Читать книгу Unconquered - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 10

Western Pennsylvania

The rushing water rippled over the stones and bubbled toward a large pool forming in the bend of the stream. The limbs of a large willow tree sloshed up and down as the current rhythmically nudged them. Even though the sun had been up for over two hours, a haze of misty fog hovered in the heights of the nearby hills. It was a beautiful morning.

Downstream where the water rushed from the pool and across another shallow run, a short, stout man with bare feet and trouser legs rolled up, gently reeled in his fishing line a soft tug at a time. After retrieving it, he pulled the brim of his hat down on his forehead keeping the glaring sun out of his eyes, then adjusted his glasses and made another cast out into the rapids.

Knee-deep in the stream, the man chewing a large wad of tobacco mumbled to himself, “You’re gonna get caught this morning, Big Daddy, and I bet you’ll weigh might near ten pounds, if you weigh an ounce.”

Studying the water across the way, he continued, “If you’re not under that ole willow branch, then you’ll probably be over near that big boulder, but I’m gonna get you. I hung you a few years back and let you get away, but no more.”

“Papa, say you’re gonna catch him? How many times have I heard you say that? I bet a hundred,” came a voice from far up on the bank.

“You heard me right daughter and when I do, I’m gonna carry him all over town and show him off. You just wait and see. Those folks down there will know that ole Doc Caulder can do more than just dish out the medicine.”

Lamar Caulder was indeed more than a rural medical doctor. Although he had finished at the top of his class, he chose not to practice in the larger cities where his potential for financial success was practically guaranteed. Instead, he moved to the rural western part of Pennsylvania where he was needed. Even in the small town of Gettysburg, he had earned the reputation of being an excellent doctor and his surgical skills were unsurpassed. People would come from hundreds of miles away when surgery was needed.

No sooner had he finished speaking, when he leaned forward to make another cast, stepped on a slippery stone, and lost his balance. In an attempt to steady himself, he took several awkward steps but fell headfirst into the water. Drenched and his hat disappearing downstream, he regained his balance and then just sat there in disgust.

His daughter, Lucretia, couldn’t help but laugh. “Papa, are you trying to scare the fish to death or are you just trying to baptize yourself? You know we’re Methodist, don’t you?”

Refusing to face his daughter, Doc Caulder remained in his sitting position. “Daughter, you better not tell anybody about what I just did to myself. I just stepped on a slippery rock. Anybody could have done it. Now run down there and get my hat before it gets in that deeper water.”

Lucretia closed the book she had been reading and after retrieving his hat, edged her way down the stream and extended her hand to her father.

Dripping wet, Doc Caulder, with the help of Lucretia, crawled up the creek bank to their blanket.

“Here Papa, wrap up for a spell,” Lucretia said placing the blanket around his shoulders. “It won’t take long to dry you out and at least your shoes and socks are dry, and I won’t tell a soul about what happened to you, except maybe Mother.”

Wiping the water from his eyes and straightening the few hairs that he kept neatly combed across his balding head, he exclaimed. “You better not tell her. She doesn’t much like me going fishing, anyway. She thinks I’m getting too old. That’s why she wants you to go with me, to keep an eye on me.”

Lucretia pulled the blanket closer around his neck and with a tight hug replied, “Mother doesn’t make me go. I love spending time with you. And you certainly can be entertaining,” Lucretia replied with a smile.

At that moment a brisk wind above ruffled the treetops enough to let a glint of sunlight filter to the ground where Lucretia was sitting. As its rays illuminated the rock and sparkled through her hair, Doc Caulder realized what a beautiful woman Lucretia had become. She stood a little over five feet tall with curly blond hair and large emerald eyes that glowed with warmth and excitement. She normally carried a smile on her face and her quick humor made her presence a joy.

“Father, you sure do have a strange look on your face. Is something wrong with me?”

“Wrong. Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s just the opposite. You ought to be married by now,” he said.

“Married,” she replied. “I’m only seventeen and who do you think I should marry?”

Doc Caulder reached in his pocket, pulled out a twist of tobacco and after biting off a wad continued, “You’re going on eighteen and your mother feels that Robert would make a fine husband for you. He’s smart as a whip, well mannered and, I must say, he’s going to make one fine surgeon. No telling where that young man will end up. He’s far ahead of where I was when I was his age, and you know the ladies around here think he’s kinda handsome too.”

Robert Townsley had finished at the top of his class in medical school and instead of remaining on the east coast for his apprenticeship, he choose to study under Doctor Caulder whose reputation was well known throughout the medical circle.

