by Donis Casey
As Alafair listened to her mother-in-law’s story, she felt a chill envelop her heart. “You don’t mean to say that you…?”
Sally shot her an amused glance. “I did not, honey. You can be at ease. Jim’s brothers and sisters came to my rescue. But I know only too well how fast a woman can be left with no options. In fact, in the course of my long life, I’ve known many good people who have been driven by circumstance to do an evil thing. I long ago decided that I should be kinder with my opinions and to leave judgment in the hands of the one who knows a sinner’s heart.”
“Are you trying to make a Christian out of her?” Alafair could understand that motive.
Sally disabused her. “No. I’m trying to make a Christian out of me.”
“But she wouldn’t even come out and say hello!”
“No, not yet. But I haven’t given up on her. Besides, me and Dave and a couple of the girls have got to be friends.”
They were home by this time, and the instant Sally pulled up in front of the garden, a gaggle of children tumbled out the gate and ran to meet them, all talking at once.
Whereyoubeenwhycouldn’tIgoChaseateabugIdidnot
MaItriedtogethimtowegottwobushelsMadoIhavetohelp
stringthebeans…
Alafair climbed down to adjudicate. Sally laughed and glanced at the sun. “I told you I’d have you home right quick,” she said over the chatter. Alafair only had time to give her a wave before Sally circled the drive and headed out.
Chapter Thirty-four
“Hear, my son, your father’s instruction,
and forsake not your mother’s teaching,
for they are a graceful garland for your head
and pendants for your neck.”
—Proverbs 1:8-9
Alafair saw Charlie coming from the kitchen window and had time to chip a handful of ice from the block in the top of the icebox before he made it into the house. His face was red from the heat. She handed him the glass. “How was your first day as a brickmaker, son?”
Charlie hung his hat on a hook by the back door and flopped down at the kitchen table. His mother was cooking and it was hot in the house. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “It was good, Ma. Most of the fellows on my shift are swell. Mr. Cooper put me with another new man by the name of Henry Blackwood. You know Eric Bent who lives in town? Henry’s his nephew from Brownsville. He’s a good guy.”
Alafair made a surprised sound. She had never heard of the Bents before, and yet today they had been brought to her attention twice.
Charlie went on. “It was hard work, though. I thought I was pretty strong, what with all the hay bales and newborn foals I’ve toted, but shoveling clay all day will plumb wear you out.”
Alafair watched him gulp down the tall glass of iced sweet tea. “Now, if the job is too much for you, you don’t have to be doing this, you know.”
He set the glass down and Alafair refilled it from the pitcher. “It’s not too much for me, Ma. I just have to get used to using a different bunch of muscles, is all. Besides, I’m doing my bit for the war effort.”
“But all the mules your daddy raises and trains are for the war effort, Charlie. I don’t understand why working for Mr. Ober at the brick plant is so much more patriotic than working for your dad.”
Her comment irked him. She just would not believe that he was smart enough to make his own decisions. “I can do both,” he said. It came out sharper than he intended, and Alafair drew back, stung.
Charlie had surprised himself with his tone. He was about to say something conciliatory when Gee Dub appeared at the back door.
“There you are,” Gee Dub said. “I thought I saw you ride up. You’d better turn your horse out and head on up to the stable. Dad and Uncle Robin are bringing in those mules we’ve been working with. Captain Worley from Fort Reno is coming tomorrow to look at ’em, and Dad wants to clean them up and put them through their paces once more before he shows up.”
Charlie stifled a moan. He had no intention of letting his parents see how tired he really was. He straightened and shot his mother a defiant look before he stood. “I’m on my way, Gee.”
Gee Dub pushed his ancient flop-brimmed black Stetson back off his forehead with his thumb. “Slug down that tea and come on along then. I’ll help you with the roan and walk up to the stable with you.”
The boys were down the steps and walking toward the roan before Gee Dub said, “What’s eating you, Charlie Boy?”
