Читать книгу Unconquered - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 12

January, 1869

Several weeks after the meeting in meridian, john’s parents were enjoying a late afternoon, relaxing and reading in front of a warm fire while John and his brother-in-law, James Robinson, were down behind the barn working.

During the winter months farmers in east central Mississippi had less work than during the growing season. They would maintain and repair farm equipment, take care of their livestock and split wood for fence rails and fireplaces.

Mrs. Wilson, hearing an approaching rider, eased the curtain back and peered outside. “Looks like John’s got a visitor, Lott. A pretty one, too.”

Rising from his chair, Lott replied, “You talking about Suzanne?”

Grabbing their wraps, the two made their way down the open hall to the front porch to welcome the young woman.

“Afternoon, Suzanne,” Mister Wilson said. “What brings you out on a cold afternoon like this?”

Smiling she replied, “I’m just out riding and I thought I’d better check on John. He hasn’t been over to see me lately and I was getting anxious to see him.”

Mrs. Wilson, feeling Suzanne was a little too forward, responded, “I don’t rightly know what John’s been up to lately but I’m sure he tries to see you when he can.

Suzanne sensed Mrs. Wilson’s disapproval and replied, “I’m sure John’s been working hard, but I really do need to see him.”

Suzanne thought, need to see him is an understatement. If determination and willpower can prevail, I will marry that young man. And if I have my way, my husband will serve in the Mississippi legislature come next year. He won’t be doing any more farming around here.

For the next few minutes, Suzanne and the Wilsons shared small talk and since they seldom left home during the winter, Suzanne informed them of all that had happened lately in the county. Before long the conversation turned to politics and Suzanne told them that Frank was hosting a dinner at their home and some prominent politicians were to be present. She invited them to attend.

Lott couldn’t believe they had been asked to the Olliver home. He had known the family for over thirty years and had never set foot on their property. He and Frank Senior had come to the Mississippi territory as young men and Frank had done some things Lott knew were illegal and immoral. It seemed that Frank and he had been at odds about one thing or another as long as they had known each other. When Frank got killed, Lott felt for the family, but it certainly made life easier for him. Lott knew Frank Olliver was behind his brother Jake’s death, and even though he could not tolerate the man, he never let his feelings stop his children from associating with the Ollivers.

“You sure you want us to come?” Lott asked.

“We certainly do and I think we have a little surprise for that son of yours. Where can I find him?”

Lott pointed down to the barn. “He and James are down there splitting wood. Go on down if you like.”

Suzanne kicked her horse in the flank. “Good seeing you. Remember, Saturday week, six o’clock.”

As Lott watched Suzanne leave with her long black hair flowing behind her, he remembered a time when his brother returned after several days with the most beautiful Choctaw woman he had ever seen sitting behind him. Her eyes were almost as dark as her hair and her long bare legs took his breath away. In many ways, Suzanne reminded him of her. Enough of that, he thought.

“She’s a pretty girl, ain’t she, Lott,” Mrs. Wilson said, looking over at her husband. “She reminds you of Hatta, don’t she?”

Turning, he placed his arms around her. “Woman, you been living with me too long; you even read my mind.”

“You loved her, didn’t you,” she whispered, watching Suzanne as she rode toward the barn.

Lott squeezed her tightly. “She was my brother’s wife and I cared for her like a sister. Hatta was an unusual and attractive woman, but you stole my heart. Sarah, I loved you the minute I saw you and with the depths of my heart. Don’t you ever doubt my feelings.”

She stretched up on her toes and gently kissed her husband. “I’ve never doubted your love for me, Lott.”

Down at the barn, Suzanne dismounted and tied her horse, and eased around the side of the building.

“Let the ax do the work, James,” John was saying. “It’ll kill your back if you don’t.”

With a hard swing, James struck the piece of wood near its center splitting it in half. “How about that, John?”

Stopping for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and looking at the large stack piled to the side, he exclaimed, “Don’t you think we’ve got enough for the rest of the winter?”

John, sitting on the ground resting, replied, “You can tell you don’t know nothing about roughing it down here in the South. That pile might last a month if’n we’re lucky.”

