The Lesser People

by Lee Thompson

I shook my head. “Daddy said Uncle Tommy would know what to do. He said he’d protect us.”

  “He’s not here right now,” Ben said. He bit his lip.

  I said, “Who is here?”

  He grabbed his shoes and pulled them on, tucked the laces inside. Momma hated when he did that but she wasn’t there to see so I said nothing about it. Ben’s fingers dug into my elbow. He pulled me toward the bar. He said, “Tell me what all happened.”

  His fingers hurt my elbow. It reminded me of how Daddy sometimes grabbed Momma. I said, “If you hadn’t run out you’d know.”

  “Don’t get smart with me,” he said. “I’ll tan your hide for it because if Daddy’s in jail then that makes me the man of the house and you have to mind me.”

  I thought about it a second, thought he was right, that it was true. “Okay,” I said. Then I told him everything that had happened since he’d been gone the last day and a half, embellishing a little about my own bravery, which he smiled at. We moved along like a couple tramps with nowhere to go and no specific time to get there by. Before I knew it we stood at the corner where Main met Roosevelt, the municipal buildings just down the street. People milled about, shielding their eyes from the sun, talking idly, holding newspapers, and clogging the streets. More and more cars were pouring into town.

  I said, “I hope we’re not too late.”

  Ben said, “I can’t believe Preacher killed those cops with some throwing knives, but it figures.” He stared hard at the police station. “Uncle Tommy said that Art was in the Army with him a long time ago. And before that he’d been in the circus. He probably threw knives there at some lady spinning on one of those wheels.”

  I tried to imagine that. It sounded real neat. I nodded to Ben. “He was quick. I thought he might have been a spy at one time.”

  “Maybe he was in the Army,” Ben said. “Come on.”

  We approached the jailhouse. Some of the adults watched us. Ben told me to ignore them. I asked, “Where’s Uncle Tommy?”

  Ben shrugged. “Probably with his girlfriend.”

  I asked him, “What are we supposed to do?”

  Ben said, “I’m going to talk to the sheriff and see if he’ll set Momma free since she didn’t do anything.”

  I remembered how she’d clawed Sheriff’s face. I figured he could probably lock her up because of that. Then I remembered what the sheriff had said about me and Ben and Uncle Tommy not wanting us. I said, “What’s a ward of the state?”

  Ben stopped on the lawn outside the jail. He stared at the dark red stains in front of and behind Preacher’s car. He said, “I don’t know.” He pointed and said, “Is that where the suits died?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I mimicked what Preacher did but I was a lot slower, and a lot clumsier. Ben made a low noise in his throat. He said, “I wish I could have seen Preacher cuffing the sheriff to his steering wheel. People will be talking about that for a long time. The old cop is going to be mad as hell over it for years probably.”

  “He had it coming,” I said.

  Ben turned and smiled at me. “You sound like Dad.”

  “I’m his son,” I said, not understanding why that should be a shock to him.

  “Never mind,” Ben said. “Come on.”

  We walked up and walked inside the jail house. I was thinking that I should be scared but since Ben was by my side I wasn’t. Right away I saw that they put Momma and Preacher into the same cell as Daddy. They’d taken Preacher’s coat from him too and he had his shirtsleeves rolled up and the muscles in his forearms danced as he put the squeeze on the bars and kept talking to the sheriff in a low voice. No one had noticed us, our dad holding our mom, her eyes closed, his pointed at the ceiling. Preacher’s attention was locked on the desk where the sheriff sat with his elbows locked on the pale gray patches of bare old wood. He had his fingers interlaced. He listened to Preacher say that his day was coming soon and the only reason he didn’t kill him was that he liked Bill’s mother, and had been friends with his father.

  Ben said, “Sheriff?”

  The older man turned. He smiled real slow but his face was scratched and it looked like smiling hurt the gouges Momma had given him. He said, “Well now.”

  “Well,” Ben said. “You going to let our mother go free?”

  Sheriff shook his head. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because,” Ben said. “She’s just a woman and she ain’t done nothing. What crime did she commit?”

