Читать книгу Unconquered - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 11

Near chunky creek, thundering hooves and shouting men interrupted the silent afternoon. Two horsemen galloped down an old track that had, years earlier, hosted the best of country racing where spectators once cheered riders on to victory and substantial betting money changed hands. This track now lay in decayed ruin. The high platform that enabled the judge to declare the winner was still standing, but vines and small saplings suffocated the structure. The track still visible between the thick interwoven weeds tempted riders to test their skill and horses’ speed in an afternoon race. Such a moment brought John Wilson and his Negro friend, Andy, to the track.

As the riders sped around the far end of the track, birds nesting in the low branches fluttered away to safety while squirrels scurrying around on the ground scampered up the trees.

“Heahhh! Heahhh!” shouted John as he leaned down near his horse’s neck while glancing back at Andy less than a half-length behind him. “Push ‘em! Push ‘em hard!”

The horses rolled up dust as they raced down the backstretch like a storm out of control; nothing could stop them. Making the north turn of the track, Andy called out, “Gonna take you this time, Mist’ John. We’re gonna outrun ya!”

With both men leaning low and forward on their mounts, they made the last turn and came galloping down the final stretch, the horses’ manes thrashing their faces as they raced toward the finish line.

“I’m gonna kick ‘em,” Andy shouted as their horses were now even.

“Do it!” came the reply.

With a loud scream and a kick in the flanks, Andy edged forward and crossed the finish line. Knowing he had just triumphed over the finest rider in the county, Andy raised his arms in celebration and cantered his horse around the track once more. John followed closely behind him. As they approached the starting point, they pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted.

John extending his hand and exclaimed, “Dadgummed good ride Andy. That buckskin can sure ‘nough run, can’t he?”

Andy shaking John’s hand and smiling from ear to ear replied, “Well, you gave me the best hoss, what’d you expect?”

“I thought I could still beat you. I thought I could still out ride you but I sure couldn’t,” John answered.

“Let’s take ‘em down to the creek and let ‘em cool off a bit before we head for the house.”

The two men led their horses across a wooded area that bordered the track, worked their way down the steep bank that led to the creek, then turned them loose to water. As the horses wandered around in the creek, they knelt down to dip up water in their hands and after washing off their faces, they also quenched their thirst.

“Touch of fall in the air, Andy,” John said, looking west to where the sun was setting. “Can’t believe the summer’s about gone.

“Shore ‘nough is, Mist’ John. We’ve had a good one too.”

With the horses watered, they remounted and made their way up the bank toward home. As they leisurely rode through the woods Andy said, “You think these here hosses is as good as them your daddy and Mist’ Jake used to run?”

John thought for a moment then replied, “They ran pretty good today but it’s hard to say. You know when Sherman came through here, they stole most of the herd. We only saved a couple of ‘em and those were some fine animals them Yanks took.”

“They pay you for ‘em?” Andy asked.

“Pay for ‘em,” laughed John. “I just told you they stole ‘em.”

The two rode quietly for a few moments, occasionally glancing up in awe at the huge branches of the massive oak trees that had covered the woodlands for centuries. Then Andy said, “You know that war done a lot to us folks. Mister Lincoln went and freed all of us but he shore didn’t tell us what we s’pose to do or where we s’pose to live. I heard tell he was gonna give us a piece of land and a mule, but I ain’t seen none of it. I feel mighty good though. You and Mister Wilson up and give my family eighty acres of land and a fine house to live in. Yes sir, we done just fine thanks to your kindness, and for Mister Lincoln, I ain’t seen nothing he promised us.”

John ducked his head as a low limb of a dogwood tree almost took his hat and replied, “The president got killed. If’n he’d lived you might have seen some of those promises come true, and we didn’t just up and give you the land. You worked for it. We didn’t have money to pay anybody and we needed workers. We told your daddy that if’n you would work for us for two seasons where we could hopefully get back on our feet again, then we’d give you the land. We got the farm back in good shape and y’all earned your land; we didn’t give it to you.”

Pulling his horse closer to John, Andy said, “Mist’ John, you Wilsons is good, God-fearing folks. I’m just glad you took us in. Some white folks ain’t so kind to us, but I did hear that an outfit called the Freedsman Bunch is trying to help us. They s’pose to be trying to settle some of us on land and even maybe start us a school. Lord have mercy, John, I might even learn to read one of these days.”

