“That ain’t true!” Cora was on her feet before Potter could stop her. The judge rapped his gavel and directed her to sit back down. For the next half-hour, the questions came fast and furious, with Earl answering as best he could. There were times he was confused and pretty sure he answered wrong. More than anything, he just wanted to get out of the chair. And not cry in front of those men.
And then it was over. Following another recess, Alcorn paraded the men to the stand where, one after another, they painted a picture of a Levi Manning that nobody ever knew. A kind, benevolent Levi who cared for his family and did what he needed to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. A man who, despite not going to church, lived and treated others according to the Good Book.
In other words, a stranger.
Just before five, Judge Airey adjourned court. A decision, he told everyone, would be forthcoming.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Hostility, defensiveness, and red-hot anger charged the night air, emotions in direct conflict with the gentle drift of Grebey Creek in the darkness a few steps away. The ten men didn’t like being told when they screwed up. They didn’t tolerate it from their women, and it took everything they had to take it from the out-of-towner standing in front of them.
“Look where your actions have gotten you. There are three men in jail who shouldn’t be. One man’s wife has thrown in with the enemy and is trying to take his land. A white man and his wife are dead, their house burned to the ground – an innocent white man, I should add.
“You set out to stop the enemy from migrating to your county, and look what you’ve got.” He loosened his tie and took a breath, knowing his next words would hit hard.
“Instead of stopping the enemy, you’re facing more of them than before.”
Another pause. He had studied theater in college, even starred in the University of Georgia’s production of Pygmalion. Getting these country bumpkins to listen to him was like taking candy from a baby.
“Look across the creek. What do you see?”
They were silent as they gazed at Grebey Island.
“You see prime farmland, land that used to belong to the white man. Now, three of the five farms are owned by the enemy. A fourth is owned by a white man whose wife is intermingling with the enemy. And the fifth—”
“It’s gonna be a college,” a local responded testily. “Something good.”
“Something good? Something good?” The out-of-towner’s mocking response was tinged with indignation. “You have no idea of what you speak.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Lowell Surratt spat out the words, coming to the realization that bringing this man here was a mistake. “Finley Hatcher and the County Commissioners met those men. They’re white!”
“They certainly are,” the visitor responded quietly. “Rich white men who plan to start a college that accepts students who can’t otherwise afford to go.”
Again, the visitor paused for effect.
“White and Negro.”
“That’s a lie!”
“I don’t believe it!”
The insults and epitaphs they slung at him didn’t bother Norris Alcorn. He’d heard them before. Saxon County wasn’t any different from the rural areas of Mississippi, Tennessee, or Arkansas. These were proud men who didn’t want to admit they were losing the battle. He listened silently, allowing them to vent their frustrations. When they finished, he would make his point.
“Gentlemen, I know what you’ve been told. You’ve heard about Mr. Penn and the others. Some of your people met with Penn and Royce Patterson. But have you heard of T.L. Lake?”
Silence.
“How about Howard Mallette?”
“He’s the doctor, right? From Atlanta?”
“Yep, the doctor... the Negro doctor.”
The men stood in stunned silence.
“T.L. Lake is also a Negro, and Dr. Roscoe Fritsche? The local paper said he was a biology professor from Washington DC. What the paper didn’t mention, because the editor didn’t know, is that Dr. Fritsche is a professor at Howard University, a Negro school.”
The only sound was that of wind blowing through the trees.
“And earlier this summer, they sent one of their own to visit the island. His name is Joshua Handy, a rabble-rousing professor from the Negro school in Huntsville. He stayed for a week with the Stanley family. Their son...” He pulled a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. “Harvester, is going to be one of the school’s leaders.”
“How do you know all this?”
“It’s our organization’s business to know the movements of Negroes trying to take over what belongs to the white man. You brought me here to stop the Manning woman from taking her husband’s land, but our organization does much more than that.”
“Mr. Alcorn?” An East-End farmer raised his hand. “We started the Saxon County Knights thinking we could take care of our own problems. Now you’re telling us we can’t. How do we know you ain’t just here to take our money?”
Alcorn’s voice grew softer. “You’ve seen the way the Klan operates, right? So much of what they do is done to generate headlines and scare Negroes. The White Covenant doesn’t operate like that. We work behind the scenes. We gather information using an extensive system of friends and informants, many in very high places. You won’t find our members burning crosses and speaking to the press. Our membership is more sophisticated. Less confrontational, but much more effective.”
“But men pay to join, right?”
Alcorn nodded. “Fifty dollars a year. It’s a lot of money, but you have to look closely at what it gets you. Your group paid two-hundred dollars for me to come up here and win this case for you. My services are free to members.”
“What else does the money get us?”
“Your group can avail itself to our vast resources, like with the Negro college that’s planned for across the river there. Those men had already tried and failed to purchase land in Pascott County, Kentucky, and Frick County in Arkansas, places where our organization has good local representation.”