As James was placing another piece of wood on the splitting block, he noticed Suzanne gently easing up behind John. She motioned for him to be quiet. As she placed her hands over John’s eyes, he swirled around, pulling her down into his lap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she laughed.

John began to chuckle. “Who do you think you’re fooling with? I heard you ride up and I’ve been watching you out of the corner of my eye as you attacked me.”

“I was just having some fun. Let me up before I call your mother on you.”

John held her tightly, “You sure you want me to let you go?”

Pretending to be angry she replied, “I was just teasing you and what did you do? You just pulled me down like some common woman. Isn’t that right, James?”

Amused, James went back to work. “When you two get through playing, we might get this job done.”

Suzanne then pulled herself up and began brushing the grass from her riding skirt. “You didn’t see me Mister Smarty Pants. How’d you know I was there?”

John, still sitting on the ground casually answered, “I’ve hunted all my life and I heard every step you took and I could smell your perfume.”

Standing in front of him she sighed, “You didn’t say anything about my new riding outfit. Don’t you think it becomes me?”

John sat there for a moment and then replied, “You got a new one every time I see you and they all look fine to me.”

Disgusted, she turned to James, pulled back her shoulders displaying her full figure and asked, “Do I look fine to you, James?”

James blushed and looked away. “Yes Ma’am, you look just fine. Just fine.”

“Now Suzanne, leave James out of it,” John said. “You rode a far piece. What do you want?”

“What do I want!” she said reaching down and pulling him to his feet. “That’s certainly not a gentleman’s response to a lady’s visit. You could have said, ‘I’m glad to see you or what a pleasant surprise to see you,’ but the only thing that crossed your mind was, ‘What do you want?’”

John smiled. “You just startled me. I wasn’t expecting you, and you do look striking in that outfit.”

Taking her by the hand, he said, “Come on. Let’s go down and see the horses.”

Occasionally James could hear them laugh at something down at the corral, and before long they returned hand in hand.

Realizing that it was getting late, Suzanne said, “John, remember, Saturday week. We have a surprise for you and we want your parents there too.”

As she rode off she called back, “You better be there. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Ain’t promising you!”

Watching in wonder, James muttered, “What was that all about?”

John, reaching for his coat, replied, “Some kind of a danged dinner they say they’re planning. A surprise. They even want Mama and Papa there. That’ll be the day when Mister Lott Wilson sets foot on Olliver property. You’ve heard of hell freezing over, ain’t ya? Get your coat, we’re calling it a day.”

Walking back toward the house James said, “John, that woman’s got her eye on you. When you had her on the ground, I think you could have done anything you wanted to her, and I’ll tell you something else, when she was standing there with those shoulders back, some wayward thoughts went through my mind. Not many men could keep turning her down like you do.”

John smiled, reached over and placed his arm on James’ shoulder. “I hope my sister don’t hear you talking like that. You might be sleeping out on the porch with them hounds of yours.”

James pushed his arm away. “Well, brother-in-law, what I’m saying is that you’d be a fool not to pursue a relationship with that woman.”

“You may have hit the nail on the head,” John replied, laughing. “But I’m gonna have to think a little more about that dinner. Let’s just put it like this, if’n my parents will set foot in the Olliver house, then I might just tag along too.”

John reined his horse to a stop and gently patted him on the neck. The horse shook his head and snorted. It was barely dusk, and a full moon was bringing light to what could be a dark winter night. A light breeze shuffled the fallen leaves about on the ground, and John noticed small puffs of clouds dancing across the sky. The chill of the night caused him to button the top of his jacket and adjust his wrap snugly around his neck. Up ahead, he saw a long straight road bordered with large oak trees which, during summer, created a green lush canopy overhead, but now appeared as large skeletons with thin arms reaching out to grasp and devour wanderers invading their territory. Accepting the challenge, John kicked his horse in the flank and galloped up the road, dodging the bare oak limbs overhead.

Located on the crest of a large hill overlooking a creek bottom that had produced some of the finest cotton in the county, the Olliver’s large lighted two-story mansion dominated the skies. The four massive brick columns supporting the roof looked like sentinels standing guard.

