Standing at the Scratch Line (69 page)

“You’ll be among the first to die!”

“You’re right,” Mace answered with a smile. “But I’ll die with you and Big Daddy.”

“Go sit in the car, Skip!” Big Daddy ordered. Skip stood for a moment, his face reddened with anger. Then he turned on his heel and walked away. After Skip had reluctantly returned to the vehicle, Big Daddy turned to Mace and said, “You’re a pretty brave man.” Big Daddy looked around at all the people in the streets. If it was possible, it seemed like the crowd was growing in size. “You appear to have the town behind you too.”

“We’re just law-abiding folk, Mr. Bolton,” Mace answered. He nodded toward the truck. “And we worked too hard to build this town to have Klan trash riding through, burning and killing innocent people.”

Big Daddy nodded. “None of us are really interested in death, so why don’t we find some appropriate solution to this problem? I think we can work this out between us, don’t you?”

Mace gave Big Daddy a long look before he responded, “What’s to work out?”

“I need to find out what happened to Frank and I think Booker may be able to provide some answers. Where is Booker? Why isn’t he out here?”

“He’s dead. A woman shot him this morning!”

“He’s dead?” Big Daddy asked with incredulity. “Why? How?”

“It seems a mother thought he was one of the men responsible for violating her daughter. It was unfortunate.”

“Did he do it?”

“From what little evidence we’ve been able to gather, it appears so. We haven’t had time to conduct a full investigation.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Clara Nesbitt, and the doctor has confirmed she was definitely violated.”

Big Daddy recognized the name. Something had gone wrong with Booker’s plan. The girl was supposed to be killed. Now Booker was dead and Frank and his two companions had disappeared. Big Daddy gave Mace an appraising look and wondered just how clever he really was. “Did the girl say how she escaped from Booker?” he asked in a casual tone.

“She said that four hooded men forced her car off the road early one morning last month. They were having their way with her when they were interrupted by some hunters from Johnsonville who were attempting to flush some quail. When they saw what was happening they fired shots over the heads of the four men, who escaped into the underbrush.”

“She wasn’t able to identify any of the men?”

“No, she couldn’t. The girl was pretty incoherent afterward but we were able to get one thing out of her and that was she didn’t see their faces because they wore the hoods. It appears the other three got away scot-free and Booker would have too if he hadn’t come back here.”

“How did her mother find out Booker was involved?”

“His horse had a notch in one shoe and its hoofprints were found all around the site and the girl tore off a piece of his jacket, which was found near where she had been violated.”

Big Daddy shook his head. This was the most disturbing part of Mace’s story. Booker was too smart to be on the scene. He wouldn’t make a foolish mistake like this, unless Frank forced him to be present. If that was the case, then it was the smartest move Frank ever made. He could not have found a better way to get rid of Booker. “Are you sure that Booker didn’t act alone?”

“The girl said there were at least four men in masks who attacked her.”

“She couldn’t tell whether they were white or colored?”

“It was dark. It happened so suddenly. She couldn’t identify their race.”

“Alright, Mace. You’ve answered my questions, but you may have an official visit from the county sheriff’s office to settle this case.” A gust of wind traveled the narrow corridor of Main Street and nearly blew Big Daddy’s Stetson off his head. He clutched at his hat and started to turn back toward his car when Mace’s words stopped him.

“If you’re saying that someone else is going to come through here later with a mob like that,” Mace indicated the truck with a gesture, “we’d rather get it over with now! No reason for us to sit around guessing when the Klan is going to come again.”

“You’re prepared to die?”

“Yes. If it means that the remainder of my life must be lived in fear, I’m ready to die now. I’m not leaving this town. This is my home and I plan to fight for it!”

Big Daddy looked at Mace and the determined expression on the younger man’s face tweaked Big Daddy’s memory. It reminded him of something or someone dimly seen through the veil of faded recollection. Despite himself, he admired Mace. The man demonstrated a level of courage and resolve that neither Frank nor Booker had ever shown. And if the townsfolk in the street were any indication, Mace was also a leader of men.

“What kind of guarantee are you looking for?” Big Daddy asked.

“You’re a politician, Mr. Bolton. You have a bright political future on the national scene. You have several controversial bills coming up before the legislature. You don’t need a race war in your backyard. If you give your word that there will be no more riding on our town, that’ll be enough.”

“My word? You trust me?”

“I have no other choice. I know you’re a decent man. Otherwise you would not have paid for college for me and Booker. I also know that you’re a crafty politician. You know there’s nothing to be gained by burning us to the ground.”

