Tulsa Burning (12 page)

"Need to see Sheriff Leonard," one said. I turned around to call him, but he was right there behind me.

"Come on in, fellows," he said. "I been looking for you to come."

"Is that your boy?" one of the men asked as they went inside.

"No," the sheriff said. "He belongs to the housekeeper, pesky kid. I'm glad he's going out while we talk."

I had stopped just outside the door, so I heard what he said. I smiled, glad to be considered pesky by Sheriff Leonard and
determined, now, to know what the men had come to discuss.

I ran around by the parlor windows and hid in the big roses of Sharon bushes. Right off I could hear the sheriff's booming
voice, real clear.

"No," he said. "It's got to be tonight if you want him. I can't keep the boy in jail much longer. Some folks already complaining.
His mother's real uppity, got friends among some of the weak-minded whites around town."

I couldn't hear every word of the response, something about a good opportunity and encouraging the coloreds to clear out.
I also caught the word "clan," and it made me start to shake.

The sheriff went to talking about a barn on a deserted place just three miles north of town. "Plenty of room for the boys
to park their cars behind the barn, won't be visible from the road. You can leave him strung up there. Won't be nobody looking
for him there."

My heart raced. Isaac! They were planning to lynch Isaac in the barn on our old place. I wanted to move, to start to do something,
but I had to think.

First they had to get Isaac out of jail. Who could I get to stand against them? I counted on my fingers—Preacher Jackson,
Sim Harrison, maybe Elmer Keller from the blacksmith shop. Three. There were only three men in town I could count on for sure.
That wouldn't be enough. There were colored families in the country, but I didn't have time to get to them.

Okay, I said to myself. Suppose they take Isaac out to the old place. My hiding spot! It was up in the hayloft, and I had
found it years ago when I was just little. A board lifted up. The loft had a double floor, and there was just room between
them for me to hide. If I took up another board, there would be a place for Isaac too.

I had to think. Then it come to me about the tar paper. Pa had some tar paper in the barn from back when he was thinking about
fixing the roof. He never did get around to doing the work, but the paper was still there when we left. What if I made up
some balls of that paper, three or four? What if I lit them with a match and threw them down behind the group of men? Tar
paper makes a lot of smoke, but if I put wet rags inside, there wouldn't be much fire.

Would the smoke make the men run outside? Could I get Isaac loose and into the hiding spot before they come back inside? What
would I do if the men didn't run? What would happen if there was enough fire to spread? I wouldn't be able to hide Isaac,
and we might both burn—that old barn would sure go up in flames real quick.

There were a lot of what-ifs. I hunkered down in the bush, trying to think. I broke me off a piece of stem and sort of chewed
at it. It would be dark before long. I heard the sheriff saying good-bye to his visitors. I didn't have much more time to
plan.

I started to think about airplanes. Basil Bailey was surely at Widow Carter's by now. I wondered how he viewed colored people.
Basil sure seemed nice enough, but I knew that didn't really mean much.

The thing was, I had to move quick. I crawled out of the rose of Sharon bush and started to run. I'd go to Preacher Jackson.
Maybe I'd tell him what was happening. No, I'd just say I had to borrow his truck. I'd say it was an emergency, but I wouldn't
say what. The preacher might talk to the wrong person, who might tell the sheriff.

I run all the way, not stopping till I was in front of the Jackson house. The preacher's truck was not there. Maybe his wife
could tell me where he was. I run up the steps, ready to knock on the door. I took a breath, and I noticed it was awful quiet
in the house. The preacher's big family was plainly not inside. I knocked anyway, but no one come to the door.

From the lot behind the house, I heard the preacher's cow bawling. Maybe someone was back there milking that cranky cow, the
one I heard about in his airplane prayer. I was down the steps and ready to go to the back of the house when it come to me
what day it was. Wednesday! The preacher would be at Wednesday-night prayer meeting.