John reined in his horse and thought back to the time when as a youngster he had enjoyed many visits to the Olliver’s. They were full of fun and foolishment as he and Frank created new adventures. All the hunting trips, camping, horse racing or playing hide and seek in the spacious barn seemed to melt away the exhaustion from the daily toil and labor which occupied his every waking moment at his father’s farm.

To John this was his home away from home, but that was years ago. In a way, he still had the same warm feeling about the place, but the relationship with Frank had changed through the years. The Frank Olliver he had known as a boy no longer existed.

A shuffling sound on the porch caught John’s attention, and looking closer, he saw the figure of a man rising from a chair behind one of the columns. At the same time he was aware of the sound of people inside the house enjoying the evening.

As the man made his way to the front steps, he stopped and peered into the darkness. “Who’s out there?”

“It’s John, John Wilson.”

“’Bout time you got here. You by yoreself? Where’s yore folks?”

“They ain’t coming. Papa said he didn’t like eating late and that late hours is for young folks,” John answered, knowing the real reason couldn’t be revealed.

“That you, Sammy?”

Easing down the steps Sammy tottered over to where John was saddled and reached up for the reins. “Let me take yore hoss, Mist’ John and yes suh, this is what’s left of Sammy. I ain’t as spry as I used to be.”

Sitting there looking down at the old colored man, John could see that the outcome of the war had changed nothing for the man. As a boy, Sammy was always there to meet him when he rode up. He would ask about his parents, make a comment about the weather, and then lead John’s horse off to the barn where he would feed and water the animal and brush him down before placing him in a stable. Although the war had freed the slaves, here stood Sammy taking the reins.

“You can get down now, Mist’ John. I’ll shore ‘nough take care of yore hoss.”

Hesitating, John said, “Sammy, you know Mister Lincoln freed all of you. Why are you doing the same things for the Ollivers that you did when you were a slave?”

Sammy began to chuckle. “I ain’t no slave no more, Mist’ John. The Ollivers give me a place to live and food for the table and when I needs some clothing, I can go down to Walker’s Store and charge what I needs. I did try to go off but they says that since I didn’t have no job, I have to go back to Mast’ Olliver.”

Surprised by his logic, John said, “Sammy when you were a slave, the Ollivers gave you quarters, fed and clothed you. I can’t see anything’s changed at all for you. Appears to me that you’re still in bondage.”

Not understanding what John really meant, Sammy said, “I just works here, that’s all. By the way, ain’t it shore ‘nough a cold night.”

At that moment, the front door burst open and Suzanne whirled out on the porch and down the steps. Dressed in a black velvet dress with a high-necked white laced blouse and with her long black hair pulled back and pinned behind each ear, she smiled up at John.

For a moment, John sat there mystified.

“You’re late young man. The party is awaiting you.”

With the sound of screeching leather, John brought his right leg over the saddle and effortless dismounted, standing so close to Suzanne that he could feel the warm touch of her breath against his face.

John was dressed in a dark gray woolen suit that had belonged to his older brother who died during the war, and it was a little snug. The tightness of the fit revealed the strong body that John had acquired while laboring in the field, and nothing could have aroused Suzanne more. Not worrying about what Sammy might think, Suzanne reached out and pulled him close as she whispered, “Tonight is going be something special for you and I hope you’ll stay over. I promise you it’ll be worth your while.”

Without thinking, John leaned down and kissed her. “We’ll see. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of your surprises, but I must say you do look enchanting.”

Sammy led the horse away and began to laugh. “I must say you two shore does make a good match, and I thinks ole Sammy better get on to the barn and leave you two be.”

Suzanne took John by the hand and led him up the steps and into the house. “Where is your mother and father? I thought they would be coming.”

John didn’t reply, but thought, you know good and well why they didn’t come. And for our relationship, Mother is apprehensive and Papa knows how difficult it is for a young man to resist the temptations of a beautiful woman.

Walking down the hall toward the parlor, John could hear what seemed to be a large number of men chatting and laughing. He was unable to identify any familiar voice. A haze of tobacco smoke filled the air as he and Suzanne entered and the group stopped talking.

