The CatalystChapter 13 Work in Progress
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Joe Henry looked more than a bit uncomfortable, but his wife, Estel, wore an air of determination as if she was daring somebody to take a shot at us. There was no solid reason for us going through Hanceville—we could just as easily have ridden around it on the outskirts, but I was anxious to show Joe and Estel that they had rights, just like anybody else. If we could ride through a hostile town and get away with it, I felt like I had gone a long way toward making my point.
We rode through Hanceville without anything more hostile than a few stares. It was obvious that we had guns pointed at the three men ahead of us, so we weren't sneaking through town. When we reached the other side of town, I told the three men to "git" and they got! It was almost funny the way they whipped their horses into a dead run from a dead stop.
Joe looked at me and wiped the sweat from his brow, "Dammit, Bill, I ain't never been so scared in all my life! I kept feeling bullets hitting my backbone with every step my horse took. But, let me say, now that its over, I ain't never felt so good in my life, except when Estel said she'd marry me."
Estel said, "Thank you, Bill. I really feel good now, and, for the first time, I know what it feels like to be free. Now I KNOW that I ain't nobody's slave no more!"
"Wonderful! I'm glad to hear that. Yes, we were taking a chance, but that town is full of cowards, so I was pretty sure that we would make it. Our three hostages sort of made that happen. Without them, we probably would have had to fight, but it still would have been worth it for what it did for the two of you. If we come back this way, people will know us and step mighty lightly when they see us."
Janet said, "Well, if it's all the same to you, Bill, I'd rather not do that sort of thing again. It's damned wearing on the nerves!"
I couldn't help laughing at that comment, and everybody else laughed, too. It did wonders to release the tension we were all under. We rode away from Hanceville at a brisk pace, but I noticed that Joe and Estel both sat a bit straighter in the saddle. A little stiffening of the nerve can do that for a body at times.
That little adventure at Hanceville was worth the effort, but I figured that there was no point in courting trouble, so we generally made a habit of avoiding towns, except when we needed supplies. On those occasions, Janet went in alone with one of the pack mules and bought whatever we needed. I didn't worry about her, she could take care of herself with that shotgun, and she looked like it, too. Anybody in his right mind, and most crazy people, were going to stay out of her way when she looked so determined. She looked a little bit like she would enjoy shooting any troublemaker, so she never had any trouble.
We pressed on, so it only took us 24 days to cross Texas. Most of the time, we made 30 miles per day, though, sometimes, we didn't quite do that well. Having a change of horses made such good time possible. It was in East Texas that we saw overt signs of trouble. In one place, we saw a sign saying that the town was protected by the KKK, so "nigger lovers" should watch their step. This town looked like a good place for us to start our search for people in need.
I left Janet, Joe, and Estel in a little camp outside of town, and I rode it to visit a saloon or two to get some information. I went in the first one I came to, and it turned out to be a good choice. The swamper was a Negro, to my surprise, so I got a beer and waved him over. I sat down in a chair at the side of the room and told him, "I want to talk to you, but I need you to clean my boots while we do it so that we won't attract a lot of attention."
"Yes, Sir. I'll be glad to do that. Let me get my stuff."
One of the patrons walked over and said, "I see you're a stranger in town. What do you want with that fool nigger?"
"He's going to clean my boots. Anything wrong with that?"
"No, I guess not. But I'm a member of the local KKK chapter and I'll stop anything I don't like."
"You do that, but be sure you know what you're doing before you stick your neck out too far."
With that, he grunted and walked off. The Negro had been waiting for our conversation to stop before he came over. He started working on my boots, and I told him why I was in town. I also told him I didn't expect him to believe me, but I had somebody with me he would believe if he would meet me after dark someplace where we could talk. He told me of a place, and we agreed to meet there after it got dark. I paid him a dime, which was double his usual fee for cleaning boots, so he walked away happy. I finished my beer and went back to camp.
At the camp, I told them what had happened and we made arrangements to find the meeting place before it got too dark. Estel and Janet fixed us some supper while Joe and I took care of the stock. We didn't pitch a full camp, yet, because we were waiting for the outcome of our conversation.
We left our camp in plenty of time to find the meeting place and were waiting when the swamper and two Negro friends showed up. The two "friends" were big, burly men who were carrying ax handles for protection. Being hit by an ax handle was no joke, so I was glad to see that this was a serious meeting.
I sent Joe and Estel, fully armed, to talk to the three men. They were very impressed by the fact that Joe and Estel were so well armed. I could see, from 20 yards away, all three of the Negro men relax when they were met by Negroes and not Whites, and treated Joe and Estel with considerable deference, probably because they had the self confidence to wear such potent weapons.
They talked for nearly an hour, and, strangely to me, Estel did most of the talking for our side. Finally, Joe waved at Janet and me to come over, which we did. I think that this boosted the respect even higher when the strangers saw that we responded to a command from a Negro. Anyway, I assured them that I was ready to finance a wagon train to New Mexico Territory, and the four of us would escort them to this fabled "promised land."
At this point, the three Negroes had reached the level of confidence that they introduced themselves, and I introduced Janet and myself as husband and wife. It appeared that this was another confidence builder. One of the pack mules was carrying four of the special shotguns, and they were really enthusiastic when I told them that I would give one to every family as soon as I could get some more.
We were told that there were 12 families in this end of the county whom they were sure would want to move. These three sure did! There were two other families who were so cowed that it was impossible to know if they would join in the trek. I said to invite them all. I asked where we could meet them all that would not bring the KKK down on our heads. One of the men with the ax handle suggested that he had a barn that was large enough to hold the men of the families, and they were the ones we would need to talk to first, anyway. After that, we could decide what to do.
We agreed to meet at the barn two nights from tonight. Joe asked the man if we could stay in the barn instead of camping out, and he readily agreed. We brought up all of our stock and loaned a spare horse to each of the men so that they could travel a little more quickly than they had when they had walked to this meeting.
The other two men left for home, and our host led us to his place. He had not said anything to his family about the purpose of the meeting, since he did not want to get their hopes up, only to have them dashed if the whole thing fell through. His wife was amazed that "White folks" would accept the hospitality of a Negro, and Estel had to calm her down before she did something foolish.
I didn't want us to do anything to attract the attention of the KKK, so we spent as much time as we could lying in the hay in the barn loft. It got boring, but the four of us had plenty of time to talk.
Mckenna
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