Moving closer to Alcorn, Lowell Surratt grasped his young son’s hand as he addressed the others.
“You men know me and what I believe in. Saxon County’s been white from the start. The first nigras bought land across that creek back in thirty-two. We didn’t worry much about it at the time. It’s only Grebey Island, we said.
“Well, that was a mistake. By the time we got smart, it was too late to stop them on our own. We tried, but the Knights turned out to be a bad idea. Two people died unnecessarily because of the Knights.” Surratt stared at the ground, summoning the courage for what he had to say next.
“I think we all know that it wasn’t no nigra that killed Archie and his missus. It was an over-eager white boy who didn’t have the common sense he was born with.” Most of the men nodded in agreement.
“If you ask me, it’s time to associate ourselves with Mr. Alcorn’s group and make this county white again.”
Surratt pointed to his son, standing beside him, absorbing everything that was being discussed. “Lowell Junior is nine years old, born after my other children were grown and gone. He’s my pride and joy. I don’t want him growing up in a mongrel county where nigras have the run of things, a place where white men burn crosses and do things that make them look dumber than the people they’re trying to chase away.
“You men were invited here because you not only have the means to be involved with a group like this, but you have the proper disposition. We don’t need men who go off half-cocked and get themselves thrown in jail. We need to be smart.
“Now, if you’re interested in joining me, then come forward after we’re done. We’ll sign you up and find out what we have to do next. If you’re not interested, I respect that and ask only that you don’t say anything more about what was discussed.”
###
The three remaining men watched silently as the others drove away
.
“We got eight of the ten, Mr. Alcorn,” Surratt said, glancing around to see where Lowell Jr. had gotten off to.
“It’s a good start. You’ll get more. Don’t become too big too fast.”
“What about you?” Surratt looked at the third man.
Shaking his head, he replied, “I can be more helpful to you by not putting my name on a membership list.”
“True,” Alcorn said. “Many men in your position have proven themselves to be good friends of The Covenant. We remember that and can support you when you need it.”
The man placed his hand on Alcorn’s shoulder. “I’m about to prove my friendship right now, Mr. Alcorn. Based on what you’ve presented in court so far, your side isn’t going to win.”
“I didn’t anticipate the boy,” Alcorn said defensively.
“Maybe not, but if I decide based on what I’ve heard so far, the woman gets her divorce and the farm. More and more women are voting these days, Mr. Alcorn, and they don’t vote for judges who side with wife-whipping deadbeats.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Well, just so you know, I’m going to delay my decision for a few days in the hopes that some of your connections come through for you.
“Because if they don’t, you’re going to lose your first fight in Saxon County.”
TWENTY-NINE
“Manning!”
Levi startled awake from his after-breakfast nap. Buster Padgett was one of those guards it was easy to hate. Sneaking up on guys, calling them sweetie, that kind of stuff.
“Visitor.”
Faster than Levi could get his bearings, the cell door opened and a stoop-shouldered man in a black suit entered. He didn’t smile or offer his hand. Levi sat up on the bunk.
“Leviticus Manning, I’m Norris Alcorn, your new attorney.”
“I didn’t ask for no new attorney.” Levi snapped, sizing him up. Probably another of those public defenders. Over the years, a half-dozen had come by to review his case, before disappearing, never to be heard from again.
“Some friends of yours thought you needed one,” he replied, leaning against the cell wall staring down at Levi.
“You ain’t a public defender?”
“I’m an honest to goodness lawyer who’s going to get you out of here. I’ve already started working on it.”
###
Like the year before, Harvester’s family gathered to see him off to Huntsville. This time, however, he would be picking up Charlene before heading south.
Where a year ago there was uncertainty and anxiousness, there was now excitement about the future. For now, he was a student, but in twelve months he would be an educator, helping plan an exciting new college led by people who looked deeper than skin color.
And best of all, it would happen right there.
At home.
Grebey Island had indeed become home. The Stanley, Dobson, and Cornish farms were being acknowledged as some of the most successful Negro family operations in America. In the last year, reporters from the St. Louis Argus and Pittsburgh Courier, two prominent Negro newspapers, made the trip to Grebey Island. The resulting feature stories led to a steady stream of laudatory postcards and letters from around the country, many addressed simply to, ‘The Grebey Island Negroes.’
They were well off by any standards, white or Negro. They’d made it through a decade that started with a depression, and persisted through dust storms and tornadoes. They had dug wells, installed elaborate irrigation systems, and tamed the same Mississippi River that scared off the former owners. Even a handful of white farmers from Shipley were now making trips to the dock on the north end of the island, where Grebey Creek entered the Mississippi. There, for a fee, they could leave their harvests in the care of a Grebey Islander or one of their two-dozen hired hands who would ensure it found a spot on the next barge.
