ON SUNDAY, Jared’s moods changed constantly from anger to depression, and he moped around the compound like someone in a trance. Cloma tried to talk to him and cheer him, but she couldn’t get through to him no matter what she said. When the Mark IV pulled into the camp and parked by the trailer, Jared ran to it anxiously. Kristy was not with the other children, and this caused him great fear. For the rest of the afternoon, he sat by the north fence alone, staring across the field and at the highway leading to Homestead.
The next day Jared picked the tomatoes automatically, filling the bucket and emptying it and filling it again. At noon he ate a can of sardines and a tomato, but the chewed pulp stuck in his throat. He spat the tomato to the ground and washed his mouth with water.
When he walked into the store at the end of the day, he appeared to be calm. After purchasing food he handed the sack to Bennie, then he walked to the store manager and said loudly, “You got to help us! We’re prisoners! You got to help us!”
Jabbo moved toward him immediately. The store manager backed away and said, “You must ’a got too much sun, fellow. You better sit down and rest for awhile.” Then he turned aside and waited on another customer.
Jared backed toward the door, repeating loudly, “You got to help! ... somebody has to help! .... ”
When he reached the front of the store, he turned right and ran up the highway. A car approached from the west, and Jared jumped in front of it, waving his arms wildly. The car swerved to avoid hitting him, then it increased speed. He ran again until he reached a house a quarter-mile up the highway, then he crossed the yard and knocked on the front door. When a woman opened it, he said urgently, “You got to help us . . . we need help . . . somebody has to help ... ” The woman slammed the door quickly and locked it.
Jared then looked down the highway and saw that Jabbo was coming after him. For a moment his senses were overcome with panic, then he jumped from the porch and ran into an orange grove to the south of the house. It was dark when he finally stopped running and paused for a few minutes beneath a papaya tree. After pulling one of the gourd-like fruits and sucking the juice, he wandered again for another hour until he dropped to the ground exhausted and fell asleep.
The sun was already mid-way in the morning sky when Jared awoke. He sprang to his feet startled and bewildered, not knowing where he was or how he got there. As reality gradually drifted back to him, he looked around and saw that he had spent the night at the edge of a bean field. Far in the distance he could see men and women picking into hampers. He knew that if he turned north again, he would eventually come back to the highway.
When he reached the road leading to Florida City, he dared not walk along its edge for fear that Jabbo or Clug would be looking for him; so he stayed behind houses and in the fields and groves until the outskirts of town came into view. At the first service station he came to, he asked directions to the police station.
It was another two miles to the Homestead branch of the sheriff’s department, and as Jared walked along the roadway and sidewalks, people stared at his tom, filthy clothes and his battered face. He glanced around constantly to see if he was being followed. When he reached the small brown stucco building he went inside quickly.
The first room was a small lobby area, and as Jared entered, a man behind a desk eyed him suspiciously. “Something I can do for you?” he asked quizzically.
“We need help,” Jared answered quickly. “We’re bein’ held against our will, and they’ve taken my daughter. Somebody has to help us.”
The man gave Jared another penetrating look as he said, “Just have a seat over there and Deputy Drummond will talk to you in a few minutes. I’m just a clerk.”
Jared waited nervously for ten minutes until finally he was asked to step inside an office. As he took a seat in front of the desk, an officer said, “I’m Deputy Drummond. What’s your problem?”
Jared spoke rapidly, “We’re bein’ held like slaves! ... . They’ve taken my daughter! .... You got to help us! .... ”
“Just take it easy, fellow,” the deputy interrupted. “Calm down a bit. Are you a migrant?”
“I work in the fields,” Jared replied, trying to calm himself. “We came here from West Virginny.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jared Teeter. Folks call me Jay.”
For a moment the deputy toyed with a pencil on the desk, then he looked back to Jared and said, “Just tell me the truth, Mr. Teeter. Have you been shooting junk or drinking too much wine? You could save us both a lot of time if you tell me the truth.”
Jared was surprised by the question, and he answered firmly, “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ like that! We need help real bad.”
The deputy looked closely at Jared’s condition and said, “O.k. Now who is it that’s doing all this to you?”
“His name’s Creedy. Silas Creedy. We live at Angel City.”
“I’ve never heard of either one of them. But we don’t keep track too much of the migrant camps. There’s just too many of them.”
Again the deputy studied Jared closely. “Just exactly what is this man Creedy doing to you?” he asked.
“He keeps us in the camp and won’t pay nobody,” Jared said, trying to think of all the things he should say. “Claims we all owe him money and we got to stay there and work it out. Can’t nobody get outside the camp. I tried to get out and go fer help, but they caught me and then they took my girl off to Creedy’s place as a prisoner. He’s got the other folks’ children there too.”