Surprised at his remarks, Lucretia exclaimed, “What you’re saying is that Robert has a promising future and would be a good provider for me. What about love? You didn’t mention that, Father.”

Seeing that he had upset his daughter, Doc Caulder squirmed uneasily under his blanket and muttered, “You know you need to love the person you plan to spend your lifetime with. What I meant is that if you two do fall in love, then it would be fine with me.”

Lucretia, with a twinkle in her eyes, replied, “I’m glad to hear that, because Mother and I had the same conversation the other day. Only difference is that she says that with all that he has to offer, that if I don’t love him right now, I would probably grow to love him with time. Kind of like what happened between you two.”

“Like what happened between me and your mother!” her father stammered slinging his blanket. “Did she actually say that she learned to love me?”

“Well, in a way she kinda insinuated that.”

“Well let me set you straight right now, Miss Lucretia Caulder. I was in my senior year at college and we were having our spring ball. The orchestra was playing and the young men all dressed in their best were twirling the girls around and around on the dance floor. Being a little bashful, I was over near the punch bowl, when all of a sudden the door opened and the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen in my life appeared. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she removed her wrap and then looked around the room as if she were unescorted.”

“What did you do Papa?” Lucretia asked, moving closer to her father.

“Well, I dropped my glass like a fool, got up the nerve and hurried over there as fast as these little short legs could carry me. Several other boys had the same idea, but I got there first, introduced myself and had her on the dance floor before she had time to say no.”

“Could she dance well?”

“No matter how tired I became, I stayed on the floor with her and wouldn’t allow anyone to break in on us. Finally she asked me if I would care to escort her outside to the terrace to get some fresh air. Well, we walked a spell and talked a lot and the whole time I was thinking of nothing but trying to steal a kiss. I kept waiting for the right time and I just couldn’t get up the nerve. Finally, with only a few minutes left before the dance ended, I asked her if I could please kiss her and to my astonishment she consented.”

“Papa, you’re embarrassing me talking about you and Mama and all that kissing stuff.”

“Well, I’ve got a point to make daughter and that is when our lips touched I broke out in a cold sweat and your mother got so limp I thought she was going to faint on me. For the next few moments, I thought I was in heaven and when we finished, she stood there speechless. Finally, she straightened herself and then invited me to her home for dinner. Yes ma’am, Lucretia, we were in love and I did say ‘we.’ I dated your mother for about three months and to her father’s objection, we were married.”

“Why did he object to your marriage?” Lucretia asked.

“Said that we needed a longer courtship and that no respectable woman would marry someone she had only recently met.”

“What happened then?”

Doc Caulder smiled. “She told her father that she was going to marry me whether he approved or not, and within the month, we were married.”

“Why are you telling me this now, Papa?”

“Lucretia, your mother and I fell in love with each other the first night we met and when I kissed her, I knew I’d found the woman that I’d always dreamed off. And no matter what she said, she felt the same about me. It wasn’t any growing in love.”

Lucretia wrapped her arms around her father and said, “I knew you two didn’t just grow in love. I was just teasing you. I just hope that I can find the kind of love that you and Mother have for each other. It’s getting late and dinner will be on the table before long. You’re about dry, and here, let me help you with your shoes.”

“First, go down and get what few fish I caught. I didn’t catch the one I wanted, but we do have a good mess for supper,” Doc Caulder said, pointing to the stream.

Walking hand in hand across a flowered field where they had left their buggy, Lucretia said, “Papa, what you were saying is that I need to love the man that I marry and then marriage will be something right and special.”

Smiling down at Lucretia he replied, “That’s exactly what I said and nothing less.”

“How will I know when I fall in love with someone?”

“Well daughter, you’ll just know. And remember, you have got to like the person like you would a best friend, and you’ve got to love spending time with him, and he’s got to feel the same about you. And one more thing, when the two of you kiss, something special has to come over you. Have you kissed many boys, yet?”

Blushing, she said, “Papa, that’s a personal question.”

“Well, that’s one way to find out.”

