by Daniel Adams
“Help me. I’m bit!” he shrilled. “Don’t let me die.”
She looked back. Even in the darkness she saw at least a dozen gators, closing on the men.
They had been willing to let the gators eat her. Why not tit for tat? She didn’t owe them a thing.
She kept the motor purring toward shore.
But she knew she couldn’t do it. No matter how much she wanted revenge, her Oath of Office meant more to her than just a piece of paper. She swung the boat around.
She circled around to where the four men tried to stay afloat. She pointed the rifle at them.
“Get in the boat one at a time. If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill all of you.”
As they climbed into the boat, she trained the rifle on the men. She hoped one of them would try something but they were nearly powerless from exhaustion.
“Deputy, tie them up. If the knots aren’t tight, you go back in the water.”
She watched him tie up the other men. Deputy Dave made the knots so tight they cut deeply into the men’s flesh. He wasn’t taking any chances.
After he was done, she took the rest of the rope.
“Lie down,” she ordered.
She tied his hands behind his back—hard. She felt no compassion for any of them. Only duty prevailed.
She guided the boat to the dock. With her gun trained on them, the men got out of the boat.
“Who owns that blue truck?” she asked.
“Me,” Deputy Dave replied.
“Give me the keys.”
He did.
“Ok, walk to the truck.”
With Mattie shepherding them along with her rifle, they slowly walked to the truck.
“Get in the back and lie down flat,” she said.
Glad to be alive, all of the men quickly lay down.
“If one of you so much as raises his head, I’ll shoot it off,” she promised.
She got into the cab. For a moment, she relaxed—just a moment then put the key in the ignition. The drive to Doctor Flint’s house was uneventful.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Had Mattie not been totally exhausted, and guarding five men, she might have seen the peeper scurry into the bushes next to Doctor Flint’s house. As it was, he watched with great interest as she rushed inside. As soon as she disappeared, he walked over to the blue truck. He knew who it belonged to—someone he hated with a great and burning passion. The peeper was very surprised at what he found in the truck. It seemed like the nigger lady had been busy. With any luck, it was going to be a good night for the peeper. He hid in the dark and listened to what the Klansmen whispered to each other. The peeper found it very interesting.
Mattie hurried through Doctor Flint’s house to the operating room where she found Doctor Flint asleep in a chair. She gently shook him awake.
“John. It’s me. Are you ok?” she asked anxiously.
He awakened with a start—saw her—relaxed.
“Damn am I glad to see you,” he said.
Bending down, she gave him a gentle hug.
“I was afraid you were dead,” she murmured.
“No, just beat up pretty good.”
She looked him over. His face was a mess. He needed stitches.
“They tried to feed me to the gators.”
She held out her arm so he could see the bite marks.
“It must not have gone well,” he laughed.
It was good to hear him laugh. He probably wasn’t that badly hurt if he could laugh.
“Last I saw of you, you were throwing punches like a crazy man,” she giggled.
“I’ve got a feeling I’ll be treating the men you punched,” he said. “I saw a couple who were hurt pretty bad.”
She pointed to her leg.
“I’m gonna need some stitches and so are you,” she commented. “You can do mine, but who’s going to do yours?”
“I’ll do them both,” he said.
“We can do it later,” she said. “I’ve got five Klansmen out in the truck who are worse off than us. One’s bleeding a lot. Gators got them.”
“He can wait. Let him bleed. You’re first.”
“I need to call the Sheriff.”
She picked up the phone.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” a voice said.
Mattie turned around. Jenny was standing in the doorway in her robe. She looked a lot better than when Mattie had last seen her.
“What do you mean?” Mattie questioned.
“He’s one of ‘em,” she mused. “Ain’t nothin’ happens unless he approves it.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Mattie countered.
“Rafe Cummings owns him, lock, stock and badge. When Rafe says jump, he jumps. He does all of Rafe's dirty work.”
Mattie had her doubts about what Jenny was saying. Mattie prided herself on judging people and she hadn’t seen anything in Sheriff Wilks that scared her.
“Did he beat you up?”
“No, but he knew it was going to happen. Rafe done this—him and his two goons.”
“What two goons?”
“Junior Barnes and Leroy. Rafe brought ‘em in from Atlanta cause none of the local scum were mean enough.”
“What do they look like?” Mattie queried.
“Leroy's a big nigger--goes at least three hundred pounds. Junior Barnes--he's white--squatty--short hair. A real smartass.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“When they’re a whorin’ all of the men blab like little girls. Tell the whores things why wouldn’t tell their best buddy. Nothin’ happens around her I don’t know about.”
“Ok, since you know everything. Why did Rafe have Deacon kill Dewey Young?”
“Dewey’s dead. It don’t surprise me none. It was bound to happen. He was runnin’ errands for that crook Jubal.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Deacon kill Dewey?”
Mattie only listened half-heartedly as Jenny explained. She was wondering about Sheriff Wilks and how badly she had misjudged him. If Rafe was the crime boss then Sheriff Wilks was one of his lieutenants. An enforcer. Someone who did Rafe’s bidding. It really shook her up.
