Lonely Crusade (32 page)

“Oh, sure. Just go right in; he’s in room four.”

Lee lay on a small white cot in the tiny room looking at the ceiling. His face was splotched with mercurochrome and bandaged in one spot, and his body was rigid in a rough cotton gown. What puzzled him now was the Communists’ angle. Did they know what Luther had done? And if so, had they planned to frame McKinley to cover up for him? Was that the reason for McKinley quitting and leaving town? He wondered if McKinley had thought he was in with them.

Turning his head, he saw Luther in the doorway and for a moment just looked at him with cold contempt. “You’re a goddamned rotten nigger,” he said at last.

“Lissen, man, ain’t no need of being mad at me.” Luther came into the room with his hands spread wide. “Lemme hip you to the jive.”

“I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say,” Lee said.

“You wanna hear this, man. It’s for your own good. I took the dough from Foster but I ain’t no rat, man. I’ll take any pecker-wood’s money but I ain’t gonna—”

“Get out and let me alone! You’ve done enough harm as it is.”

“Okay, pal, but you oughta keep me out of it for your own good.”

“I’m going to tell everybody what kind of rat you are,” Lee stated.

“Okay,” Luther warned, turning to go. “But remember I’m a Communist. An’ de proof, pal, I’m de proof.”

Lee drew his gaze back from the closed door to the white, unbroken ceiling. What hurt him most at this time was his doubting Lester. And Lester had been the only honorable one of them all. But he would get those deputies and Luther too, he resolved. He’d tell Smitty the whole story and they’d blow it wide open. The rotten, lousy, stinking, double-crossing Communists! And Jackie, too! Then he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 19

J
OE PTAK
and Smitty were the first to arrive. Bart had departed. Luther was waiting alone in the lobby.

“What happened to Lee?” Smitty asked as soon as he caught sight of Luther.

“Some deputy sheriffs jumped on him.”

“Where?”

“On the road to Pedro.”

“Well, what in the hell did they do that for?”

“They flagged us down for speeding and started cussing us out. Lee cussed ‘em back and they jumped him.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

“Where were you?” Joe Ptak asked.

Luther looked at him. “I was there.”

“Well, when in the hell did deputy sheriffs begin patrolling the highway?” Smitty wanted to know.

“These the first I ever seen,” Luther admitted.

“Let’s go in and see Lee,” Joe said.

But Lee had not awakened. They went back to the lobby to wait. Steve Hannegan the attorney for the union and one of his assistants, Carl Dawson, arrived while they sat there.

“What’s it all about, Smitty?” Hannegan asked.

“We don’t know yet. One of our boys got hurt.”

“Goons?”

“No, police.”

“All the same,” Hannegan said.

Joe caught sight of Dr. Greenbaum and called: “Hey, doc, just a minute.”

Dr. Greenbaum walked over.

“You got one of our organizers here. How ‘bout seeing him?”

“I suppose so,” Dr. Greenbaum replied, looking over the assemblage with open curiosity. “Come this way.”

He led them into the tiny room, snapped on the light, and awakened Lee.

“Some friends of yours, young man.” Then to the others: “I’m sorry, there’re no seats. You can use my office if you like.”

“No, this’ll do,” Joe Ptak replied.

Lee sat up, looking gaunt and battered. “I want a lawyer,” he said.

“We have our union lawyers right here,” Smitty replied. “Hannegan, Dawson, this is Lee Gordon.”

Both shook hands with Lee and Hannegan said: “How are you, Lee?”

“Not so hot”

“So I see. Just tell us what happened.”

“Well, we were driving out to San Pedro to get a sound truck when four deputy sheriffs in a county car pulled up and ordered us to stop. They made us get out the car and after they’d searched us they began calling us Reds and abusing us in the worst way. I didn’t mind that so much because you expect that from these ignorant bastards. But then one of them, Paul was his name, offered me twenty-five dollars to double-cross the union—”

“Prodigal bastard,” Dawson murmured.

“—then he raised it to one hundred,” Lee continued. “When I told him I couldn’t sell out the union, he said that Luther had sold it out and why couldn’t I—”

All eyes turned toward Luther for an instant then back to Lee.