  Sheriff pushed up from his chair and walked toward us. He stopped an arm’s length away. Ben was almost up to his shoulder. I stared at his stomach thinking that I’d like to punch him again but I didn’t want him pulling my hair.

  I glanced over and saw our parents looking at us. Momma smiled but Daddy’s face was downcast. Preacher’s lips were a granite line drained of all color. Ben looked into the sheriff’s face with a directness that seemed to unnerve him. Ben said, “Well? What crime has she committed?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Sheriff said. “But I’ll think of something.”

  Ben said, “She do that to your face?”

  Sheriff reddened but he touched the wounds and flinched. “She got lucky.”

  Ben said, “Uncle Tommy said he’ll be talking to you.”

  I wondered when Uncle Tommy had said that but before I could ask, Sheriff said, “Tommy? What’s he have to do with any of this?”

  Ben smiled. He told me to go visit with our parents while he talked to Sheriff. I did so, reluctantly, not wanting to miss hearing what was said, but at the same time glad to be close to the only three adults I trusted.

  I knelt outside the cell and Preacher knelt in front of me. He said, “You okay?”

  Daddy came up behind him and grabbed the bars. He said, “You shouldn’t have come back here, Eli.”

  Momma joined us. She whispered, “He’s doing the only thing he knows how, Hank.”

  Daddy sighed. “I know that.”

  Preacher said, “Ben seems pretty sure of himself. Where did you find him?”

  “He was at Uncle Tommy’s trailer.”

  Daddy nodded and chuckled to himself. I didn’t know what was funny. I turned to Preacher and said, “Ben told me you were in the Army. Did you kill people there?”

  Preacher looked passed me, saw Sheriff pausing to look our way. He held the sheriff’s eye and said, “About the only thing I agree on with that man is that some people do need killing. But only those that will threaten to take your life and freedom.”

  Momma touched his shoulder.

  Daddy said, “Where is my brother?”

  I shook my head. I whispered, “Don’t know. He wasn’t there with Ben.” I wanted to tell them that I heard a girl in the trailer with my brother but I didn’t want to rat him out so I choked the impulse down and it sat heavy in my stomach. I said, “Do you think he’ll let you out?”

  My mother brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. She said sadly, “I don’t know, Elijah. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Ben and the sheriff talked in hushed voices.

  Preacher kept watching them. He said, “That boy is convincing him somehow.”

  Sheriff frowned and nodded. “Okay,” he said. He squared his shoulders but it didn’t seem natural on him like it did Daddy or Preacher. He approached us with the keys dangling from his hands. He paused outside the cell next to me. I looked at the keys in his hands. They were very worn. Sheriff said, “You ole’ boys will have to sit tight until the judge can see you tomorrow morning.” He nodded at Momma. “You I’ll let go for now under one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Momma asked. I figured most people would have skipped asking because they’d want out of that gray cell so bad, but she had her back straightened too and one of her arms snaked around Daddy’s waist. Preacher stood off to the side, leaning against the cage that separated cells. Momma said, “What condition?”

  Sheriff yawned, seemed to be tired of everything all at once. He said, “You keep these bo
ys off the streets and you don’t make any waves about what happened. Just let things happen the way they will, the way they should.”

  Momma said, “I can’t promise you that.”

  Sheriff looked at Ben who looked at Momma like he wanted her to lie since he tried so hard to get her out of there. And I wanted her to lie too so she could come home and be with us. Sheriff said, “Beth, just let things play out how they’ll play out. We’ve got a Klan rally coming into town and I don’t want to see you or the boys get hurt.”

  Preacher said, “What is the Klan doing here?”

  Sheriff ignored him. He said to my mother, “Can you just stay in your home and stay out of the way? I’m sure Hank would want that, wouldn’t you, Hank?”

  My dad rubbed some bruises on his arms. He shook his head. He said, “I want her to do what she believes is right for our family.”