“Nothing. What makes you say something like that?”
“I heard you snap at Mama. That was uncalled for. She’s just worried about you trying to take on two tasks at once.”
Charlie stopped walking, his irritation bubbling up. “She treats me like a baby and I’m tired of it, Gee. She don’t treat you like you ain’t got a brain in your head.”
Gee Dub laughed, which didn’t make Charlie feel any better. “She don’t treat you like a baby any more than she does the rest of us, knucklehead. I’ve never known her not to fuss over us, each and every one.”
Charlie raised his hands to his hips and studied his boot tips. “Dang, I know it, but it does get on my nerves. I reckon I’m in a bad mood because old Billy Claude Walker gave me a hard time about having a German in the family. If I thought he was teasing that would be one thing, but he was pretty mean about it. And I heard that he’s taken over for Win Avey on the Council of Defense.”
“I hope you stuck up for Kurt.”
“Of course I did, but I didn’t like having to do it. It’s not fair. Kurt chose to be an American. He can’t help where he was born.”
“Durn right.”
Charlie looked up, his forehead wrinkling. “What if Billy Claude finds out about Uncle Robin? Will we get in trouble for harboring a Wobblie? Maybe Dad ought to talk to Scott about it.”
Charlie’s attitude disturbed Gee Dub more than Robin’s leftist tendencies. “Don’t go borrowing trouble, now. Let Mama and Daddy worry about Uncle Robin and you mind your own business. Let’s get that horse unsaddled.”
Chapter Thirty-five
“I.W.W. and pro-German Activities in Tulsa,
Oklahoma and Surrounding Territory Coming to the Attention of the Tulsa County Council of Defense.”
—The Daily Oklahoman, 1917
Scott and Trent had just finished the soup and cornbread that Hattie Tucker had packed for their lunch when John S. Barger, the duly elected sheriff of Muskogee County, came sauntering in to the jailhouse.
Scott could count on one hand the number of times the county sheriff had been to Boynton. As a rule, Scott went to Muskogee to see the sheriff, usually for the monthly meeting Sheriff Barger held at the Muskogee County Courthouse for all the constables and undersheriffs in his jurisdiction. Since it wasn’t anywhere near election time, Scott and his deputy were surprised by his unannounced visit.
Scott jumped up and held out his hand. “Howdy, Sheriff,” he said. “What the heck are you doing out in this neck of the woods?”
Barger returned the greeting, nodded at Trent, poured himself some coffee, sat down, lit a pipe, and asked Scott about Hattie and the boys. He made innocuous small talk until Scott finally asked him what it was he didn’t want to say. “You’re sure going round and round the mulberry bush.”
The sheriff laughed and placed his coffee cup on the desk. “Well, this does have to do with monkeys and weasels, I reckon. I got a wire from your local Secret Service agent, Mr. Emmanuel Clover.”
“Oh?”
“Seems he thinks you’re not as diligent as you ought to be when it comes to enforcing the Espionage Act.”
Scott grew still. “That so?”
“Says you ain’t keeping an eye on aliens living around town, and you’re looking the other way when folks talk against the war.”
“I can’t say as I’ve heard anybody talking against the wa
r now we’re in it.”
Barger ran a finger over his impressive mustache and adjusted his fedora. “You have at least one German-born fellow who lives around here?”
Scott felt a thrill of alarm and struggled not to show it. “Well, yes, if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about. But he’s an American citizen and I’d trust my life to him anytime. He’s married to a relation of mine.”
Barger pondered this bit of information, and nodded. “Clover says you have some other people in town who have kin in Germany? Any resident aliens?”
Scott’s forehead furrowed. “You’re joshing me, aren’t you, John? I don’t care if somebody ate sauerkraut yesterday. That don’t make them traitors.”