Later that night Lucretia lay awake in bed thinking over all her father had shared and when she thought about the special kiss he described, her mind began to wander. She had kissed several boys including Robert whom she found very attractive, but the only kiss that seemed special was the first kiss she had ever received. She was only thirteen and the boy was maybe seventeen. He was a wounded Southern soldier her family was keeping until he was well enough to be transferred to a Federal prison. After several months of care, the two had become friends. She remembered sitting on the front porch watching the golden leaves of fall flutter to the ground under a full November moon. Since the moment she met him she had wanted to hold him close and had dreamed how it would feel when their lips met. Knowing that he would be leaving the following morning, she finally got up the nerve to ask him for a goodbye kiss. It had been over four years since he left, but she could still feel the warm touch of his body, and the memory of the touch of his lips made her blush even in the stillness of her room. It had been so long ago, she thought, and the experience of any young girl’s first kiss would be impressionable, but still, she could not erase the feeling that she had experienced with the young soldier.

Since that night, she had learned through several letters that he survived the war and prison, but something had happened to him. He no longer returned her letters, and the last note that she had received had come from his sister, not him.

It took little more than an hour for John and Tim to reach Professor Hendon’s house and once there, they were amazed at the commotion in the front yard. Two young boys had taken refuge behind a large oak tree while another was hurling sticks and rocks at them as fast as he could pick them up.

Throwing one stone so hard that it bounced back toward John and Tim, scaring their horses, the boy shouted, “Damn you, Robert Earl! I’m tired of you not playing fair. All you do is find a way to cheat.”

“I ain’t cheatin’! Lay down them rocks and we’ll come out and fight you like a man,” came the reply from one of the boys behind the tree.

No sooner had the boy dropped his rock than the two behind the tree raced after him and all John and Tim could see were fists slinging and dust flying as the three boys tumbled in the yard.

Hearing the ruckus, the Professor adjusted his suspenders, tucked in his shirt, and stepped out on the front porch to shout, “Boys, stop that fighting right now and I better not hear any more out of you! You know better than that!”

The boys didn’t hear a word he said and continued fighting.

The Professor then reached for the limb he kept near the doorway and headed down to the boys and without asking any questions, he began to thrash the lot. In a matter of seconds he had them separated and howling with pain, as they ran for the safety of the house.

Seeing his guests, he apologized, “Sorry about that, boys. Sometimes I think I’m rearing a bunch of savages. The problem is, I just got too many children. Let me finish getting dressed and we’ll be on our way.”

Glancing back toward John, he said, “Good to see you with us, John. I wasn’t sure Tim could get you away from the house.”

Professor Hendon was over forty when he married the widow Langford and the rumor was that he had been secretly seeing her before her husband passed away. Many a suspecting husband breathed a breath of relief when the preacher pronounced them husband and wife. Since that time his wife had born him four sons and three daughters.

Tim, still on his horse, commented, “See why I ain’t gettin’ married. I couldn’t stand all that racket with them children.”

John nodded in agreement. “At his age, he’s just got too many.”

“Too many of ‘em,” Tim replied. “He’s got more children than this. He’s probably got a half dozen more around these here parts that folks don’t know about.”

“You saying what I think you’re saying, Tim?”

“Exactly, John. He’s got a bundle of bastards.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say about a man. How do you know what you’ve heard is true? Could be all lies.”

Tim reached into his pocket and checked the time on his watch, then continued, “You know I spend a lot of time gambling and when men gamble, they also drink a lot and when they drink, they get loose tongues. I’ve heard more than one man who happened up on the Professor down near the river with one of his women and they weren’t just parleying.”

No sooner than Tim had finished his statement than the Professor stepped out on his porch again, dressed in his best. Even though he was now in his late fifties, he was still a handsome man, tall with long graying hair kept neatly combed and a short cropped beard. He was also impeccably dressed and possessed a dignified and stately manner. When addressing a lady, he would usually talk in a soft and almost feminine tone that often brought him the desired results. In contrast, some men judging him to be somewhat of a softy, had confronted him about his evening endeavors only to find that his fists were too fast for them. Afterwards he usually informed them that he was a champion boxer while in college.

As the Professor made his way down the steps, his wife came to the door to wish him goodbye. Standing there in the doorway with two small girls peering from behind her skirt, the woman carefully studied the men out front. Although Mrs. Hendon was years younger than her husband, her children and household chores had taken their toll. Short and fairly plump, she stood on the porch with her hands on her hips watching her husband make his departure. As the Professor was about to mount his horse, she called out, “That you out there, John Wilson?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” came the reply.

“Don’t you let Mister Hendon do no drinking tonight. If’n he gits to drinking, he don’t know when to stop. Last time he went on a binge, he didn’t come home fer ‘bout a week. You hear me?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I hear you Mrs. Hendon.”

“And don’t let him fool with none of them pretty young skirts, neither,” she teased.

