999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [268]
Behind Mr. Smoote’s house was his barn, really more of a big ole shed. That’s where Daddy said Mose was kept. As we pulled up at Mr. Smoote’s place alongside the river, we saw the yard was full of cars, wagons, horses, mules and people. It was early morning still, and the sunlight fell through the trees like Christmas decorations, and the river was red with the morning sun, and the people in the yard were painted with the same red light as the river.
At first I thought Mr. Smoote was just having him a big run of customers, but as we got up there, we saw there was a wad of people coming from the barn. The wad was Mr. Nation, his two boys, and some other man I’d seen around town before but didn’t know. They had Mose between them. He wasn’t exactly walking with them. He was being half dragged, and I heard Mr. Nation’s loud voice say something about “damn nigger,” then Daddy was out of the car and pushing through the crowd.
A heavyset woman in a print dress and square-looking shoes, her hair wadded on top of her head and pinned there, yelled, “To hell with you, Jacob, for hidin’ this nigger out. After what he done.”
It was then I realized we was in the middle of the crowd, and they were closing around us, except for a gap that opened so Mr. Nation and his bunch could drag Mose into the circle.
Mose looked ancient, withered and knotted like old cowhide soaked in brine. His head was bleeding, his eyes were swollen, his lips were split. He had already taken quite a beating.
When Mose saw Daddy, his green eyes lit up. “Mr. Jacob, don’t let them do nothin’. I didn’t do nothin’ to nobody.”
“It’s all right, Mose,” he said. Then he glared at Mr. Nation. “Nation, this ain’t your business.”
“It’s all our business,” Mr. Nation said. “When our womenfolk can’t walk around without worrying about some nigger draggin’ ‘em off, then it’s our business.”
There was a voice of agreement from the crowd.
“I only picked him up ‘cause he might know something could lead to the killer,” Daddy said. “I was comin’ out here to let him go. I realized he don’t know a thing.”
“Bill here says he had that woman’s purse,” Nation said.
Daddy turned to look at Mr. Smoote, who didn’t acknowledge Daddy’s look. He just said softly under his breath, “I didn’t tell ‘em he was here, Jacob. They knew. I just told ‘em why you had him here. I tried to get them to listen, but they wouldn’t.”
Daddy just stared at Mr. Smoote for a long moment. Then he turned to Nation, said, “Let him go.”
“In the old days, we took care of bad niggers prompt like,” Mr. Nation said. “And we figured out somethin’ real quick. A nigger hurt a white man or woman, you hung him, he didn’t hurt anyone again. You got to take care of a nigger problem quick, or ever’ nigger around here will be thinkin’ he can rape and murder white women at will.”
Daddy spoke calmly. “He deserves a fair trial. We’re not here to punish anyone.”
“Hell we ain’t,” someone said.
The crowd grew tighter around us. I turned to look for Mr. Smoote, but he was gone from sight.
Mr. Nation said, “You ain’t so high and mighty now, are you, Jacob? You and your nigger-lovin’ ways aren’t gonna cut the mustard around here.”
“Hand him over,” Daddy said. “I’ll take him. See he gets a fair trial.”
“You said you were gonna turn him loose,” Nation said. “I thought about it. Yes.”
“He ain’t gonna be turned loose, except at the end of the rope.”
“You’re not gonna hang this man,” Daddy said.
“That’s funny,” Nation said. “I thought that’s exactly what we were gonna do.”
“This ain’t the wild west,” Daddy said.
“No,” Nation said. “This here is a riverbank with trees, and we got us a rope and a bad nigger.”
One of Mr. Nation’s boys had slipped off while Daddy and Mr. Nation were talking, and when he reappeared, he had a rope tied in a noose. He slipped