To John’s surprise, Professor Hendon and Frank were sitting over near the fireplace having an evening smoke and next to Frank, John recognized Daniel McWorthan from the Hickory meeting. At his left was a short, well-dressed man in his late fifties standing next to the roughest looking man John had ever seen. The man was taller than John and was dressed in a brown cotton shirt with black trousers tucked into his knee length boots. He wore red suspenders that pulled his pants high above his waist line, making him appear even taller. The man’s hair was combed and greased straight back revealing a wide scar that began above his left ear and ran down across his cheek to his nose.

Frank quickly got out of his chair, walked over to John and Suzanne and extended his hand. “Good to see you John. I’m glad you made it. There’s some folks here I want you to meet.”

Frank was dressed in his best for the evening. He wore a light beige suit with a ruffled brown shirt and dark brown tie. He stood slightly taller than John with long well groomed hair combed straight back. He was clean-shaven and thin and still appeared younger than his age. Even with a somewhat feminine appearance, Frank was unusually handsome.

John could think of no reason why he would be meeting with such an unusual group of men. Glancing over at Suzanne, he felt she must be behind whatever was going on and he became very uncomfortable.

Motioning John in, Frank began to make introductions. “Gentleman, this is John Wilson, the man we’ve been telling you about. Of course you know the Professor.”

Hendon nodded and a wide smile crossed his face as he extended his hand.

“And I think you remember Mister McWorthan from over at Meridian,” Frank continued.

McWorthan carefully examined John with the care of an officer inspecting his troops and then reached with the weakest handshake John could ever remember. Thinking back to his father words, “A hardy handshake reveals a man’s inner strength,” John became suspicious.

But John cordially shook his hand and replied, “I remember seeing you at the meeting.”

Putting down a glass of whiskey and not waiting for Frank’s introduction, a well-dressed man walked toward John and handed him a full glass of whiskey. “I’m Jasper Sikes from Jackson and to answer that blank expression on your face, you might say I’m the head of the Democratic Party here in Miss’sippi. And young man I’ve been anxious to meet you.”

Stunned, John took the glass and reached out to clasp his hand. “Sir, I don’t know what you’ve heard and I surely don’t even know why I’m here tonight. This isn’t my normal kind of party. I think we could use more female companions.”

With that, the group began to laugh, and even the solemn man with the scar smiled.

“Yes sir, Frank,” Sikes laughed. “The man don’t even know why we wanted to meet him. Mister Wilson, you do have a sense of humor, and I guess you can say, you might have wandered into your own destiny tonight. By the way, this here is Herschel Pierce. Ain’t he one ugly son-of-a-bitch.”

Herschel, rubbing his short scraggly beard, made no effort to shake John’s hand. He just stood there with a face as cold as steel and glared straight at him.

Finally he said, “I could see you staring at me when you come in. The scar got yore attention, didn’t it. Ugly ain’t it. You know what caused it?”

John pushed his hair back revealing a large scar across the side of his head and replied, “Same place I got this one. Some blue bellied Yankee cut you?”

The man nodded and a slight smile came across his face. “You’ll do, Mister Wilson. You’ll do just fine. I rode with Forrest and up there at Brice’s Cross Roads when we was trying to hack our way through them bastards, one of ‘em took a chunk out of me with his saber. But I’ll tell you this, he paid one hell of a price for it. I cut him from one end to the other and when he fell from that hoss, his guts was hanging from his saddle horn.”

“Excuse me,” Suzanne said, sickened by what Pierce had described so vividly. “I think I’ll leave you gentlemen and see if I can be of help with the meal. You men do have a seat. I know you have much to talk over, and it will be a few minutes before dinner is served.”

As Suzanne left the room and the men made way to their seats, John excused himself and followed her down the hall. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to the side and whispered, “What’s going on here tonight? What am I doing here?”

Suzanne quietly placed her index finger to her lips and said, “This is all about politics and those men are interested in you. You go on back in there and things will take care of themselves.”

John shook his head and replied, “I don’t like surprises and I don’t especially care for politics.”

Suzanne pointed to the parlor. “John, your future could be in there. Now you go on and we’ll have dinner ready soon.”

