A Perilous Proposal (41 page)

“That's him!” cried another of them
.

Half the saddles emptied and the small crowd began kicking and beating Jeremiah viciously into the dirt. In the upstairs window, I couldn't watch. I looked away and buried my face sobbing in Katie's arms. She comforted me for a few seconds, then stood, hurriedly dressed, and left the room
.

“That's enough—plenty of time for that later,” yelled the leader. “Get the rope around him and put him up on that horse.”

“All right, you boys have had your fun,” said my father. “He's done nothing to any of you.”

“He forgot what color his skin is—that's enough!”

“Ain't no good can come to a nigger-lover around here, mister. You and your kind ain't welcome in these parts.”

The door of the house opened again. I wiped at my tears and looked out. There was Katie walking outside toward the fidgeting horses!

“He meant nothing by what he did,” she said to the lead rider. “It was my fault, not his. I shouldn't have interfered.”

“Then he should have known better, miss—and you should have yourself. Now that it's done, he's got to pay.”

The others were shoving Jeremiah onto the back of a horse. They had already tied his hands behind his back. One of the other men forced a noose over his head and down onto his neck
.

“Get it tight!” yelled a voice, which I now recognized as the voice of Deke Steeves
.

“You can't do this!” cried Katie in a pleading voice. “He's done nothing wrong! He was just trying to keep me from getting hurt!”

But rude hands yanked her away. My papa took several steps forward, struggling to hold back his anger.
There was nothing he could do against so many. Katie ran to his side
.

I couldn't stand it anymore! I jumped up, threw on a robe, and flew down the stairs
.

“Let's go, Dwight,” yelled one of the men, “—we got him!”

The riders swung their horses around
.

I ran through the door and straight for Jeremiah. Before they could stop me, hardly realizing what I was doing, I threw myself against the horse, clinging to one of his legs
.

Jeremiah looked down and tried to reassure me with a smile. But the look of it broke my heart! I started crying again, terrified that I would never see him again
.

Our eyes met but for a moment. Though the noose had already begun to choke his neck, Jeremiah tried to speak
.

“I love . . . we'll—” he began
.

A rude slap across the mouth from the nearest of the horseman silenced him. The same instant, a booted foot from another shoved me away
.

“Get away from him, nigger girl!” he yelled as I stumbled and fell. “Otherwise we'll string you up beside him! We got plenty of rope for the two of you.”

A few shouts and slashes from whips and reins and they galloped away. On the ground, I picked myself up and ran after them
.

“No!” I wailed. But my protests were lost in sobs. I hardly felt the arms of my papa and Katie as they led me whimpering back into the house, while the dozen riders disappeared into the darkness
.

L
YNCHING

57

A
S
J
EREMIAH BOUNCED AWAY FROM ROSEWOOD INTO
the night, he thought back on his whole life and everything that had brought him to that moment—about his younger years and Henry's sudden disappearance, how his anger had begun and how he and his mama had been sold, about what had happened to her and how he'd set off on his search to find Carolina and had finally arrived in Greens Crossing, and about the changes and healing that had come to him, and finally about him and Mayme and asking her to marry him.

But the last few minutes were a blur. Jeremiah had awakened to the swinging light of a lantern and the sounds of a blow and his papa falling to the straw of the barn floor. The hooded man grabbed Jeremiah before he could get to his feet. Hand on his head, Henry had tried to rise. Fearing the man would strike his papa again, Jeremiah urged him to stay where he was. Then the hooded man had dragged him from the barn. When Jeremiah saw the riders, dread filled his heart. Were they here for him alone? For one terrifying moment, he thought they would take Mayme too. He could still close his eyes and see that tearful desperation on her face.

Now, bound and riding farther and farther away from
Rosewood—and from any hope of rescue—Jeremiah realized this was surely the end. Maybe it was better that he die alone. Still he wished he had lived long enough to marry Mayme. What might have happened had he never come to Carolina? What if he had stayed with the army and Micah Duff? But then he wouldn't have found his papa, wouldn't have known forgiveness, wouldn't have known Mayme. No, he wouldn't go back, wouldn't change it, even if he could. If only he had left those white boys in town alone. He only hoped they would leave the others alone.

He knew it was time to pray. Strangely enough, for once he felt no anger, not toward his captors, nor even toward God himself. Instead Jeremiah Patterson asked God for mercy, and to take care of the others—especially Mayme and his papa— when he was gone.

Templeton helped Katie and Mayme, who were still crying, inside. Henry followed from where he had been watching from behind the barn door. He looked as shaken as they had ever seen him. The moment they were inside, Templeton glanced at the other two men.

Without a word spoken, Ward turned and left the room. When he came back thirty seconds later he was holding Katie's father's prized Spencer rifle and loading it with shells.

Templeton looked at his brother. Their eyes met and they just stared at each other for a second or two.

“But . . . I thought—” began Templeton.

