The Homesteader: A Novel

by Oscar Micheaux

  CHAPTER XV

  GRIM JUSTICE

  Agnes decided to visit Chicago and planned to be married there. Besides,since she was now engaged, the legacy in the bank at Rensselaer must besecured, and, according to her mother's will, consulted before she wasmarried. She was curious to know what it was all about. Indeed, she wasalmost as anxious, if not more so to learn the contents of the legacythan she was to become the wife of the man she had consented to marry.

  Accordingly, before the train reached Chicago, she became very anxious.It gave her a peculiar and new thrill to recline in the luxuriousPullman, to have her needs answered and attended to by servants, and tobe pointed out by curious people as the writer and composer of a songthat had delighted the whole country. She was experiencing how veryconvenient life is when one has sufficient means to satisfy one's needs.This had been her privilege only a short time. A newsboy boarded thetrain and passed hurriedly through the cars with the morning papers. Shepurchased one, and glanced through the headlines. In the index she sawan account of the suit of Jean Baptiste, versus his father-in-law.Curiously and anxiously she turned to the account and read theproceedings of the trial. She laid the paper aside when through andreviewed her acquaintance with him in retrospection. How strange it allseemed at this late date. Beside her, a long, narrow mirror fit betweenthe double windows. In this she studied her face a moment. Some yearshad passed since that day--and the other day, too, at the sod house. Shethought of the man that was to be her mate and of what he would thinkshould he ever know that the only man who had ever touched her lipsbefore him, was a Negro. She found herself comparing the two men, andshe was rather surprised at the difference she could distinguish. Shetried to estimate what true love was. The life she had so recentlyentered was the life she had aspired to. She had hopes for it. The lifethat could now be hers was the goal of her ambition--and she hadattained it! She should be satisfied. But was she?

  As the train with its luxurious appointments sped along, she felt afterall that she was going out of the life that she really loved. Was itbecause she had always been so poor and unable to have the things shecould now partake of at will, that such had become a habit, andindispensable to her happiness? For indeed she had a longing for the oldlife, the dash and open it afforded. She had a vision of Jean Baptisteand his honor. He had sacrificed her to be loyal to the race in which hebelonged. Had it not been for this, she knew she would not be journeyingto the great city to become the wife of another. But amid all thesethoughts and introspectives and otherwise, there constantly recurred toher mind the man she was to marry and what he would think if he knewthat she had once loved and would have married--_and even kissed aNegro_.

  She was glad when at last the train drew into the outskirts of the city,and the excitement about drove such reminiscences out of her mind. Shehad wired him, and of course, she expected him to meet her.

  "Oh, here you are," he cried as she stood upon the platform a half hourlater. On hearing him her eyes wandered toward where he stood, andregarded him keenly for a moment. A really handsome man, immaculatelyattired in the finest tailored clothes and in the fashion of the day. Hecaught her in his arms and she did not resist the hot kisses he plantedupon her cheeks. Still, she was greatly confused, and feared that shewould create a scene before she had become accustomed to the ways anddash of the city.

  He had her arm--held it close, as they passed through the station andcrossed the walkway to where an inclosed auto stood. Into this heushered her, attended to her luggage, and a moment later followed herinside. Through the city with all its bustle and excitement they sped.

  "I'm going to take you to my aunt's," he said, when they had gottenstarted.

  "Oh," she chimed. At that moment she could think of nothing to say. Itwas all so confusing to her. She was so unaccustomed to any kind of acity that she was actually in a fear. She did not realize because of thedistinction to which she had attained, that any awkwardness on her partwould be looked upon as the eccentricity of a genius. She decided,however, to say as little as possible, to speak only when spoken to. Inthat way she would try not to cause him any embarrassment ormortification.

  "You have certainly been a hard one to pull off the farm, dear," sheheard now.

  "Oh, do you think so?" she said coyly.

  "Do I think so?" he laughed. "Well, say, now, there isn't one person ina thousand who, after writing the hit you have composed, wouldn't havebeen over all this old land by this time, letting people see them."

  "Oh, I could never wish that," she said quickly.

  "Oh, come, now! Get into the limelight." He eyed her artfully, winkedplayfully, and continued: "You'll like it when you get the modesty outof yourself."

  "I don't think so."

  He regarded her quickly out of the corner of his eye, and then lookedahead.

  "Ever heard of State Street?" he inquired.

  "Oh, yes. Is this it?"

  "This is State Street," he said, and she looked out and started. Shedidn't know just what she had expected to see, but what met her gaze andmade her start was the sight of so many Negroes.

  "What's the matter, dear?" he said, glancing at her quickly.

  "Why--ah--oh, nothing."