It was three blocks to the Last Chance Baptist Church. I couldn't run all the way, but I did run most of it, stopping once
to catch my breath. Sure enough, there was several automobiles and wagons in front of the church. I stood there just a minute,
trying to think what to do. Just then the people inside started to sing—"Some sweet day, when the morning comes, I'll fly
away."

Fly away, I said to myself. That's what's got to happen. I couldn't take time to go inside to ask permission. Besides, someone
inside might tell the sheriff they had seen me. No, I would have to take the preacher's truck, but I sure didn't want him
to report it as stolen to the sheriff.

There was a tablet on the truck seat, and a pencil was sticking in it. I could see that the preacher had been making notes
for a sermon. I folded the pages back to a clean one and wrote, "I borrowed your truck. It is a pure emergency. I'll bring
it back. Nobe Chase." I spotted a rock, so after I backed the truck out, I put the tablet where the truck was parked. I put
the rock on the tablet, jumped back into the truck, and took off. I was singing "I'll Fly Away."

It was a real pretty evening, but I couldn't enjoy nothing I saw out my window. My stomach went to knotting up, and I felt
like every part of my insides was fixing to shake. It got so I had to quit singing and just hold tight to the steering wheel.

It seemed to take an awful long time to get to Widow Carter's place. The good thing was that it was just a mile from her farm
to our house. I could leave the preacher's truck there and go on to the barn on foot. It was just getting dark, but I was
pretty sure the sheriff's friends wouldn't go to the jail for Isaac until late. They wouldn't want anyone from church or anyplace
else to see them.

Finally I saw the widow's big barn, and an airplane was setting right there in front of it. I could see the house too, and
there was people setting on the porch. It was too dark to see who the people was, but I could count them. Four. Surely they
was Widow Carter, Oily, Willie, and Basil Bailey. I started wondering what I was going to say to them.

I parked the truck, jumped out, and run toward the porch. I quit trying to think what to say and just yelled out, "Please,
you got to help me." I started to run up the porch steps, but I stumbled. There I was, sprawled on Widow Carter's steps. "They're
fixing to hang Isaac Mitchell," I said, and I was real near to bawling.

After I told my story and asked for help, I could see that Willie wasn't in favor of getting involved. "Well," he said. "I
don't know as we ought to do that. It'd use up our fuel, and we couldn't get back for the public flights tomorrow. Besides,
it could be dangerous."

"Lots of folks are counting on going up with us tomorrow," Basil said, "and we need the money bad."

Oily had got up while I talked. He went off to stand at the edge of the porch by hisself. I wondered if he was having a clear
spell, if he understood what we was talking about, but I found out he did.

"Do it, boys," he said softly. "It's the right thing to do."

I went over to stand beside Oily. "It is!" I said. "Please! It's a man's life, a good man. It ain't like you fellows never
done anything dangerous before. You do dangerous stuff everyday."

Basil laughed. "You got that right." He turned to Willie. "We might as well say yes now. We both know we're going to do this
thing."

That was all I needed. "Thanks," I yelled. "Thanks a whole bunch." I grabbed Oily and hugged him. He hugged me back.

We talked about my plan just a little more. Then I was off down the porch steps. At the bottom, I stopped, glad I had remembered.
"Gosh," I said. "I need matches, a rag, and some string."

Widow Carter went inside to get the rag and string, and Basil Bailey gave me a book of matches he had in his pocket. "I ought
not to let you do this," Widow Carter said when he come back with the rag and string. "You could get hurt or killed. It would
break your mama's heart. I ought not to let you go."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," I said, "but I don't reckon you could stop me."

"Leave him be," said Oily, real soft like again. "The colored boy's his friend. Let him go now," he said, and I did. I ran
out of that yard and down the road toward the barn where I had hid when I was just a little kid. I was fixing to hide again,
but this time I would get more than a beating if I got found.