“Cause Rafe told him to. Dewey worked at the racetrack. Somebody poisoned one of Rafe's racehorses. Maybe Dewey knew who done it.”
In her mind, she worked through the evidence. If Noonan didn’t kill Paxton then who did? Gus was out. Noonan was out. The only person she still had on her list was Deacon. But Deacon had told her he didn’t own the still and he only worked for Rafe. If Rafe had killed Paxton over two loads of shine he wasn’t the smart man she had thought he was. Killing Dewey over a racehorse made a lot of sense. A name popped into her head.
“Could Jubal have poisoned the horse?”
“He needed money real bad. I heard he owes Rafe over a quarter million dollars for something or other. I don’t know what.”
“So, if Jubal poisoned Rafe's horse, and bet on the winning horse, he might make enough money to pay off Rafe,” Mattie mused.
“God help him if he did. Rafe don’t forget or forgive.”
“Who else could have done it?”
Jenny thought a while before replying.
“A couple of days ago, Rafe had Sheriff Wilks beat the shit out of Dusty Pew. His horse won the race Big Blue was in. Guess they thought he done it.”
Mattie felt the trail was getting warmer. If nothing else, at least she now knew some of the things that were going on.
“Is Dusty Pew dead?”
“Nope but he ain’t never comin’ back here again. See, he thought he and the Sheriff were pals. Last year Dusty had the Sheriff and some local politicians up to his deer cabin to hunt. Had a bunch of liquor and women. I know cause I sent some of my girls up there. Dusty paid me $1,000 for the weekend but the Sheriff made me give him half. Dusty paid for the whole week. Sheriff didn’t have to shell out a dime. Dusty figured the Sheriff would go easy on him if something came up. Boy, was he wrong.”
> “How long does Jubal have before the money’s due?”
“Not long. Rafe had Junior Barnes and Leroy pay him a visit. They leaned on him real hard. Junior Barnes shot off Jubal’s big toe to show him Rafe is serious.”
“Shit, that explains why Jubal limps.”
“I gotta go back to bed but if I was you, I wouldn’t tell the Sheriff shit.”
Jenny left.
“Now what?” Doctor Flint asked.
“Pretend nothing happened. See what he does. In the meantime, we can hide the four Klansmen in your basement. Be interesting to see if anyone misses them. I’ll bet a couple of wives won’t say a word,” she laughed.
“That’s a safe bet. Hey, let’s get you fixed up before we worry about them. Oh, and once this is settled, I’m leaving. Kingswood can fuck themselves.”
“It’s their loss,” she exclaimed. She was glad he was going. He was too nice of a guy to work for these smucks.
“I’ll bring in the Klan. You have a basement, right?”
“First door in the hallway.”
It took Mattie the better part of a half hour to get the Klansmen secured in the basement. By the time she hid the blue truck in the woods behind Doctor Flint’s house, it was nearly 3:00 A.M. Carrying the weapons from the truck, she headed back to the front door of the house. She was only a few feet from the door when she heard something behind her and somebody slammed into her from behind. Driven to her knees, she tried to twist around to land a punch but whoever it was used his weight to slam her to the ground. Her hands were tangled in the guns underneath her and the weight on her back kept them pinned under her. She felt hands pulling at her pants, reaching around her to undo her belt. It suddenly came to her. Somebody was trying to rape her. After all she’d been through, some son of a bitch was assaulting her. That was it. Her temper went off like a volcano.
With all of her strength she pushed up with her arms, twisted her hands around and freed them from the guns. She wasted no time on finesse. With every ounce of energy left in her body, she swung her elbow a full 120 degrees, connecting with the rapist’s head like a pile driver. She hit him so hard he literally flew off of her, landing in the grass a few feet away. Rolling to her feet, she took one step and kicked him in the head with a forward snap kick. She felt parts of his face collapse under her foot. With anger coursing red hot through her veins, she bent down to look at him but it was too dark to see. Grabbing an ankle, she dragged the guy inside the clinic, not really caring that his head bounced off each step and the door careened off the side of his head.
In the waiting room she dropped his foot. For the first time she got a look at his face. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The rapist was an eighty-year old man. Doctor Flint, who had heard the commotion in the front yard, limped into the waiting room.
“He tried to rape me,” Mattie panted.
“That’s Emil Thogan. He’s a nut. He’s tried to rape just about every woman in town. The Sheriff locks him up but he can’t keep him forever.”
“Has he ever succeeded?”
“Not that we know about,” Doctor Flint responded.
Mattie was beyond exhaustion. She hung down from the waist until she got her breath back.
Emil stirred, looked up at her and grinned.
“Wanna go back to my place and do it?”
“Emil, you did it again. You know you aren’t supposed to be around any women. Now the Sheriff is going to have to lock you up for six months.”
“Six months?” Mattie was incredulous.
“He’s eighty-four. Now judge is going to lock him up for any longer. It would be a death sentence.”
“But if he just keeps doing it, sooner or later he may succeed,” Mattie argued.
“I know. That’s why everyone keeps an eye on him.”
“I keep my eye on everybody, too,” Emil giggled.
“What are we gonna do with him?”
“Take him to the Sheriff, I guess.”