Sadly, the accolades and acceptance that came with their success were shared by few in Saxon County. Locals were unaware that papers like the Courier or Argus existed, and the Saxon County Weekly Telegraph only mentioned Grebey Island to lament the loss of what was once a thriving community, ignorant of the fact that a new community was starting to arise, one consisting of hard-working farmhands and, in the near future, an influx of eager young college students. Harvester shook his head at the lack of awareness local people had of the budding renaissance taking place under their noses.
And thanked God that he was allowed to be part of it.
###
Levi listened as the lawyer laid out his plan. He wasn’t buying into it, but any voice from outside was welcome. In recent months, he could count the number of visitors he’d had on one hand. At least Norris Alcorn knew people back home.
But even with that, Levi didn’t like him. The way Alcorn towered over him made him feel stupid. And the fact that he’d appeared in court on Levi’s behalf without clearing it first incensed him. Alcorn needed to be set straight, and after ten minutes of listening to him drone on about forms, meetings, and motions, Levi found his opening.
He stood up. “You know I was Grand Knight, don’t you? Of the Saxon County Knights. You heard about them?”
Annoyed at being interrupted, the lawyer bristled, “the Knights were a bunch of rogues who did more harm than good. Sit back down.”
Levi had no idea what a rogue was, but he knew Alcorn had the wrong idea about the Knights. Still, he sat down heavily on the bunk.
“If you get me out of here, I’ll go back and take over again. Grover Petty’s in charge now, but he’ll step aside for me. Saxon County needs white men to stand up before the coons take over.”
“You are an ignorant man, Manning,” Alcorn’s face flashed with anger. “In the time since you left, the enemy has taken over, and if you insist on trying to bring that band of dim-witted miscreants together again, I’ll leave you sitting here until your sentence is served.”
The conversation was suddenly moving faster than Levi could keep up. Who was the enemy? Alcorn couldn’t be talking about the coons. They were too dumb and lazy to be much of a problem to anybody. There was something in the man’s voice that unsettled him, though. Levi had been in many tense situations over the past four years, times when he was pushed to use his fists, even when he knew he didn’t have a chance of winning. Using your fists got you respect. Slowly the fear had ebbed away, though it never left completely. A total lack of fear could get a person killed in prison. But it had gotten to a point where he didn’t feel it so much, until now. Something about Norris Alcorn scared him more than any inmate.
“The only reason I’m here is to get you out so your wife doesn’t divorce you and take your farm. She’s thrown in with the enemy and we need to put a stop to it.” Alcorn paused. “You’re just a piece of the puzzle. A necessary piece, but still a piece.”
“What about the others? Knox Bradshaw and Gib Reese? They was with me, when I went to set the fire. You gotta help them.”
“You’re a fool, Manning.”
Levi stared at the lawyer, speechless. Any control he thought he had was gone.
“First, you’re a fool to sit here and confess to a crime. You have no idea who might be listening. Second, you’re a fool to think I am here to help anybody. I’m here to get you out because it’s good for the cause. I couldn’t care less about Bradshaw and the other one.”
“Look mister, I’m not—” Levi stopped abruptly at the sight of the lawyer’s raised finger. Alcorn gathered up his papers, stood up, and nodded to the guard stationed outside.
“I’ll be in touch.”
###
The scene at Charlene’s house was much like what Harvester had just left. Though her brother Granville and his family had left the island, circumstances were different with Charlene. Some healing had taken place within the Dobson family, and Charlene was the first tear in a tightly-woven family tapestry. Farewells were long and tearful.
They pulled away from the Dobson home at seven-thirty. Harvester would stay in his
boarding house later that night, but Charlene’s room wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. Professor Handy had offered his guest room for the night, with the understanding that his housekeeper was also in the home.
As they passed the Manning farm, Cora and Earl were sitting on the front porch with Harry Davis. Cora waved for them to stop.
“Don’t you leave without saying goodbye,” she said, as the three went out to meet them.
“Sorry Cora. Long ride.”
Cora smiled. “You ready, Charlene?”
“I’m excited.”
“You’ll do just fine, girl. I can’t wait until you open the old schoolhouse next year. Earl wants to be in your class!”
“Really?” Charlene hadn’t considered the possibility of Earl leaving the public school in Adair, but she could see his delight.
“I want to go to school here and to the new college when I’m old enough.”
“Maybe you can get in,” Harvester said with a wink. “You know some pretty important people.”
Cora squeezed her son, then leaned through the car window.
“He thinks the sun rises and sets with you, Harvester. We went shopping for school clothes yesterday, and he had to get pants and shirts like he sees you wearing.”
Harvester didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought about somebody looking up to him. He was busy just being himself. He looked at Earl and thought of the much smaller version playing with the other island children. Four years later, he was still slight for his age, but a shy confidence was emerging that should serve him well through his teen years.
“We got some good news here, too,” Cora said. “Has Harry told you?”
“I ain’t told ‘em,” he said. “Cora’s selling me twenty acres on the river side. I’m gonna have my own little place up here now.”
Harvest of Thorns Page 13