“Luther didn’t say anything, and then Paul put his gun on him and said: ‘How much did Foster give you?’ Luther said that Foster had given him five hundred dollars. Paul didn’t believe that Foster had given him that much, so Luther said one hundred. Then I said something, I forget now what it was. And they jumped on me. I remember Luther standing there not helping me in any way, and the next thing I remember I was here in the hospital.”

In the silence following the sound of his voice, Dawson said nervously to break the strain: ‘There wasn’t much else he could do, was there?”

“I didn’t expect him to do anything else. I’m just telling it like it was.”

“You said Luther, who is Luther?” Hannegan asked.

“I’m Luther.”

Hannegan looked around. “You!” Then he turned back to Lee, “You said Luther admitted to the deputy name Paul that Foster had given him five hundred dollars to sell out the union?”

“That’s right,” Lee said.

“Aw, man, goddamnit, you know that ain’t so!” Luther denied. “Why don’t you tell the truth? You cussed the mens and they jumped on you.”

Hannegan looked at Smitty. But it was Joe Ptak who spoke. “Let’s get one story at a time.”

“You said one of the deputies was named Paul. Do you recall the names of any of the others?”

“Yes, all of them: Ed, Paul, Walter, and Ray. I didn’t hear any of the last names.”

Hannegan turned to Dawson. “You can check that now, can’t you?”

Dawson nodded and went out. Smitty blew air into his cheeks, then said slowly to Lee: “Are you certain you remember what this guy Paul asked Luther, and what Luther said in reply?”

“I’m certain,” Lee replied.

“It could have been a gag to work on you, couldn’t it?”

“No, it couldn’t.”

“Aw, Smitty, goddamnit, ain’t nothing like that happened at all,” Luther again denied.

Joe turned toward him. “Keep quiet.”

Luther looked at him again but made no reply. Smitty’s face set in a deep, troubled frown. “But Luther brought you to the hospital? He took care of you after you were beaten up? Does that sound as if he was your enemy?”

“Maybe not.”

“It’s hard to believe that about Luther, Lee. That’s why I want you to be certain.”

“I am certain.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like Luther. He’s been out there in the field working for the union for a long time and no one’s ever charged him with anything like this. We’ve always considered him very reliable. A few years back he was up at Bakersfield trying to organize the agricultural workers almost singlehanded, and he could have sold out then to the owners for plenty.”

“Listen, Smitty, I’m telling it just like it happened.”

Hannegan turned to Smitty and asked: “What’s Luther’s official connection with the union.”

But it was Joe who replied: “He has none. The Commies sent him out to work on Lee.”

“Well, he’s a sort of volunteer,” Smitty said, trying to soften it. “While he hasn’t any official connection, we’ve always appreciated his assistance.”

“That’s what’s the trouble with this goddamned drive now,” Joe said. “We got too many unofficial assistants.”

“Well, we need more than we have,” Smitty said, turning on him angrily.

“If we didn’t have this one we wouldn’t be fighting the goddamned sellout story,” Joe snapped back.

Hannegan looked up inquiringly at this, but Dawson entered at the moment and interrupted what might have been an argument. “There’s an Edward Gillespie, Paul Dixon, Walter Thomas, and Ray Young listed as deputy sheriffs,” he announced.

“Is that the Paul you know?” Hannegan hurled at Luther, trying to catch him unawares.

But Luther was not to be caught unawares. “I don’t know nobody by the name of Paul.”

“Did you hear any of their names called?” Hannegan persisted.

“Naw, I didn’t.”

“That’s odd. Lee hears all four names correctly and you hear none.”

“He was listening better than I was.”

“No doubt of it.”

“Shall we make a charge against them?” Smitty asked Hannegan.

“Smitty, it’s tough—there’s that business of false arrest.” He turned back to Luther. “Can you identify the four deputies by sight.”

“Sure.”

“But not by the names of Ed, Paul, Walter, and Ray?”

“Not by no names ‘cause I didn’t hear no names.”

“I see.” Hannegan turned back to Smitty. “Without this boy testifying, we don’t have much to go on. We wouldn’t have much even if he testified, but this way we don’t have anything.”

“I believe Luther will identify the deputies if he sees them.”

“He ain’t done it,” Joe Ptak put in.

“He hasn’t seen them, either.”

“He heard their names.”

“But he doesn’t know their names.”

