by Guy Johnson
There would be no surprises. Elroy already knew the name of his family. He had done his own detective work. In 1960 he had taken two weeks off and researched the Port Arthur archives for the orphanage’s records. He had unearthed the notes of the mother superior who in 1927 actually met with the woman who annually sent money to the orphanage in his name. Her name was Serena Tremain, which was consistent with the initials on the overcoat she had left behind. Elroy still possessed that coat. It took no great effort to discover the owner’s whereabouts. He had known for over twenty years about the Tremains and his relationship to them. His close resemblance to King had often been brought to his attention by fellow officers. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put the facts together.
The main reason Elroy never contacted the Tremains himself was that during his time in Port Arthur he uncovered some disturbing and confusing information. From the records that he was able to piece together, he had been brought to the orphanage as an infant by a Captain LeGrande from the New Orleans Sheriff’s Department. The captain had left certain instructions that the child in question should never under any circumstances be released to the custody of King Tremain. According to the captain, King Tremain would kill the baby if he ever got his hands on the child. If he was truly King’s child, it didn’t make sense, but there was much about his origins Elroy didn’t understand. The other reason that Elroy never initiated contact was that King Tremain was a legendary crime figure in the corridors of the San Francisco Police Department. Special squads were assigned to put a stop to his operations. The city’s law enforcement practically ignored the depredations of the Mafiosi while they were dedicating their resources to fighting King. The unspoken order was that administration wanted him dead, a feat they were never able to achieve. Elroy’s only face-to-face meeting with King occurred before Elroy knew his relationship to him, but King had certainly known who he was. This was another confusing piece in the abstract, nonrepresentational puzzle of Elroy’s life: Elroy had long since given up trying to fit the pieces together. He had accepted that the logic and progression of his life were beyond his reasoning, and that some pieces were doomed never to fit together. Perhaps, in the giant wheel of life, he was not meant to be happy, not meant to enjoy the precious gifts of family; perhaps he was meant to be among the broken and pulverized, who like aggregate lie crushed and faceless beneath the feet of human activity.
It would have been different, perhaps, if Elroy had never known the loving warmth of a family, if he had never known how a mother and father were supposed to act, or how a brother and sister knitted together for support, but he had tasted that life. For four short, wonderful years he had lived in the bosom of a family. He had been adopted two years after Serena had visited by a family that had lost a boy his age to the venom of a cottonmouth moccasin. Four short years, long enough to taste but not long enough to learn.
The Caldwells had a boy and a younger daughter. Their nine-year-old child had not been in the grave six months when they came to the orphanage. They were poor, God-fearing folk who had sufficient love and food to adopt another child. When they selected him, Elroy couldn’t believe it. It made him think that there might really be a God hidden up in the sky, someone who really watched over the lost and forlorn. He left the orphanage with only the clothes he was wearing, but he felt like royalty. He was going to have what had been denied. He was going to be part of a family. The first year in the Caldwell household, he had gotten down on his knees every night and secretly thanked God for blessing him. Little did he know at the time that it was a blessing soon to be revoked.
Elroy crushed the beer can in his still-powerful hands. Just the thought of the Caldwells brought a sudden rage. He knew that the anger and bitterness he felt could not all be directed at the Tremains. It was fate, what the Hindus called karma, that was the true enemy. It had predestined him to a life of loss, a life in which the important lessons were learned at great personal cost. He opened the blinds of the window above the desk and stared out at the dark windows and aged brick facade of the building across the alley. He threw the crushed beer can into a wastebasket and closed the blinds. The view out the window was void of life and color. There was nothing memorable about it, yet it was etched in his mind from all the years he had looked out upon it; etched in his mind like the night his life with the Caldwells had ended. He could not stop his thoughts once he began thinking of that night.
It happened in 1933, during the Depression, when he was thirteen, during the early morning hours when he had gone eeling with his adoptive older brother and father. The evening had started off so well for Elroy’s family. Dinner was hoecakes and mustard greens cooked with ham hocks followed by molasses pie, then Elroy’s father had read from one of the two books that the family possessed. The first book was the Bible and the other was Lyrics for the Hearthside by Paul Laurence Dunbar. Most times his father read from the Bible, but this particular night, he chose to read Paul Dunbar.
Of course, Elroy’s younger sister, Ruthie, wanted her father to read “Little Brown Baby” and Elroy remembered how his older brother, Judah, who had just turned sixteen, called out for “How Lucy Backslid” and there was a moment when his father had looked over the small book of poems with a stern expression, but then it changed into a smile. What made the evening so special is that none of the three children had to practice their “recitation.” His father took time to read everyone’s favorite poem and finished with the “Warrior’s Prayer.”
Elroy went to bed with a full stomach and stanzas of Dunbar’s poetry dancing in his head. He was shaken from sleep early the next morning by Judah. He struggled into his clothes in the flickering darkness of candlelight. The sound of Ruthie’s even breathing on the pallet next to him made him think about returning to the warmth of his blankets, but his mother offered him a steaming cup of black coffee and after the first few burning mouthfuls he was wide awake.
