Smoke and the smell of coal oil came in through the broken windows. By the time I pulled on my pants and hobbled downstairs, Doc was dressed and making for the front door.
“Tell those darkies to stay out of sight,” he said.
Isaiah was asleep in Sarah’s room. “Hide, quick,” said I.
“I kept by Captain Trimmer at Gettysburg and I ain’t goin’ to hide now,” said he.
A load of buckshot clattered like hail and another window shattered with a crash of broken glass. When I got to the front door Doc was checking the primers on his Navy Colt. The hooting and hollering outside was louder. Isaiah went out the front door ahead of Doc: I was right behind, too excited to be scared..
Flames of the burning cross and torches lit up a half dozen men with white peaked hoods carrying guns. The melting snow had turned to frozen slush and the front yard was covered with ice. It was a mean, cold night. Every so often a half moon hanging in the western sky peaked through a hole in the clouds.
The man right in front of the porch and a dozen yards ahead of the others was Murphy on the coal black horse with a white patch on it’s face. He held that Henry rifle in one hand and the reins in the other. As soon as Isaiah came out the door Murphy fired a shot that whanged into the door jamb. Isaiah jumped from the front steps and grabbed the rifle, but Murphy clubbed him on the head with the rifle’s butt. Old Isaiah stumbled against the horse that skittered on the ice. I ran down the steps and grabbed ahold on his white sheet. “You killed Ike and Young Isaiah,” I cried.
“You little sumbitch,” Murphy yelled. He grabbed the back of my neck and tossed me away like I was a sack of potatoes. My neck felt like it was broke but I got up out of the snow .
Doc aimed his Navy Colt directly at Murphy and could have killed him easy, but instead he fired over his head. The men behind Murphy must have figured we would hand over the Negroes without a fight but now they backed off and lowered their guns..
Murphy couldn’t work the lever of his rifle with one hand and the horse reared up like it was going to bolt. Isaiah was back on his feet and Doc was on the steps, drawing back the hammer of the Colt. Murphy jammed the rifle into a scabbard and drew the cavalry saber. He slashed at Isaiah and Doc fired another shot that grazed Murphy’s hood. Then Murphy held the saber out in front. “Yeeah,” It was just like a rebel yell except it was more awful. He bent low in the saddle, hung on to the horse’s neck and charged up the steps. Murphy swung the saber and would have cut Doc’s head right off but Doc ducked out of the way. The saber hit a column that held up the porch and broke in half. The horse turned just in time to miss the front door, jumped a railing and went off in the night. Doc aimed at the rest of the hooded men. “Get on out of here,” said he. They all left; the cross was about burned out.
My bad dreams that night could have been because of the laudanum that Doc gave me for the pain in my neck and feet but they kept coming every night and turned into terrible shadowy nightmares. One was about Reverend Burns who was about to kill me but I got my hands around his neck. When his eyes bulged out, I couldn’t squeeze no more and let him go. Another time, I held a gun on a man in a peaked hood, but couldn’t pull the trigger.
Billy Malone came by the next day. I never was so happy to see a person in my whole life.
“We figured you were about dead,” he said.
“Well, I ain’t dead yet. What happened to those bandits?”
“Pa and the vigilantes follered them all the way to the county line. The hoofprints were the same as the rustlers that have been stealing cattle and burning barns. Murphy and his gang are stirrin’ up trouble with the Negroes and stealin’ from the farmers. “ We don’t have to worry none now, on account of the vigilante committee elected Pa to be the captain,” Billy said. “You sure? Murphy’s mean and he won’t forget about his dog and us stickin up for Old Isaiah and his family,” said I. “Pa says he don’t dare come back to Sandy Ford, even if he is deputy sheriff,” Billy said.
Obediah came the next day and fixed the broken windows. Isaiah came from the Camp House to see Sarah every day. “How do you bear up under all this suffering?” I asked. “Trust in the Good Lord,” said Isaiah. “I went to church and Sunday school but Pa still died and it looked like the Lord sent me to that orphanage,” said I.
“Have faith, have faith is all we can do,” said Old Isaiah.