“Are you the next mayor of Bodie Wells?”

“Why? I don’t see what—”

“If you’re the next mayor of Bodie Wells, you have my word. Is that all?”

“One more thing, sir. There’s this watch. I know it belonged to your father. Booker’s dead, so I’m returning it.” Mace handed the gold watch to Big Daddy.

“I gave this to Booker’s mother,” Big Daddy said with a sad smile. He handed the watch back to Mace. “I have no other son, so I’m giving this to you now.” Big Daddy turned and walked away without a further word.

As the caravan pulled out of town, Skip said, “Don’t worry, Big Daddy, we’ll come back and burn that nigger warren to the ground!”

“No you won’t! You’ll leave them be. I don’t want the Klan riding on that town again!”

“What about Frank? What about Knute? They shot him in the arm!”

“He was a fool to fire in the first place. He’s lucky they didn’t kill him! As for Frank, God be with him wherever he is.”

Big Daddy watched the countryside as they drove over the road and thought that a well-maintained road was an investment in the future. People maintained roads because they planned to continue living in that locale. Then Big Daddy thought of the watch that his father had given him and he knew suddenly where he had seen the expression on Mace’s face. It was the same expression that Big Daddy’s father had when he was committed to doing something that others said couldn’t be done. Big Daddy almost chuckled. The watch was finally in the right hands.

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As the caravan pulled out of town, King released his grip on the machine gun and sat back. The tension and the anxiety of waiting began to dissipate. Despite the briskness of the weather, sweat dripped down his face. When Bass had been shot, King had been ready to pull the curtains back from the second-story window and release a fusillade of lead upon the caravan. Mace’s shouts had just barely caught his attention before he pulled the trigger, and thus the death of the men in the vehicles had been prevented.

Sounds of cheering erupted from the street below. The people of the town were celebrating. Hats were being thrown into the air. Mace’s name was being chanted by hundreds of voices. King was happy for Mace, but he did not participate in the revelry. He was disappointed. He had been mentally prepared and psyched up for a fight. It was a long anticlimactic fall for him emotionally. He took a deep breath and remembered the letter Dr. Stephens had given him.

He decided that he would remain where he was and read the letter. The envelope indicated that the contents were from Captain Mack. King tore open the envelope and read the barely legible scrawl.

January 15, 1921
Dear King,
    
I’m really surprised that I haven’t heard from you since I wrote you the first letter in December. I just hope that you and your new wife are alright. I’m sorry to be writing you with this news. The woman from New York, who said she was the mother of your child, was found last week in the swamp. She was out of her head delirious. Her body looked like it had been tortured and abused. It looks like the DuMonts took advantage of her and passed her around. The woman’s people are coming to get her in the next few days to carry her home. I hope she regains her senses. There was no sign of the baby.
    
I have put out feelers, trying to find out if anybody knows about the child, and had no success. Corlis sent me a message to mind my own business. So it looks like once again, he and the DuMonts are working together. If you decide to come back, you best be on your toes. There’s a trap waiting to slam shut on you. I’ll keep on searching for the child, but the baby may be already dead. It would be foolish for you to hope for anything different.
    
I know nothing will stop you from coming now, but it’s very dangerous. You got be very careful. Remember, Corlis has people watching us. Go to Pointdexter’s hunting cabin or Baptiste’s fishing dock. They’ll tell me when you arrive.
                                         

Martha and me, we pray for you, son.

King’s hands were trembling when he finished the letter. He had a child? It was almost too much to comprehend. He was a father and didn’t know it. Mamie had come all the way to New Orleans looking for him. What happened to the first letter? There was a tightness in his jaw and a grim expression on his face as he took the machine gun off its tripod. He stripped the weapon down mechanically, not thinking about anything but his child lost somewhere in the marshes and bogs surrounding New Orleans.

After his own father was killed, King had spent many a night wishing for a father who would take an interest in his affairs and be concerned about his welfare. Fatherhood was extremely important to him. His Uncle Jake had tried to fulfill that role for him until his death, but it wasn’t the same. His uncle already had sons and a family. Although there was never an inhospitable act, King always felt a bit like an outsider in his uncle’s house. The thought of a son renewed King’s desire to be the head of his own house. He wanted to see his blood flowing in the veins of strong and fearless sons, to see his seed thrive and pick up the gauntlet that he passed on, to carry it into the future.