The moon was bright, and I kept looking up at it as I moved down that road. When I ran up the driveway to our place, I expected
to see the ghosts of Pa and little Nobe. I just shook my head. "Don't bother me now," I whispered over and over. "I got no
time for either of you now. Just let me be."

Chapter 10

I RECKON the ghosts listened to me, because I just run into that barn without seeing one thing to slow me down. First, I went
to the corner where I knowed the tar paper used to be, and sure enough there was a bunch of it. I took out my knife and cut
me off four good-size pieces. I laid the string and the tar paper on one of the hayloft ladder rungs. Then I took the rag
out to the pump and wet it down.

Back inside, I climbed the ladder with all my stuff. The hayloft was different than it was the last time I was in the barn.
The bales of hay was all gone. I figured the fellows from the bank must have taken it along with old Buttercup and the horses.
It seemed strange to be in the barn without no critters and no hay.

My hiding place was the same. I lifted the board and slipped down into the hollow spot. It was a pretty tight fit, but I figured
there would be room for Isaac. He wasn't so terrible much bigger than me. I used my knife to pry up another board, making
a second place for us to hide.

Next, I worked on my tar paper balls. I tore up the old flannel shirt that Widow Carter gave me. I made little balls from
the pieces, wrapped the wet cloth in tar paper, and tied them with string. I was ready now.

I got in my spot and put the balls right beside me. Then I practiced setting up. I didn't throw the balls, just aimed and
thought about throwing them. After a while, I just laid in my hiding spot and waited. I kept pressing my hand against my overall
pocket so I could feel Cinda's lucky silver dollar.

A long time passed before I heard anything, but finally they came. I heard the automobile engines first, then the men's voices.
How many were there? I tried to guess from the noises, but I couldn't get no real notion. I could tell they was parking their
motorcars behind the barn just like the sheriff had suggested. When I heard the barn door squeak open, I sucked in my breath,
and held it, afraid to breathe.

"Come in, brothers," a man's voice said.

There was lots of talk and movement. I wondered if they pushed Isaac in front of them. I imagined him there, all bound and
gagged, but I was afraid to move from my hiding spot until I had to set up to throw my little bombs.

"Brothers, brothers," said that first voice, and everyone else sort of quieted down. He went on. "We've gathered tonight to
do the Lord's work."

"Amen," I heard someone shout.

Laying there in that hot hiding place, a cold chill went over my body. The Lord's work! Down there on the floor of our old
barn was a bunch of men who claimed that killing Isaac was the Lord's work. I started to feel sick at my stomach, so bad I
was afraid I might puke.

"Brothers," the leader said, "let us sing, 'God Bless America.'"

They started to sing, "God Bless America, land that I love." The crazy thing is their voices sounded good, but I couldn't
enjoy the song for two reasons. The first reason was because I knew the singers was fixing to murder the best man I knew.
The other reason was because I was steeling myself for throwing my little firebombs.

I eased up real slow. The big barn doors was open, and the moonlight gave me a clear view. Luck was good. The group of sheet-covered
men was facing toward the doors, their backs to me. In front of the group, but sort of off to the right, stood Isaac, just
like I had imagined him, except that I had not thought about the rope. It was there, though, a rope around his neck, and the
end of that rope was tied to a barn rafter! Isaac was standing on a big barrel. Someone must have brought that barrel along
because it wasn't ever in the barn before.

Isaac stood up there on that barrel with his head down, waiting. All it would take would be a kick, and the barrel would roll.
Isaac would die! What would happen if my bombs worked and the barn filled with smoke? Would one of the twelve or so men kick
that barrel before he ran out the door? Maybe. But it was a chance I'd have to take. If I didn't take that chance, if I didn't
throw my bombs, Isaac would hang for sure.

"Hang by the neck until dead"—it was a phrase that stuck in my mind from something I heard about a man sentenced to die that
way. That man was a killer, though. I couldn't let Isaac hang by the neck until dead, not while there was life in my body.

