That Night at the Palace (3 page)

Either way, Gemma could never know everything that happened the night that Sarah Stoker died. Gemma loved him, Jesse was sure of that, but he was just as sure that there was no way she could marry the man who killed her father.

“Well, you make sure that she doesn’t say anything. I don’t want to die in Huntsville prison,” Cliff remarked with a tone that made clear that he wasn’t as confident in Gemma as Jesse.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to die in the Palace picture-show.”

“Good-god, that scared the pee out of me. I never noticed the man until I saw the barrel of that shotgun right there in my face. I don’t think I knew what was happening until I heard the shot. My ears are still ringing. And my nose hurts like hell!”

Jesse looked at Cliff, whose nose was clearly broken. The two began to laugh almost uncontrollably as over four hours of tension lifted off of them.

“You know she was always in love with you, don’t you?”

“Gemma?”

“No, Jewel, you idiot.”

“She was not.”

“I swear, Jesse, you make the best grades in school, but you’re as stupid as a pile of rocks.”

Jesse just looked at him in disbelief.

“Every girl in town has been in love with you since the day you were born, and you haven’t got a clue. God help the army once you’re in charge. That’s the reason I didn’t tell you about Jewel’s boyfriend. She wanted to be the one to tell you. Of course, after tonight it really doesn’t matter. Anyway she’s scared to talk to you about him. She’s afraid you won’t approve.”

“What’s it matter if I approve?” Jesse asked as Cliff began to climb down from the bridge.

“I don’t know. She’s a woman; they worry about things like that. Like I said, she always had a thing for you. I think she finally realized that with Gemma around she didn’t have a chance.”

Jesse followed his friend off the bridge and the two began walking back to the coupe.

#

NECHES RIVER BRIDGE

8:35 a.m. Sunday November 16, 1941

Toad and Hunker were having no luck. Hunker blamed it on the stars, arguing that a full moon kept the critters away. But Toad, being the older and wiser of the two Lowery brothers knew that it was most likely because it was November and there still hadn’t been a cool spell yet. The two, thirty-six and thirty-five, respectively, had been hunting along the Neches every Sunday morning since they were old enough to hold a gun. But for the third week in a row they had come up empty-handed. At this point they would take just about anything. Ideally they hoped to bag a deer or wild pig. Naturally, though, when it was warm like this, pigs and deer were hard to come by, but there’s nothing wrong with a fat possum. Though admittedly greasy, a possum made a good stew with a little tomato and green pepper.

Unfortunately, they had sat for a good three hours in one of their best spots and hadn’t spotted so much as a decent squirrel. This was bad news for the two Lowery brothers who were now going to have to find some work. There was always a job at one of the drilling sites, chopping timber or mowing. If that failed, they could haul hay, but neither looked forward to the backbreaking chore of lifting hay bales. Toad and Hunker lived on a few acres south of Elza where they grew some corn and a little tomato and they always ran a few head of cattle, all of which brought in a little money, but most of their income came from their Sunday morning hunts.

The two were a bit dejected as they crossed the old railroad trestle. For Toad the thought of hauling hay again was the worst possible option. Toad and his brother were both short, standing not an inch over five foot three with boots on, which made it a lot harder to lift those bales up to the side of a truck.

Unlike his brother, Toad was squarely built with no visible neck whatsoever. Toad had gotten his name because, according to family lore, the day he was born his grandfather took one look at the newborn baby and remarked, “That boy looks like a Toad.”

Even Toad didn’t know if the story was true, but for some reason the family began calling him that, and in 1910 when the census taker came around and started writing down the names of the kids, he asked about the little one with no neck, and his father answered, “You know, now that you mention it, we never got around to giving him a name. We’ve been calling him Toad since the day he was born.”

So on that day, five years after he was born, Toad officially became Toad Alexander Lowery. The “Alexander” was the census-taker’s name, and since no one could agree on a middle name, he just gave the kid his own.

No one in the family could recall how Hunker, who had a neck, got his name. Predictably, no one in or around Elza found that unusual considering these were the two youngest in a family of seventeen children, two of whom were killed in the war with Spain seven years before either Toad or Hunker were even born.

About mid-way across the bridge Hunker froze and suddenly whipped his old .30 Remington from where he had it casually cradled in his arm and put it to his shoulder in firing position. Toad stopped in his tracks. Hunker had heard something. It annoyed Toad that his little brother had such good ears. Hunker could hear a cricket a mile away. His eyes were good too. Hunker almost never missed a shot and would often pop a critter that his older brother never even saw.

Hunker held his gun in firing position as he scanned the river below. He cautiously, and without the slightest sound, crept forward. Toad then clearly heard the crackle of brush almost right below them.