  “Goddamn you all,” Sheriff said. “I’ve been good to you! This town has been good to you. We’ve got a great place to live and we don’t have to suffer if we keep things in check. But we’re going to suffer if we let things change, if we let the government strip us of our rights and how we deem the proper way to run this state. It’s been this way forever and it shouldn’t have to change. We shouldn’t have to change.” He sighed. When he looked up he said, “What do they mean to you? Is it worth losing all you have here to stand up for the jungle bunnies when they contribute nothing to our society?”

  Daddy said, “They’re people, Bill. Same as us. Same as you.”

  “Amen,” Preacher said.

  Bill shook his head. “If you can’t promise me you’ll stay out of the way, Beth, I’m going to have to let you sit.” He turned away. Ben grabbed him by the shoulder and spun the sheriff around. It startled the older man for a second, the strength Ben possessed even though he was only thirteen, and for a second something passed across his face. I thought he saw Daddy as a boy in my brother’s face, or maybe felt it in his grip. Sheriff said, “I’m sorry, Benjamin. Go on back to your Uncle Tommy’s. Or if you want head on down to the fairgrounds and see what the rally is all about.” He glanced at my parents then back to my brother and me. “Seems a crime to believe the way your parents believe out of obligation. You’ll be a man before you know it and men have to make up their own minds on how they feel about everything.”

  “I done made up my mind,” Ben said. “I can’t say I like the colored folk any more than I like you but I can tell you this, not one of them has ever hurt my family.”

  “Well,” the sheriff said.

  I waited for something drastic to happen, almost expecting it after all that had happened in the past twenty four hours, but the silence and the stillness hung about us.

  Our mother broke it by saying, “Has Tommy been treating you good, Ben?”

  Ben released the sheriff. The big cop walked stiffly to his desk and sat on the corner of it.

  My brother said, “Uncle Tommy’s a lot like Daddy.”

  I didn’t think he was anything like Daddy.

  Momma said, “Go on back there and ask him to stop by our house to make sure everything is okay there, will you?”

  Ben huffed for a moment. I could tell that he was proud of himself for talking the sheriff into letting our mother go free and he was frustrated with her for messing it up. I was a little angry with her too, but I think she wanted to stay with our father and with Preacher. Maybe she thought they could work on a plan as long as they were together. And I figured she must have trusted Uncle Tommy more than I’d thought. That was something new and something I didn’t expect because I always thought she hated him since there was several times she called him a son of a bitch.

  My brother said, “All right. When he gets back I’ll let him know and we’ll run by home.”

  Sheriff said, “Where’s Tommy at today?”

  Ben shrugged.

  Sheriff said, “It’s just a question. Not going to get anyone in any trouble.”

  “I said I don’t know,” Ben said.

  “How about I run you boys back there?” Sheriff said.

  “We can walk,” Ben said. “We walked here on our own.”

  Sheriff sighed again. He said, “You boys better not cause me any problems. You do and—”

  Daddy said, “Don’t threaten my children, Bill.”

  “I’m not,” Sheriff said. He wouldn’t meet Daddy’s gaze. Instead he looked at me. “I’m just worried that Conover’s dead and his family is going to want to hurt you, Hank. And they ain’t going to be able to do that as long as you’re locked up in here and under my charge. But your boys now, they’ll be out there.” He nodded toward the door. “And you know how the Conover’s are.”

  Daddy said, “My boys will be with my brother. He’ll protect them the same as I would.”

  Sheriff shook his head. “I don’t think you understand where Tommy’s allegiances lie.”

  “They lie with his family,” Preacher said. “They have his whole life.”

  Sheriff tapped his fingers on the desk and then pushed himself off it. He said, “About time you boys left.” He pointed us to the door. Ben glanced back at Daddy. He looked a little scared. I followed him outside, wishing we could bring our parents and Preacher with us but we couldn’t even though we almost had Momma free. Ben brushed by me and stood on the walkway. He scanned left and right. I stood beside him. “What are you looking for?”

  “Conover’s,” he said. “Daddy killing one of them is about the worst thing that could happen.”

  “Him being locked in there is the worst thing that could happen,” I said.

  “No it’s not,” Ben said.

  Yeah, it is, I thought.