“It’s the Freedman’s Bureau,” John replied. “I’ve heard a little about that, but I ain’t heard nothing about any schooling.”

Spurring his horse across a rippling stream, Andy said, “You know I’ve also heard that there is even some colored over in Jackson sitting in the Capital. Is that true?”

John nodded. “That’s right, they’s over there making laws for the state of Mississippi right now.”

“Great heaven to mercy, I can’t believe what all’s happening with my people. There they is sitting in there and making laws and weren’t long ago we was all nothing but slaves for the master. Mist’ John, why don’t you go over there and make the laws. You’d be a good ‘un.”

John smiled over at Andy. “I’ve read a lot about the law system but I don’t think that’s for me. You know, my parents ain’t as young as they used to be, and I’ve got the responsibility of taking care of ‘em. You know, I get by just fine working the place and enjoying every day the good Lord gives me.”

John hesitated for a moment, pulled his horse to a stop and motioned for Andy to stop. “Andy, there’s things that happened to me during the war I can’t explain.”

“What’s you talking about Mist’ John?” Andy asked, adjusting himself in the saddle and wondering what John had on his mind.

“Andy, it might not make sense to you, but something happened to me up in Pennsylvania.”

John thought for a moment and continued, “I feel that I got killed there during that terrible battle and by some strange means, I’m alive.”

Disturbed by what John had shared with him, Andy shuddered. “Mist’ John, I’m not sure I want to hear no more ‘bout that story. Sounds like you believe you is a haunt or sump’n.”

Afraid that he had upset Andy, he reached over and patted him on the back. “I ain’t no haunt, Andy. I’m just saying something happened to me up there that I can’t understand. I still have dreams that bother me, and it’s always the same one over and over that troubles me. I just can’t free myself from it and until I can, I can’t seem to be able to get on with my life.”

Thinking back, John could still hear the clash of arms, the loud screams of horror, the smell of burnt gunpowder and the pleas of men gasping for life. Disturbed with his thoughts, John quickly forced his mind back to Andy’s suggestion and said, “I think I could be a good politician, but it’ll never happen to me. Nobody is gonna elect me to any office.”

Andy gave him a serious look. “I’d vote for you and I know a lot more folks that would too, black and white. I just wish I could do the voting.”

“Andy, the government’s given you the right to vote. You can be a voter. That is, as soon as the state accepts the amendment and makes it a part of the state constitution.”

“I don’t know nothing ‘bout no constitution but someday I want to do some voting.” Andy exclaimed. “You shore ‘bout that, Mist’ John?”

“I’m sure you can,” John replied as he pushed his horse forward and reined it toward the road up ahead.

“Then I want you to help me do it. You got to promise me,” replied Andy.

“That I’ll do, Andy. That I’ll surely do.”

December 23rd, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The spectators were silent as the curtain fell and the last chord from the orchestra faded away. A grand performance had the people spellbound. Then one man began to clap and suddenly the entire room was filled with applause as the people rose for a standing ovation.

A young man pointed toward the orchestra pit and said, “Weren’t they something, Lucretia! Bravo! Bravo!”

In awe, she replied, “The play was wonderful but the music, I’ve never heard anything so beautiful before. The trumpets, violins and all those other instruments.”

“Here take my hand. It will take a while to fight through this crowd,” Robert Townsley, Lucretia’s escort for the evening said. “Nothing like this in the country.”

Lucretia had been to church musicals and school plays but none was like the entertainment she had savored that evening. Taking his hand and following closely behind, she couldn’t help but admire him. Robert was dressed in a black tuxedo, closely shaven and there was not a hair out of place. Although he was somewhat on the thin side, he carried himself in a dignified manner and had a slight air to him. There was no doubt that someday this young man with his confidence would be an exceptional doctor.

Finally reaching the lobby, Robert told Lucretia to wait for him a moment while he collected their wraps. Returning, he helped her with her coat and said, “I told you that Christmas in the city was something to behold. Let’s hurry on and beat this crowd to the hotel restaurant for a late dinner.”

As Robert was helping Lucretia with her coat a voice out front called out, “That you, Robert Townsley? Didn’t know you were back in town.”

Turning, he recognized Alex Hillman, a college classmate and friend making his way through the crowd toward them.

“Alex, you ole rascal, I thought you were in New York. What are you doing here in Philadelphia?” Robert exclaimed, reaching out to shake his hand.