Barger pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and shook it open. “Who’s this Robert Gunn? This letter says that one Robert Gunn, a socialist agitator, was seen in the vicinity recently.” He looked up. “Believe me, ever since this American Protective League thing started, I’ve seen plenty of people try to get even with their neighbors for some scrape they got into twenty years ago, so I don’t usually pay much attention to this kind of thing. But the other day I got a note from Sheriff Duncan over in Pontotoc County. His spy inside the Working Class Union says there is a large group of draft-resisters gathering outside of Sasakwa. Says that a I.W.W. agitator who was deported from Bisbee is known to have bought a ticket to Muskogee after he was released from detention.”
Trent, who was sitting in the corner in bug-eyed astonishment, exclaimed something unintelligible.
Scott spat out an oath. The next time Emmanuel Clover crossed his path, he was going to wring his chubby neck.
The sheriff tamped down his pipe, put it between his lips, and re-lit it. “Clover also says he saw your wife sell a sack of flour at the Mercantile on a Wednesday.”
Scott’s mouth flopped open. “You mean to tell me that you come all the way over here from Muskogee because my wife sold somebody a sack of flour on Flourless Wednesday? Now that’s the damnedest thing I ever heard in my life. In the first place, last I heard these food and gasoline restriction were voluntary, and in the second place, my wife, Hattie, is as straight as they come. She follows the Food Administration’s guidelines to the letter, and if anybody casts dispersions on her patriotism in my hearing I’ll pull his lungs out and make balloons out of them!”
“Hang on, pard’!” The sheriff raised his hands in surrender. “No need to get yourself all tied up in a knot. I take everything I hear with a pretty big grain of salt. Now, I don’t know this Clover fellow, or what his reasoning is. I just figured you ought to know what kind of over-enthusiastic fellow you’ve got on your hands. He can stir up some trouble for you if he’s a mind to. Judging by some of the directives I’ve been getting out of Oklahoma City, the government is apt to throw dissenters in jail first and sort out the legalities later. So if I was you, Scott, I’d be walking pretty ginger right about now, especially since it seems everybody Clover fingered is kin to you in some way. Might want to have a word with some of these folks, let them know that it’d be in their best interest to toe the line a little closer.”
Only somebody who knew Scott as well as Trent did would have been able to see how Barger’s warning had affected him. The skin over his cheeks was pulled so tight it looked as though the bones were going to cut right through. But somehow his tone of voice was entirely pleasant when he answered the sheriff.
“Thanks, John. I appreciate it that you made the trip in person to tell me this. I’ll sure think about what you said. Now, why don’t you come along home with me for some dinner and catch me up on all the war doings in Muskogee?”
“I appreciate it, Scott, but I was just on my way down to Council Hill to pick up a felon they got locked up in a chicken coop. I figured I’d take a detour so I could put a bug in your ear about this Secret Service man you got on your hands.”
Scott walked to the door with Sheriff Barger and let him out. He stood without a word for a long while, watching out the front window, until the sheriff got into his motor car and drove off south, toward Council Hill.
When Barger was completely out of sight, Scott turned and faced Trent. “Damn!” he spat.
“Why didn’t you tell him about Rob Gunn out at your cousin’s place?” Trent asked the question even though he knew why. You don’t rat on family.
Scott gave Trent a sour look. “Trent, I’ve known Rob Gunn from when he was a little shaver living in the same town as me over in Arkansas. If he’s been agitating, I haven’t heard about it. Don’t see any point in making a problem out of no problem.”
Even as he explained his reasoning, Scott was reaching for his hat. “I’m going out to Shaw’s place to have a word with Rob Gunn. Hold down the fort, and if Emmanuel Clover strolls by, go out and knock him three ways to Sunday for me.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Join the Red Cross.
All You Need is a Heart and a Dollar”
—American Red Cross recruitment poster, 1917
Martha McCoy could hear a persistent pounding coming from the back of her mother’s house. She pulled open the screen and stepped into the parlor. “Hey, Mama!”
The pounding didn’t stop as Alafair’s voice greeted her. “I’m in the kitchen, honey.”
