All Men Fear Me (15 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

“I.W.W. and pro-German Activities in Tulsa,
Oklahoma and Surrounding Territory Coming to the Attention of the Tulsa County Council of Defense.”

—
The Daily Oklahoman
, 1917

Scott and Trent had just finished the soup and cornbread that Hattie Tucker had packed for their lunch when John S. Barger, the duly elected sheriff of Muskogee County, came sauntering in to the jailhouse.

Scott could count on one hand the number of times the county sheriff had been to Boynton. As a rule, Scott went to Muskogee to see the sheriff, usually for the monthly meeting Sheriff Barger held at the Muskogee County Courthouse for all the constables and undersheriffs in his jurisdiction. Since it wasn't anywhere near election time, Scott and his deputy were surprised by his unannounced visit.

Scott jumped up and held out his hand. “Howdy, Sheriff,” he said. “What the heck are you doing out in this neck of the woods?”

Barger returned the greeting, nodded at Trent, poured himself some coffee, sat down, lit a pipe, and asked Scott about Hattie and the boys. He made innocuous small talk until Scott finally asked him what it was he didn't want to say. “You're sure going round and round the mulberry bush.”

The sheriff laughed and placed his coffee cup on the desk. “Well, this does have to do with monkeys and weasels, I reckon. I got a wire from your local Secret Service agent, Mr. Emmanuel Clover.”

“Oh?”

“Seems he thinks you're not as diligent as you ought to be when it comes to enforcing the Espionage Act.”

Scott grew still. “That so?”

“Says you ain't keeping an eye on aliens living around town, and you're looking the other way when folks talk against the war.”

“I can't say as I've heard anybody talking against the war now we're in it.”

Barger ran a finger over his impressive mustache and adjusted his fedora. “You have at least one German-born fellow who lives around here?”

Scott felt a thrill of alarm and struggled not to show it. “Well, yes, if you're talking about who I think you're talking about. But he's an American citizen and I'd trust my life to him anytime. He's married to a relation of mine.”

Barger pondered this bit of information, and nodded. “Clover says you have some other people in town who have kin in Germany? Any resident aliens?”

Scott's forehead furrowed. “You're joshing me, aren't you, John? I don't care if somebody ate sauerkraut yesterday. That don't make them traitors.”

Barger pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and shook it open. “Who's this Robert Gunn? This letter says that one Robert Gunn, a socialist agitator, was seen in the vicinity recently.” He looked up. “Believe me, ever since this American Protective League thing started, I've seen plenty of people try to get even with their neighbors for some scrape they got into twenty years ago, so I don't usually pay much attention to this kind of thing. But the other day I got a note from Sheriff Duncan over in Pontotoc County. His spy inside the Working Class Union says there is a large group of draft-resisters gathering outside of Sasakwa. Says that a I.W.W. agitator who was deported from Bisbee is known to have bought a ticket to Muskogee after he was released from detention.”

Trent, who was sitting in the corner in bug-eyed astonishment, exclaimed something unintelligible.

Scott spat out an oath. The next time Emmanuel Clover crossed his path, he was going to wring his chubby neck.

The sheriff tamped down his pipe, put it between his lips, and re-lit it. “Clover also says he saw your wife sell a sack of flour at the Mercantile on a Wednesday.”

Scott's mouth flopped open. “You mean to tell me that you come all the way over here from Muskogee because my wife sold somebody a sack of flour on Flourless Wednesday? Now that's the damnedest thing I ever heard in my life. In the first place, last I heard these food and gasoline restriction were voluntary, and in the second place, my wife, Hattie, is as straight as they come. She follows the Food Administration's guidelines to the letter, and if anybody casts dispersions on her patriotism in my hearing I'll pull his lungs out and make balloons out of them!”

