by Vicky Jones
"No!" she squealed.
As the driver’s arousal reached fever pitch, his grip began to increase in pressure around the back of her thin neck. With a frustrated grunt and a fistful of Shona’s messy blonde hair, he jolted her head fiercely, causing her sweaty hand to slip from the dashboard. Shona’s head fell forward, but instead of falling onto his lap, she found herself met with the top of his chubby thigh. Instinctively, she bit down on it so hard that within seconds the rancid taste of blood oozed into her mouth. Yelping in white-hot agony, the driver lashed out, punching her square on the right side of her jaw. Flying back into her seat, she slammed her head against the door window, cracking the thick glass. Through blurred vision, she watched the driver grimace as he tucked himself away, inspected his injured thigh, then wiped his bloody hands on his grubby jeans.
With the driver distracted, Shona grabbed her satchel and wrapped her fingers around the door handle. Her heart pounded as she took a final look across at the driver, who was now staring murderously at her as he tried to stem the blood flowing freely from his bitten thigh. His face twisted in pain as he buttoned up his jeans, then bent forward and reached into the glove box. Panicking, she pressed heavily against the door, relieved to hear its hinges groan as it opened behind her, sending bitingly cold air rushing into the stuffy cab. She stumbled down the steps, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. With a tight hold on her satchel, Shona sprinted away as fast as her trembling legs could carry her.
Running in a zigzag formation, she ducked as the crack of a gunshot pierced the silent night air and whizzed inches past her ear. Then another. Then a third. She dropped to her knees behind a mound of fallen rocks to catch her breath, listening for any further shots. In the distance, she heard the truck’s engine restarting and then the whoosh of wheel-spinning tires as it skidded away, its headlight beams disappearing into the bitterly cold night.
A few hours and several miles later, Shona sighed with relief as the dawn finally began to break. Tentatively, she touched the back of her throbbing head with her fingers, groaning when she saw the dark red blood that had coated them.
Just as her exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, she spotted a river in the distance. Knowing it had to lead into a town somewhere, she headed towards it. With the sun beginning to pour its light into the sky, landmarks that the darkness had hidden were now illuminated. She could see a shed-like building on the horizon and began to make her way over to it, treading cautiously over uneven rocks littering her path. Approaching the shack with caution, she reached out for the latch on the wooden door, hearing a welcome click as it bore no resistance. Over in the far corner, a small pile of hay looked as good a place as any to snuggle down and get some longed-for rest. She lay down, placed her satchel underneath her pounding head and instantly fell sound asleep.
Chapter 2
"Who the hell are you?"
Shona jolted awake as the metal barrel of a shotgun cast its long shadow over her.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I was dog-tired last night. I’ve been traveling and I found this place. I'll move on, I'm sorry–" she sat upright and reached for her satchel.
"Don't you move, not one inch. You plannin’ on stealing my animals?" He edged closer, the shadow of his gun now crossing the beam of sunlight that had been burning her dry eyes. An old man, with tousled white hair and weathered skin, stood glaring at her.
"No way, sir, I just needed to rest."
She held her hands up in surrender for the second time in less than six hours.
"Get up." He gestured with his gun, keeping his suspicious eyes fixed on the young blonde girl he’d found on his property. Shona rose, wobbling slightly from the ache still thundering around the back of her head. He lowered his gun a little and backed up until he was almost outside the shack. In the dawn light, his sharp gray eyes softened when he saw the girl he was pointing his shotgun at was injured.
"You been in a fight or something?" He furrowed his brow, noticing the angry bruise on her right cheek.
"Some jerk tried to attack me. I ran, and I been hiding out here to rest until I move on, sir." Her bright blue eyes pleaded with him for mercy.
He lowered his rifle, his aggression towards her waning. "Well, you won't get much rest out here. The cows are gon’ want that bale of hay you’re lyin’ on for their breakfast soon. Come back to the house. M’wife can make you some food for your journey. I'm Tom, Tom Bird, and you are?" He unloaded the cartridges from his shotgun, placed them in his top shirt pocket and slung the open gun over his forearm.
"Shona Jackson, sir."