“Gator!” Hunker yelled as he, with lightning speed, fired off two shots. Both men ran to the end of the bridge and looked down on the bank. Getting an alligator would be better than winning a grand prize at the fair for the two hunters. For starters, the meat in the tail could last them months if smoked right, but more importantly was the hide. There was a tanner in Jacksonville who would give as much as two hundred dollars for a good gator hide.

Everyone knew that there were gators in the rivers and ponds, but you almost never saw one. In fact, in all their years of hunting on the Neches, the Lowery brothers had not once seen a single alligator, though they had seen some tracks a few times. When they were boys a half-colored half-Indian fellow named Cherokee-One-Leg shot one over by Reklaw. Old Cherokee had been hunting in the bottomland around Mud Creek when a big old eight footer got ahold of his leg. Cherokee managed to shoot him and hobbled back to town but by the time he got there his leg was so infected that the doc had to cut it off at the knee. From then on they called the old man Cherokee-One-Leg. While he was laid up some of his kin went down in the bottoms and found the dead gator and collected his hide and cut out some of his teeth. Somebody took the teeth and made necklace with them. Old Cherokee was rightly proud of those teeth and wore that necklace almost all the time. When asked, he would say that he missed his leg, but he got one good alligator boot and a mighty fine necklace in trade.

From the time they were boys Toad and Hunker had hoped to someday get a gator. Granted, neither wanted to lose a leg, but they both wanted a tooth to wear around their necks like Cherokee-One-Leg.

This alligator was a big one, at least eight or nine foot.

“What is that in his mouth?” Toad asked, squinting from the morning sun.

Hunker didn’t answer; he just handed his rifle to his brother and darted down the slope.

“Is that a person?” Toad asked as he began to make out the tangled mess of bloody limbs below.

Hunker cautiously made his way through the brush to the gator. He wasn’t worried about the alligator being alive. He knew he got two good shots in the head but he was terrified of what he knew he was about to see.

“Yeah, it’s a person. He’s all wedged up between these trees.”

Hunker made his way to the body. One leg was missing and the other was ripped to pieces as the alligator had been pulling on it for a while. The arms and body had been chewed at as well. One hand was mostly missing. The other hand held a stick. He had most likely tried to fight the alligator off.

Hunker reached down and touched the neck. He knew the fellow was dead but felt that he needed to check. Hunker had never touched a dead person before and didn’t like it. It was especially hard because, after seeing him fully he realized he’d known this kid since he was knee high.

“Is he dead?” Toad asked, though he knew the answer.

Hunker turned and started making his way up the bank. “Yeah, he’s dead, but not long. He’s still warm.”

He climbed up to the tracks. Toad met him and handed Hunker his rifle, “Do you know who it is? I can’t tell nothin’ from up there.”

Hunker looked sadly at his brother. Near tears, he answered, “It’s Cliff Tidwell.”

“Oh, no, not Clifford.” Toad said softly as he looked down the slope.

Hunker had tears in his eyes, “His head’s all bashed in and that gator’s been eatin’ on him for a while.”

Toad wiped a tear from his eyes. “We gotta get the chief.”

Chapter 2

ELZA, TEXAS

June 4, 1936

“I’m telling you, you can’t make it.”

“Shut up, somebody will hear you,” Cliff replied as he began climbing the rain drainpipe to the roof of the jail.

Jesse stood silent, nervously looking around the alley as his friend scurried up the side of the building.

“Come on, it’s easy,” Cliff urged in a loud whisper.

Jesse looked around again and finally started following Cliff up the back of the jailhouse. Surprisingly it was easier than he thought. He should have known it would be. He’d climbed the railroad trestle almost the same way hundreds of times.

Cliff scurried onto the top of the two-story building and looked over the side reaching out to help his friend. “Geez, you’re a slowpoke.”

Jesse took hold of Cliff’s hand and made his way onto the roof. Looking back down, he thought to himself that it was much higher than it looked from the ground.

The boys went to the front of the building and peered over. Main Street was busy, but no one seemed to notice them. They went to the side of the building that connected to the Palace Theater, which was a much taller building. At the back, above the alley, the brick ledge on the jailhouse rose up two and a half feet. Cliff carefully stood on the ledge next to the Palace and looked up. “Here goes nothing.”

The boy leaped as high as he could, which was just enough to grab hold of the edge of the theater roof. With some effort he was able to pull himself up and on top of the movie house.

“It’s not so hard. You can make it.”

Jesse hesitantly stepped up onto the ledge. He looked down and then up at the top of the theater, thinking that of all of the things Cliff had talked him into, this was easily the dumbest, but he couldn’t chicken out. Not after Cliff had already done it. With all he had, he jumped up reaching for the theater roof. One hand caught hold, but the other missed. Hanging by one hand, his body began to swing out toward the alley. Cliff, who had already begun walking toward the front of the building, turned around just in time to leap back and grab Jesse’s one clinging hand before the boy lost his grip. Cliff grasped tightly to his hand. “Pull!”