“Hang on, pard'!” The sheriff raised his hands in surrender. “No need to get yourself all tied up in a knot. I take everything I hear with a pretty big grain of salt. Now, I don't know this Clover fellow, or what his reasoning is. I just figured you ought to know what kind of over-enthusiastic fellow you've got on your hands. He can stir up some trouble for you if he's a mind to. Judging by some of the directives I've been getting out of Oklahoma City, the government is apt to throw dissenters in jail first and sort out the legalities later. So if I was you, Scott, I'd be walking pretty ginger right about now, especially since it seems everybody Clover fingered is kin to you in some way. Might want to have a word with some of these folks, let them know that it'd be in their best interest to toe the line a little closer.”

Only somebody who knew Scott as well as Trent did would have been able to see how Barger's warning had affected him. The skin over his cheeks was pulled so tight it looked as though the bones were going to cut right through. But somehow his tone of voice was entirely pleasant when he answered the sheriff.

“Thanks, John. I appreciate it that you made the trip in person to tell me this. I'll sure think about what you said. Now, why don't you come along home with me for some dinner and catch me up on all the war doings in Muskogee?”

“I appreciate it, Scott, but I was just on my way down to Council Hill to pick up a felon they got locked up in a chicken coop. I figured I'd take a detour so I could put a bug in your ear about this Secret Service man you got on your hands.”

Scott walked to the door with Sheriff Barger and let him out. He stood without a word for a long while, watching out the front window, until the sheriff got into his motor car and drove off south, toward Council Hill.

When Barger was completely out of sight, Scott turned and faced Trent. “Damn!” he spat.

“Why didn't you tell him about Rob Gunn out at your cousin's place?” Trent asked the question even though he knew why. You don't rat on family.

Scott gave Trent a sour look. “Trent, I've known Rob Gunn from when he was a little shaver living in the same town as me over in Arkansas. If he's been agitating, I haven't heard about it. Don't see any point in making a problem out of no problem.”

Even as he explained his reasoning, Scott was reaching for his hat. “I'm going out to Shaw's place to have a word with Rob Gunn. Hold down the fort, and if Emmanuel Clover strolls by, go out and knock him three ways to Sunday for me.

Chapter Thirty-six

“Join the Red Cross.
All You Need is a Heart and a Dollar”

—American Red Cross recruitment poster, 1917

Martha McCoy could hear a persistent pounding coming from the back of her mother's house. She pulled open the screen and stepped into the parlor. “Hey, Mama!”

The pounding didn't stop as Alafair's voice greeted her. “I'm in the kitchen, honey.”

Martha paused in the kitchen door. Alafair was standing at the big table, assaulting a piece of meat with a mallet. “You getting ready to fix dinner?”

Alafair finally forbore from pulverizing long enough to wipe her brow with her apron tail and smile at her daughter. “I've got a bit of this round steak left. Thought I'd fix it up for your daddy's dinner. I am glad to see you, honey, but I sure never look for you to travel all the way out here at this time of day. You want to stay and eat?”

“No, Mama, I have to go to a special Red Cross meeting in a bit. I just decided to stop by on my way over to Mary's.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! I don't see enough of you these days. You want to say hey to your uncle while you're here? I think he's in the stable with your daddy.”

“No time today, Ma.” The hammering started again as Martha seated herself at the end of the table. “I heard a thing from Streeter last night that concerns Uncle Robin, and I thought I'd better tell you before you get wind of it somewhere else.”

Alafair hesitated and looked up.

Martha met her gaze. “There's talk that the Working Class Union is planning to make trouble in Muskogee when they draw the numbers for the draft lottery.”

“I don't concern myself with those things, Martha.”

“You might want to start, Mama. Streeter heard a rumor from one of his clients in Muskogee that the I.W.W. sent someone here to Oklahoma especially to help the anti-draft faction start a rebellion. You know, give them advice and guidance.”

Martha's warning gave Alafair a frisson of alarm. “What do you mean by a rebellion?”

“The word is that a passel of W.C.U. tenant farmers and such aim to resist the draft any way they can. Vandalism, sabotage, kidnapping, ambushing lawmen and landowners, anything they can do to create civil unrest.” She paused and looked away for an instant before continuing. “I was thinking that it's quite a coincidence that Uncle Robin has shown up just now.”

