The
note was written in a scrawl
Chapter
16) River Boy runs/ the abandon and unknown cards
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Whites
killing Negroes was an act of purification with curative effect, but
Negroes killing anybody, white or Negro, was a reason to call up the
Klan, and River Boy was trying to figure out when the Klan would come
aware of the murders in Blacktown.
He was careful because, of course, the Klan was practically any white man or woman.
The
leaders were openly known, but the membership roster of those who
support or oppose could be roughly assumed by color of skin.
Outnumbered
and surrounded in a land of hatred, Negroes cringed together in
communities along the edges of white people's towns and cities,
starved, ignored and beaten at the whim of their white masters.
River Boy knew the rage of abuse that others dispensed without concern.
He loved Blacktown and didn't want his friends to run away.
He
woke up next morning wanting to find Top Hat. But Grandpa's
disappointment over his involvement with Top Hat made him change plans.
Grandpa
left early to fish at the river, and River Boy should've gone too so
they'd have something to eat. Instead he decided to go see the rich
lady in Trinity. He'd been to her house in the dark of night and seen
the luxuries, but he needed to know what she wanted.
Latchy was at the table having a red-pepper scrambled egg breakfast. The maid brought in cold milk delivered fresh that morning.
She avoided the cream. It made her feel full, but the houseladies loved it.
Sometimes
she added chocolate because it made her feel happy for a few hours. The
rest of the day was overwhelmed with sadness. It was hard to find joy.
Sitting in the warm afternoon sun helped, but she was useless without a husband to command her schedule.
She hated his imperious command, but followed his direction anyway, performing with exactness just to earn a nod.
The head houselady came in and interrupted.
Excuse Ms Latchy. The cleaner found this note in the front hall.
A note? Oh thank you. Who found it?
Keshata.
Who?
Sorry Ms Latchy, I mean Margret. She change her name if that okay.
Oh yes, but let's stay with Margret.
Yes ma'am.
Where was it?
Not sure Ms Latchy. She said it was under the stair.
On the second floor?
No ma'am by the front door.
Okay, would you thank Margret for me, please?
Yes'um.
Latchy touched the note and suddenly saw herself as a little girl.
And then in school with her best friend.
How
was it possible this note was able to remind her of things she hardly
remembered, as if a note could tell the whole story of her life?
The first line made no sense, but the next line was different and she felt her husband's cold stare and lust at her body.
Then she saw herself free and was overwhelmed by warmth of the note.
The room filled with happiness and she heard a bird outside for the first time.
Such a racket going on in the garden out back and she hadn't noticed. The gardener was talking to another man.
From the kitchen, she could hear the ladies cooking the dinner turkey.
The voices were worried.
Aside from that, she wanted to drop the note and enjoy the happy feelings but had to look at the next line.
She began to see detachment from people in her life.
It was not pleasant.
Then she realized there was a choice. The note was giving her a choice, but the choice was hard to see.
She
was distracted again by the voices from the kitchen. They held fear.
She heard it before in Mobile with the house staff, never bothering to
imagine what their trouble might be.
Slipping outside and away from the eyes and ears, she motioned to the gardener.
The gardener Roy had been talking to another man, but he was gone now.
Latchy trusted Roy to tell her things around town. He was a stout, older Negro who lived in Trinity next to the rail.
Yes ma'am, how are you today?
I'm fine, thank you. Why are the houseladies whispering and talking quiet?
Latchy often asked as if she already knew the answer. It was a habit, meaning to disarm a person into confidence.
Oh ma'am, not sure. They might be worried.
About what?
I couldn't say.
You can tell me.
Yes ma'am, these are bad times.
She asked in a softer voice, what happened?
Three, four people killed in Blacktown.
Latchy understood. The Klan would kill more.
Roy
knew that Latchy's house couldn't suffer disruption if it came to that.
He'd have to hide at night and sneak to work in the morning.
Latchy didn't like murders by Negroes but she didn't like the Klan either.
Her
husband's propensity for violence taught her there was money to be made
during unrest, and fairly laughed at her squeamishness over a good
street killing or political assassination.
He knew all the back
rooms for making money, but she kept away, fearing it would turn her
son the wrong direction, but in the end it turned him against her too.
These
were terrible moments recalling the past, and losing her family that
way ... but there were good moments too ... it was just hard to
remember them.
Latchy knew she had to build a new life, and right now that route was suddenly clouded by what the Klan would do.
