Cottonwood Whispers (24 page)

“I ain’t talkin’ jailbreak.”

“You near about are if you think we’re gettin’ Mr. Poe away from here. It ain’t like you can sweet-talk the sheriff into lettin’ him go.”

“Well, we’re goin’ to find a way. That’s all there is to it.”

“But that don’t make no sense. We can’t just amble on up, unlock the doors, and let him out.”

Gemma dug her elbow into my thigh. “If you’d just shut up for a while, I’d be able to think of somethin’.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, elongating each syllable. “You ain’t got to shout.”

Gemma’s long sigh indicated her dissatisfaction that I had to get the last word in, but she said nothing else, and I knew deep down she’d figure out some way to extract Mr. Poe, no matter how impossible it seemed.

My heart fluttered like bird wings, and I gripped my knees, fearful the rioting would get out of control. I was fearful that
everything
would get out of control.

And I was afraid that Gemma would find a way to make it happen.

The tug on my arm told me I was right. I had every intention of arguing, and I turned toward her to do so. But the
look on her face made me think twice. We looked at each other long and hard until I finally let out a sigh.

“Daddy’s gonna kill us.”

“Not in the same way that mob’s gonna kill Mr. Poe.”

I gave her a nudge. “Best get on out now while Daddy ain’t lookin’.”

Gemma opened the door and slid out first, keeping her eyes peeled in Daddy’s direction. But the crowd was overwhelming, and Daddy had his hands full.

“You go ahead,” I whispered, giving Gemma a shove. “I’ll keep watch to make sure no one follows you, and then I’ll come along in a few minutes.”

We locked eyes in silent agreement; then Gemma took off across the muddy road. My gaze ran back to Daddy, and I saw him with his arms folded, shaking his head in disgust. Sheriff Clancy was on the porch now, trying to make them see reason, but reason wasn’t on anyone’s mind then.

The sky was aptly moonless since no light could possibly have been found in the evil that went on outside that jailhouse, and the torches cast an eerie glow. I had a sudden flashback to the cross that had burned in our front yard only four years earlier.

It always amazed me the evil men did at night. It was as though they felt the darkness hid their misdeeds, but my momma always said God had the only pair of perfect eyes in the world, and there wasn’t any amount of darkness that He couldn’t see through. I pictured Him just then looking down
on us, seeing every bit of evil that colored every heart in that mob, and I hoped He had a mind to do something about it.

Once a couple of minutes had passed, I began my own trek across the road toward the back of the jailhouse. I took a quick look around for Luke, but I couldn’t pick him out, and that got me nervous since I could usually pick him out anywhere. He stood a good head taller than most, but he was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he had spotted Gemma.

I had only traveled several yards down the road when something grabbed at my shirt, tugging me to an unexpected stop. Instinctively I cried out, but a hand slapped over my mouth.

“Dang it, Jessie, you’re goin’ to wake the dead.”

Luke’s whisper in my ear did nothing to allay my fear, and I ripped his hand from my mouth angrily. “Don’t you go gettin’ sharp with me,” I whispered, twirling around to face him. “You’re the one’s sneakin’ around. What were you thinkin’ grabbin’ me like that? You scared me to death!”

“Weren’t no other way to get your attention. I’ve been whisperin’ your name since you came around the corner.”

I put my hands on my hips and stared him down. “What were you doin’ hangin’ around here anyways? You spyin’ on me?”

“Just savin’ you from yourself, is all. I knew you’d go and do somethin’ stupid, so I kept an eye out.”

I ignored his comment and grabbed his hand. “Come on. We need to find Gemma.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, yanking me to a stop. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you when your daddy said to stay put in that truck. Your daddy’ll skin me alive and bury me on his back hill.”

“Well, I ain’t stayin’, so you best let me go.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you go, Jessie. You think I’m crazy?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Luke, I ain’t got time to waste standin’ out here arguin’. Gemma’s out there by herself, and I got to go find her.”

“Then let’s get your daddy.”

“So you’re worried more about your hide than Gemma’s? ’Cause he’ll light into her like a rabid squirrel if he finds out she went against him.”

“No, I’m thinkin’ about Gemma. She needs someone with her.”

“That’s right,” I said, tugging his arm again. “So let’s go.”

“Jessie!” He drew my name out like it had ten syllables. “Your daddy’s goin’ to kill us both!”

“Best we go down dyin’ for Gemma and Mr. Poe.”

I could see his better judgment told him to get my daddy, but I could also see that better judgment fade in the light of my pleading. My last tug at his arm did the trick, and I dragged a resigned but anxious Luke Talley toward the jail.