I aimed at spots behind the group, and I threw my four bombs, fast, one after the other. There was little bursts of flame
and lots of smoke. I heard the men yelling.

"What the devil?"

"Fire."

"Run."

There was so much smoke that I knew nobody would see me get down. Besides, they was all running for the door. I didn't take
time to use the ladder, just jumped without thinking what trouble me and Isaac would be in if I broke my leg.

I landed hard, a real bad jar, but my leg didn't break. I just held my breath and run through the smoke, almost bumping into
a couple of guys.

It was easier to breathe up by the doors, but I still didn't know how well Isaac could see. "Isaac," I called, "it's me, Nobe.
I got to get you down quick without rolling that barrel." I knew he understood me because he held his hands down to me, and
I started to work at undoing the rope that tied him. I was worried that the men would come back in, but just then I heard
what I'd been praying for, the sound of an airplane!

I didn't stop to enjoy the sound, just kept working at that rope, while the plane sound got closer and closer. It come right
down on top of us like the airplane was setting on the barn. I heard lots of shouting, and somebody fired a gun a couple of
times. The airplane sound would raise up a little and then come back down real close. I could tell Basil and Willie were buzzing
the barn and the motorcars behind it.

The rope was finally untied from Isaac's hands. It just took a second for him to get the noose off his neck. "Hurry," I said,
and I grabbed him by the arm, pulling him with me back toward the loft. At the ladder, I pushed him ahead of me and told him
to go up. We was safe in our hiding spots in just seconds.

The airplane sounds just kept coming. Basil and Willie had been a little reluctant, but I figured now they was really getting
into scaring off the mob. Over and over we heard motorcar engines firing up. Finally, it was quiet. I figured maybe it was
safe to come out, but I wasn't about to take no chance. "Wait and be sure," I kept whispering to myself.

I just laid there, smiling. Isaac was quiet too, and I knew he was waiting for me to tell him what to do. It wasn't long before
the airplane sound come back, and this time we could tell it was landing.

"Okay," I shouted. Me and Isaac both come busting out of our hiding places. I wanted to jump again, but I figured we'd better
take time for the ladder. We scrambled down and run through the barn. There was still some smoke, and I felt real proud of
my little bombs.

The sight of that airplane with its propeller turning might be the most beautiful thing I'll ever see in my lifetime. "Get
in," Basil yelled when we got up close to the plane.

Isaac stepped back for me to go first, but I shook my head. "I'm not going," I said. "They'll take you somewhere safe. I'll
tell your mama." I reached out and hit his shoulder.

"Thank you," he said, and I could see tears rolling down his cheeks.

He started to climb in, but I thought of something. "Wait," I said, and I pulled the envelope from Lester out of my pocket.
"It's from your pa," I told him.

He hit me on the shoulder then. I watched him climb up in the plane. All three of them waved to me. I watched them take off,
but I didn't hang around looking until they disappeared. I wasn't that sure that none of the clan members wouldn't come back.

I didn't use the road, just hightailed it off through the fields toward Widow Carter's place. The moonlight was nice, and
my heart felt mighty light, like maybe I could just fly without the use of Basil's airplane. I cut through our pasture, where
every step was familiar. Last, I went through a big corn field that belonged to the widow. The stalks were green and real
tall for early June. "Corn's high," I said, and for some reason I wished I could tell Pa.

Finally, the big house come into my view. It was dark, not a light anywhere, and I was glad. I had been afraid the widow might
set up fretting over me, but it looked like her and Oily was sleeping. Before I got in the preacher's truck, I stood for just
a minute and looked at that big house. There was lots of room there, and Widow Carter had lots of land. Her and Oily both
worked on the land, but I knew she had to hire men too.

I started to wonder if maybe Widow Carter would take me in and let me work for my keep. It was a sure thing that Sheriff Leonard
wasn't going to house me anymore. I wondered about Ma. Would she take the sheriff's side and believe he didn't know about
the Klan trying to hang Isaac? Well, if she did, I could do without her. The thought come to my mind that I could use my phone
keys again, clean out all the money, and get out of town quick if the sheriff tried to hurt me.