“Ain’t suppose to be none there, Mrs. Hendon, but if’n there is, I’ll keep ‘em off of ‘em,” Tim said with a smile.

“Tim Johnson, you’re worse than Mister Hendon. I know all about yore shenanigans,” she replied.

“John, you do what I said, now. Take care of him for me.”

Knowing he had no control over her husband, John said, “Mrs. Hendon, your husband is a grown man. I’ll do what I can. Can’t promise you nothing.”

Ignoring his wife’s remarks, the Professor directed his horse through his front gateway and as they rode away, he laughed and called out, “If I’m not back later tonight, I’ll see you sometimes next week, darling, and don’t let them children kill each other.”

“You better be back here tonight or you might just find me and the children gone,” she replied.

“Won’t anyone want all those children but me,” the Professor said. “Let’s get on our way, boys, time’s a-wasting.”

Mrs. Hendon was well aware of her husband’s numerous affairs, but her love for him caused her to overlook his fondness for feminine companionship. Throughout their marriage he had been drunk on numerous occasions, but he had always come home to her. She also had noticed that with age, he was appearing to be slowing down in his pursuit of the opposite sex and like he had said, ‘’Who would have all of them, anyway?”

The men hurried down the road leading to Hickory. Passing a farmhouse, John spotted a young man about his age sitting on the front porch swing with his wife cuddled close to him. That should be me out there on a porch of my own home, with my wife by my side, he thought, trying not to stare at the couple. “Life sure hasn’t been fair,” he mumbled to himself.

“What’d you say, John?” Tim asked.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

As they neared a stream, the Professor led his horse out into the water. “Better give ‘em a rest now. We still have a way to go.”

For a few moments the men made small talk as they dismounted and rested on the creek bank. As they rose to mount, the Professor said, “John, wasn’t sure you’d come with us tonight. You need to get away from the place more often. You need to be more sociable.”

“Got a farm to work, Fessor. The Yanks almost put us under. Time I get the work done, ain’t much time left for others,” John said.

“You going with the best looking woman in the county. If’n she was my woman, I’d stay over there from daylight to dark. I bet you don’t see her once a month,” Tim said, wading out to his horse.

“She is a looker, John,” the Professor agreed, stepping up in the stirrups.

“What exactly am I getting into tonight?” John asked, not caring to discuss his relationship with Suzanne.

“Tim told you about all that I know,” the Professor replied, bringing his horse to a cantor. “We’re tired of the way the government’s been run since the war ended. We think we can change some things. Something’s got to happen to give us some relief.”

Having no idea about what he had in mind and wondering if it was legal, John said, “Is this going to get someone in trouble with the law?”

“Not for sure, John. I don’t know much more than you do, but I do know a building is going to get torched over near the Decatur courthouse tonight. That should keep the Federal men occupied for the evening,” Hendon replied.

“Torched,” John exclaimed, wondering if he had made a wise decision in going with the group. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“The building is vacant. Won’t be nobody hurt. It’ll give us some privacy,” Tim said.

Nearing the small rail town of Hickory, John was apprehensive about the evening and he felt that the Professor and Tim knew more than they had shared with him.

As they entered the town, the Professor pulled his horse to a stop in front of a store near the tracks and told the boys to remain mounted and he would be back in a moment.

John and Tim noticed a steady stream of horsemen and occasionally a buggy moving east down the main street, and it was no doubt that the meeting place was somewhere in that direction.

The professor soon returned, remounted his horse and pointed east. “It’s about a mile down the tracks; can’t miss it.”

Making a turn in the road that ran parallel with the tracks, the men saw a large warehouse built next to the tracks so cotton could be loaded easily on the train. Everywhere they looked, they saw horses and buggies tied to makeshift hitching posts and in some cases young boys were left outside to watch over the horses. The men dismounted and tied their horses to some tree branches and hurriedly made their way through a steady flow of men toward the warehouse. Nearing the building, the Professor recognized several of the men and waved.

As he approached, one called out, “’Bout time you got here, Hendon. Thought Little Rock weren’t gonna be represented. The General ain’t here, yet.

“General,” John said. “Who are they talking about?”

No one replied as they moved through the crowd. At the entrance, John saw two men checking everyone as they entered the building. When Professor Hendon, Tim, and John reached the doorway, one of the men put out his hand to Hendon and said, “Good to see you Ernest. Thought you might not be coming. Who you got with you?”

Turning to John and Tim, the Professor replied, “This young man is Timothy Johnson and the other is John Wilson. I’ve known them all their life. In fact, I taught them both. They can be trusted.”

