Where Southern Cross the Dog (14 page)

“I doubt that, sir,” Schnor said hastily. “But it seems you've already decided his fate.”

“I just know what the committee will say.” Mauer walked to a window and gazed down on the square. “Make plans to reinstate him. Contact him and let him know. But I suspect the committee will want him in a concentration camp—
if
they allow him to return.”

“Why a concentration camp?”

“I told you, too much risk,” answered Mauer as he returned to his desk and sat down. “But don't worry about the camp. That's only if Higson returns.”

Hell going to be your brand-new home.

—King Solomon Hill

EDGAR PULLED THE CAR UP TO NED'S HOUSE AT 2:00 a.m. Ned and the others were waiting.

Ned leaned in at the driver's side window. “Got everything?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Edgar said.

“Hoods?”

“Yeah.”

“Your revolver?”

“Yeah.”

“Full tank of gas?”

“Pretty near.”

“Whiskey?”

“A pint, not much.”

“Okay then, let's go.”

Edgar got out of the car and opened the trunk. Ned, Bo, and Wyatt loaded their rifles, revolvers, and shells in silence.

The drive from Ned's to town took half an hour. Along the way, Ned went over what they were going to do one more time. They passed the small bottle of whiskey around while they rode.

The streets were dark and quiet as Edgar pulled into Clarksdale. Ned directed him to park near the jail, in an inconspicuous spot. Edgar found some stacked crates that obscured the car from view.

The four men stepped quietly from the car and gathered near the trunk. Edgar popped the lid and each man removed his weapon, checking once more to make sure the guns were loaded. “Keep your hoods with you until you need them,” Ned said.

He turned to Edgar. “Wait in the car, not outside. If anything goes wrong, start the car and get ready to go. We'll meet you back here. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Edgar said. He got back into the car, puffed on a cigarette, and watched the others walk away.

Ned was in front, Wyatt behind him, and Bo was last, with ten feet between each man. They hugged the rear wall of the courthouse, and as they turned the corner, they noticed a light streaming out from under a side door. Ned looked back and motioned them forward as if to indicate not to worry about the light. As Bo was about to pass the door, the light went out, the door swung open, and someone stepped into the night.

Startled, reacting out of pure fear, Bo dropped his weapon and plunged his fist into the person's head. The person fell to the ground, moaning.

Ned and Wyatt, who had moved ahead toward the jail, heard the commotion and looked back. Bo stood over his conquest not knowing exactly what to do next.

“Stupid peckerwood,” Ned said as he grabbed Wyatt by the shirtsleeve and retraced their steps. “What the hell are you doing? Get him up.”

Bo lifted the man to his feet and leaned him against the wall. The man slowly came to and grunted in pain.

“Who are you?” Ned said.

“Moses Hooperman,” the man said.

“What are you doing in there?”

“I clean the courthouse at night.”

“Put your hoods on now,” Ned said to Wyatt and Bo. “This is all we need. And we're not even at the jail yet.” Ned stepped closer to Moses and put his gun to Moses's head. “You want to do this easy or hard?”

Moses didn't reply.

Ned, Wyatt, and Bo were now hooded. Only their beady eyes looked out from their white masks. Ned grabbed Moses by the shirt.

“You didn't see any of us, did you?” Ned said.

“No, suh,” Moses said.

“Anyone else in the building?”

“No, suh.”

“If there is, you're a dead man. Let's go.”

Bo grabbed Moses by the arm, and they half-walked, half-ran to the jail.

Ned opened the door to the jailhouse and was confronted by one of the guards, who was standing in the middle of the room, shotgun in hand, pretending he was shooting at something in the sky. “Drop it,” Ned said.

The guard stood stunned, staring at Ned and the others. “Hey, Billy, it's the Klan,” he shouted to a second guard.

“Oh yeah, what are they doing here?” Billy said.

Ned pushed Moses out in front of him and the others. “Drop it,” he repeated.

The guard raised his shotgun and pointed it at Moses. “Ya know, I'm not sure he's gonna stop anyone from shooting you,” the guard said, motioning toward Moses with his gun.