Just then I seen a movement in the shadows on the porch. I jumped a little, afraid for a second that it might be a Klan member.
It wasn't, though. Widow Carter moved into the moonlight. She waved and called out, "Nobe, thank God you're safe."

I waved back. "Isaac too," I yelled. Then I cranked up the truck, jumped in, and took off. I thought about going over to Mrs.
Mitchell's to tell her what had happened, but she didn't know anything about the hanging stuff. She would be thinking Isaac
was still in jail. Maybe she was sleeping. I didn't want to wake her up. Besides, I was awful tired.

One thing I wanted to do, though, before I went back to town. I wanted to see Cinda. I drove the truck close to her house,
but not up into the driveway, so I wouldn't wake up her folks. I walked up to the house and went to the back, where I knew
Cinda's room was.

I was glad there wasn't no screens on the widows here like at Sheriff Leonard's. I could just walk up to the window and say,
"Cinda," real soft. I stood there thinking, though. What if I scared her and she screamed? I didn't want her ma and pa to
come a-running.

Finally, I knew I had to do it or give up and leave. I moved right up to the window.

"Cinda," I said, "It's me, Nobe."

She didn't scream or nothing, just come right to the window like it was a regular way for folks to call. "Just a minute,"
she said. "I'll get dressed and climb out."

That's what she done, too. She come climbing out that window in a pink sundress, and there was just enough light to make her
look like an angel. "They tried to lynch Isaac," I said even before her feet hit the ground, and it didn't take no time to
tell her the whole story.

"Oh, Nobe," she said. "Oh, Nobe, I knew you would think of a way to help Isaac, but I didn't know you'd have to be that brave."

"I was awful scared," I said. "Reckon I still am. Maybe it was your lucky dollar that got me through."

She come to me then and put her arms right around me. I hugged her back. For just a little while we stood there like that
beside her mulberry tree. I guess I never did in my whole life have such a good feeling inside as I did right then in that
moonlight.

I knew I couldn't just stay, though, and I made myself leave to go back to town where I parked in front of the preacher's
house and struck out for the sheriff's. I was glad to see that house dark too, but of course, I knew someone might wait in
the dark.

The sheriff did. He was setting on the stairs, and he stood up real quick when I come in. I thought about turning and running
out, but before I could move, he had hold of me, pinning my arms against the wall. "So you're back," he said, and his voice
was full of hate. "Where you been, boy? You worried your mother real bad."

"I been walking," I said. "I took me a long walk through cow pastures and cornfields." I could feel his hot breath on my face
and smell the coffee he'd been drinking. I wanted real bad to spit right into his eyes, but I knew if I did, he'd kill me
sure as anything.

The sheriff snarled like a mad dog. "You smell like smoke. You had something to do with them airplane fellows and that colored
boy disappearing," he said. "I know that sure as I'm alive." He leaned his ugly face even closer to mine. "I want you out
of my house, tonight! You ain't sleeping here another night."

I tried to pull away from him, but he held me tight. "No, I ain't so sure that's enough. I ought to kill you now, rid the
world of a smart-aleck kid goes sticking his nose in other folks' business."

"Dudley." The voice come from upstairs. We both looked up to see Mrs. Leonard leaning on the rail around the stair opening.
There was a light in her room behind her, and we could see her plain. My ma was there beside her. "Dudley," Mrs. Leonard said
again, and her words sounded stronger than her body looked. "If you hurt that boy, if you harm one hair on his head, now or
later, I'll divorce you so fast you won't even have time to pack a bag. Vows or no vows, you'll be out of here. Then I'll
see that you lose that badge. Women can vote now, you know. You hurt that boy, and you'll be very sorry. That's a promise,
Dudley," she said. "It's a flat promise."