“I’m here visiting an uncle for the holidays and he said that I shouldn’t miss the show,” Alex replied.

Glancing at the young woman clasping Robert’s arm, he was immediately astonished by her beauty. Speechless for a moment, he blurted out, “Robert, where in the world did you meet this young lady. Is she from Philadelphia?”

Laughing, Robert turned to Lucretia. “Lucretia Caulder, this is Alex Hillman, a friend of mine.”

“Where in the world did you two meet?” Alex asked, still spellbound by the young woman.

Jokingly Robert pushed him away. “Just back off ole friend; she’s taken for the evening and hopefully a lot of evenings to come.”

Quickly reaching out to Alex to keep him from bumping into a couple edging by, Robert continued, “Seriously, her father is the doctor I’ve been studying under for the past year. We met in Gettysburg.”

“Well, Robert, I think I might have to start venturing out a little more into the country. We just don’t have women like this around here.”

“Alex, your remarks are too kind,” Lucretia said. “I’m sure there are plenty of pretty girls here in Philadelphia. See that young lady over there, I bet she’d like to meet you. You want me to call her over,” Lucretia joked.

Being more bashful than was apparent, Alex blushed and whispered, “Lucretia, don’t do that. She’s probably got an escort for the evening or she might even be married.”

Robert began to laugh. “Alex, you haven’t changed a bit. How in the world are you going to meet women if you can’t stand the introduction process?”

“Shh,” whispered Alex. “How about us getting out of here?”

“That’s exactly what we had in mind. You want to join us?”

“You sure?” Alex asked, with a sheepish grin forming on his face.

“Sure. We’re staying down the street a couple of blocks with my parents at the Grand Hotel. They have an excellent restaurant there.”

The city at this time of year was beautiful with each lamp pole wrapped in season greenery and the store windows alive with Christmas decorations. As they hurried along in the evening cold, a few snowflakes began to flutter about, giving them a warm sense of holiday spirit. In a few moments they reached the hotel and soon were seated in the restaurant next to a large window overlooking the city.

Tugging on Robert’s sleeve, Lucretia said with a smile, “We’ve got the best table here. You must have paid the waiter well.”

“I’d say very well, young lady, but I figured you’re certainly worth the cost,” Robert admitted.

After a delicious meal, the three sat there watching the people outside hurrying to get out of the snow. In a few moments Alex turned to Lucretia. “Well, Miss Caulder, what do you think about the city? Have you ever been here before?”

Teasingly she answered, “You must think I’m just an ignorant backwoods girl that’s never left her parents’ side. Do I look the part?”

Taking her seriously, Alex blushed and apologized, “I didn’t mean that, at all. Since you seemed to be so fascinated with Philadelphia and its attractions, I just assumed this was your first trip.”

Robert slapped him on the back and laughed. “Alex, this woman has traveled all over the east coast with her parents and even spent some time in Europe. In fact, she is teaching school and making quite an excellent reputation for a first year teacher.”

Seeing how uncomfortable Robert’s remarks had made Alex, Lucretia leaned over and gave him light kiss on the cheek. “We’re treating you horribly, Alex. This teasing has got to stop. Robert and I only tease people we like and I do think you are a charming young man.”

Satisfied that he had been accepted and forgiven by Lucretia, Alex smiled.

“To answer your question, Alex, I have been to a lot of places but I’ve never had the pleasure of attending an opera and I’ve never been to Philadelphia during Christmas. This has all been fascinating to me. I’ve never had so much fun,” Lucretia said.

“If you stay with me, this will be only the beginning of things to come,” Robert said, taking Lucretia’s hand and giving it a gentle kiss.

For a moment the trio was silent as they watched the snow outside flutter down in large flakes. Then a solemn expression came over Alex. “I guess you heard about my father.”

“What are you talking about?” Robert asked.

Alex cleared his throat and in a low voice replied, “He was killed during the war. Somewhere down in Georgia. Somewhere called Kennesaw.”

Lucretia reached over and clasped his hand. “I’m sorry, Alex. That war was a dreadful thing. It should have never happened. Too many fathers and sons were sacrificed.”

“I had no idea, Alex,” Robert said. “How’s the family holding up?”

“We’re doing fine. My mother already knew more about the family business than Dad. But the reason I didn’t go to New York was because we couldn’t afford the expense of college.”

“What are you doing now?” Robert asked.

“I’m working in the business and maybe one day I’ll be able to go back to school.”