On the way back to the store, King stopped and checked with Wilkerson to see if the first letter had ever arrived in Bodie Wells. To his chagrin, Wilkerson confirmed that the letter was delivered directly to the store. As King made his way slowly back to the store, the people were still celebrating in the streets. Why hadn’t Serena told him about the letter? Several giggling children ran past him. Without conscious decision, King turned to watch them. What did his child look like? More important, was the child still alive?

Serena was standing in the doorway when he got to the store. She rushed out to hug him, but he pushed her away.

There was a questioning look in his eyes. “Wilkerson said he gave you a letter for me over a month ago. How come you didn’t tell me about it?”

The look on Serena’s face said everything. She stammered, “I, uh, I . . .”

“Did you read my letter?” he asked with an edge in his voice. She nodded mutely, but her eyes were pleading with him. King exhaled and his lip tightened into a snarl. “I guess I really don’t know who you are, do I?”

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” she asked with concern in her eyes.

He did not answer, but simply gave her the letter and walked past her into the store. He went directly to the bedroom and began to pack his clothes.

Serena appeared at the bedroom door a few minutes later. “I didn’t know anything like this was going to happen,” she started to explain. “I was concerned—”

“I don’t have time for bullshit!” King interrupted. “Where’s the goddamn first letter?”

“Please, King! Please!”

“You best get the hell out of my face! Just give me my letter!”

Serena sagged visibly and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with the letter folded in her hands. She attempted to explain. “You were gone so long, I thought you had left me! I was so worried—”

“You didn’t have nothin’ to worry about! I married you, not her!” King stuck out his hand. “I’s havin’ a real hard time even talkin’ to you right now!”

“Oh, please, King! Please! I’m so sorry! Let me go with you, I’ll help you. Please, let me show you—”

King held the open palm of his hand in front of her face. “I don’t want to hear yo’ crap! I don’t want to hear yo’ words! Hell, I don’t even know if I can trust you! Just give me the damn letter!” King stalked over and snatched the letter out of her hand and then returned to his packing. He stopped for a minute to peruse the letter, then he turned to face Serena. “You read this letter, didn’t you? You know what lies between me and the DuMonts? They wasn’t gon’ give my child no gifts! What did you think they was gon’ do with him? What was you thinkin’? If’en you’d told me when I first got home, maybe I could’ve saved them both from hell! How could somethin’ you want be more important than a child’s life?

“I admit to puttin’ many a man in the grave, but they was men or made the decisions of a man. They was growed and took the consequences of losin’. But you a colder killer than me cause yo’ silence done put the shadow of death over my firstborn child! And that baby ain’t done a thing to you!”

Tears began trickling down Serena’s face. “I was wrong!” she wailed. “I was wrong! Please, don’t let it end like this! I’ll do anything! I’ll do anything!”

King threw the letter on the bed. “This letter say I had a son! I had a son! And thanks to you, the DuMonts have him!”

“Please stay with me. I’ll bear you another son! I’ll give you many children! Just let me make up for this!”

“Yeah, but do you think I’m gon’ forget about this one? I ain’t ever seen this child’s face, but I love him! I don’t even know where this feelin’ came from, but it spilled out of that letter powerful-like. It was full-growed when it touched air. All of sudden, I is a father and I feels it to the marrow of my bone. You think I can stay here with you while there’s a chance I can save this baby?”

“What about you and me?”

“Damned if I know! I can’t be thinkin’ about no you and me. This child is big on my mind!”

King’s words took the starch out of Serena. Her sobs racked her body.

King continued packing and soon he had three cases filled, which he gathered up before he left the room. “I got business in New Orleans and I ain’t promisin’ to come back to stay. You done tore a big hole in things!”

Sampson was standing on the staircase as King came to the top of the stairs. He saw the bags in King’s hands as King descended the stairs. Sampson gave King a questioning look. King did not respond, but continued toward the back door. Sampson thumped his chest and made a gesture, asking if he was going with King. King stopped. He hadn’t considered Sampson. Sampson thumped his chest again, repeating the gesture and the question.

King set down his bags. “I’ll send for you in a month. You stay with her until she is able to get some help in here. I’m goin’ to that warehouse in the swamp that we bought befo’ we left.”

Sampson shook his head and made a hand signal that meant he and King should go together.

“I want you with me,” King explained. “But I got to do the right thing. She gon’ need yo’ help for at least a month. After that, you can join me.”

Sampson dropped his eyes and walked away. His whole body showed the pain he was feeling.

King walked out the back door and did not look back.

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