For the next half hour, all the attention was on John as Professor Hendon related to the group what John had accomplished under his supervision in school and how John’s family was one of the first to move into the area. He stated that through the years, the Wilsons had been the foundation and strength of the community and those in need depended on John’s family for help. The Professor stated that when the war began, John was too young to enlist, but as soon as he became of age, he was there.

While the professor was speaking, all eyes were focused on John. Frank, who had been John’s closest friend as a youth, listened to every word spoken but said nothing.

Growing up, John took up for Frank and on several occasions intervened on his behalf in fights that Frank had started and had no chance of winning. John’s intervention had protected Frank.

In contrast, Frank’s attitude was that an Olliver could do no wrong and Olliver money could buy anyone out of anything. In fact, it was Olliver money that kept Frank out of the army when Frank and his friends enlisted.

Frank’s jealousy of John kept him from speaking on John’s behalf. He just sat there sipping on his drink and thinking, If it hadn’t been for the war, it could be me sitting over there. My ideas are just as good as the next, and I’ve got all the time in the world to serve my state. I know good and well that John’s folks can’t run their place without him and with my money, things could get done quick. Damn his sorry soul, it should have been me sitting there.

As the professor was ending his talk, a Negro maid came to the doorway and announced, “Gentlemen, if you will please follow me, the table is ready.”

Entering the dining area, the men were met by Suzanne and Mrs. Olliver who directed them to their seats. Even though Mrs. Olliver was well into her fifties, she was still a very attractive woman. Like Suzanne, she had piercing brown eyes and dark black hair that was streaked with gray and tucked in a tight bun behind her head. The years had been good to her.

When they were all seated, Mrs. Olliver smiled and said, “Gentlemen, it is a pleasure to have you in our home tonight. I know you have pressing business to take care of and I’m sure you will make the best of the evening. You may not know, but I was reared south of New Orleans in what some would say, Cajun country. So this evening we have prepared for you a special Creole dinner, and since the food is seasoned fairly well, there is plenty of water and other liquids available. I truly hope you enjoy the meal.”

John was seated between Suzanne and her mother and during the dinner most of the conversation was directed toward him. John continuously answered questions about his family, their attitudes about politics, his experiences during the war and even his religious feelings. As time passed John became tired of the questioning and realized that for some unknown reason, this group was interrogating him. Frustrated, John wished there was some excuse he could give to leave. But the meal was soon over and after thanking Mrs. Olliver for a delicious dinner, the men returned to the front parlor where coffee would be served. Before John joined them, Suzanne whispered, “It might be late when you all finish. You can stay over, if you wish. I want to talk with you.”

Looking down at her, he whispered back, “What have you got me into?”

Suzanne gently squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “John, I have a feeling that it’s about time for you to know why they’re here and why they have been asking you so many questions.”

John shook his head and muttered, “I don’t know what they want from me and I really don’t care. I think I’ve had my evening and it’s been most uncomfortable, so if you will, I’ll be excused now.”

Suzanne stood speechless as John went to collect his hat and wrap. At that moment, Professor Hendon came out of the parlor.

Suzanne quickly took John by the hand while the Professor placed his arm around John’s shoulder and led him into the library.

“John,” Hendon said, “I can see that you are frustrated over the evening and perhaps we didn’t conduct ourselves as we should have, but these men are interested in you. Let’s just have a seat for a moment.”

John eased down in a chair across from Suzanne and the professor and stared into the face of the man that had taught him practically everything he knew. Hendon had come to Little Rock when John was in the second grade and had served as his teacher and friend. John saw nothing but honesty and a love that years had bonded. Many times Hendon had come to their home to visit with the family or to check on one of them when things weren’t going well. If there was anyone John could trust, it had to be the professor. “I don’t know what’s going on here tonight,” John said, “but you and I are going in there so I can speak my mind. And if I don’t get some quick answers, I will be leaving.”

The professor nodded and got out of his chair. “I do think it’s time. Suzanne, will you excuse us?”

Suzanne reached over and ran her hand softly down John’s face. “I’ll see you when you’ve finished,” she whispered.

The men looked up as John and the professor entered the parlor and Frankie taking a long draw from his pipe, exclaimed, “We were wondering about you, John. Didn’t know where you got off to.”