She wasn't an activist for civil rights, and hadn't much considered it was her problem.
Her
friends around the state were openly worried about the federal
government pushing this civil rights on the confederacy. Northern
people just didn't know how things worked, and a backlash was growing across the South.
Latchy needed to think and retreated upstairs to the second floor sitting room.
She heard one of the houseladies open the front door, and a young man's voice ask if the lady was home.
Unsure who it was, Latchy came downstairs.
The houselady had a strange look on her face but said nothing.
Latchy opened the door wider to see who was there.
Oh hello River Boy.
He was surprised she knew his name and said, hi. Somebody told me to come by your house.
Follow me please.
River
Boy came in. The houselady closed the door, knowing who River Boy was
and the trouble he caused by stealing and going around at night.
She
didn't live in Blacktown herself. She lived closer to Trinity but no
Negro was safe now, and probably because of him, unaware that that the Upstate Boy's greed caused the murders.
River Boy gave a small glance and nodded.
Inside the tall entrance was a wide hand-carved stair coming down from the second floor.
There
was a centerpiece carpet over the wood floor, ornate tables along the
side with vases filled with fresh flowers. A large portrait of a man
hung on the wall.
Through the next room and out the window he
recognized Roy working in the back. He stole a rake from him one time,
used it several days, and took it back. There are a lot of ways to make life. He and Grandpa took what they
needed, and spared the rest.
Latchy started up the stair expecting him to follow.
The Negro attending the door was still staring at him.
He could hear noises from the kitchen sounded like a couple more houseladies were working.
At the top of the stair was a high broad hallway with wooden doors and benches where it looked like people sat and waited.
It was too large to be empty but nobody was there.
She said, my husband used to have his business here before we moved to Mobile.
The big dormer windows let light shine in from the front. Wood framed paintings lined the walls.
The floral wallpaper was more than 30 years old and starting to tatter. Latchy hadn't noticed.
She
had Louis, the furniture maker and general repairman, replace the gas
lamps with new electric lights that hung down in 3 big chandeliers.
She
led him to a final door at the end of the hall. The dark yellow varnish
shined same as the other doors except the knob was worn.
They went
in a small room with no furnishings and two small windows, then
ascended a wood stair with carpet-runner to the third floor hallway.
Immediately opposite the stair they came up was a narrow servant stairway going back down.
The
top floor had several doors along the hall. Latchy opened a door toward
the front of the house that led into a small room.
There was a south-facing window blaring with light through an old drape.
Three
stories from the ground, River Boy pulled back the curtain and saw all
of Trinity past the church steeples down to the trees at the river.
Latchy said, that used to be my husband's favorite spot.
It was quiet. River Boy didn't know why he was there.
Latchy sat down at the desk.
She
pulled out the note and laid it to the side, then looked up, and said a
nighttime visitor must have left a note for me. What do you think?
I dunno, River Boy said with a surprised look.
She backed off, and said you live in Blacktown? It was both a question and a statement, so she already knew something.
He said, yeah. Near there. Yeah.
And you ran away from a foster family?
Un-huh, River Boy was suddenly worried this lady was asking about his stepfather's death.
Do you know where you were born?
Naaa, uh, they never told me.
You didn't ask?
Uh, I thought about it sometimes. I guess it wasn't important.
Why not?
I was hungry, River Boy laughed.
His
laugh was a trifle infectious, and Latchy laughed too. Not that what he
said was funny, but funny the way he said it. She suffered deprivations too, but of a different sort.
The ladies can bring you something to eat?
Yeah. Something for later if that's ok?
Latchy said, we'll send you with some ham and bread. So how many people got killed in Blacktown?
Thanks, but ... but ... how you know about that?
House worker told me.
Roy?
Oh, you know him?
His brother lives in Blacktown. But I dunno for sure. Maybe three.
River Boy took a chance and said, if the Klan comes it'll be bad.
Latchy said, I know.
Is that why I'm here?
Lots of reasons, that’s one.
Oh, sure .. uhh.
Her answer made no sense because she asked him to come to the house
before the murders. This lady was a puzzle and very smart. He liked that.
Latchy said, I need your help.
That surprised him, but surprised her even more after she said it.
She shook her head and said, well ... what I really need... but then she couldn't finish the sentence.
The more she tried to explain, the harder it got.
Getting panicked, she stood up.