The hair on Alafair's arms stood up, but she leaped to Rob's defense. “Martha, folks shouldn't listen to such claptrap, and neither should you. My brother assures me that he is only here to visit his kin for a short while, and not on any union business. Robin might be a professional rabble-rouser, but he is no advocate for civil war. Besides, he would never do anything to call trouble down on his family.”

“That's what I told Streeter.” Martha's dark eyes narrowed. “He doesn't know what to believe. Streeter doesn't know Robin, not like we do. Right now I don't think that most in-town folks are even aware that Uncle Robin is here, and even fewer know that he's a union organizer. Streeter thinks that as long as Robin keeps his opinions to himself while he's here, the mayor and the rest of the board won't be inclined to bother him.”

Alafair was insulted by the implication. “How big of them!”

Martha bit her lip. “Ma, maybe you'd better have a talk with Uncle Robin. I know he's your brother and you don't want to believe anything bad about him. I'd feel the same way if it was Gee Dub or Charlie. But you don't really know what Robin is like anymore. Maybe it's as you say. I expect that it is. But if he's here for some secret anti-war reason, he's like to bring suffering down on all of us.”

“I will. I swear I don't know about folks anymore!”

Martha started to say something, but hesitated. Her expression made Alafair put down her mallet. “What's the matter, honey? Don't feel bad that you told me that. Robin has always been a gadfly. I'm used to hearing wild rumors about him.”

“It's not…” Martha began, before her face crumpled. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. “It's not just that, Mama. It's this Red Cross thing. I just got a letter from the state office saying that no one with a German last name can serve. I'm supposed to tell my own sister that she can't come to the meetings anymore.”

For a moment, Alafair was speechless. Then she was overcome by a blaze of fury. The rage on her face so alarmed Martha that she stood and grabbed her mother's arm before she could dash out of the house with her mallet in hand and stave in someone's head. “Ma! I'm going to fight this. That's why I called a special meeting for tonight. We can't let this stand. Why, Miz Schneberg will have to quit too, and Miz Schmidt from Wainright. I'm sure the other ladies in my chapter will be as outraged as I am. If the state office won't listen to reason, we'll resign and start a war relief group on our own.”

Alafair began to untie her apron. “I'm going with you over to Mary's.”

“No, Ma, I'll talk to her myself.” Martha was firm. “She and I can make our plans. If she wants to talk to you about it later I'm sure she'll be over directly.”

Alafair gave in with bad grace, sorry that she couldn't command her grown daughters like she used to. Alafair didn't have Martha's faith in the goodwill of the other women in the Red Cross chapter. She watched Martha pedal off on her bicycle toward Mary's house, wondering how she was going to comfort both of them when their plans failed miserably.

Chapter Thirty-seven

“[These days] you can't even collect your thoughts without getting arrested for unlawful assemblage.”

—Max Eastman, July 1917

Before his cousin Shaw married Alafair, Scott had only a passing acquaintance with the Gunn family. Alafair and her siblings were quite a bit younger than Scott and his sister, so he only remembered Rob as one of the ragtag boys who ran around town in packs. Cheeky, that was the only impression Scott had of the boy. He didn't know the man at all. Rob had the same sharp “I know you” expression in his dark eyes as did his sister, but that didn't mean the siblings held to the same values.

He rode out to his cousin's farm, where Alafair met him at the front door. “What brings you by, Scott?”

Her greeting was so pleasant that he hated to tell her. “Morning, Alafair. Is your brother around? I need a word with him.”

The smile fell off her face. “What about?”

“I just got a visit from the county sheriff. Seems word has gotten around that there is a Wobblie in the area. I just thought I'd come out and put a bug in Rob's ear.”

“Oh, mercy! Martha was by here this morning and told me something of the like.” She pushed the screen door open. “Well, I guess you'd better come in, then.” She led him into the parlor and seated him in a corner armchair with a cup of coffee and a piece of molasses cake while Sophronia ran to the fields to fetch Rob. Scott spent fifteen minutes eating cake and playing cat's cradle with Grace before Rob came in. Scott could tell by his expression that Alafair had already filled him in.

Rob took his time hanging up his hat, pulling off his gauntlets, and wiping his sweaty face with a bandana before he sat down across from Scott. Aside from his greeting, he said nothing until Scott had told him everything Sheriff Barger had said.