Luke kept one hand on me and one hand on his waistband, which I knew meant he was ready to draw his pistol at a moment’s notice. My mind reeled, grasping for ideas, but it found nothing but hopelessness. We couldn’t manage to hold up against so many men with poisoned minds and a determined mission. I’d heard a story in Sunday school once about a man who had sinned and been swallowed up whole by the ground, but I hadn’t heard of God doing any such thing lately, and I wasn’t about to depend on that now. I was just about to yank away from Luke when I spotted movement toward the back of the jailhouse.

“Gemma!” I whispered loudly.

“Jessie! You done scared me to death.”

“Well, you’re scarin’ me to death with all this craziness. We’re even.”

“Gemma, what’re you plannin’ to do?” Luke asked. “Break the man out?”

“I don’t know what I’m goin’ to do. I’ve been prayin’ for help since we left the house. All I know is I’ve got to do somethin’, and the Lord’s goin’ to help me do it. He told me so.”

I squinted at her and shook my head. “And just how’d He do that? You got a burnin’ bush somewheres I don’t know about?”

Gemma’s face lit up in anger so fiercely I could see it even in the dark, and I swallowed hard under her gaze.

“Jessilyn Lassiter, just ’cause you don’t claim no belief in my Jesus ain’t no reason for you to scoff at Him, you hear? I got me a certain feelin’, and I got to believe in that feelin’ no matter what you think.”

Shame crept up into my cheeks, seeped out of my pores, and I stepped back a bit to lean against Luke so my shaky knees wouldn’t show.

“Now, either you’re here to help me or you’re leavin’,” Gemma continued. “Plain and simple. You got no different choices. But I got me a God to rely on, and I’m goin’ to do just that.”

I nodded at her slow and steady because I needed time to get my voice to work. Then I said, “I’m here to help you, Gemma,” even though it came out in a squeak.

Gemma set off to the barred window of Mr. Poe’s cell. I watched her go, and Luke gave me a pat on my back to reassure me. “It’ll be okay, Jessie. Gemma’s got good sense.”

We followed her and found Mr. Poe curled up on the floor, his body bobbing rhythmically from one side to the other. It was an odd movement that I feared told a story of his deteriorating mental condition, but when he turned his head to answer Gemma’s whispered call to him, there was a smile on his face.

“You okay, Mr. Poe?” Gemma whispered.

“Jes’ fine, Miss Gemma. Jes’ enjoyin’ God’s music.”

I eyed Luke nervously, fearing Mr. Poe was near to insanity. “What music’s that, Mr. Poe?”

“God’s music, Miss Jessilyn. Ain’t you hearin’ it?”

We all sat for a moment straining to hear God’s music, but all I heard was the chaotic buzz of angry voices in the distance and the sporadic pop of fiery torches.

“What sort of music is it?” Gemma asked.

“Night music. God’s got Him some frogs and crickets, buzzin’ cicadas. He got the whole symphony lightin’ up the night. Makes me feel like dancin’.”

“Well, Mr. Poe,” Gemma said, a smile gracing her tearstained face, “we got plenty of that music out here in the open. So we come to take you out to hear it with us.”

“But ah cain’t come out. Sheriff says ah cain’t.”

“There’s some trouble out front, and we got to get you away from it, you hear?”

“Sheriff wouldn’t like it.”

Gemma lay down flat in front of the window and grabbed onto the bars with both hands. “Lord’s tellin’ me to take you away from here, Mr. Poe, and I got to do what He says.”

Mr. Poe stopped dancing to God’s music. “That so, Miss Gemma?”

“Yes’r. I believe with my heart He means for us to take you away from here.”

I squatted down and peered into Mr. Poe’s dimly lit cell. He stood up slowly with bones that were weary and stiff and went to his cot to lift his worn Bible from it. “This is all ah
got with me that counts,” he said without a hint of doubt on his face. “Ah reckon it’s all ah need to go with you.”

I was heartsick to see the faith in his expression because I saw no way at all that we’d be able to help him get out. Gemma had all kinds of faith, I knew that for certain, but I didn’t see any way that faith could remove bars from windows or unlock jailhouse doors.

I didn’t know much about faith then, and I certainly didn’t know that God could use a man who was mostly low-down to honor someone’s faith. But He did.

We all watched, awestruck, as Mr. Poe’s cell door swung open, and for a minute I thought it must have been done by an angel. Well, maybe it was. Because the way I figured it, it would take a mighty big, convincing angel to make Sheriff Clancy open that jail door so we could take away his prisoner. But that’s exactly what happened. Without a word he looked at the three of us, jerked his head sideways toward the back entrance of the jail, and then disappeared.

Mr. Poe peered at the ceiling, said a word of thanks to God, and shuffled out of his cell. We all took off like squirrels to the back door, with Gemma reaching it first. She yanked on the door, which opened with ease, and ran inside. Luke and I waited on the worn patch of grass until the two of them came out together, and then we all made off into the woods behind the jail as fast as Mr. Poe’s shaky legs could carry him.