"Would you like some more sweet tea?"
Ruby Bird’s smile had straight away put Shona at ease after Tom returned to the house for his breakfast with a stray in tow. She put down the jug in front of her guest, readjusted the handmade shawl that was draped around her neck and smoothed back a lock of graying hair into the bun on top of her head as she busied herself in the kitchen, ensuring there was plenty of food on the table.
"Thank you, Mrs. Bird."
"Please, call me Ruby," she said, tapping Shona's forearm.
"So, Shona…heck, that's a strange name for these parts. How'd you end up with that one?" Tom chuckled as he buttered his toast.
"Well, sir, my momma had some real good friends when she was a girl, called Shane and Fiona. They came over from Ireland, y'see, to start a new life. So, I guess when I came along she just decided to honor them by namin' me Shona. Heck, I guess y'could say I'm all mixed up!" She grinned back at Tom, who nodded his head and took a huge bite of his toast.
"So, what's next for you, lil' lady? What are your plans?"
"Not sure really, sir. Just keep on movin' on until I figure somethin' out." Her voice tailed off. She had no idea where the hell she was.
"Tom, call me Tom. I'm not one for formalities," he said.
Shona smiled. "OK, Tom. I don't have any exact plans. It was just to find a job, somewhere to sleep. Live the simple life, y'know?" She leaned forward to take another bite of her toast, her elbows planted firmly on the table.
"Can you sew?" Ruby asked as she sipped her coffee.
"Pardon me, ma'am?" Shona spluttered.
"Can you mend clothes?" she elaborated.
"I'm sorry, no … but I can mend vehicles, any kind you put in front of me! I may be a girl, only twenny-four, but I know more about trucks than any man. I can ride too, tame any damn horse you give me, I swear I can." Her keen eyes shone.
Looking at each other, Ruby and Tom chuckled at her enthusiasm, overlooking the fact that she was chewing her toast heartily with no regard for table manners.
"Where you from, Shona?" Ruby asked, clearing the breakfast plates off the red and white gingham tablecloth.
"Claybank, Louisiana, ma'am."
"Never heard of it." Tom took another bite of his toast.
"Nobody has." Shona chuckled. "It's a small town. I worked on a farm with my father until I was sixteen."
"Why'd you leave?" Ruby asked, sitting back down to face her.
"Yeah, and how the hell did y'end up all the way out here in Alabama?" Tom added.
Shona's smile faded. "See now, that's a long story."
Chapter 3
"Linda!"
Larry Bruce bellowed at the top of his voice in the direction of his secretary, who was working away at her desk.
"Yes, Mr. Bruce." She raced over to his office and cowered in the doorway, peering at him over the top of her narrow-framed glasses.
"Linda, get the sheriff on the phone right now! Tell him to come straight over here," he growled, eyeballing the three terrified men standing in front of him.
"Right away, Mr. Bruce," she squeaked, adjusting her glasses to write down a quick note on her miniature notepad, then hopping back to her office.
Bruce's mustache bristled with anger as he glared at the men in front of him. One had beads of sweat on his forehead which slithered down his nose, his eyes wild with panic.
"Sir … pleas
e, may I speak?" he begged.
"Shut your damn filthy mouth, you son'bitch," Bruce spat. "Y'go crawling to Ellis for a job, knowing he's the easy touch when it comes to you coloreds, then have the audacity to thieve wallets from the good, honest white folk here?"
Bruce erupted out of his chair and glared at the petrified man. "I hope they rip your ass apart in prison where you belong, all chained up!"
"Mr. Bruce, I swear to Almighty God, I don't know about no wallets. Ain't seen 'em, none of us have!" The sweating black man fell to his knees.
"Get your sorry ass up." Bruce flicked his booted foot at him.
In desperation, the man dragged himself upright and stood next to the two others. The elder of the three looked towards Larry Bruce but dared not make eye contact. Instead, he focused on a large, elegantly framed photograph of a smiling young man on the wall above Bruce's head.
"Mr. Bruce, sir, I promise on my own dead son's grave. We ain't taken those wallets. Search us, search our bags, search our lockers."