  Satisfied that none of the Conover’s was watching us, he patted my shoulder and said, “Come on.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  As we walked back past the cemetery I saw the black man and the black boy leaning against a set of weathered headstones. It was dark in the cemetery, darker than the street or the buildings blocking the light pounding in from the west.

  A big commotion was going on north of town where the fairgrounds lay. Ben walked a little ahead of me and I wanted to yell and tell him to slow down but he wouldn’t have listened anyway so I kept my mouth shut. There were times in our lives that it felt like we barely knew each other, and other times when I felt closer to him than anybody else I knew, and how different those times could be, and how they could make me feel sometimes confused me. I mentioned it to Daddy once, sitting out back of our house in lawn chairs with cool lemonade in our hands and sweat beading on our upper lips and the two of us smiling at the first spray of stars growing visible in the evening sky, “You and Uncle Tommy ever feel like that?”

  Daddy had said he never really thought about it much. He said to be honest he couldn’t remember since he was thirty-six and ten years old was a long time ago. I nodded, pretending to understand. And then I asked him if Uncle Tommy was mad that Daddy arrested him. My father sipped his lemonade and I followed suit, glad to just be alone with him and ask him questions. After a while, after I thought he’d chosen not to answer, he told me that Uncle Tommy knew what he did was wrong and that his brother didn’t blame him, though Daddy was glad that it hadn’t come to blows because he was afraid that one of them would have died.

  I asked him, “Who would have died?”

  He said, “Probably me. Art, Preacher that is, and Tommy, they’re the two toughest men I’ve ever met.”

  I thought he was crazy back then for saying Preacher was tough. Uncle Tommy didn’t seem so tough either, just kinda like a lunatic that could be smiling one minute and cutting somebody open with his hunting knife the next on account of him not liking the shirt they wore. Nobody really messed with him, not even the police. And he’d done jobs for people, though I didn’t find out what kind of jobs until I was older, and he’d earned favors from powerful men. Me and Daddy talked more that night but it was about fun things, like fishing and comic books and James Bond.

&
nbsp; I scratched my head as me and Ben walked up the back streets toward Tommy’s trailer. Thinking made my head hurt. Or maybe it was the heat. Or maybe it was just dumb old stress. Ben was farther ahead, almost trotting like a young buck ready to burst free into an open field as our uncle’s travel trailer came into view. I ran to catch up with him, glad for once that running killed the soreness in my muscles and the hand that somebody had stepped on wasn’t hurting so much. The gravel spun from beneath our sneakers. The trailer glinted in the sun and I imagined it had to be a couple hundred degrees inside but when Ben threw the door open a surprising coolness snaked out and touched my face and gave me a shiver. The air smelled of tobacco and perfume and Ben rushed up inside. He reached for the door to shut me out but I stopped him.

  “Let me in.”

  “Sit outside a while,” he said.

  “No. You’re in charge but you can’t make me sit in the parking lot.”

  “I can make you do whatever I say.”

  I was about to say I’d tell Daddy but didn’t think it’d matter much. I thought about the Conover’s out there somewhere, maybe hunting us, maybe that the sheriff was right and they’d hurt us to get back at our father.

  I looked over my shoulder.

  Ben said, “Ain’t nobody out there.”

  “What if they come along?”

  “Uncle Tommy has a pistol in here.”

  “Be too late by the time you came out,” I said.

  He shook his head and studied the street and the woods behind the bar. “Fine. Come in but stay out of my way, you hear?”

  I nodded. I jumped up by him and the darkness inside the trailer was held at bay by one small lamp on a table near the bed at the front. There were a couple grenades in a fruit bowl. I said to Ben, “Are these real?”

  He just looked bored and shrugged.

  A rifle leaned in the corner behind the kitchen table’s tiny booth, a toaster on the counter with a pistol resting in one of the slots. I was expecting someone to be sitting there on the mattress near the front curtained window. I didn’t know who, but I was kind of disappointed that someone wasn’t. All that lay on the mattress was a crummy letter. Ben snatched it up before I could see what it said. He told me to mind my own business, but then he opened the little oven and showed me it was stacked with a ton of money.