“I do,” said Ward. “I hate everything about them. I hate the feel of it in my hands. When I left California I swore I would never touch a gun again in my life.”

As he spoke, the expression on his face and the sound of his voice sent chills through Katie and Mayme. They didn't know what he meant exactly, or why he had made such a vow, but they could tell that whatever was behind the words, it went deep into him. That look on his face was one none of
them would ever forget. It was almost . . . a look of death.

“Put that thing away, Ward. Henry and I'll go—” began Templeton.

“Look, Templeton,” said Ward as he shoved seven bullets into the chamber of the rifle one after the other. “No offense, but you ain't so good a shot. Not from the distance we're going to be at. We're only going to have one chance. I figure I'm the only one who can save the boy before a rope breaks his neck.”

He strode toward the door and hurried to the barn to saddle a horse. Templeton glanced at Henry, then went to the gun cabinet himself and came back with two more rifles. Then they both ran out after Ward.

The girls watched the three men gallop away two minutes later, following the faintly flickering torches still just barely visible as a glow in the distance. When they were younger, Katie and Mayme had done some daring and stupid things. But neither of them even thought about chasing after them now. They knew they could be no help. All they could do was wait, and cry, and pray. The men would come back sooner or later, and they would either be carrying Jeremiah's dead body over the back of a horse, or he would be riding along with them. They would just have to wait to find out which.

Templeton and Ward and Henry lashed at their three horses with whips and tore dangerously fast through the black night. If one of the horses slipped and fell, it could mean broken legs and death. But it was a risk they had to take. Jeremiah's life was at stake.

They kept to the road toward town. About halfway to the Oakwood road, a horse trail wandered off to the right and up a fairly steep incline toward a thickly wooded slope that led to a place called Shenandoah Summit. They slowed as they reached the path. Could the riders have turned off?

The torches were no longer visible. They stopped to
listen. But with the breathing and movement of the horses, it was impossible to hear anything.

Henry dismounted and ran a short distance from the others, cocked his head, then hurried back and jumped onto his horse again.

“Dat's dem,” he said. “Dey's headin' fo da summit!”

They swung their horses off the road and followed the faint sound. They had to pick their way more carefully now, for the footing was uneven. But they pushed through the night as fast as they dared. About halfway to the summit, gradually the lights of burning torches again began to glow in front of them as they caught up with the mob. Two or three minutes later they halted. They could see better now. The riders had stopped. Several of them had taken their hoods off and were looping a rope above a high branch of a huge oak. Jeremiah was sitting helplessly on a horse's back beneath it.

There was some low talking, but most of the men were just waiting and watching. None had participated in a hanging before this night and possibly the long ride had jostled a few of their consciences out of their slumber. If so, they had not come awake enough to make themselves heard. No one spoke a word of objection.

“What you want to do, Ward?” whispered Templeton.

“All I need is to get close enough to have a few good shots,” replied Mr. Ward. “I think I like that direction over there,” he added, pointing to his right. “I'd rather be on the uphill side.”

“What you want us ter do, Mr. Ward?” asked Henry.

“I want you to stay out of sight, Henry,” replied Mr. Ward. “If they see you, you'll be in the same fix as Jeremiah. You stay here and be ready to get Jeremiah's horse if it goes wild.”

“I kin do dat.”

“I know you can. But keep your gun ready too. They may try to shoot Jeremiah if they see their hanging spoiled. You'll
have to shoot anyone who turns a gun on him first.”

Henry did not reply. He had already shot a man to save Mayme's life. There wasn't much doubt he would do so again if he had to, to save his own son.

In the meantime, Ward was thinking hard to come up with the best plan.

“Templeton,” he said, “it's a big gamble, but how'd you like to risk your life by walking out there and distracting their attention?”

“I don't think this is one I'll be able to talk my way out of with my silver tongue, Ward, if that's what you're thinking.”

“All I want is for you to buy me a minute or two. If I can sneak closer from up there while they're watching you, I just might be able to do it. The light's bad, but it's the only chance we got.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

A few seconds later they parted, Ward toward the uphill side of where the riders were gathered, Templeton in the opposite direction, and Henry remaining where he was trying to keep the horses quiet and watch. By now the rope was tied up over the branch and they were tightening the noose around Jeremiah's neck. There wasn't much time!

When Templeton thought he had waited long enough, suddenly he walked out from among the trees straight into the lights from the burning torches.

“Hey, look who's here!” called out the man who first saw him, “—it's the nigger-lover!”

All the heads turned to see Templeton Daniels walking out of the woods toward them.

“And look,” added another, “he's got him a gun! Maybe he's after some trouble himself!”

“Now look, boys,” said Templeton, “I followed you out here to appeal one last time to your good judgment. You don't need to do this. Do you really want murder on the conscience
of this town? I'll talk to the boy. I'll tell him that he's got to be more careful and watch—”

“Look, Daniels,” interrupted a voice. “It's too late for all that. He had his chance.”