get in the truck. I'll explain later," she said.

  Henry opened the back latch and set Rebecca Jane inside before helping Jesse and Emma Lynn. Then he ran around to the front and hopped in next to his mother.

  "How do I get to a bridge from here?" she asked as she slammed on the gas pedal.

  "Make a left at the end of the alley. Mother, what is going on?"

  "John told your father and your brothers about you and the Negro girl. They're with the mob. They're on their way to find you."

  "Turn right on Clayton St." Henry interjected.

  "You left your keys on the table," she continued. "I had to come find you."

  "Why?"

  She looked at him strangely. "Because you're my son. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. That's all any mother wants for her children."

  Henry thought about the curtain he saw move in the window a few minutes ago and realized how that wasn't exactly true. Not in the case of Elizabeth Goodwin anyway.