The Saints of Swallow Hill(57)

Finally, Georgie said, “Somebody’s in trouble.”

Del went still. “Oh, yeah? Who?”

“Mr. Cobb.”

Del immediately squatted eye level with the boy.

He grabbed hold of Georgie’s arms, and he said, “Cobb? What do you mean, Georgie?”

Georgie was afraid now. Tears formed as he squirmed to get loose, but Del held on to him. The wagon was within fifty feet of them and Georgie’s mouth clamped shut.

Del’s voice rose. “What do you know about Mr. Cobb?”

Georgie’s eyes darted from Del to the wagon. “He . . .”

Del half shouted, “He what?”

His raised voice drew anxious stares from the work hands.

Del heard them mumbling, “What’s going on,” and “What’s that Georgie sayin’,” and “He best be quiet.”

Del let go of Georgie and pointed at him. “He said Cobb’s in trouble. What’s he mean?”

Georgie took off and hid behind the nearest pine. Frightened, he leaned out only enough to keep an eye on his elders. They climbed down from the wagon, frowning and shaking their heads as they switched from one foot to the other. Because they suffered from swollen, cracked, and bleeding soles, it was possible their work-worn feet made them do that, but Del was sure it wasn’t so much the question, but the way he asked it. The state of their clothes, nothing but rags hanging off bone-thin frames, the lack of decent food, what they went through day to day, the brutal conditions, the workload, the danger, none of it mattered as much as the person they had to answer to. A boss man was the one who held their life in his hands, and they didn’t know, not yet, that he wasn’t like Crow. There was hand wringing, and the fear he brought by yelling. Del’s gaze wandered over their faces, one by one. Clyde leaned against the wagon, looking on with interest.

Del calmed his voice and said, “Listen now. You ain’t got to worry about me. I ain’t like most. I sure as hell ain’t like him. You know who I mean. Won’t someone tell me what’s happened? Won’t someone help me?”

They sure were a suspicious and doubtful lot. All he got was coughing as someone in the back went to hacking. He heard them spit.

Heard, “Whew. Had to get rid a dat fling.”

His frustration growing, Del held his expression neutral. He homed in on Preacher.

Del said, “I’ll put my very hand on that Bible I know you carry in that back pocket a yours and swear on my own mama’s grave I ain’t meaning not one a you no harm. Take my word, and if it ain’t good enough, then I ought to go on and quit, ’cause that means ain’t none a y’all ever gonna trust me. And if you don’t trust me, I can’t be trusting you.”

Preacher looked at the others before he slowly stepped forward.

He took his hat off and said, “After y’all took Mr. Ballard to his missus, Crow gathered his men, and all us who worked under Mr. Ballard, had us tell him what he wanted to hear. Said we was having a trial about how that kid didn’t never make his numbers. Said it was time he learned, and if we was to say a word, he’d see to it we’d never talk agin. He done put him in the box.”

As Preacher spoke, Del could see it happening.

His stomach dropped, and with his voice tense, he said, “Three days ago?”

Preacher nodded. “Yessuh.”

Del spun on his heels and ran to Ruby, his quick movements so unlike him, he spooked her and he had to grab her reins before she skirted out of his reach. He got his foot in the stirrup by some miracle as she turned sideways, and heaved himself into the saddle. As he tore down the path, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see Clyde coming at a good pace, with the men and Georgie hanging on in the back of the wagon. Del rode Ruby as fast as he dared, and as he tore through the camp, he spotted Crow near the cooper’s shed. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on him since the night he’d seen what he wished he could forget.

“Damn you!” he shouted as he flew by.

He was now on the other side of the camp and the wooden structure lay straight ahead. Was it his imagination, or did it seem like the rays of the sun only touched it, making it appear as if caught by a blistering sunbeam? He jumped off Ruby, and she trotted over to stand in the shade, her sides heaving. Del ran to the box as the wagon arrived and the men spilled out of the back.

Del knelt by it and hollered, “Cobb! Cobb! Hang on! We’re getting you out! Somebody get me something to get this lock off!”

The men pulled out their bark hacks, and he grabbed one and began pounding on the lock, but it was big, thick, and he succeeded only in nicking the steel. He ruined one hack and grabbed for another. Clyde and the work hands gathered around him. Preacher began praying, and the men joined in. As their voices rose and fell with fervor and passion, off in the distance came pounding of horse hooves. Del knew who was coming.

Clyde said, “There’s Crow. He’ll have the key.”

Del’s insides burned with a rage as furious as the sun scorching his back. Crow thundered into the area, scattering a few men at the back, got off of his horse, and sauntered over. Del continued pounding on the lock.

Crow said, “I was coming to see if he was done baking.”

It was all Del could do not to jump on the man. The men around him continued chanting Scripture, and their voices echoed throughout the woods. Crow stared at them in disgust.