Robert was quiet for a moment, then exclaimed, “I wish they’d shot Davis, Lee and the whole damned Rebel army after the surrender. Those people down there with their slave holdings aren’t nothing but animals. They should have killed them all.”

An older man at the next table who was obviously intoxicated replied, “Young man, I tried my best and I killed more than I can count on my fingers and toes. Never took a prisoner after I heard that them devils killed one of my sons. Hell’s gonna be full on them gray-clad devils.”

Extending his hand toward Robert he muttered, “I’m Amos Jones. Captain Amos Jones formally of the fourth New York Infantry.”

Surprised at the remarks that had been made, Lucretia stammered, “There are good people in both the North and South. It’s the politicians that should be held responsible for the bloodshed. They start the wars and the common citizen pays the cost. It’s those politicians who ought to burn in hell. Those southern boys were no different from ours. And, most southerners don’t even hold slaves.”

Stumbling out of his chair Jones raised his glass and getting the attention of those around, he exclaimed, “Well folks, it appears we have a Southern sympathizer with us here tonight. I’d like to make a toast to the pretty Southern Belle. I guess she comes from Georgia or perhaps Alabama.”

Robert immediately rose to his feet and with clinched fist said. “Sir, this woman is no Southern sympathizer and in fact she served as a nurse to our soldiers after the battle of Gettysburg. You will apologize to her.”

With a smurk on his face the drunk replied, “You sure are a mighty scrawny twirp to be talking so big. I bet you never served in the army, did you? “

Alex got to his feet. “He might be scrawny but there are at least two of us who’ll shut your filthy mouth.”

No sooner had Alex finished, than the hotel manager and a policeman entered the room and hurried over to where they stood. Pushing the drunk away from Robert, he said, “Mister, you’ve had too much to drink and for you two young men, there won’t be any fist a cuffs in this establishment. It’s getting late and I think it’s time for all of you to retire for the evening.”

Robert took Lucretia by the arm, relieved that he did not have to tangle with the man. “We were not bothering anyone until he insulted Miss Caulder. I owe no apologies for my behavior. Lucretia, you and Alex wait here while I take care of dinner.”

Standing there at the window, watching the snow floating and swirling in all directions, Lucretia thought how proud she was of the way Robert had defended her. The man, much older and stronger, would have probably beaten both Robert and Alex. There was so much to admire in Robert. A girl would be foolish not to marry him, she reasoned. Then seeing a lone man standing outside waiting in the cold, her mind wondered back to the war years. They were boys just like ours except they were far from home, not knowing if they would ever see their love ones again, she thought. The man turned toward her and seeing her gaze, smiled and gave her a faint wave. For a moment she imagined him to be the boy she had met years before. She could see that dark curly hair, sparkling blue eyes and sheepish smile, as she told the young soldier that she was fourteen, and standing there on the tips of her toes, she received her first kiss.

Phoenix Hotel, Meridian, Mississippi, January, 1869

The men hushed their talk when they heard two taps on the door followed by a harder knock. During the evening they could hear loud talking, cursing and occasionally a gunshot from outside. This was a typical Saturday night in Meridian.

“Ralph, check the door. It sounds like one of ours.”

“Yes sir,” came the reply.

Ralph eased the door open and, recognizing the men standing in the hall, motioned them in whispering, “Anybody see you come in?”

“Not on your life, Ralph. There’s too much of a ruckus going on in the streets tonight for anyone to pay any attention to the likes of me and Frank. The troops have got their hands full with some drunks up the street. One of ‘em got shot.”

Inside the smoke-filled hotel room were eleven well-dressed men who by appearance looked to be men of means and power. Hendon began shaking hands and introducing Frank and himself.

In a few moments one of the men, Daniel McWorthan, who had earlier conducted the meeting in Hickory, asked the men to have a seat and said, “Men, I apologize for calling this meeting on Saturday night, but as you can tell from all that is going on outside, we certainly won’t be bothered. Also, we have reserved rooms for all of you for the night. If you care for a drink, we have a small bar set up for you over by the window. Hendon, we’re glad you and Mister Olliver could be with us.”

“Thank you Sir,” Hendon replied, settling himself in a chair.

“Now to get to the point, this here is Jonathan Curry from over at Birmingham,” McWorthan said, glancing over to the man sitting next to him. “Even though you’ve met him, you don’t know what he wants to share with us and at this time, I’m turning the meeting over to him. Mister Curry.”