Rob leaned forward. “Scott, I've hardly left the property these past few days. I don't know anybody around here but my kin. Why on earth would I have any interest in causing trouble for Alafair? There're plenty of other places I can go to get myself arrested.”

“Rob, for Alafair's sake the family has tried to keep it a close secret what it is you do for a living. But there are just too many of us around here for it to be a secret for long. And I'm telling you that there are folks all over this county who once they hear you work for the I.W.W. will be very willing to believe that you murdered Win Avey because he's a Council of Defense representative. Or maybe just because he was a brickworker and you want to cause a work slowdown. If there is one thing people know about the Wobblies it is their practice of strikes and slowdowns.”

Rob sank back his chair, torn between outrage and an all-too-familiar feeling of déjà-vu. “Well, I ain't been doing any murdering and anybody who thinks so is an idiot,” he said. The words came out sharper than he intended and grimaced. “I'm sorry. But it's got so that if you're union, you better get used to being accused of every nefarious act within a hundred miles of you. I know you feel like you have to ask. So I swear to you, Scott, on my mother's head, that I don't have anything to do with whatever has been going on out at that brick plant.”

“I doubt you did. Still, on top of everything else, the Muskogee County sheriff has been informed that there is a W.C.U. plot in the state to raise an army and march to Washington to take over the government. And he's also been told that an I.W.W. agitator has been sent here with the express purpose of egging them on. Your name was mentioned.”

Rob's heart fell with a thud. Those tenant farmers were doomed. Still, he brazened it out. No use to blow the game before he had a chance to try and help the poor downtrodden critters. “That's damn unlikely, don't you think?”

“Damn impossible,” Scott agreed. “That don't mean a bunch of blockheads who don't have the least idea how far it is to Washington, or what they'd run into even if they did get there, aren't aiming to try. And whether there's some sort of plot going on or not, I've been told that if I get wind of any of these said agitators, especially the I.W.W. agent, I should clap him in irons and send him to the marshal's office in Muskogee.”

“So do you intend to clap me in irons?”

“Are you advocating the overthrow of the government?”

Rob laughed. “No. Wouldn't mind to see some changes, though.”

“What were you up to before you came out to visit with Alafair?”

“Why do you ask?”

Scott nodded. Rob's unwillingness to answer told him what he wanted to know. “You weren't in Arizona by any chance, were you? Maybe Bisbee?”

“So word's finally gotten around about what happened in Bisbee, has it? That was an illegal action, Scott, them deporting the miners without due course of law before they were even on strike.”

“You think that matters? It might be a wise thing if you was to move on at your earliest opportunity. I'd hate to have to try and get between you and a lynch mob.”

Rob was not surprised at the warning. He was grateful that Scott didn't throw him in jail on general principle. That was what usually happened. He'd come into some town and start organizing and end up in jail. Or get picked up in the middle of the night, hauled out into the country and left stranded by the side of the road. Or beaten up. This time, he thought about that delicious chicken-fried steak, the little children vying to sit on his lap, the clean, cool, fresh sheets on his bed, and felt very sorry to have to go. The expression of outrage faded from his face. “I'm inclined to agree with you, Scott.”

Scott looked surprised that he had caved in so easily. “Well, good, then.”

“I'd like to go with the family to the Liberty Sing before I light out, though. Alafair asked me to.”

“I don't know about that, Rob. Not now that Clover knows your name. I don't want trouble if I can avoid it.”

“I'll keep my head down.” His tone conveyed his determination to attend the Liberty Sing whether Scott liked it or not.

Scott was tempted to arrest him and have done with it. But in the end, family loyalty won out. “All right, but you keep your distance from your draft-dodger unionist friends, Rob. Don't look at me like that. I know you've been talking to Dutch Leonard. I'll have my eye on you.”

Rob stood up. “There won't be anything to see. Now, I'm going back to work before Shaw misses me. Don't worry about telling Alafair what we talked about. If I know my sister she's got her ear pressed to the kitchen door and heard every word.”