All the gear had been packed by the door so as to make their departure in the darkness easier. So, as they loaded up to walk down to their canoe his father asked, “Where’s the bait I asked you to put out, Elroy?” Elroy was immediately ashamed for he had forgotten to do the task. There was a moment of silence before Judah spoke and said, “It’s here, Pappy.” Judah was holding up a pail full of live earthworms and minced meat. He winked at Elroy in the darkness and there was a brief flash of uneven white teeth. Elroy sighed with relief. His older brother had come through for him again. As he followed the dark silhouettes of his father and brother through the pines and palmettos along the half-mile trail that led down to the water, he waved to his mother standing in the dim light of the cabin’s doorway. She was the one who truly understood how intensely important it was for him to have people he could call sister, brother, father, and mother. It was the happiest period in his young life. He had no idea that it was the last time he would see her alive.
In the distant trees Elroy could hear owls hooting to one another and the stars seemed bright overhead. The canoe was hidden in the underbrush above the high-water mark and covered with a piece of tarp. Judah and his father hefted it on their shoulders and waded into the water. Once everything was loaded, they pushed out onto the black surface of the water and paddled quietly through the shallows toward some small islands out in the bayou where the eels were known to spawn. The frogs and the cicadas created rhythms in the darkness with their mating calls.
Elroy’s father lighted an old kerosene lantern and hooked it to the prow of the canoe and asked Judah, at the back of the canoe, to troll slowly while he threw little bits of bait into the water under the lantern. When his father started to see activity just under the surface, he told Elroy to throw out baited float lines, while he sat at the prow with a homemade net scooping for anything that came to the surface.
The fish weren’t biting in the first spot so they paddled to another cove where the delta created shallow waterways. Along the way Elroy’s father asked him, “You didn’t put out that bait like I asked, did you?�
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Elroy had no choice but to tell the truth. “No, I forgot, Papa.”
“Yo’ brother done yo’ job for you again, huh?” he asked as he continued to paddle in the front of the canoe.
“Yes, sir,” Elroy answered, shame bending his head. He stared at his father’s carbine, which lay in the bottom of the canoe.
His father turned around and looked at both his sons with a smile. “That’s what brothers are for. Yo’ brother did the right thing, but you, Elroy, got to stay on yo’ job; that way yo’ brother don’t have to forget his to cover for you.” His father paused as if to let his sons digest the content of his words and turned his attention to his rowing before he spoke again. He guided the canoe through a narrow channel which meandered between several small islands. He commented over his shoulder, “Judah, you ain’t doin’ too well on yo’ readin’ and writin’. When we finish buildin’ the schoolhouse and the teacher arrives, I’ll expect better from you. But you’s learnin’ the lessons about family that I wanted you to learn. You’s learnin’ about helpin’. You’s both good sons. I pushes you, ’cause it’s my job to prepare you to deal with the world these white folks have set up.” His father had to turn and concentrate on paddling because the canoe was crossing an area in which there were a lot of submerged logs. He guided the canoe into a little, narrow canal. From the rise of a small island on their right, the red eyes of some fair-sized animals reflected the light of the lantern.
“You got yo’ carbine, Pa? We got swamp deer right there!” Judah whispered.
“Sure! You got yo’ sling?” his father rejoined. “If you want to go about chasin’ wounded deer in the dead of night, might as well use that. I could hit him dead in the heart and he’d still run off thirty-five yards somewheres out there in the swamp.” The deer took off at the first sound of their voices and splashed away in the night.
There was a late moon rising overhead; it was nearly full and tinged pale blue. It cast a soft light over the half-submerged landscape. “I ain’t ever killed anything as big as a deer with my sling, Pa!” Judah mused.
“I was only funnin’, son. We’s after fish tonight. We got plenty meat smoked and put away.”
The canoe continued slowly forward through the narrow shallows until there was plenty of activity under the lantern. They fished steadily for nearly two hours, removing hooked fish and placing fresh bait on the float lines. Both eels and catfish were biting in the new area. Their handwoven basket was nearly full of slithering eels and wiggling catfish when the first gunshots echoed across the water.
Judah looked up and there was a red brightness above the trees in the direction of their cabin. “Pa, it look like there’s a fire somewhere near home!”
“Get them oars out!” commanded his father. “And start pulling hard. We got a mess of distance to clear!” Elroy saw his father cut the trolling lines, leaving the store-bought hooks and floats to drift with the twine. He saw the muscles of his father’s bare back flex in a pattern of ripples in the lantern’s glow as he sent the prow of the canoe back toward the main channel.
“Help on the right!” Judah called out behind him and Elroy switched his paddle to the right side and dug deeply into the rippling surface.
They bent their backs to the task. Elroy could hear his heart drumming in his chest like the sound of an old mill saw. He focused on rowing, changing sides every two strokes like his father taught him. The canoe pushed through a narrow waterway where the thickets had grown dense on either side and several branches smacked Elroy across the face, then they were through into open water.
“Put your backs into it, boys!” his father commanded. As he finished speaking there was a barrage of gunfire.