Emil eyed them slyly.
“Sheriff ain’t at the jail. No sirree, Bob. Sheriff’s got a secret. He weren’t in town.”
“Where is he?” Doctor Flint asked.
“Not gonna tell unless you let me go.”
Mattie looked at Doctor Flint.
“Let’s lock him in the basement with the others. We can sort it out in the morning.”
“I knows something real important,” Emil continued. “He ain’t gonna be Sheriff no more after I tell.”
Mattie just wanted to go to bed. She didn’t give a damn about Emil. She’d kicked his butt good.
“Ok. You can go—IF—I think it’s good.
“Can I have your panties?”
“Sure!” Doctor Flint deadpanned.
Mattie and Doctor Flint laughed at his quick aside.
“Don’t want yours. I want hers.”
“No. Tell me what you have or you’re going down in the basement with the others.”
“Sheriff was out at Perkins Landing with the Klan,” Emil claimed.
Mattie didn’t believe him. No way would the Sheriff have let them try to kill her.
“You’re lying,” she said. “Come on.”
“Ain’t lyin’. Heard the Klan guys in your truck talkin’ about it. Don’t believe me, he got shot—bunch of shotgun pellets in his arm.”
“If you’re lying I’m going to hunt you down,” Mattie warned him.
“Ain’t scared of that.”
“Go!” She pointed out the door.
On wobbly legs, Emil staggered to the door.
“You sure about them panties.”
She rushed him but he went out the door before she could catch him.
“Do you believe him?” Doctor Flint asked.
“I don’t know but I don’t give a damn right now. I’m going to bed. Where is it?”
“Guest or mine?”
“Yours.”
“First door past the surgery.”
The next morning, on the other side of town, at the dog food plant, Leroy and Junior Barnes entered Rafe’s office to find him on the phone. They sat down and waited quietly because they had seen first-hand what happened if someone interrupted Rafe while he was on the phone. When he finally finished, he looked at them.
“Guess who that was?”
Neither one of them wanted to guess. Guessing was like playing Russian Roulette. If you guessed too far off base, Rafe would lose his temper so it was best to not be the one guessing. No one won if Rafe lost his temper. True to the streak of bad luck he had been having, Rafe pointed at Leroy.
“The President,” he ventured. He figured if he stroked Rafe’s ego, Rafe wouldn’t be as likely to blow up.
When he laughed, they both laughed, knowing it wasn’t funny at all.
“It was Jubal,” he told them. He’s going to pay me back my money.”
“Can we kill him?” Junior Barnes asked.
“He’s not coming here. He doesn’t trust me. He wants to meet in a public place. I said yes.”
“Then can we kill him? Maybe down by the river. We got this cozy little place where no one ever goes,” Leroy suggested.
“I want to do it here. I have this whole little party thing planned. Gonna have a special guest—“
Before he could finish his comment, Sheriff Wilks hurried in. It was obvious he had something important for Rafe.
“Where were you yesterday? I tried to call all afternoon.”
“I had some business over in Ford County. What’s going on, Sheriff?” Rafe asked.
“The lady FBI arrested Deacon. She found Dewey, cooking in his still.”
It sat Rafe back in his chair. Things were getting too close to him.
“That stupid son of a bitch. I told him to lose the body.”
“That ain’t the worst of it. Deacon told her you were involved in Paxton’s murder.”
Rafe leaped to his feet, anger surging through him like white-hot lava.
“Fuck! He’s a dead man!” he hollered.
“I don’t think she knows anything but she’s going to keep right on digging.”
“Things are getting out of hand. This has to be stopped. I want you to whack Deacon, the nigger FBI lady, Jubal and anyone else who gets in your way.”
“There's more. Last night, there was a shootout at Perkins Landing. By the time Frank got there, everybody was gone. He found some shell casings and a lot of blood. We don't have any idea what happened or who got shot. This morning, Dave didn't show up for his shift and A.J.'s wife called and said he didn't come home last night. I got word that a lot of the Klan is wounded.”
“What the hell. Nothing is supposed to happen around here unless I say so and I didn’t say so. You two hold off until the Sheriff can talk to the FBI lady. I need time to think.”
Doctor Flint and Mattie slept until 10:00 A.M. And even though they slept in the same bed, there was no hanky panky. Both of them were too exhausted and sore to even think about sex. When Mattie awakened, she found Doctor Flint awake and looking at her across the pillows.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” she replied.
“I guess we both slept well,” he suggested. “I know I slept right through.”
“Me too,” she agreed. “I have to be at the bank in an hour. I’m going to interview Mia Clagg.”
Doctor Flint laughed. “You will have an interesting time.”
“Sheriff Wilks said just about the same thing. What’s up?”
“Nothing bad. I promise you it’s no big deal.”
“I hurt all over,” she said. “I used to hurt from karate but it was nothing compared to this. How are you?”
“The same. Everything hurts. You know what hurts the most? My spirit. I have taken care of every single man out there and this is how they re-paid me. I’ve saved their kids, I’ve saved their wives. I just can’t believe the did this to me—us.”
“Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face. Guess the figure they can find a new doctor to replace you.”