“Where does Creedy live?” the deputy asked.
“I don’t know,” Jared replied, troubled by not knowing, for he wanted to go there immediately. “I guess it’s sommers around here or Floridy City, or maybe in Miami. And it could be out in the country sommers.”
“That’s not much help,” the deputy muttered. He then said, “How’d your face get so beat up?”
“They pistol-whupped me,” Jared said, wincing as the memories came back. “They beat one old man to death that way, then they took him into a swamp to get rid of him. I seen it. My friend’s been in Angel City two years. He says they’ve killed a whole bunch of folks and put them into a sinkhole.”
The deputy thought for a moment, trying to digest all of the things Jared was saying. “That’s a pretty bad story, Mr. Teeter,” he said. “How far is it to this Angel City camp?”
“I can’t rightly say fer sure,” Jared answered, “but I can show you the way. It’s not too fer out of Floridy City.”
From Jared’s straightforward answers, his simple sincerity and the urgency in his voice, the deputy surmised there must be some truth in the things Jared had said. He got up from the desk and said, “Maybe we might better go out to this Angel City and take a look.”
Jared followed the officer outside, then they got into a green patrol car with a red flasher on its top. As they drove into Florida City, the officer turned to Jared and said, “How long’s it been since you’ve eaten anything?”
Until then Jared had not even thought of food. He said, “I don’t rightly remember. It must be nigh on two days now.”
The deputy stopped at a hamburger stand and bought Jared two hamburgers and a milk shake, and he wolfed them down eagerly as they passed through the town and turned west on the highway leading to the camp.
It was after six when the patrol car turned from the highway and crossed the field to the camp. To Jared’s surprise, the gate was open. The deputy parked beside the trailer and got out.
Creedy came from the trailer immediately, approached the deputy and said calmly, “I see you got ole Teeter. He’s kinda daffy, if you ain’t found it out already.”
The deputy ignored Creedy’s remark about Jared and said, “Are you Creedy?”
“That’s right,” Creedy answered. “I’m the contractor who runs this camp.”
“Mr. Teeter here has told me some pretty bad things about you,” the deputy said, watching Creedy closely.
“I done already told you he’s tetched. I do everything I can to look out for him, but sometimes he goes plumb loco and runs off. You can ask his family about him.”
“Mr. Teeter says you’re holding his daughter and some other children at your house. Is this true?”
Creedy began shuffling his feet. “I ain’t never heard such a wild tale,” he said indignantly. “I live right here in the trailer. You can look for yourself.”
Jared had been standing to the side, listening. He turned to the deputy and said, “That’s a lie! Jabbo and Clug live in the trailer! Creedy don’t live here at all!”
The deputy looked at the flash of anger in Jared’s eyes, then he turned back to Creedy. “You mind if I have a look around?” he asked.
“Suit yourself,” Creedy said, his voice unconcerned. “Look all you want to.”
As the deputy went into the trailer, Creedy turned to Jared and said in hushed tones, “If anything comes of this, you’re in bad trouble. You must ’a forgot where your girl’s at.”
Jared was worried, for he had not expected things to go as they were. He had surmised that the deputy would simply arrest Creedy and then return Kristy to him. But he still thought that the officer would surely learn the truth before leaving the camp. Thus far he had only heard Creedy’s side of the story, and he knew that Cloma and Cy would tell the truth.
When the deputy came back outside, he said to Creedy, “I ’11 look around the camp for a while. You wait here until I return.”
Jared followed the deputy as he went to the first room on the north side of the building. He looked inside and said, “You folks got anything to say to me?”
Four somber black faces stared back. One said, “Naw suh.”
“Can you leave this camp if you want to?” he then asked.
“Yas suh. We can leave anytime we wants.”
Jared’s face was ashen as he listened to the unexpected answers.
The deputy moved on down the line and received the same reply in each room, then he came to Jared’s room. Cloma was sitting on one bunk and Bennie on another. She looked at Jared and said, “Where’ve you been, Jared? We’ve been worried sick about you.”
Before Jared could speak, the deputy asked, “Is this your husband?”
“Yes,” Cloma answered calmly. “That’s Jared.”
“Where’s your daughter?” he then asked.
“We don’t have a daughter.” Cloma stared downward, avoiding Jared’s eyes. “We only got Bennie here.”
Jared’s heart sank, and he knew now why the gate had been open instead of locked. Creedy had had ample time to prepare the camp. Jared was not surprised when Cy told the deputy he had no son.