“It’s hardly conceivable that Lee heard the names of all four and Luther did not hear the name of any,” Hannegan said.

“Lee could be mistaken,” Smitty said persistently. “Luther’s always been honest to the letter ‘t’.”

“Well, what we can do is give the sheriff a little call and put some political pressure on him,” Hannegan suggested.

“When?”

“Now, if he’s at his office. And if he isn’t, we can call his home and have him meet us at his office.”

But Hannegan could not locate the sheriff, either at his office or at his home. The chief deputy suggested that Hannegan try to contact the sheriff at his office at eleven o’clock the next morning.

So Smitty called a taxi to take Lee home. “I know how you must feel, Lee,” he began as soon as they were seated.

“I don’t think you do, Smitty.”

“You feel pretty badly over this now, and you want to get even with Luther—”

“No, Smitty, that’s not it. You see, I know Luther is the person who sold the union out. I know that this was what started all the stories. Smitty, I know this beyond all doubt. Not just by what happened today, but by many things. And if we hope to save the campaign, he should be exposed. The workers should know who’s guilty, then all this talk will stop.”

Now Smitty was stumped. He did not doubt that Lee wanted to save the campaign. But he felt that what Lee wanted more at just the moment was simply to be believed. The bitter part about it was that he did implicitly believe him. But if he admitted this to Lee, he would have to join him in a battle royal against the Communists. And while such a battle would hurt himself, he felt that it would hurt Lee immeasurably more.

He believed that Lee Gordon could be hurt more easily than the average person. Since the night of their discussion, which was memorable for him, he had come to believe that to be hurt was Lee Gordon’s destiny. Though at the time he had been annoyed by most of what Lee had said, now he was just beginning to understand what Lee had been trying to say. And while he still did not accept the logic of all Lee’s conclusions, he was profoundly touched by their undercurrent of longing. He was especially moved by Lee’s confession that whenever a Negro came to believe that full equality was his just due, he would have to die for it, as would any other man. It was as if Lee Gordon was searching for this moment when he would have to die, and at the same time fearing its discovery. And yet he felt that Lee would be hurt terribly before he discovered it, if he ever did.

It was partly this that made him want to protect Lee from the almost certain hurt of fighting with the Communists. And another statement from the same discussion that restrained him from revealing it: “Is it necessary that we know?…Does what you do for us have on it the price that we recognize it and feel grateful?”

No, he would have to do it and brave Lee’s displeasure. For it was almost a certainty that Lee would not understand.

“One thing you must remember, Lee,” he said, “is that the organization of the plant is the main objective. It’s bigger than any one person, bigger than personal differences, bigger than us all.”

“So you don’t believe me.”

“It’s not a question of whether I believe you or not, Lee. It’s not even important. But I believe in you, and I want you to stay with us and fight this thing through. But to do that you’ll have to rise above your personal emotions. I am exceedingly sorry this happened, and I say this sincerely. But you’ll have to forget about it, about your injuries. And you will have to forget about Luther also. Luther’s not important, but you are.”

“Well, Smitty, I’ll tell you. I’ll go ahead and do my best if you want me to—”

“We do want you to, Lee.”

“But that’s all.”

Chapter 20

“O
H, LEE!
Lee! You’re hurt!” Ruth exclaimed, rushing forward to help him as he came into the house.

He turned to look at her, his bruised, bandaged face set in somberness, and his stare passed through her into nothing. In that moment the motion ran out of her and she stopped as if turned to stone, for more terrible than a Gorgon’s head was the hurt in Lee Gordon’s eyes.

“Lee! Oh, Lee!” she cried, and now it was a prayer as her first shocked concern for his physical condition gave way to a gripping fear.

Without removing his hat he went to the davenport and sat down. His face held that naked look of protest seen in the face of a young girl just ravished trying to absorb the effects of the brutality, and his body looked more beaten than by guns alone.

Across the room where she had stopped Ruth Gordon stood helplessly, her heart mobile with the impulse to hold him in her arms but her body crucified by the fear of his repulsing her.

“Lee, is there anything I can do?” she finally asked across a distance far greater than the room.

As if her words released the motion, he slowly raised a hand and removed his hat. “No thanks, Ruth, I’m fine,” he said, and in his voice there were only the words.