The rain opened up on us again, and we trudged along with clothes that stuck to our skin like paste. Poor Luke was
ill equipped for it in Daddy’s old shirt and pants, and my heart warmed toward him even more for never letting me down. As we walked, heavy with the burden of uncertainty, Mr. Poe, broken down as his body was, kept his head held high, listening to more of God’s music, I supposed. I marveled at his peace and wondered how a body could find such a thing.

There was a stiff wind along with the rain, and at times it pricked our faces like bee stings.

“Where are we goin’?” I asked Luke. “Ain’t many places to hide out those men won’t know about.”

“Gemma seems to know where she’s goin’.” He nodded at her as she led the way. “Best follow her since she’s been right so far tonight. I reckon God really is talkin’ to her.”

“You believe God talks to people, Luke? Right up talks to them?”

“Can’t say as I’ve seen anythin’ like it, but you can’t rightly say this here happened by chance, now can you?” He looked at me from beneath his soggy hat. “You and I, we’ve seen enough over the years to get us thinkin’, don’t you reckon?” He stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged, and lowered his head to concentrate on making his legs move.

We’d been walking for what must have been a solid hour when Gemma motioned toward an old shack that was nestled amid a mass of trees and shrubs. In the dark it looked unfamiliar, but once Gemma unlocked the door, I realized where we were.

“Gemma and I used to play here when we were younger,” I said to Luke.

“This old shack?”

The shutters were falling off, rusty hinges held the door on by threads, and it looked haunted by bad memories if not by ghosts. But for me it held only good memories, and a weary smile settled on my lips. “It wasn’t a shack to us.”

I entered the house on legs that were beginning to revolt, and before I could even find a spot to rest, Gemma had lit strategically placed lamps with a box of matches, popped another match into a stocked woodstove, and arranged chairs for all of us to settle into.

I watched her in awe, and she caught the question in my eyes right off the bat.

“Been plannin’ for a while now” was all she said in reply. “We got all we need for a spell.”

Luke helped Mr. Poe into a chair, and I followed Gemma into the cramped space that served as a kitchen. There were stacks of canned goods, a sack of biscuits, and containers of well water crowding the countertops.

She no doubt saw the expression of wonder on my face, but she ignored it and busied herself by putting some stew in a pot on the woodstove. “Made this yesterday. I bought the goods with my own money so as not to steal from your momma.”

“My momma would’ve welcomed you to use her things,” I whispered. “Gemma . . .”

“Don’t say nothin’, Jessie. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Gemma hadn’t forgotten a thing, and I noticed every detail of a plan she must have been keeping from me for days. She’d even brought some clothes along for me since she knew me well enough that there was no doubt in her I’d follow her here. After all, I’d always followed her everywhere.

We had enough to hide out for at least a week, but beyond that I couldn’t see what we’d do. We couldn’t all live here forever like some mishmashed family. But I wouldn’t say as much to her. She’d done all she could, and besides, she said God had led her to do it all. Questioning God was something I’d done plenty in my life, but I didn’t think Gemma would like it if I did it to her face.

By the time I’d changed into fresh clothes, Mr. Poe had fallen asleep on the dusty old sofa in the main room. The ratty thing was broken on one side, and it slanted so much I worried Mr. Poe might slip off onto his head. There was a wool blanket over him that I recognized as the one Momma kept in the truck for her legs.

“Got moth-eaten,” Gemma said, noticing my gaze. She poked a finger through a frayed hole in the cover near Mr. Poe’s feet. “Your momma sent me off with it to the poor closet at church.

“Daddy’s shirt,” I murmured, seeing Daddy’s old plaid keeping Mr. Poe warm.

“Your momma gave me a whole bag that day for the poor closet.”

Gemma left for the kitchen, but I leaned over and studied Mr. Poe to make sure he was breathing okay, he was so still.
Once I heard evidence that he was still with us, I straightened up and tucked the blanket in at his sides to keep the draft off. I took one quick look at his feet on my way out of the room and smiled. He wore Daddy’s old work boots with the patched-up sole.

I guess God found another way to clothe the poor that month.

“Where’s Luke?” I asked as I started helping Gemma dish out stew.

“Gettin’ more wood.”

“But I saw some by the fireplace.”

“I put some there, but he says we may need more, and he’d best collect it now so it has time to dry up before we need it.”

“He’ll be soaked.”

“He can use some of the things I brought for Mr. Poe.”

The thought of Luke in more of Daddy’s castoffs made me grin. I sat down opposite Gemma at a wooden table littered with splinters, eager for some food. But before I could get the first spoonful into my mouth, Gemma grabbed my hand.

“We gotta pray first,” she said adamantly.

We’d said a prayer before every meal all my life, but there was more in this prayer of hers than a usual supper prayer. It was more like what I’d heard Daddy pray so many times when he and Momma were talking over the troubles of life. It was a prayer filled with pleading, and I almost felt like I was intruding in this conversation between Gemma and God.