“I AM JUST AS SORRY AS I can be, Mr. Corbett, but we simply have no rooms available at this time,” Maybelle said to me. “We are full up.”
The dilapidated rooming house seemed strangely deserted for a place that was completely occupied.
“But Abraham came by and paid you while I was incapacitated,” I said.
“Your money is in that envelope on top of your baggage,” she said, pointing at my trunk and valises in a dusty corner of the center hall. “You can count it, it’s all there.”
“You accepted my money,” I said, “but now that I need the room, you’re throwing me out? That makes no sense.”
Up till now, Maybelle had maintained her best polite southern-lady voice. Now the tone changed. Her voice dropped three notes.
“Look, I ain’t gonna stand here and argue with the likes of you,” she said. “I don’t know how I could make it any clearer. We got no rooms available for you. So if you don’t mind, I will thank you to go on and leave the house now.”
“I can’t carry this trunk by myself,” I said.
“Why don’t you get one of your nigger friends to help you,” she snapped. “That’s what I would do.”
“I’ll take the valises and send someone back for the trunk,” I said.
I stuffed the envelope in my pocket, picked up a bag in each hand, and walked out into the blazing noonday sun of Eudora. Now what?
Sweet tea. That’s what I needed, a frosty glass of tea. And time to think things through. I went to the Slide Inn Café and sat at my usual table. I sat there for almost twenty minutes. I could not seem to get the attention of a waitress. Miss Fanny wouldn’t even meet my eye.
Oh, they saw me. The waitresses cast glances at me and whispered among themselves. The other customers—plump ladies in go-to-town dresses, rawboned farmers, little girls clinging to their mamas’ skirts—they saw me too. When I dared to look back at them, they turned away. And I remembered what Abraham had said: There’s cowards in both places. That’s why the bullies can have their way.
Finally, Miss Fanny approached with a glass of tea, dripping condensation down its sides.
She spoke in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Corbett. We don’t all feel the same way about you. Personally, I got nothing against you. I like you. But I ain’t the owner. So you’d best just drink this tea and be on your way. You’re not welcome here.”
“All right, Miss Fanny,” I said. “Thanks for telling me.”
I drank the tea in a few gulps. I put a quarter on the table. I hoisted my valises and walked out into the street.
As I passed Miss Ida’s notions shop, I saw Livia Winkler coming out.
“Miz Winkler,” I said, touching the brim of my hat.
She suddenly looked flustered. Averting her eyes, she turned around and hurried back into the shop.
I crossed the street, to the watering trough in front of Jenkins’ Mercantile. I scooped up a handful of water and splashed my face.
“That water is for horses, mules, and dogs,” said a voice behind me. I turned.
It was the same fat redheaded man who with his two friends had jumped me at this very place, when they were holding those boys’ heads underwater.
This time he held a branding iron in his hand.
I was too exhausted to fight. I was hot. I was still a bit weak and wobbly from everything I had been through. But Red didn’t know that. I straightened up to full height.
“Use your brain,” I said. “Turn around and walk away. Before I brand you.”
We stared each other down. Finally he broke it off—shook his head in disgust, spat on the sidewalk near my shoes, and walked away. He looked back once. I was still there, watching him go.
Then I turned and headed in the direction of the one person in Eudora I believed would help me.