26
Truman listened to their footsteps tramping through the grass. He knew better than to question Little Bit. If she said move, you moved.
Little Bit suddenly stopped in her tracks. But the sound of footsteps through the grass continued.
Voices.
“What’s going on?” whispered Nelle.
Little Bit leaned down into their faces. “Hush, children, come with me.” Even though Nelle could barely make out her face, she knew Little Bit was scared. But of what? she wondered.
Little Bit led them toward the darkness of the nearby forest. The kids had played there many times after school but now it just seemed black and ominous, the trees towering over them like phantoms in the night.
They didn’t quite make it into the woods before the voices came upon them. “It’s ’round here somewhere,” said a man, out of breath.
Little Bit pulled the kids down into the tall grass; she put her hands over their mouths and held on tight.
“Found it,” another man said. “Someone get me a torch.”
They were surrounded by male voices; men tromped through the grass on either side of them. They ducked even lower and kept quiet. A man walked right by them, stepping on Truman’s hand. It took all his focus not to scream.
Someone struck a match and lit a torch of some kind. “Now, don’t go setting this field on fire, Frank. Just set this sucker ablaze and get us some light in here. Then the others will be able to find us.”
Truman’s view was blocked by Little Bit, but he could see silhouettes of pointy heads. He couldn’t figure it. Someone held the torch high, and he saw the flames lick at the bottom of the sheets wrapped around the tree. The fire swiftly shot up the sheets and set the whole tree ablaze.
Only it wasn’t a tree, it was a cross. And the men didn’t have pointy heads, they were dressed in white robes and hoods with holes cut out for their eyes.
The Ku Klux Klan.
Nelle didn’t know much about the Klan except that A.C. did not like them one bit. He said they were “the blind leading the blind.” She had seen them march once when a black family tried to move into town. The Klan showed up in their robes at night and burned their home down to the ground before the family could move into it. Nobody tried to stop them.
The whole field grew bright from the fire; Nelle and Truman could see everything. There were about thirty of them, all dressed in white—except one; he was wearing a shimmering green hood and robes.
“The Grand Dragon,” whispered Little Bit to herself, her eyes wide with fear.
Truman was staring at the man when he lifted his hood for a second to spit out some chaw—it was Catfish Henderson.
“Boss’s daddy,” he said. Truman glanced at Nelle and quickly realized he could see her. Which meant they could be seen by the Klan!
Little Bit slowly started to rise up, as if she were hypnotized by the flames. “Little Bit, get down, they’ll see you!” Truman hissed. It was like she couldn’t hear him.
He tugged on her sleeve; Nelle did the same. “Please, Miss Bit, get down—”
“What the—” said a man’s voice. Nelle looked up in front of them and saw the silhouette of a man in a hood, holding a shotgun.
“Run for your lives!” Truman yelled.
Little Bit snapped to and realized what was going on. She grabbed the kids by the arms and ran as fast as she ever did. Little Bit normally moved in slow motion, but right then, with the voices and footsteps on their heels, she could’ve run across water.
Little Bit glanced over her shoulder at the spots of light floating through the fields. Men with torches, not fireflies. Truman could see the lights of some buildings ahead. Once they hit town, they’d be safe, he thought.
Except they ran smack into a barbed-wire fence blocking their escape. Actually, Nelle tackled Truman right before he ran into it.
They poked their heads up and saw a man making a straight run for them. He stumbled in the darkness, and the dry field around him erupted in a blaze of fire.
“Come on, children, we got to get outta here!” Little Bit grabbed Nelle and tossed her over the fence like she was a chicken who’d wandered out of the coop. “Now you, Truman!”
The wind kicked up and the fire spread quickly—toward them. “No, you have a dress,” said Truman. “I’ll hold the fence open for you then crawl through after.”
“Hurry, Truman!” Nelle said anxiously.
He stepped on the lower strand and raised the upper one like boxers do with ropes when they get in the ring. “Go on, Little Bit! Quick!” She saw the fire coming, gathered up her dress, and crawled through with Nelle’s help. They collapsed into a heap on the other side.
Truman could feel the heat on his back; the men were trying to put out the blaze. Truman scrambled through the fence as quick as he could. “Run!” he said to Nelle.
Nelle pulled Little Bit to her feet and ran for safety. Truman scrambled to his feet on the other side, but one of the barbed wires snagged on his clothes and wouldn’t let go!
“I’m caught! Help me!” He could see the ashes and glowing embers from the flames settle around him. He had to move fast or get cooked.
Suddenly, Little Bit was standing over him. She grabbed him by his pants and tugged, but the wire wouldn’t give. “Take them pants off!” she cried.
“But these are my good pants,” he said.
“They about to be your good pants on fire, now git ’em off!”
Truman could hear the flames crackling behind him—he practically jumped out of his trousers! As soon as he was free, he and Nelle and Little Bit took off faster than racehorses out of the gate, leaving the fire behind them.
When they finally reached the school, Truman glanced back. No one was following them. It looked like the men were all struggling to put the fire out.
They collapsed behind a small shed to catch their breath. It took a whole minute for Truman to catch his.
“Think they . . . saw who . . . we were?” he said between gulps of air.
Nelle burst into laughter.
“What’s so . . . funny, Nelle? I coulda been . . . killed back there!” said Truman.
“You shoulda seen the look on your face! You were as white as them sheets they was wearing!”
“Very funny . . . I seem to recall you screaming like a little girl,” said Truman.
“I am a little girl, you loony bird. You were the one screaming—”
“My cap!” Truman shouted suddenly. He felt his hatless head and looked back at the field. “It must have fallen off when we were running. We have to go get it!”
“Hush, now, the both a you!” Little Bit yanked the redroot and peppermint from their pockets and threw them away. “I musta used the wrong mixture. We gonna go home now and never tell nobody of this night, you hear?”
Truman tried to argue. “But, Little Bit—”
She wouldn’t have any of it. As she pulled him by the ear back home, all she could say was “Sweet Jesus, please never let me listen to this child again. I’m too old for this!”