  "I wondered why you started," and he again looked ahead. They wereacross it now, and approaching Wabash Avenue. He turned into this, towhere his aunt lived some distance out in the most exclusive part of itsresidence section.

  Agnes, sitting by his side, despite the excitement, the great buildingsand fine streets, was thinking of the past, and of what she had justseen. Negroes, Negroes, and _that_ would have been her life had shemarried Jean Baptiste. All such was foreign to her, but she couldestimate what it would have meant. She was sure she could never havebecome accustomed to such an association, it wouldn't have seemednatural. And then she thought of Jean Baptiste, the man. Oh, of him, itwas always so different. In her mind he was like no other person in theworld. How strange, and singularly sweet had been her acquaintance withhim. Never had she understood any one as she understood him. She triedto shut him out of her life, for the time had come, and she must. But_could_ she? When she dared close her eyes she seemed to see him moreclearly.

  The car had stopped now, and he was lifting her out before a large housethat stood back from the street some distance in sumptuous splendor. Asthey went up the walkway, the large front doors parted, and a handsomeelderly woman came forth. Upon her face was written refinement andculture.

  "Oh, aunt, here we are."

  "I saw you coming because I was watching," said his aunt, comingforward, the personification of dignity. She held out her arms, andAgnes felt herself being embraced and kissed. Her head was in a whirl.How could _she_ readily become accustomed to such without displayingawkwardness.

  Arm in arm they mounted the steps, were met by the butler, who took herbags, and a moment later she found herself in a large, richly furnishedroom.

  "Come now, dear," he said, and led her to a couch. She heard his auntgoing upstairs to prepare her room, and the next moment she felt himdraw her to him, and whatever difference there was in this convenientlife, all men loved alike.

  * * * * *

  Jean Baptiste lingered late at the Keystone bar. He was alone in theworld, he felt, so company of the kind about seemed the best, and was,at least, diverting. It was twelve o'clock and after when he left. Hestill retained his room at the attorney's residence, and to this hestrolled slowly. He attempted to formulate some plans in his mind, andafter a time it occurred to him that he should go back West to Gregory.He had hired more than seven hundred fifty acres put into wheat. Hehadn't heard how it was, or whether there was any wheat there or not.But he had seen in the papers that a drought had affected much of thecrop in Kansas and Nebraska. He half heartedly assumed that it wouldnaturally hit his country also. If so, there was nothing left for him todo but leave that section. But he would depart from the city on themorrow and see what there was up there, and with this settled in hismind, he
quickened his step, and hurried to his room.

  He turned into the right number, as he thought, but upon trying toinsert the key in the lock he found that he had made a mistake. Heglanced up in confusion and almost uttered a cry. It was not theattorney's home, but that of the Reverend McCarthy.

  "Chump!" he said to himself as he turned and started back down thesteps. "I'll never sleep inside that house again," and laughed.

  Upon the walk he heard steps, and when he had reached the street, lookedup to meet Glavis and a strange Negro just turning in. Glavis glared athim as if to say, "Well, what business have you here, now?" But Baptistemumbled some word of apology about having turned in at the wrong number,went directly to his room, retired and forgot the incident.

  He had no idea how long he had been asleep or what time it was when hewas awakened suddenly by a drumming on his door, and the attorney'svoice, saying:

  "Heh! Heh! Baptiste, wake up, wake up, you're wanted!"

  He turned on his side and drew his hand to his forehead to assurehimself that he was awake. Then, realizing that he was, he jumped fromthe bed and going forward, opened the door.

  Two officers, the attorney in a bath robe, and Glavis stood at thedoor. He regarded them curiously. "What is this?" he managed to say, asthey came into the room.

  "Seems that they want you," said the attorney.

  "Me?" he chimed.

  "Yep," said one of the officers. "Will you go along peacefully or shallwe have to put the bracelets on. You're arrested for murder."

  "For murder! _Me_, for murder?"

  "Just go with the officers, Baptiste. If you'd been a little earlier youmight have gotten away; but it so happened that I met you coming outjust as I was going in."

  "But I don't understand what you're talking about--all of you,"persisted Baptiste. "Who has been murdered, and why am I accused?"

  The lawyer had been observing him keenly, and now he interposed.

  "Why, your wife and her father have just been found murdered, and Glavishere and another assert they met you coming out of the house at midnightor a little after."

  The incident of the night came back to him then, "Well," he muttered,and began to get into his clothes. When he was fully dressed he turnedto the attorney and said:

  "Glavis is right in part, White." He was very calm. "I'll call you upwhen I need you." And then he turned to the officers and said. "I'mready. The cuffs will not be necessary."