Jesse, swinging wildly, managed to whip his free hand to the top of the building. Together they pulled him on top, where they sat against the ledge with their hearts pounding. Suddenly Cliff started laughing uncontrollably. A moment later Jesse began to laugh, too. They looked at each other, and Cliff stood up. “Come on.”

Though it wasn’t visible from the ground, the roof of the Palace was arched. There was a three-foot ledge that circled the building, so the boys carefully walked alongside the ledge to the front. There they crouched down and peered over the ledge right behind the large neon “Palace” sign.

Directly across the street was an alley extending perpendicular to Main Street. Down the alley they could see a man in a suit and hat all alone smoking a cigarette. Jesse looked two doors to the left of the alley at a one of the shops. Above the storefront was a sign reading
Anna-Ruth’s Dresses and Sewing.

“Do you think she’s in there?” Jesse asked.

“Who?” Cliff asked, his eyes still fixed on the man in the alley. Then he looked to his right and saw what Jesse was staring at. “Oh, she and her sister always come in to help their mom.” He answered with an impatient tone.

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Down on
Sumac,” Cliff replied distractedly, having returned his attention to the alley.

“Let’s go down there later.”

“Why? You won’t stop. You’ll just walk by and look at her house like you do the store every day. Chicken.”

“I’m not chicken.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“She doesn’t know who I am. For all she knows I’m Frankenstein.”

“She knows who you are. You know who she is. Besides, you’re no where near as good lookin’ as Frankenstein,” Cliff replied as he spotted a woman walking along the sidewalk across the street. “There she is.”

Jesse turned his attention to the woman. She was walking briskly, holding tightly to her purse. As she arrived at the alley, she looked around and turned in.

“I knew it. The second I saw him go into the alley I knew it!” Cliff exclaimed.

“That’s Jewel’s mom.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I saw her and Jewel yesterday,” Jesse replied.

The man in the alley dropped his cigarette and stomped it out. The boys watched as the woman cautiously approached the man. He reached for her, but she stepped back.

“Are they arguing?” Jesse asked.

“I think so. I wish we could hear ‘em.”

The man grabbed the woman and pulled her to him. As he tried to kiss her, she pushed him away. The man was now clearly angry and pulled her to him again. This time she slapped him as she pushed herself away. The man then hit her full fisted in the face. Both boys froze as the woman fell hard to the ground. They watched as the man said some things and then stormed out of the alley. When he reached the street he stopped and lit a cigarette.

“Do you know who he is?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah, he’s Gemma and Jettie Crawford’s dad.”

Crawford started to turn and head up the street but hesitated and glanced up at the theater roof. Both boys dropped their heads below the ledge.

“Do you think he saw us?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m not staying to find out,” Cliff answered as he began to scurry to the back of the building.

Jesse began to follow but looked over the ledge one more time. The man was walking away. For the first time Jesse got a good look at his face. The man walked two doors up and into Anna-Ruth’s Dress Shop but stopped one more time to look at the roof of the Palace. Jesse ducked down again and then rose up to look one more time. The man walked into the dress store just as Mrs. Stoker walked out of the alley. She had dusted herself off but was clearly upset.

Jesse scurried to the back of the building, keeping low. Cliff stopped just as he got to the ledge.

“Do you smell that?”

“Popcorn?”

Cliff fixed his eyes on a round air vent and headed for it.

“Come on. That guy saw us,” Jesse insisted.

“Hang on,” Cliff replied as he began to examine the vent pipe.

“Quit fooling around, Cliff. We’re going to get caught.”

Cliff took hold of the top of the vent and lifted it away. Surprisingly, there was nothing attaching it to the pipe but its own weight. He peered down into the pipe.

“I can see light.”

“Cliff, you’re gonna get us caught,” Jesse urged.

“I’m going in,” Cliff said without hesitation as he climbed into the vent.

Jesse ran over to the pipe, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m gonna get us some free popcorn.”

“Knock it off.”

“There’s a vent down there. All I have to do is wait until the picture-show starts and I’ll kick the vent out and drop in. I’ll meet you at the back door.” Cliff explained as he slid into the opening.

Jesse watched as Cliff worked his way about ten feet down the shaft until his friend came to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Jesse whispered.

“Yeah, but it’s getting tight.”

Jesse could no longer see his friend in the darkness and finally called out, “Cliff?”

“I’m stuck. Go get a rope.” Cliff whispered somewhat loudly.

“Who’s up there?” Echoed a loud angry voice from inside the theater lobby.

Jesse froze as he looked inside the shaft. Suddenly the tiny glimmer of light got much brighter as someone inside removed the vent at the bottom. He could clearly see Cliff’s silhouette below.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered.