Martha paused in the kitchen door. Alafair was standing at the big table, assaulting a piece of meat with a mallet. “You getting ready to fix dinner?”
Alafair finally forbore from pulverizing long enough to wipe her brow with her apron tail and smile at her daughter. “I’ve got a bit of this round steak left. Thought I’d fix it up for your daddy’s dinner. I am glad to see you, honey, but I sure never look for you to travel all the way out here at this time of day. You want to stay and eat?”
“No, Mama, I have to go to a special Red Cross meeting in a bit. I just decided to stop by on my way over to Mary’s.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I don’t see enough of you these days. You want to say hey to your uncle while you’re here? I think he’s in the stable with your daddy.”
“No time today, Ma.” The hammering started again as Martha seated herself at the end of the table. “I heard a thing from Streeter last night that concerns Uncle Robin, and I thought I’d better tell you before you get wind of it somewhere else.”
Alafair hesitated and looked up.
Martha met her gaze. “There’s talk that the Working Class Union is planning to make trouble in Muskogee when they draw the numbers for the draft lottery.”
“I don’t concern myself with those things, Martha.”
“You might want to start, Mama. Streeter heard a rumor from one of his clients in Muskogee that the I.W.W. sent someone here to Oklahoma especially to help the anti-draft faction start a rebellion. You know, give them advice and guidance.”
Martha’s warning gave Alafair a frisson of alarm. “What do you mean by a rebellion?”
“The word is that a passel of W.C.U. tenant farmers and such aim to resist the draft any way they can. Vandalism, sabotage, kidnapping, ambushing lawmen and landowners, anything they can do to create civil unrest.” She paused and looked away for an instant before continuing. “I was thinking that it’s quite a coincidence that Uncle Robin has shown up just now.”
The hair on Alafair’s arms stood up, but she leaped to Rob’s defense. “Martha, folks shouldn’t listen to such claptrap, and neither should you. My brother assures me that he is only here to visit his kin for a short while, and not on any union business. Robin might be a professional rabble-rouser, but he is no advocate for civil war. Besides, he would never do anything to call trouble down on his family.”
“That’s what I told Streeter.” Martha’s dark eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t know what to believe. Streeter doesn’t know Robin, not like we do. Right now I don’t think that most in-town folks are even aware that Uncle Robin is here, and even fewer know that
he’s a union organizer. Streeter thinks that as long as Robin keeps his opinions to himself while he’s here, the mayor and the rest of the board won’t be inclined to bother him.”
Alafair was insulted by the implication. “How big of them!”
Martha bit her lip. “Ma, maybe you’d better have a talk with Uncle Robin. I know he’s your brother and you don’t want to believe anything bad about him. I’d feel the same way if it was Gee Dub or Charlie. But you don’t really know what Robin is like anymore. Maybe it’s as you say. I expect that it is. But if he’s here for some secret anti-war reason, he’s like to bring suffering down on all of us.”
“I will. I swear I don’t know about folks anymore!”
Martha started to say something, but hesitated. Her expression made Alafair put down her mallet. “What’s the matter, honey? Don’t feel bad that you told me that. Robin has always been a gadfly. I’m used to hearing wild rumors about him.”
“It’s not…” Martha began, before her face crumpled. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. “It’s not just that, Mama. It’s this Red Cross thing. I just got a letter from the state office saying that no one with a German last name can serve. I’m supposed to tell my own sister that she can’t come to the meetings anymore.”
For a moment, Alafair was speechless. Then she was overcome by a blaze of fury. The rage on her face so alarmed Martha that she stood and grabbed her mother’s arm before she could dash out of the house with her mallet in hand and stave in someone’s head. “Ma! I’m going to fight this. That’s why I called a special meeting for tonight. We can’t let this stand. Why, Miz Schneberg will have to quit too, and Miz Schmidt from Wainright. I’m sure the other ladies in my chapter will be as outraged as I am. If the state office won’t listen to reason, we’ll resign and start a war relief group on our own.”