She
was never short of carefully worded statements that clearly defined who
she was and what she expected. After all she was a master of the social
world at the highest levels, but something stopped her coherence.
She kept thinking of the note.
She shoved it into his hand and asked him, what does this say?
River
Boy looked at it ... turned it over twice, and
then upside down, and said, not sure, looks like a bunch of scribbling
to me and handed it back.
Except by handing him the note, she actually delivered the unknown card to River Boy.
River
Boy felt it. It was odd that he started thinking about the man who fed
him fish all those years ago, and immensely discomforted by the despair
he felt after the man moved away.
He turned and walked back and started looking out the window again.
A short quiet followed with both inside their own thoughts, both abandoned yet comforted by the other.
Latchy asked, what do you think is going to happen?
River
Boy already knew. He said, Grandpa told me if the Klan comes to Blacktown, Trinity
will die. I don't know. I mean, my friends live here.
Latchy asked, who are your friends? Here in town, I mean. Who are the people you know?
She wanted to understand the social world in Trinity, and was advancing her list.
She could tell that River Boy was thoughtful, and his friends might be the same.
He
almost didn't say. Her tone was careful, and questions exact, but Blacktown needed a chance. He didn't think she was
getting a list of people to betray. It didn't seem like that.
He
said, Bethel Wilkerson at the pharmacy, and her husband, Harold
Wilkerson has the antique shop and does auctions. Louis at the reel
shop.
Oh he's the one who does electric lights? Is that who you mean?
Yeah. He makes furniture and all kinds of stuff.
Anybody else?
Well
there's Banging Gypsy, plays music at the barn by the river. She
travels around. They're real good. I guess I don't know them very well.
She has records and played at the State Fair.
What about at school?
Oh
I don't know them so much, you know. That was a lie, he knew everybody,
but wasn't going to tell her about Maggie. Then remembered Susan, the
Wilkerson's daughter and told Latchy about her.
Yeah, she fishes at the river. I like her ... an admission that made him laugh.
The conversation was over. Latchy walked him downstairs and told the house lady to bring ham and bread.
With cheese too, River Boy added.
The
houselady didn't tell River Boy what she was thinking, as he
half-galloped out the front door and jumped over the rose bushes into
the front yard and ran north where he cut through the hedge and over
the loose rock wall down to the alley.
He knew every dog and stone in town, every trellis, fallen tree and shortcut.
His
best time began with the colors of dusk and faded into strength as the
night came, but this was daytime and he was less cautious than usual.
Coming down a side street at the back of several buildings, a car passed on the street ahead.
He saw the same eyes in Crooks Tail.
It
was Crackling Green with at least two other Negroes. They were headed
toward Blacktown. But they weren't going to Blacktown. Those eyes told
him they were after Grandpa.
River Boy knew he was in a footrace with that car to get back to the shack.
He
had no choice except run the 2 miles across the hills trying to beat
the car that had to drive 4 miles down the rutted dirt road.
With
ham and cheese packed under one arm, he ran down the alley, across the
road and into the cow field, past the dairy barn into the next field,
following the cow trail through the hedge, past the pond, over a fence,
onto the farm road, through the mule barn into the harvested maize field, clipping through the uncut leaves,
over a bush, through the cotton field, stumbling in the weedpatch, dodging branches and through the orchard.
Over another fence into the fallow field across the grass around a patch of blackberries and up the hill into the trees.
Zigzagging in and out, grabbing branches, over the rocks, wading through loose leaves to the top of the hill,
across the ridge road, around the logging camp, into a ravine, jumping over the creek, and up the other side.
Past the old graveyard, climbing another fence, and finally downhill toward his house.
Racing past the giant oaks, into the ticket, jumping over briers, sliding down the hill, into a rockface.
Picking up the dropped package of food before leaping over a spring, slipping on the moss, nearly smashing into a tree,
before sprawling 12 feet across the rocks, and rolling down the rest of the hill.
Up another incline, and down the road to his house.
He could hear the car coming.
Side-stepping
over the ditch, changing direction and running straight up the hill
ahead of the car where River Boy bust through the door, then opened the
window and threw out the ham and cheese before grabbing the paper and
pen from his grandpa's desk and climbing out the window just as the
front door opened, and the first man coming in tripped over the cat running out.
The men began howling as they broke the room apart. Throwing books and breaking shelves and chairs.
Crackling Green tore a leg off the table and smashed the front door, then ripped out the sink and threw it through the window.
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