Looking over at John one of the men said, “You any kin to Jake and Lott Wilson?”

“Jake was my uncle and Lott’s my father.”

“Jake and I used to run some together, that is before he got himself kilt. How’s Lott doing?” one of the men asked.

“He’s not in the best of health but he’s doing all right,” John answered.

“Well, if’n you’re anything like them, you’re the kind of man we’re looking for. Now y’all better get on inside. It’s about time to get things started. Our guest is running a little late. The train from Meridian is behind time.”

The kind of man we’re looking for, thought John. What do they mean by that?

The Professor remained outside talking with the men while John and Tim worked their way inside the crowded building. The large crowd of over two hundred made the August heat almost unbearable. John and Tim immediately removed their coats and tried to get closer to the platform that had been built at the far end of the gin. The air was filled with tobacco smoke, and the sound of men talking and laughing made normal conversation difficult. As they edged their way forward, they heard someone behind them call out, “Tim Johnson! John Wilson! Back here!”

Turning, they spotted Frankie Olliver pushing his way toward them. “I’d ‘bout given you two up. Thought you were gonna miss out on this here get together,” Frankie said, extending his hand. “You won’t believe who’s gonna be here tonight.”

Before John and Tim could question him, someone called out, “Frank Olliver, we need you up front. Right now!”

John and Tim looked at each other, astonished at why someone wanted to see Frankie.

“What in the world?” Tim exclaimed.

At that moment a very dignified looking man made his way up on the platform and a hush came over the crowd.

Stepping up behind the podium the man said, “Gentlemen, I’m Daniel McWorthan from over at Meridian. I run a business there and some of you may know me. Before I begin I want to thank all of you for coming out and before this thing’s over tonight, I think you’ll be glad you came. I’ve got a few questions to ask you before I introduce our special guest. First, how many of you like the way this here Federal Government is treating you?”

A roar of disgust erupted.

“How you like the taxes they put on ya?” the man continued.

Once again nothing but shouting and hissing could be heard as excitement filled the air.

Stepping out from behind the podium and pointing toward the crowd the man continued, “Well, how about this? You know anyone who’s lost their place? Lost their home and farm that they’ve worked hard for?”

Before the crowd could respond, a man yelled out, “Damned shore do! I lost my farm five days ago. Some son-of-a-bitch from up North bought it up ‘fore I could raise the money.”

Immediately several other men called out that they also had lost their land.

The speaker reached inside his coat and pulled a pistol out and waved it above his head. “Now don’t you think it’s about time we done something about it? Don’t you think it’s time we take the South back before it happens to more of us?”

At that, the crowd roared and screams and gunshots rang out.

The speaker then beckoned to Frankie who was standing near the back of the platform. “Mister Olliver, I think we got ‘em ready for him. You can bring him on in now.”

A tall well-dressed man with graying black hair, a mustache, and goatee stepped up on the platform and walked toward the podium. A complete silence covered the room for a moment, then someone, recognizing the man, exclaimed, “It’s Forrest, It’s Gen’ral Forrest!”

Once again murmuring rippled over the men assembled and then what began as one man chanting, spread instantly through the group. “Forrest! Forrest! Forrest!” Over and over the men called his name until finally the guest raised his hand and all became quiet.

“Gentlemen, Sons of the South, Soldiers of the Grand Confed’racy, it’s indeed a pleasure to stand before you tonight,” Forrest said. “Any of you men ride with me during the war?”

Several of the men raised their hand and a round of applause filled the building.

“God bless you for the sacrifice. How many of you served in the field for us?” Forrest continued.

Most of the men raised their hand and gave a yell that years earlier had sent chills through Union soldiers as they awaited the waves of gray and butternut clad Confederates in battle formation.

Forrest continued, “Men, things ain’t going too good for us since the Yankees run us off the fields. I always felt that we could’ve fought ‘em longer. We could’ve made ‘em pay a heavier price. We quit the war too soon for me.”

With that statement a roar of agreement sounded and one man in the back of the building screamed out, “You want us to take up arms again, Gen’ral? We can raise another army!”

Forrest raised his hand for quiet and said, “Appreciate your dedication sir, but we ain’t exactly wanting to raise another army of that kind. What we do plan to do is to raise an army of loyal Southerners to get control of our government. We want you Miss’sippians to take the Governor’s seat, all the legislators’ seats, all the way down to your justices of the peace. When you get control of your government then you’ll have control of what happens in this state. The war is over and there won’t be no return of slavery, but we can seize what is rightfully ours. We can stop them rascals from making a mockery of our society, and we shore as hell can stop ‘em from taking our homes away from us.”