John settled himself on the sofa next to Frankie and after a moment of silence said, “Men, I have no idea what you have in mind, but it’s very obvious that you want something from me. If it hadn’t been for the professor, I’d be on my way home at this moment.”

Sikes cleared his throat. “Mister Wilson.”

Before he could continue, John interrupted. “Please excuse me Mister Sikes, but let me finish. I was invited here tonight for what I thought was a social and when I got here I was introduced to strangers. That’s fine, I have no problem with that, but instead of us enjoying each other’s company, it became a John Wilson sideshow. I don’t know what you’d call it where you live, but I call it downright rude. Now if you want something of me, it’s time for you to lay it on the table or I’m calling it an evening.”

Jasper Sikes nodded and raised his coffee cup that had been filled with whiskey and presented a toast. “This here’s to John Wilson, the man who’s seen through the plan, and for our rudeness, forgiveness if you can.”

The other men raised their cups and McWorthan said, “Well said, Mister Sikes, well said.”

Turning to John, McWorthan continued, “John, we feel that a new constitution is gonna be presented to the folks here in Miss’sippi later on this year, and if the voters approve it, it’s gonna open political doors that have been shut since the military took over. Won’t be no more of this here appointing Negroes and sorry white folks to office. Our source in Washington says this constitution is gonna happen and our job is to find men who are capable of carrying elections for the new Southern Democratic Party and willing to help us get control of the gov’ment here in Miss’sippi. We all feel that the damned Yankees ain’t always gonna be down here watching things, and once they’re gone, we’ve got to be ready to take charge. Your name was mentioned to us as a strong candidate for the state legislature. If elected, you would represent the folks here in Newton County.”

Surprised, John sat silently in thought. He had knowledge of the legislative process and had spent hours studying the various law systems throughout history, but he had never envisioned himself as one of those who would actually be a part of the system.

John glanced over at Hendon and then back to McWorthan. “Gentlemen, I do appreciate your interest in me, and even though I do have some knowledge about how our gov’ment works, I don’t think I have time for politicking. You see, my parents are getting old and we have a farm to run and like I said, I do thank you.”

Hendon reached over and placed his hand on John’s shoulder. “John, your brother-in-law, James, seems to enjoy working the place and with the Negroes living near by, I think they could get by without you for a spell. You know, most of the legislative work would be done during the first part of the year, during the late winter. Late winter’s kind of slow ain’t it?”

John nodded, then said, “Gentlemen, I’m not sure I’m qualified for this. Why do you think I could win an election? I’m—”

McWorthan interrupted. “Mister Wilson, we know more about you than you may know about yourself. When I look at you I see a young man that from all accounts is well educated and has a good reputation in the county. Your family is well known and since you fought for the South, undoubtly you have a sense of patriotism. Yes sir, we feel that you might just be our man.”

John rose and walked over to the fireplace, stared into the leaping flames and replied, “I hear that men who served in the confed’rate gov’ment and those of us you took to the field ain’t eligible.”

Sikes got up, walked over to John, and while knocking the ashes out of his pipe onto the hearth said, “You joined up in January of sixty-three, part of a replacement bunch. A lot of things happened during the later part of the war. Lot of records got lost. I checked up on you, there ain’t no records on no John Wilson in the confed’rate army, least none that we could find. As far as the gov’ment knows, you just didn’t exist.”

Surprised, John shook his head in disbelief. “That can’t be, they sent me up to Pennsylvania. I fought with the Newton County Rifles. Almost got myself killed.”

Sikes eased back to his seat and began repacking his pipe. “As I said, there ain’t no records of you. And John, before you say no, I have one more question for you. Let’s just say you decide to run for office, what’s your idea about gov’ment? Just what do you stand for?”

Having warmed himself, John walked over, sat down and thought for a moment. “Gentlemen, I think gov’ment is really a simple matter. Basically, you’ve got to know right from wrong and I guess with me, reared in the Christian way, it begins with what the Bible has to say about how you treat folks. Then you’ve got to consider what the federal and state constitution dictates. Gentlemen, it boils down to knowing the rules and abiding by ‘em.”