A rider sitting astride his horse at the back of the group of twenty hooded riders watched as his uncle, the Grand Cyclops of the Den, yelled out to the cabin, “Come out, niggers! You was warned to get out of this parish! You was warned not to try buildin’ no school! You was told there ain’t no place for educated niggers down here! Now it’s time to pay the piper! The Invisible Empire is here! Come out or we’ll burn you out!” Several of the riders at the front of the group were carrying torches.
There was only a woman’s voice in answer: “You ain’t got no right! Our people done lived on this land since before the Civil War. This is our land!”
“Ain’t that just like niggers?” the Grand Cyclops shouted over his shoulder to his followers. “The menfolk is too scared to come out of the pantry and talk, so they send a woman!”
“Let’s burn ’em down!” shouted another voice from the front. “Teach ’em a lesson!”
The Grand Cyclops gestured to a couple of riders who were carrying torches and they spurred their horses forward. When they neared the cabin, rifle fire erupted from inside. One man fell from his horse and the other turned his horse away. Suddenly, there was pandemonium and confusion among the riders; no one had expected resistance. “Return fire!” ordered the Grand Cyclops, riding out of danger, and a hail of bullets splattered against the cabin, breaking the glass windows and punching holes in the walls and the door. A torch was thrown on the thatched roof and another through the broken window. The dry thatch caught immediately and the fire spread rapidly. The riders continued to fire their guns into the cabin despite the fact that there was no answer from inside the building.
Elroy’s mother was already dead. She was killed in the first hail of bullets from the Night Riders. Her seven-year-old daughter lay on the floor crying by her mother’s body until a piece of the burning roof fell on her. The child tried to put out the flames, but more burning thatch kept falling until finally both her dress and her newly oiled hair caught fire. The flames and the pain made her forget the men outside. She got up and ran from the cabin screaming. She stumbled off the front porch and fell in the dirt. She got up once and staggered blindly about until a shot from the Grand Cyclops’s gun knocked her over backward.
The rider who had initially been at the back of the group now found himself next to his uncle. He had seen the child come running from the burning cabin with her clothes and hair ablaze. Her body was still smoldering in the dirt. The smell of burning flesh was now strong in the clearing in front of the cabin. The rider was sickened by the carnage. It was not what he expected. He had ridden along for fun, but not to kill children. He turned his horse and kicked it into a gallop and, by doing so, saved his own life.
The first bullet that Elroy’s father fired hit the Grand Cyclops in the chest and knocked him off his horse. Elroy’s father continued firing until he was out of bullets. Several more riders fell. Once again there was confusion among the Night Riders. About half of them took off, riding for their lives. Others returned fire, aiming their guns into the darkness, hoping to drive off their foes.
Elroy’s father was out of bullets, but he couldn’t stay out of sight. His daughter was lying in the front of the burning cabin and he had no idea where his wife was. He had to at least get to his daughter. Using the shrubs and underbrush as cover he made his way toward the cabin. His carbine was useless. He prepared himself to make a dash into the clearing to get his daughter. He waited behind a bush, looking for an opportunity.
The remaining riders were having difficulty maintaining control of their horses, who were boggling because of the loud discharges from the weapons. There was considerable dust being raised by the horses’ hooves. After some shouted exchanges the remaining riders appeared to decide that it was best that they also depart, for they reined their horses and followed their comrades back along the road.
It was the moment Elroy’s father had been waiting for. He rushed out into the clearing and knelt by his daughter’s still-breathing body. The skin on her face and legs was burned black, and liquid from her wounds ran down his arms as he hoisted her to carry her to safety. He nearly made it out of the clearing when a shot rang out. The bullet hit Elroy’s father in the shoulder and spun him around. Nonetheless, he did not drop his daughter, but staggered back into the bush. Th
e sound of returning hoofbeats followed close behind. Before Elroy’s father reached the cover of the oleander thickets another shot dropped him. He fell on top of the body of his daughter and lay still.
Elroy and Judah rushed to kneel by the bodies of their father and sister. Judah gently rolled his father’s bloodstained body off his sister’s and discovered they were both dead. Elroy was in shock. His gaze shifted back and forth from the flames of the burning cabin to the bodies of his father and sister, back and forth again and again. His mother was probably still in the house. If she had escaped, she would not have left Ruthie behind. Elroy couldn’t believe what was happening. He was afraid to even touch the blistered body of his sister. She smelled like meat cooked over an open fire, like barbecue. Tears began to trickle down his face. The blessing that was his family was being destroyed before his eyes.
Three hooded riders warily reined their horses to a walk just before they entered the clearing. Judah jerked at Elroy’s shirt, indicating it was time to escape into the thickets, but Elroy knelt as if he were frozen, heedless of his brother’s urgency. Judah shook him again but more forcefully. “Come on,” Judah hissed. “They gon’ kill us too!”
Elroy allowed himself to be helped up by his brother and led into the bushes. He seemed to have lost his fear of death, for he walked as if he were in slow motion. With Elroy’s arm over his shoulder, Judah half-carried, half-dragged him deeper into the protective cover of the underbrush. But not before they were seen.