They all just stared at each other for a few moments.

“Okay,” the guard said. “I'm not gonna stop y'all. We're supposed to be on the same side, ya know.” The guard laid his shotgun on the floor.

“Back behind the counter with your friend there,” Ned said. “Hurry up.”

“Why is the Klan messing with us?” Billy said. “You're in the wrong place.”

Ned didn't respond. He gestured to Wyatt to handcuff the two guards.

“What are you doing that for?” said the guard who had relinquished the shotgun.

“Shut up,” Ned said. “Where are the keys to the cells?”

“I found 'em,” Bo said, lifting them off the wall. “What do we do with him?” He pushed his weapon into Moses's back.

“Bring him,” Ned said. “Where's Luke Williams's cell?”

“You know, coming in here and pointing your guns at us is one thing, but breaking someone out of jail is another,” Billy said. “We could lose our jobs.”

Ned looked at them indifferently.

“He's down the first row about midway,” replied the first guard.

“Let's go find Luke,” Ned said.

The men walked through the doors to the hallway that led to the cells. The hallway was dark, and they could hear snoring coming from a few of the prisoners. They peered into each cell looking for Luke.

“Luke, you in there?” Ned said. “Luke, where you at?”

There were no responses. They were almost to the end of the hallway when Ned guessed they had passed him. So he turned the group around and started back, opening each cell to check if the occupant was Luke.

“You want me to lock the cells back up?” Wyatt said.

“No. Let 'em all go,” Ned said. “It'll cover our getaway.”

At the fourth cell, the body in the bed moaned, “What do you want?”

Ned stopped and looked back at the bed, “Luke, that you?”

“Yeah, I'm sleepin'. Come back later.”

“We need to get going. We're gettin' you out.”

“Getting me
what?
”

Luke turned to face the cell door. He stared at Moses and the three hooded men. “What are you doing? And who are you?”

“We're the Klan,” Bo said, pride evident in his voice. “You're gettin' released today.”

“I can see you're the Klan, but—”

“Listen, we can talk about this later,” Ned said. “Right now, we've got to get outta here.”

Some of the other prisoners whose cells had been opened were poking their heads in Luke's cell to see what the commotion was about. “Good-bye, Luke,” one said.

“I don't think I want to go,” Luke said.

“What are you talkin' about?” Ned said. “Don't you want to get out and see your family?”

“My wife visits. And they'll really put me away if I make a break for it.”

“Listen, we don't have time for this, Luke,” Ned said. “We know what you did, but we don't think it was wrong. You shouldn't be in jail. Let's go.”

“I 'preciate it boys, but I don't want to get in any more trouble than I'm in now. I'm goin' back to sleep. Y'all find your way out.”

“Luke, we've got to go before we all end up in jail. Come on, there's a car waiting for us outside.” Ned reached down and tried to lift Luke to his feet. “I said get up.”

Luke shoved his arm away. “Go on,” he said. He lay back down in bed.

“Bo,” Ned said.

It was all that was needed. Several inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Luke, Bo jerked the prisoner out of bed. Luke swung and missed. Bo smashed the butt of his rifle into Luke's jaw, and Luke crumpled to the floor.

“Get him up,” Ned said.

Bo picked Luke up, slung him over one shoulder, and walked out of the cell.

“He was comin' one way or the other,” Ned said. “No white man's going to jail for killing a bunch of cotton pickers. Speakin' of killing, what are we gonna do with
you?
” Ned looked at Moses. “Take him, leave him, or kill him, fellas?”

“Leave him,” Wyatt said. “We don't want to have to drag him around.”

“One more time, did you see our faces?” Ned said.

“No, suh,” said Moses.

“Put him in,” Ned said.

Wyatt pushed Moses into the cell, closed the door, and locked it. He lay down on Luke's bed.

“They'll find you soon enough,” Ned said. “Have a good nap.”

Ned and the others walked down the hall with their new prisoner. When they reached the entrance area of the jail, they found the guards still handcuffed together, back to back. They hadn't even tried to move.

“Find what you were looking for?” Billy said, unable to see them leave because he was sitting below the level of the sign-in counter.