“What do you feel about us wanting to take control of the gov’ment? That is, when the time comes,” Sikes questioned.

John thought for a moment, then replied, “I feel, that there are men in Jackson who ain’t knowledgeable about our law system and there are outsiders who have no business running Miss’sippi. I also think that the needs of the common citizens, not those outsiders who moved into Miss’sippi to take what they can from us, should be represented. Miss’sippi is a prostrated state under military law that needs to be fully restored both economically and politically. The taxes they are imposing on us are stripping us to the bone and gentlemen, this must be stopped.”

At that, the men rose, applauded and stepped forward to shake John’s hand in approval. The clock in the hallway chimed three times and McWorthan closed the meeting. Since it was late, John and Professor Hendon decided to stay over with the Ollivers while McWorthan, Sikes and Pierce had a carriage waiting to carry them to the Hickory Station. There was a train due at five a.m. that they had to catch.

As the men settled themselves in a coach near the back of the train, McWorthan, with a cigar extended from his lips, leaned over to Sikes. “Mind if I borrow your smoke for a minute? It won’t take a second to light it.”

Sikes handed his cigar to McWorthan. “What’d you think about the young man?”

McWorthan took several quick draws on his cigar and after seeing that his smoke was lit, replied, “Must admit, I was impressed with the man. Can’t say that I’ve met any better. What do you think?”

Sikes took a long draw from his smoke and with the clankity clank sound in the background as the train gained speed, he said, “If that man can’t win an election, we might as well forget the whole thing and let the Republicans have at it. After meeting with him, we might be setting our goals too low. We ought to run him for the senate.”

Pierce, a man of few words, took off his hat and pushed his long greasy hair back as he reached inside his coat pocket and brought out a flask. Trying to be polite, he offered the group a sip of his spirits and seeing that the other two were not interested, took several swallows and after carefully replacing it, commented, “The man worries me.”

Astonished, Sikes replied, “What do you mean, he worries you?”

Looking out of the window into the darkness, he answered, “Don’t git me wrong, I like Wilson, but he might just be too honest for his own good. I don’t think he is aware of how far we’re willing to go to place our folks in office.”

Sikes thought about what Pierce had said and then exclaimed, “He’ll do just fine, but I did wonder why Frank Olliver didn’t have more to say in Wilson’s behalf. You know they’re good friends and he stayed mighty quiet.”

McWorthan shook his head and muttered, “Olliver probably didn’t think he needed any help.”

Back at the Ollivers, Hendon, wanting some fresh air, asked John to join him on the front porch. As they stood in the chill of the early morning, a rooster crowed down near the barnyard and several others could be heard in the distance. Looking east, the men could see the sky turning shades of gold and pastel blue as dawn was nearing.

Hendon pointed toward the glow and exclaimed, “John, Miss’sippi’s been through some hard times but just like the dawning of a new day, there will be a new day in Miss’sippi. And John Wilson, you can become a part of it. Let’s just say it is predestined for you.”

John who had been thinking about all that had transpired that night, turned to his old friend and said, “Professor, you may see something in me that just ain’t there.”

Feeling the chill of the morning, the professor motioned John back into the house. “I’ve taught you all I know about history and gov’ment, and I guess I’ve been grooming you all your life for such an opportunity. You could represent us well.”

But there were things about Hendon that John didn’t know. As a young man he had graduated at the top of his class at the Harvard school of law and after studying hard for over a year, passed the Massachusetts bar exam and was employed by the firm of Solomon and Taylor located in Boston. With his sharp wit and persistence, he quickly gained the reputation as the most promising young lawyer in the state. With his success, came social demands and soon this promising young lawyer became engaged to Gloria Solomon, daughter of the founder of Solomon and Taylor. Like other men of wealth, Solomon felt like the government at times stood in the way of his financial success and if he could gain power in the state legislature, then laws could be adjusted to meet his needs.

As the family planned the wedding, Solomon already had plans to introduce Hendon to the Massachusetts elite and hopefully have him in office within the next two years. The only problem that Hendon faced was that Mrs. Solomon had become infatuated with the dashing young man who was engaged to her daughter and since she was a very attractive woman, he could not resist her advances.