After questioning several more people, the deputy walked back to the trailer with Jared following. He leaned against the side of the patrol car, staring intensely at Creedy, then he said casually, “That’s a mighty fancy car for a labor contractor.”
Creedy looked toward the Mark IV and said defensively, “I earned ev’ry penny of it. I works hard. I go into the fields ev’ry day and picks right alongside my people.”
The deputy was unimpressed by Creedy’s remarks. “How come this man’s face is so beat up?” he asked, studying Creedy’s reaction.
“How would I know?” Creedy snorted. “He ran around in the woods all last night. Maybe he fell over something. I try to take good care of him, but sometimes he goes plumb loco.”
The deputy sensed that Creedy and all the others were lying, but he couldn’t take the word of one man against all the others in the camp. He turned to Jared and said, “I guess I’ll be going now, Mr. Teeter.”
“Ain’t you gain’ to arrest him?” Jared asked feebly.
“For what?” the deputy said. “Nobody here will back up your story, not even your wife.”
“I told you he’s tetched,” Creedy said, now feeling confident.
“Maybe he is and maybe ·he isn’t,” the deputy snapped, looking directly into Creedy’s eyes. “I can’t prove anything now, but this whole place don’t look right. How come you’ve got it fenced like a prison compound?”
“Too much thievin’ goin’ on,” Creedy said warily. “You know how it is with these migrants wandering around all over the countryside. They’ll take anything that ain’t nailed down. And besides that, it ain’t against no law to put a fence around your own property.”
When he reached the patrol car, the deputy turned and said, “You take it easy, Mr. Teeter. And Creedy, I might be seeing you again.”
Jared watched the patrol car as it turned through the gate and moved toward the highway, taking with it his one hope of getting Kristy back and escaping from Angel City. As he walked dejectedly toward the barracks, Creedy shouted, “Hold up there, Teeter!”
Creedy came to him and said, “We ain’t goin’ to whup you this time, ’cause it don’t seem to do no good. But you owe me a fair and honest debt, and you’re goin’ to pay it one way or another. You pull another stunt like this, or cause trouble of any kind, and that gal of yourn might have a real bad accident. You understand what I’m saying, Jay Bird?”
“I understand,” Jared said, his face and voice strained with defeat. “I ain’t goin’ to cause no more trouble. I swear it.”
Creedy was pleased by Jared’s answer. He said, “It’s about time you figured it out. I ain’t never had nobody come in here before who acted like you over an honest debt. From now on, you get only four dollars on Saturday instead of what I been givin’ you. If your belly starts to hurt, it ought to make your brains work better.”
“My wife needs plenty of food,” Jared said, concerned by Creedy’s remark about the money. “Her time’s not too far off, and she needs to keep up her strength. Do what you want to me, but don’t punish her fer what I done. She had no thin’ to do with it, and she needs her strength.”
“You ought to have thought about all that before,” Creedy said. “If your woman gets hungry, you can give her part of your vittles from now on.”
“I’ll do that,” Jared said as he turned quickly and walked away.
When he entered the room, Cloma grabbed his arm and cried, “I’m sorry, Jared! I’m sorry! I ain’t never lied before, and you know it. But Mr. Creedy said he’d hurt Kristy real bad if I didn’t do as he said. And he threatened Cy and all them other folks, too. I’m real truly honest sorry, Jared, but I didn’t know what else to do! I was afraid for Kristy!“
“I understand,” Jared said, looking deeply into her eyes as he took her into his arms and tried to calm her. “It’s all right. I know you couldn’t do nothin’ else but what you did. It’s all right, Cloma, don’t fret about it. You done the right thing.”
Two days later, late in the afternoon, Creedy entered the camp with a drunken black man sitting beside him in the Mark IV. The man got out and staggered around the side of the building. When he came to where Jared and Cy were sitting on the ground, he said, “Is this room ’leben? Mistuh Creedy say I’m in room ’leben. I’s goin’ work fo’ Mistuh Creedy.”
“You found it,” Cy said.
The man had a brown paper sack in his hand. He said, “I’s called Hoot, an’ I comes from Orlanda. Mistuh Creedy, he let me have ten dollars in advance. He a good man. He goin’ pay me twenty-five cents a bucket fo’ pickin’ ’maters.”
Cy pointed into the room and said, “You got the bunk on the right. The man what had it befo’ you had to leave here a short while ago. Just go on in an’ make yo’self at home.”
Hoot went inside for a moment, then he came back out and said, “You folks wants a drink? Mistuh Creedy, he give me this here whole quart bottle o’ whuskey.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Cy said, eyeing the bottle. “You can sit down here on the ground an’ join us fo’ a spell, a good long spell. We sits out here ev’ry afternoon after supper.”