Larry Bruce smirked.
Ten minutes later, Linda’s voice rang out again from just outside the door.
"Mr. Bruce, sir, the sheriff's here."
Sheriff Landon's intimidating figure almost filled the doorway as he entered Bruce's office, flanked by his scrawny-looking deputy.
"Y'know what to do, sheriff. I'll leave this matter in your … capable hands." Bruce winked at Landon who responded with a tip of his hat. He unclasped the small leather strap holding his revolver in its holster and motioned to his deputy to slap the iron handcuffs onto the black men, so weak with dread that they didn't struggle as they were led off.
"Anything else, Mr. Bruce?" Linda asked, about to return to her desk.
"No, thank you. Close the door behind you," Bruce replied, opening his desk drawer to retrieve his ever-present bottle of whiskey. Underneath the bottle, three black leather wallets he’d arranged that morning to be taken from the lockers of his workers nestled snugly underneath. Pouring himself a large measure, he slouched back in his chair and swigged it down in one deep gulp, smiling to himself in satisfaction at an excellent afternoon's work. It was his mission to rid his business of colored workers.
His plan had been a success so far.
Chapter 4
"This is Storm."
Tom patted the neck of the feisty chestnut-colored mare stomping her hooves on the ground next to her stable as if she were about to be let loose in a race. He and Shona were standing in the back field behind the farmhouse, a stunning expanse stretching as far as the eye could see. Their shadows lengthened as the afternoon sun lowered in the clear sky.
"Storm?" her eyebrows raised.
"Yep, every time we let her out, she moves like a damn whirlwind. This beast really is untamable." Tom held on tightly to the reins as Storm bucked at him, proving his point.
Shona laughed and patted the animal who threw her head to the side in response, almost taking Shona’s arm out its socket. She back-kicked the wall of her stable door several times, sending loud thuds echoing across the flat ground.
"Yeah, I can see that," Shona grinned.
She scanned her eyes over the landscape that surrounded her. It headed down towards the Weaver, a fast-flowing river with gorgeous Cahaba lilies and wildflowers blooming on its banks. The Birds' land was used for growing crops and grazing their farm animals, generating most of their stable but meager income. Tom smiled as he left her lost in her faraway thoughts.
When she returned to the farmhouse a while later, she sensed she'd interrupted Tom and Ruby talking in the kitchen. She turned on her heel to head back outside.
"Shona, wait!" Ruby gestured towards her. "Tom and I have just spoken, and we wanted to ask if you would like to stay here a night or two, just until you find yourself somewhere more permanent, I mean. We'll have to clear some space in the barn across the way, but it's warm."
"Really?" Shona couldn't contain her excitement long enough to even allow Ruby to complete her offer. "My God, yes, please! I'll help with the animals for my keep. I don't have no money yet, but–"
"That's OK. Ruby and I would just appreciate any help you can give on the farm. We're not getting any younger!" Tom glanced over at his wife, a cheeky smile sweeping over his kindly face.
"Speak for yourself, Bird!" Ruby jabbed a finger into his belly.
"I'd like that. I surely would. Thank y'all so much!" Shona beamed, leaping at Tom and Ruby and wrapping them both in a tight hug.
Chapter 5
"Mr. Bruce, sir! What an honor to be chosen to work alongside a fine gentleman such as yourself, who I respect and, quite frankly, am in awe of."
The dashingly handsome Kyle Chambers ran a hand over his perfectly coiffed jet black hair and flashed a well-rehearsed smile exposing his bright white teeth as he extended his muscular arm to shake Larry Bruce’s hand. He wore his best gray flannel suit, white button-down collar shirt and tapered, pleatless pants. Aiming to impress his new boss, Kyle’s outfit was completed by a striped tie and shiny black leather wing-tipped shoes. At thirty-four years old, he knew he was finally onto a good thing as he glanced eagerly around Bruce's lavishly decorated office.
"I'm sure you'll do well here, Kyle. I like the way y'think. Hell, you remind me of myself at your age," Bruce replied, walking around the back of his desk.
"Thank you, sir." Kyle felt the swell of confidence grow larger in his belly.