An unexpected return by Mister Solomon one Sunday afternoon to an unlocked door brought Hendon’s bright future to an end. Not wanting to be embarrassed by the scandal and afraid that a divorce would ruin his standing in Boston, Solomon, not a man of violence, paid Hendon a large sum of money to remain quiet and leave the state. In addition, Solomon, wanting to expose Hendon as a womanizer, arranged for his daughter to catch Hendon with one of the local whores in the city. Once again Hendon received compensation and as planned, the engagement was broken.

Hendon often wondered why he had not received harsher treatment but later discovered that Solomon had lost interest in his wife years earlier and also had made visits to the red section of Boston on a regular basis. Hendon lost no time in leaving the city and with it he could see his future in the courtroom and politics vanish. Resounding in his ears was Solomon’s last statement, “You whoring son-of-a-bitch, if I ever hear your name called and if you say anything about my wife, I will deal with you permanently and I do have contacts all over this country. My family name will not be tarnished.”

With that in mind, Hendon had fled to Georgia and finally found a place of employment deep in the Mississippi wilderness as a teacher at Little Rock.

Thinking back, Hendon saw how foolish he had been. In Boston he could have married into one of the wealthiest families in the east, had a political future that could possibly have placed him in Washington, and he could have had an attractive wife.

In John Wilson, he saw the man he could have become.

Meanwhile, as Frankie was sitting on the side of his bed struggling to remove his boots, there was a light tap on the door. Frankie, was surprised to see his sister enter.

Dressed in a full white cotton nightgown with a light pink woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Suzanne tipped into the room. Seeing that Frankie was having a problem with his boots, she took one of his boots and pulled, easing it off his foot.

Frankie chuckled. “Well, I see you’re good for something, but I thought you’d be asleep by now. You see ‘Fessor and John to their room?”

Suzanne pushed Frankie aside, crawled up on the bed, crossed her legs and made herself comfortable. In an excited voice she whispered, “Tell me what happened? What did the men think of him?”

Frankie glanced over toward the mantle to see what time it was and answered, “Can’t this wait?”

Defiantly, Suzanne crossed her arms. “I’m not leaving until you answer me.”

Knowing how persistent his sister could be, Frankie got off the bed, walked over to get his housecoat and slumped himself into a chair across from the bed. “Suzanne, at times you can worry the living hell out of me. First thing, I really don’t think John has a place in politics or in our family; our differences are too great. And if you do want him, you have got to take him like he is.”

“I have no problem with the way he is,” Suzanne said.

Reaching over for his pipe, he continued, “That’s the problem with you Suzanne, you can’t face reality. First, you wanted me to hire John to work for me, just to get him out of the field, and I knew damned well, feeling the way he does about me, that his pride wouldn’t let him do it. Now you’re hoping that a life in politics will give him the status and means that you want. You know what Suzanne, why don’t you just leave him alone. Woman, if he wanted you, he’d take you. Lord knows, you’ve thrown yourself at him. You had him under the covers yet?”

Feeling an anger beginning to burn inside her, Suzanne unfolded her arms, raised her eyebrows and replied, “John has more of a future than working as a common field hand, and it may just take someone like me to show him just what he can accomplish if pointed in the right direction. He might find being wealthy is not so bad, and I don’t plan to spend my life in no four-room shack. And as far as our sex life goes, that is none of your business.”

Frankie began to laugh, “That means you ain’t been too active in gloryland, doesn’t it?”

Agitated by his remark, Suzanne got off the bed and walked toward the door. “Gloryland! You’re crude and impossible, Frank Olliver, and I can describe every part of John’s body, if’n I wanted to. We have been intimate.”

Frankie laughed harder. “You may describe it, but that doesn’t mean he’s put anything to use, and I can see you right now out there in that hot sun digging them tators and sweating like a whore on Sat’day night. Just a pore ole country gal. You need to take him like he is, Suzanne. Nothing more, nothing less, and for intimate, you don’t have the vaguest idea what that means. And to answer your question, I think the men were impressed.”

Suzanne slammed the door so hard it rattled the windows throughout the house.