“How can we do that Gen’ral? Some of us ain’t even eligible to vote nor hold office,” a man called out.

“Good question,” Forrest answered. “The group that’s sitting over there at Jackson is sorry Northerners who come down here to take advantage of the situation, turncoat Southerners loyal to the Yankee dollar and them illiterate Negroes that can’t even read nor write. What we got to do is simply find us some young men who are eligible to run for office and put our total support and financial backing behind them.”

“But, with some of us not able to vote, we probably won’t have no majority in most of the counties,” Frankie said, standing next to the platform.

Forrest looked down at Frankie and replied, “Son, your job is to get every man you can to the polls on voting day and a little bit of money and whiskey in the right place can do wonders for an election.”

“What if we are still outnumbered,” Frankie replied.

Forrest reached inside of his jacket, pulled a revolver out and raised it arms length above his head. “You then persuade them bastards to stay home on election day. As I have often said, ‘You get ‘em scared and you keep the scare on ‘em.’”

With that he discharged his pistol overhead, causing a state of pandemonium.

After order was restored Tim called out, “Gen’ral, how far do we go with the scare!”

Returning his pistol to its holster, Forrest replied, “To get Miss’sippi back ain’t gonna be no easy task and it’s gonna take a lot of sacrifice on all of you. Some folks could get killed and some of you men right here tonight might have to pay the price. Just depends on how bad you want freedom.”

Instantly the group began shouting, “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!” as several men discharged their pistols.

Professor Hendon then called out, “Sir, we can’t do this without some help, some kind of organization.”

Mister McWorthan, sitting near the podium leaned over to Forrest and said, “You got ‘em General, finish it off.”

“Men, what I’m gonna tell you is confidential and for us to be successful you got to keep it quiet. All over the South there are meetings just like this one going on and we don’t plan to only get Miss’sippi back, but we plan to take control of all the South and we do indeed have a organization that’ll do the job. An organization like folks have never seen.”

“What’s it called, General?” someone yelled out.

“It’s called the Ku Klux Klan, Gentlemen,” Forrest answered.

“Who’s running this here Klan and how do we join it?” Frankie asked, raising his hand to get Forrest’s attention.

“Men, you know all you need to know for right now, but you will be contacted ‘fore long. There will be men in every county and community assigned to lead you, but before we close our meeting I just want to know if’n you approve of what’s going on here tonight.”

With the shaking of fist and shouting in support, there was no doubt in Forrest’s mind that the Klan had arrived in Newton County.

As Forrest sat down, McWorthan returned to the podium and began reading a list of names of men Forrest wanted to see as soon as the meeting closed. Among the names called, to the surprise of John and Tim, were the names Ernest Hendon and Frank Olliver.

As the group dispersed, John and Tim waited outside for the Professor, wondering what Forrest wanted with him and Frankie. After about half an hour Hendon apppeared.

“Big night boys, wasn’t it?” Hendon asked as he approached. “Haven’t got much time. Frankie and I are going over to Meridian tonight to meet with some men. John, just tie my horse up in the gin by the water barrel and tell my wife I’m out on business and be sure she knows I’m not chasing any skirts, strictly business. I’ll get my horse in the morning.”

John assured the Professor he would take care of the matter and as the train was leaving for Meridian, Tim decided he would go with Hendon and Frankie to spend a little time in the city. The lure of city life with its gambling opportunities, drinking and women of the evening was too much for Tim to resist.

As the train pulled out Tim leaned out the window. “John, you can still spend the night at my place. It’s a long way to Little Rock at this time of the night. Tie my horse up with Fessor’s.”

John waved, then saddled his horse and headed for home. It was good of Tim to offer to let him stay at his place but since there was a full moon and a cool evening breeze, John decided home was best. As he made his way down the road, John could hear the occasional cry of hoot owls and at times the lonely sound of the whippoorwill. A feeling of loneliness overcame him and as he stopped at a stream to water his horse, he rethought all that he had heard and observed that night at the warehouse. The statements about how the Klan would restore power to the people and that someone could be hurt, bothered John. A period of uncertainty prevailed over the South, and it was not a time when people were thinking rationally. He knew that Mississippi was a conquered land and that people, both black and white, were being mistreated, but he also felt that with time, law and order, and the justice promised by the Constitution, freedom could be restored if only people would have faith and patience.