“I must say you boys are a resourceful duo,” Mr. Jackson quipped. “So, y’all were able to escape again before Silas and Mr. Kim got back from their whiskey run?”
“Well, sort of,” I told him. Then I turned toward Poudlum and asked if he wanted to tell what happened.
“Uh-uh,” he said with a fear-shiver. “I don’t even want to think about it. You go ahead and tell.”
I wasn’t too excited about recounting that story either, but it had to be done, so I set about it. I told how we stayed up that tree till dawn when Silas and Mr. Kim came back.
When I uttered the part where Mr. Kim had struck Silas down with his murderous blade, Mr. Jackson dropped his pencil, gasped and said, “Are you saying he murdered the man?”
“That’s right. He did,” Poudlum interjected.
Uncle Curvin’s eyes were about the size of a couple of saucers when he said, “Boys, it can’t get no worse than accusing somebody of murder. Are you sure he was dead?”
“He was laying there dead as a hammer,” Poudlum declared. “You would have been, too, if you had been stuck with that long blade.”
Mr. Jackson regained his composure and said, “Why do you think he killed Silas?”
“Probably ’cause he wanted to just take us and not pay Silas and Dudley their two hundred dollars.”
As he picked up his pencil and resumed writing, Mr. Jackson said, “What did Kim do then?”
“He went on up and into the cabin where I ’spec he probably cut poor old Dudley’s throat.”
I could see the pity for Dudley in Poudlum’s eyes and hear it in his voice, too. And I could feel his pain because we knew we had left him tied up and unable to defend himself.
Poudlum confirmed my thoughts when he said, “Old Dudley wasn’t too smart, but he did make some good biscuits.”
“It’s a good thing Kim never knew you boys were witnesses to his dastardly deed,” Uncle Curvin said.
Poudlum cast a look at me and wordlessly gave me the floor.
“Uh, that’s the problem we have. He does know we saw him.”
“Oh, Lord have mercy!” Uncle Curvin moaned. “I thought y’all was hid up the tree.”
“We was, but the minute he went into the cabin, we skedaddled out of that tree, jumped into our boat, and started paddling hard.”
“But he had a motorboat to catch y’all with,” Mr. Jackson observed.
“We took the time to disable his motor before we took off,” I told him.
He rolled his eyes and said, “I should have known that.”
Mr. Jackson seemed to be talking to himself as he wrote. “He’s probably already done away with the bodies. Too bad we don’t have any other evidence.”
Poudlum reached inside his shirt, pulled out a bundle and rolled it out on the table. “How about this?” he said, as the murder weapon tumbled to the center of the conference table.
I thought my uncle and Mr. Jackson were both going to have some kind of conniption fit they made such a to-do over Mr. Kim’s knife. When they finally collected themselves, my uncle leaned in close and said, “I believe I see some little specks of blood on the blade!”
“Don’t nobody touch it!” Mr. Jackson said as he jumped up and dashed out of the room.
He was back in a flash with a big brown envelope, which he wrote something on. Then he picked up the knife with his handkerchief and placed it inside the envelope.
We silently watched as he went over and began working the combination of a steel safe against the wall. After he opened the thick metal door, he deposited the envelope into the safe. Before he closed the door, I noticed he took a pistol out of the safe and slid it inside his coat. Afterwards he returned to his seat at the table, took up his pencil again and said, “Now, how is it you boys think he knows you witnessed the murder?’
Poudlum took up the story and said, “Because he come tearing out of that cabin while we was paddling off. He jumped in his boat, and when he figured out we had ruined his motor, he started paddling after us.
“It was all we could do, with both of us paddling, to stay ahead of him. I never seen a man who could paddle, run, and swim like he could.”
“Go on,” Mr. Jackson encouraged Poudlum.
“By paddling with all we had, we managed to stay ahead of him, that is until our boat started sinking. That’s right, we sunk another boat, but this time it was ours. We managed to get to shore just before she went under, and that’s when the footrace started.”
“He chased you?”
“He chased us through the woods like a crazy man. We finally circled back on him and was getting away in his boat when he come tearing out of the woods and threw that knife at us. That’s how we got it. We ducked and it stuck in a paddle on the boat.”
Poudlum sounded plum tuckered out just from telling about the chase, so I finished up.
“He even took to chasing us in the water. He started swimming and stayed behind us for a while, but he finally give up, and the last we saw of him was when he went back ashore. But he was still on the east side of the river so we figured he might come on up through the woods chasing us. After that, we paddled hard and finally got on up to the bridge at Jackson where we found Uncle Curvin and them.”
“I imagine you boys were mighty proud to see those folks,” Mr. Jackson said.
“Yes, sir, we was proud as punch,” I answered.
Mr. Jackson straightened up his papers, stood up from the table and said, “You boys just relax for a few minutes. Mr. Curvin, would you step over to my office with me?”
After they left the room, Poudlum and I sat there nearly as exhausted from telling our story as we had been when it really happened.
“What you think they talking about?” Poudlum asked.
About that time I saw motion through the window and upon closely observing, I saw it was Uncle Curvin and Mr. Jackson standing on the landing outside the entrance to his office. I also noticed the window was slightly cracked.
“Come on and we’ll see,” I told Poudlum as I started scooting across the floor, staying low so I wouldn’t be seen. Poudlum followed, and soon we were scrunched down below the windowsill with our ears cocked to the opening.
