The Crawford house is quiet as a mouse as Norman walks up the front steps. It has been twelve weeks to the day since the tragedy. This is the fourth time he has visited. Before this occasion, he received a note from Mrs. Crawford, delivered by Will, requesting him to visit, suggesting she has a question! He reluctantly knocks on the door. No one seems to answer. He continues knocking. He feels vibrations from footsteps. Someone is in the house. The door opens. Mrs. Crawford invites him in. “I am so glad you came, Norman. You come on in and sit!” Norman inquires of her condition. Then she speaks, “The soreness is gone except for my right hand. Norman, I am with child. That man treated me terrible. I have been sick for five straight days!” Norman is overwhelmed that she would tell him such. Mr. Crawford has been a friend of the Barneses for years. The Crawfords own a blacksmith shop and livery stable. Norman seemingly uses the shop every other day.
Norman responds in a bewildered tone, “Are you sure, Althea? Are you sure? Does Marcus know anything? Does he?” She shakes her head in the affirmative several times with tears flowing down her cheeks like small streams coming off the side of a hill!
In speaking, she announces, “Norman, you are the most reasonable person around. I must have your confidence!” In adding, “You know Marcus will kill the head man. He’s convinced that Stephenson is the one. He and Mark are watching them!” Norman stands, shaken by this conversation. In his heart, he doesn’t blame Marcus. He worries what the law will do.
He lingers over near the window enjoying her beautiful crepe myrtles. “Althea, you must talk to him—reason with him. You are the only one that can stop him. Will Marcus accept the baby?”
Mrs. Crawford, rising, replies, “Norman, he and Mark are already staying in town in the shop. It’s me, Will, and Drew. They don’t know, but I certainly have to tell them in a few weeks!”
Norman is full in his heart. He thinks his wind has been cut. He emotionally walks to the door and opens, saying good-bye! Norman, a Methodist elder, begins to pray aloud, “Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” He stops; it seems his heart can’t go on. Further down the road, he catches a glimpse of Rafe, his friend.
Rafe is yelling to Norman, “I am on my way to get you. A couple of baggers are in town. That guy Stephenson is asking many questions about the ruckus the other night!” Rafe adds, “He is telling everyone the incident was uncalled for, but he could see it happening again if the white folks come close to Liberty Farms!”
Norman replies, “Let’s go.” They are running for town. Rafe is hollering for Norman, running off, leaving him. They come to town in time to see the chief of the police and the Stephenson man in the middle of the street.
The Crawfords are nowhere in sight. Norman is relieved! He steps next to the chief and listens as the chief lectures the gigantic man, telling him, “I have heard enough of your bragging, trying to stir people. You are welcome in this town to buy and sell. You will not be able to bleed an open wound as we have in this area now. The reasonable thing you can do is leave—leave promptly.”
The overlarge man grins and stares at Norman, a large shouldered man with legs that seem longer than normal folks. In a sardonic voice, he says to Stephenson, “I heard you. At this moment, I don’t care. This chief has the law on his side!” In adding, Norman replies, “He can place you in his jail with my help. I suggest you follow his remarks and leave. The Crawfords could come into town any moment. Someone could be dead. Preferably, I would assume you might be the one!” The man grins, looks around, and then turns and walks toward his sidekick, leaving town! Norman calls out, “We must find Marcus and Mark Crawford. Come on. I’ll tell you why on the way.” They rush toward stable. The men enter the building. The forge fire is burning. No one is inside.
In the building, they look inside the room where they sleep. No one is around. Out the back door they go. Rafe was a scout tracking for the south in the war. He didn’t share the cause. He squats on the ground and views the fresh tracks, saying openly, “These boot tracks will be easy to follow. Let’s go. Maybe we can catch them!” The chief and the long-legged Norman follow behind Rafe. They seemingly trust the tracker.
Norman openly tells the chief about Mrs. Crawford being with child. Norman, expanding the knowledge, says, “Marcus and Mark have left home.” Hours pass. The three men are still following the tracks.
Rafe murmurs, “I can’t tell the direction, but I smell gunshot powder coming from somewhere. We are directly next to the Liberty Farms!”
Rafe is on his knees, beginning to crawl under the bushes. The chief draws his attention. “Norman and I will sit down and wait for you, man. Just be careful.” There is no gauge in which Norman can calculate the length of time since Rafe has entered the woods. It seems an hour. Dusk is settling. The air is chilly on the faces of the two. All at once, a sharp, piercing yell comes from Rafe, sounding like a death call and sharing, “Chief, Norman, come here, come here.” They run toward the call.
Norman leads the older chief by lengths, arriving at the location. Norman looks and turns his head. He views Marcus and Mark face down in the dirt. Blood is pouring under them. Off at a distance, he sees that carpetbagger Stephenson stretched out with a bullet hole between his eyes. Oh, what an awful sight, he thinks to himself.
The chief catches up and hollers, “Oh, my God, have mercy.” He catches a glimpse of the two men almost side by side. Their guns are close to their bodies. Turning them over, there are bullet holes in the center of their chests. The chief hangs his head, asking Norman, “Where is the other carpetbagger? There must be two. Looks like a standoff. I suppose the other guy is shot somewhere. Let’s go get him!”
Norman grabs the chief and tells Rafe to back down. Straight to the point, he says, “We are not going in there. We will be wiped out in a minute. Let’s tend to the Crawfords and take them home. Lord, have mercy on them.”
Norman and Rafe each carry a body of the slain men. They look back at the dead man called Stephenson. They see flies on him. They march on with Chief Ryals following them. They travel along the road as if a heavenly angel is surrounding them, commanding them. These three men with dead friends were feeling pain. The pain is sharp penetrating like a knife. The air is kind of crisp with razor-sharp breezes blowing in their faces! The town people are standing at attention as they march into town with two brave, honorable men on their backs. Citizens are everywhere lining the streets with honor!
Marcus and Mark Crawford are buried in the church cemetery. Althea does not attend. The boys, Will and Drew, remained very calm as Rev. James Fountain does the ceremony. He is speaking from the Psalm 23, “The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures…” The sermon is short. There is nothing revealed. Death has taken two good men. The Reverend Fountain comes back saying, “But when you take up arms, you must assume responsibility of your well-being that life has given you…not through the barrel of a gun!” Then finishing, he says, “Whatever the reason, whatever is achieved in this instance, Lord, have mercy on us all as we prepare for tomorrow!”