"Great. I'll ask Linda to give you details of when you'll start work. By then, my daughter Chloe will be home from college. She's gon' be my number two, but y'know, we'll see how you do and who knows," Bruce said, pouring a celebratory drink for the two of them. "I'll be training her to help run this place once I retire, but I need a man to, y'know, take this company forward. I mean, who in the hell heard of a woman being in charge? Investors would run a mile. But she's my only child to pass my half of this place on to after my son died five years ago. Just twenty-three years old he was."
Bruce paused for a moment, remembering the tragic day he'd found his son lying dead in a pool of blood, his arm ripped clean off by the threshing machine a colored worker was trapped in. He'd never come to terms with the fact that the colored man had lived and his son hadn't.
"I won't let you down, sir!" Kyle assured him.
Ruby joined Tom and Shona in the sparsely furnished barn, her arms laden with cotton towels and thick flowery blankets to make the place feel more like home. A weary-looking single mattress lay on top of some wooden pallets, keeping it off the hay-strewn floor. It wasn't much, but it was more than Shona had had in a long time.
Perfect, she thought.
"Shona, do you wear dresses at all?" Ruby asked, trying to be as tactful as she could.
"Dresses? No, ma'am, I don't. I guess I dress like I do 'cos I travel around so much. That way, guys don't give me no trouble, y'know?" Her cheeks flushed bright red.
"I was only asking as I could fix you a few new things to wear if you like? I saw you only had a little bag, so–"
Ruby gestured towards the battered-looking satchel lying on the floor next to Shona's new bed.
"Well, Shona, until Ruby here can make you some other kinda clothes, I'll lend you some pants, shirts, overalls and stuff. Will that make you feel more comfortable?" Tom smiled, sensing her embarrassment.
"I'd really like that, thank you," she replied.
Clearing space and tidying the area, they smiled at each other as they created a little haven for Shona and basked in the warm glow of the longed-for family feeling that was enveloping the three of them.
Chapter 6
"Larry? What can I do for you?"
Jeffrey Ellis poured himself a glass of his finest red wine from a crystal decanter, relaxing in his chair in the palatial home he shared with his wife Marjory, who was resting upstairs after another bout of illness. Holding the phone to his ear, he sipped his wine, savoring its flavor.
"I've had to get rid of those damn coloreds you sent my way. They’ve been
thievin'." Bruce tried hard to sound disappointed.
"What?" Ellis lowered his glass. "I heard good things from the guy they came from. You sure?"
"Oh, yeah, I turned them over to the sheriff like the last ones. You can't change 'em. They don't appreciate what you're tryin' to do for them, Jeffrey," Bruce continued in feigned dismay.
Ellis reclined back in his chair, deciding, as usual, to give Bruce the benefit of the heavy doubt.
"Fine. Got anything else for me?"
"You know about us taking on Kyle Chambers. I think he'll do well. Other than that, the numbers are looking good. There is one thing; I'm looking to buy some replacement machinery. Damn tractors keep breaking down, so I'll need to buy new parts. We can't keep up with the orders if things ain't working right!"
"Sure, go ahead. I dropped some cash off on my last visit. There should be plenty in the safe."
"That's great, Jeffrey. Oh, and say hi to Marj for me. I hope she's feeling better soon."
"OK, Larry, see you when I'm next in the office."
Ellis put the phone down and drained the last of his wine. Bruce sat back in his chair, a satisfied smile creeping over his face.
Chapter 7
"D'you know anywhere I could find work 'round these parts?" Shona asked, glancing up from the hearty breakfast Ruby had prepared the following morning.
"Tom?" Ruby aimed her spatula in his direction as she heated up the pan to fry more eggs.
"Daynes is a tough town, Shona. I mean, opinions have changed a little since the war ended, but it's still pretty much unheard of having a woman working with trucks, even one as hardworking as you. I know your old place back in Mississippi let you, but that's rare. There are some bone-idle people in this town, but they'd rather die than let a slip of a girl show 'em how to do their job properly! But we’re only a coupla years away from the ’60s so who knows, maybe things’ll change."