We picked up Mr. Jackson’s voice in mid-sentence, “—and I want you to hightail it down to Mobile and deliver this envelope. Don’t waste any time. I’m sure you realize how extremely important this matter is.”
We peeked up over the edge of the windowsill and saw my uncle take the envelope and heard him say, “Don’t you be fretting about it, Mr. Jackson. I’ll take care of everything and report back to you tonight.”
As they were saying their goodbyes, we scooted back over to the table and had barely reclaimed our seats when Mr. Jackson came back into the room.
I knew something was up by the look on his face. He sat down across from us at the table and began to speak. “I know you boys have been through a lot in the last few days, but instead of going home, and in the interest of your safety, would it be all right if the two of you stayed with me a couple of days?”
Poudlum and I immediately turned our heads to look at each other, but despite our ability to sometimes transfer information without speaking, we were both drawing a blank as to the reason for Mr. Jackson’s request.
So I turned back to him and asked, “Sir, what do you mean by saying in the interest of our safety? Safety from what?”
“It’s like this, boys. I don’t think we have anything to be concerned about from the Klan. Oh, they might threaten and intimidate you, but I don’t think they would physically harm you.”
“Then how come they do like they do, Mr. Jackson?” Poudlum asked.
“That’s a complicated question, son. But basically I think it’s because it’s very difficult for human beings to get over their differences. It seems like we want everyone around us to be just like we are. And I’m afraid it will take a lot of time and work to get over that, but when I see and talk to you two young fellows, I believe there is hope.”
My thoughts were whirling, but I had his concern for our safety narrowed down. He was worried about Mr. Kim! “Mr. Jackson,” I said in a shaky voice, “you don’t think—”
“Now no need to get flustered,” he said to calm me.
“You think that murdering slaver is gonna come all the way up here to get us?” Poudlum moaned as his eyes grew large.
“No, I don’t,” Mr. Jackson said. “But you never know what these types will do, so I think we ought to take proper precautions. That’s why I asked if you boys would like to stay under my care until I can get the matter cleared up.”
“How do you plan to do that?” I asked.
He stroked his chin whiskers as if in thought before he said, “As far as the Klan is concerned, I plan to write an editorial in the newspaper and expose the identity of the judge and the solicitor. That way, they should be satisfied as to the question of whom you boys were working for when you spied on them.”
“But wait,” Poudlum said with a puzzled look on his face. “We really wasn’t doing that.”
“That’s of no matter,” Mr. Jackson replied. “By using that strategy, it will eliminate any reason for them to be concerned with you boys anymore.”
Poudlum and I looked at each other again, and this time we knew we both were thinking what a smart man Mr. Jackson was. But thinking further about what he had just said made me feel concern for him, so I asked, “But then wouldn’t the Klan come after you?”
His eyes twinkled, and he smiled for the first time since I could remember, just before he said, “I would welcome them coming after me, but I don’t think they will.
“What we have to be concerned about is this Mr. Kim, if that’s what his real name is. I didn’t mention it while you boys were relating your story, but I was already aware of an ongoing investigation of missing boys in the area south of Jackson and on down toward Mobile.
“The encounter you boys had and the information you have furnished may be the first break in the case, and I’ve sent Mr. Curvin down to alert the authorities. So you see, I would feel much better if you both remained under my protection until the culprit has been apprehended.”
Poudlum and I nodded agreement simultaneously, and Mr. Jackson said, “Good, that’s settled. There’s no need to alarm your parents, so I’ll send word that for a few days you both will be doing some chores for me, and we’ll find you some so we won’t be fibbing.”
It was getting on toward noon so Mr. Jackson took us to a café and bought our dinner.
They didn’t serve colored people in that restaurant, but when we walked in, Mr. Jackson swept his gaze across the big room as if daring somebody to say something about us having Poudlum with us. It seemed nobody wanted to, and it was the kind of food we had been hankering for—fried chicken with creamed potatoes and gravy, along with some early peas, cornbread, and sweet tea.
Mr. Jackson smiled, and as we cleaned our plates, he said, “You boys eat like you got a hollow leg.”
“That was mighty tasty, just what we been wishing for, and we surely do thank you,” I told him.
“Yes, sir, that was mighty fine,” Poudlum said as he licked his lips. “We been living off catfish for days, and there was some times in between when we was too busy running, hiding, or paddling to even stop and eat.”
We whiled away the afternoon in Mr. Jackson’s library. I found a copy of Robinson Crusoe, and Poudlum settled on Treasure Island.
Mr. Jackson’s housekeeper fixed us another tasty meal that night, and Poudlum and I retired to his guest bedroom, which was about the most comfortable-looking room either one of us had ever seen.
We marveled at the shiny floor and the two heavy twin beds. Later on, after we had blown the lamp out and curled up in those beds, through the window, I saw a flash of movement outside in the dark yard.
“Poudlum!” I whispered. “Did you see that?”
“What? What did you see?”
“I saw something move out there,” I said. We crawled over and crouched on our knees at the window and strained our eyes, searching in the darkness.
“There it is! You see it?” Poudlum said as he grabbed my arm.
“Uh-huh,” I breathed softly as I felt the fear seeping into me.
What we saw was a dark figure pass though the bushes and disappear around toward the rear of the house. He was moving and there were too many shadows to tell if it was who we dreaded it could be.