Curry, a heavy set man with a bulging stomach that completely covered his belt, short stout arms and a bushy unkempt beard, started to stand, then realizing this was only a small group, he settled himself back into his seat. For a moment he quietly looked each man in the face as they sat there wondering what he had in store for them.

Finally he said, “Men, you know from the meeting in Hickory, what we intend to do and if it’s not clear, let me refresh your memory. We believe that some things are gonna happen later this year that’s gonna open the political doors in this here State of Miss’sippi and when it does, we’re taking this state back. We plan to place our handpicked men in every elected office in each southern state. We plan to get every Negro and undesirable white out of office and we will go to whatever means it takes to accomplish this goal. Nothing is going to stop us.”

One of the men interrupted, “This ain’t gonna be easy, especially with all them Yankee troops here.”

“I didn’t say anything about being easy, Sir. Right the opposite. We will be highly organized in all that we do and secrecy will be mandated. Some of us will probably lose our lives in the struggle, but in the end we will prevail. We will get Miss’sippi back. We will be in control of what happens to us and our children to come. Our organization is becoming more powerful by the day.”

At that, the men nodded their approval and softly applauded.

McWorthan then spoke. “There are secret meetings going on all over the South just like what’s happening here tonight to organize each state county by county. As you look around here you see men from Lauderdale, Kemper, Neshoba, Newton, Jasper and Clarke counties. You men and your counties will represent district nine of our organization. Each one of you will be in charge of selecting your candidates, raising election funds and running the program.”

“What program are you talking about?” Frank asked, excited at what he was hearing.

“Young man, I’m talking about the Klan. You are to enlist men in Newton County, hold your own meetings, conduct your business and do whatever it takes to secure Newton County in the new South. You will be the head of the Klan in your county.”

Then looking over at Hendon he said, “People over in Little Rock know you as a teacher, but I also know how involved you’ve always been in politics. If you’ll take the position, we’d like for you to take Newton County for us.”

Hendon remained quiet for a moment thinking about his demanding duties as a teacher, his family responsibilities, and the possibility of becoming in trouble with the government and thought, I might not be the best husband in the world, but I do care for my children. If I end up dead or in prison, who’ll take care of them? But the thought of leading others in the struggle for recapturing Mississippi and the power that could come from such a movement was certainly a dream of his.

“I can do what you propose, Sir,” he said. “I don’t know much about the Klan, but politically, I’ll work for Newton County. I know a lot of men over there who’ll do what is necessary.”

“That’s good, Hendon. For a moment I thought we’d picked the wrong man. And for you Mister Olliver, we feel like you’ll be a good assistant for him. You’re young, energetic and from what we hear, own a large amount of Miss’sippi land. Think you can help us?”

Without thinking Frank blurted out, “We can do it, Sir. You can put Newton County in your pocket right now.”

At this point, neither Frank nor Professor Hendon had any idea what the group intended to do.

“That sounds good,” Curry said. Turning toward McWorthan he said, “McWorthan will be in charge of the district and it will be him who’ll be meeting and leading y’all, and before we leave here tonight, I want to know who you have in mind that might represent you as a legislator come fall election. You need someone who’s young that’ll be there for a spell and patriotic to the cause. Most of the older politicians aren’t even eligible to run but that’s all right. We’ll get our men in there.”

Starting with the Kemper county representative, each man gave Curry the name of a prospective person they felt was popular enough to carry their county. Finally it came time for Hendon to make his selection. “There are a lot of fine young men in Newton County, but I just don’t know. Let me think a moment.”

“How ‘bout Mister Olliver there,” one of the men from Jasper County said. “With his money, he could buy the whole state of Miss’sippi.”

Even though the men were trying to be as quiet as possible, they couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion.

“How about it Mister Olliver,” Curry said, taking a draw from his cigar and tilting his head backwards and blowing a gust of smoke high above his head.

There was nothing Frank had rather do than represent Newton County in the state legislature. All his life he had dreamed of being in a position of power where people would have to look up to him. This would give him a chance to show what he could do. When he was growing up, it had always been someone else in school elected as a class officer or chosen to lead in a community project, never Frank Olliver.

He won’t get the job done. You can’t depend on Frank. He’s nothing but a weakling, resounded through Frank’s mind. But I showed them. My father and I did it to them. I can buy and sell every one of them now. I might even become governor one day if I really set my mind to it.