Jesse ran to the corner and dropped down to the roof of the police station and then quickly shimmied down the drainpipe, this time with no hesitancy or fear of the high building. When he hit bottom he darted around the corner and almost ran directly into Jewel Stoker, who was standing solidly with her arms crossed in the middle of the alley north of the police station.

“What are you two doing?” She asked in a tone that was not so much of a question as a demand for information.

Jesse froze, having no idea if Jewel was trustworthy, “Ah, nothing.” He finally replied.

Jewel stood her ground, glaring at him.

Jesse needed to move. He didn’t have time to waste on this girl. Still he couldn’t help but want to stay a few minutes. He and Cliff spent many an hour fishing off the side of the bridge and debating who was prettiest, Jewel Stoker or Gemma or Jettie Crawford. Jesse had, until that particular moment, always argued in favor of Gemma, where Cliff held firmly in Jewel’s camp. Gemma was girlier, and though that sort of thing was often annoying, Jesse just couldn’t keep himself from looking at her whenever she was around. Jewel, on the other hand, was a bit of a tomboy. She was also a year older and often acted like it. However, at that moment as she stood in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with her arms crossed like a parent, she sure looked pretty.

“I won’t tell anyone, but I know you two are up to something,” she said with a devilish smile that stopped Jesse’s heart.

Jesse’s eyes brightened. “Come on.”

The two ran to the street, where Jesse stopped and peered around the corner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Jesse looked at Jewel. “Go to the Palace and look in the door.”

“What’s in there?”

“Just go look and tell me what you see.”

She hesitated and then started walking up the street past the police station. When she got to the movie theater she turned and looked back at Jesse, who stood at the corner watching. She then went past the ticket booth to the doors and out of his sight. A moment later she stepped back into sight and bent over laughing. Finally she stood upright and waved for Jesse to come.

Jesse hesitated but walked cautiously to where she stood. Jewel started to speak but broke out laughing and pointed at the door. Jesse took a deep breath and walked to the door, carefully pulled it open, and looked in.

Across the lobby and directly in front of the concession stand stood Able McCormack on an a-frame stepladder. Able was wrestling with Cliff’s legs, which were flinging wildly as they hung from an air vent. Alongside the ladder stood Doris Broussard the concession operator, a half-dozen onlookers, and Chief Hightower, who was also laughing.

“Hold still, and I’ll pull you through,” Able shouted angrily at Cliff.

“Let go of me.” Jesse heard from the vent pipe.

“What were you doing on my roof?” Able demanded.

“I lost my kite. Now, let go of me.”

“You lost your kite in my vent?”

Jesse watched as Cliff’s shoulders and finally his head appeared. He then turned wide-eyed with fear and looked at Jewel who was still laughing. He turned and cautiously began walking away with Jewel alongside. Two blocks down they turned the corner and sat down on the grass under a sweet-gum tree in front of the Methodist church,

Jesse’s heart was pounding, knowing that he was probably in as much trouble as Cliff. Then he looked at Jewel, who was still giggling. Suddenly the image of Cliff’s legs swinging from the vent entered his mind, and he burst out laughing.

#

At exactly 7:00 a.m., Cliff Tidwell slung a homemade burlap shoulder bag of seed around his neck, picked a grubbing hoe from a pile of tools in a wheelbarrow, and began the start of what promised to be a very long week of hoeing and planting. The ground had been plowed a week earlier, but Cliff’s father had not yet gotten to the chore of seeding the four-acre patch. Unfortunately, as a result of the previous day’s ill-advised decision to try and steal a bag of popcorn, the job of planting that section fell to the twelve-year-old.

As Cliff began working, his eyes focused on the long straight row of red dirt ahead, about twenty feet away Jesse lifted one of the strands of barbed wire and slipped through the fence. He then held it up for Jewel to slip through. The two walked to the wheelbarrow and took a couple of hoes. As Jesse began hoeing the row next to him, Cliff looked up at his friend.

“What are you doing here?”

“We went up together, we might as well go down together. Besides, if you had gotten the popcorn I would have eaten it.”

Cliff then noticed as Jewel on the third row began hoeing, “What’s she doing here?”

“She saw us go up,” Jesse answered. “How much trouble are you in?”

“I’ve got to plant this field. And Mr. McCormack said that I can’t come back to the picture-show until after school starts. Does anyone know you were up there with me?”

“Everybody in town except my mom,” Jesse replied with a smile.

Cliff began hoeing. “You know, if you had gotten caught and I got away I’d still be in bed.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Jewel piped in. “I’d wake you up and make you come out here just like I did him.”

#

WASHINGTON’S FEED STORE

ELZA, TEXAS

10:45 a.m., Sunday November 16, 1941