“Yeah, and we left you a present,” Ned said. He opened the front door to the jail and ushered everyone out.

“Thanks.”

Ned closed the door quietly behind them, but it immediately opened again as several prisoners whose cells had been unlocked scampered out of the jail and into the darkness.

Edgar had the engine running when they turned the corner. The car doors and trunk were already open.

Luke was groggy, but stirring.

Ned pointed to the trunk. No telling what Luke would do when he woke up.

Bo put him in and closed the trunk.

“What happened?” Edgar asked.

“We'll tell ya on the way,” Ned said. “Let's go.”

Edgar hit the gas, and they sped off, taking the same route out of town they had used coming in. Clouds of dust billowed behind the car.

Ned looked out the window and watched the darkness roll by. Breaking Luke out hadn't gone exactly like he planned. Now here Luke was, locked in the trunk, and Ned wasn't sure what he would do when they let him out. Things hadn't gone well at all, but at least they got Luke out.

Ned recounted the events for Edgar on the drive. “Bo punched the janitor, who was armed with a mop, or was it a broom?”

They all howled.

“Do we have any more whiskey?” Wyatt asked.

“All out,” Edgar said, having drunk the last of it himself while waiting.

Edgar pulled up to the cabin and shut off the car. It was still dark outside, but the moon produced enough light so they wouldn't need the group's only flashlight, which happened to be in the trunk. They all got out and stood quietly behind the car.

“Hey,” came a voice from inside the trunk. “Open this thing up.”

“Okay, Luke,” Ned said. “But you've gotta behave. How's your jaw?”

“Sore.”

“Is it broke?” Bo asked.

“I don't think so. Just sore.”

“Sorry about that, Luke,” Bo said.

“Okay, just let me out.”

Ned motioned to Edgar, who opened the trunk and stepped back. Luke scrambled out, stood up, and dusted himself off. He rubbed his jaw and looked at Ned.

“What exactly is going on?” Luke said.

“I told you,” Ned said. “We busted you out. No sense sittin' in jail if you didn't commit a crime.”

“I think murder's a crime.”

“Not when it's darkies.”

Luke studied each man. They stood there, proud and defiant in their accomplishment. Luke could see Ned was the leader of a bunch of men just like himself: down on their luck, if they'd ever had any at all.

Luke turned toward the cabin. “You got anything to eat in there?”

Wyatt smiled. “You want something to eat? I'll get it for you.” He hopped into the driver's seat. “Ain't much in the cabin, but I'll find something somewheres. I'll be back soon.”

Ned said, “We needed some food anyway. You can stay as long as you want, Luke. Nobody'll find you here.”

“What about my family?”

“You want me to get them?”

“No, not yet. Let me settle in first. Anyway, I think we better stay away from my family for a while. That's the first place they'll start looking for me.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Ned said. “Let's go inside. We got some extra clothes you can change into.”

“How long do you reckon I should stay here?”

“We'll work on that later,” Ned said as he walked toward the cabin.

Luke took that to mean Ned really had no idea what to do next. That was fine with Luke; he did.

Bad luck done fell on me.

—Lizzie Miles

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, THE FIRST PERSON through the door of the jail was Sheriff Collins. What he saw was Billy and the other guard, handcuffed to each other, sleeping on the floor.

Collins slammed his hand down on the counter. Startled, the two subordinates sat up, still half asleep. “What the heck are you two doing handcuffed to each other?”

“Somebody broke in last night, Sheriff,” Billy said. “They were dressed like Klansmen, and they had guns and everything. I thought they might shoot us.”

“The Klan broke in?” Collins said. “Who breaks
into
jail?”

“They were askin' about Luke Williams. Oh, and the other thing they said was that they left us a present.”

Collins walked behind the counter. “Where's the key to the cuffs?”

“There's an extra one in that cup on the desk,” Billy said.

The sheriff walked to the desk and called Sam Tackett. “Sam, we got a little problem down here,” he said before recounting the scene, which looked more ridiculous than criminal. Collins was still chuckling when he hung up the telephone and retrieved the key to the handcuffs.