But then he remembered, there are things in my past that if brought up, could be detrimental to me and my family. There are a few people who not only could stop my election but could also place me behind bars. There’s no way I can take the chance.

Finally Frank shook his head. “That’s not for me. I’ll help Professor Hendon but I have other responsibilities. You can depend on my means come election time. As I just said, we’ll carry Newton County.”

“Sorry to hear you won’t run, Mister Olliver. How about it Hendon, you know someone else?” Curry asked.

All of a sudden, Hendon’s eyes brightened. “I’d like to run John Wilson. He was a student of mine and I must say one of my best. He’s smart, hardworking, honest as the day’s long and he fought for us during the war. Got shot up pretty bad at Gettysburg. Yes Sir, he’s the best we have to offer.”

“How about it, Mister Olliver? How about this John Wilson?” McWorthan asked.

Frank thought for a second. Growing up, John had been his closest friend, the brother he had never had and many a time John had stood up for him when no one else would. If it hadn’t been for Rebecca, they would probably still be friends. When he was listed as killed, Rebecca was finally his and as the law goes, she was.

But John knows too much about me and my family, Frank thought. What he knows is placing me in my own prison. If it weren’t for him and a couple of others, Mississippi might well could be mine.

“Mister Olliver. How about this Wilson?”

Frank looked over at Hendon. “He’ll do fine, that is if you can get him to run. He ain’t been too sociable since he came home. War affects people in strange ways. He’ll do.”

After the meeting Hendon and Frank decided to go downstairs for a late drink and possibly a little female companionship. Sitting next to a roaring fire and enjoying a refreshing drink of Kentucky bourbon, the men began to reflect on all that had transpired that evening.

“Fessor, think this thing can be pulled off?”

Putting his glass down and scratching his head as he often did when thinking, Hendon replied, “We don’t have a choice. Things couldn’t be any worse than they are now and somebody has got to take a stand. Might as well be us.”

“Yeah, but what if’n we’re standing out there by ourselves. We could end up in big trouble,” Frank replied.

Taking a sip from his glass, Hendon said, “We won’t be by ourselves. There are plenty of men ready to do what it takes. As I taught you in school, revolutions are always carried on by a minority. The vast majority don’t want to get involved, especially if it becomes violent. We’ll get the men.”

“What about John, Fessor? You think he’ll run?”

“I’ll have to talk to him. I’m not sure he’ll go along with the Klan. I think he’s a good man, maybe too honest for his own good and you know he’s always been idealistic. If he’ll run, he’ll win. How about you talking to him about it or better still get your sister to speak with him? They have been seeing each other a lot.”

“I don’t know, Fessor. Me and John speak, but we’re not close like we used to be.”

“You boys have got to forget what happened between you. Time’s passed and there’s nothing you can do about it. You need to make amends.”

“Easy to say but I don’t think it’ll ever happen. I guess the breech is just too wide. Suzanne will be the one to convince him if anybody can. She adores the ground he walks on,” Frank said. “She’d marry him tomorrow if’n he’d consent. Heck, she’s probably sleeping with him now. She may be my sister, but she’s one beautiful woman and he’s human, ain’t he?”

“Frank, you know as well as I do that John isn’t doing any sleeping with her, but to change the subject, do you think he’d leave his parents’ farm?”

“The Wilsons ain’t nothing but small time farmers. Suzanne’s been trying to talk him into expanding or coming to work for us. He could be our foreman or bookkeeper. Who cares, all she wants is a man in her bed and a father for her children. He could marry her and do nothing. We got more money than we’ll ever spend in my lifetime and with me investing into the railroad business, I need someone I can trust to help me run things.”

“He probably won’t do it, will he Frank?”

“I’m not sure, Fessor. He says that he won’t work for no Olliver and he won’t be no puppet on a string. He just says that he’d rather be a smalltime farmer. You know what I say? I say that his pride is keeping him from being one wealthy man. I think he’s crazy as hell. What do you think?”

“I think he does things his own way, and I also think he would make the state of Miss’sippi one hell’ova politician if we can get him to run and teach him the art of compromise somewhere along the way.”

All of a sudden the Professor noticed two women making their way down the stairs toward the bar. “Frank, you see that tall red-headed woman who just came in? I was hoping I wouldn’t run into her tonight. That is one fine woman. I could turn down most, but sir, I will not neglect her. I’ll see you in the morning or sometime next week. Lord forgive my sins.”