Dark Series, The Color of Seven and The Color of Dusk (Books We Love Special Edition) (29 page)

“What sort of influence, Chief?”

“Let’s put it this way.
There’s been a considerable amount of hanging over Mississippi and Alabama way.
Guess you can imagine.
But not one of them niggers, not one, even about to have his neck stretched, will breathe a word about that man.
‘Cept one of ‘em.
And all he said w
as, he’d rather face the white m
an’s
g
od than the dark ones.
Fancy that.”

Paul fancied
that
with no trouble.

“So’s the way we tend to figure it, this upstart nigger’s pulling out some of that jungle horseshit, you know, the spells and the mojos and such.
Fits right in with the missing livestock.
Sacrifices and all.
You can take the nigger out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the nigger.
Hell, can’t tell me you ain’t got niggers go straight from your office to the damn root doctor, Paul.
I swear, sometimes I don’t know why you bother.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” said Paul
. He r
egretted the sarcasm
immediately, but it was
lost on Chief Ryles.

“Anyway, since we been having such a sudden incidence of missing stock, Hank and I just thought we might ought
a
do some checking.
And you know what?
I’ve had a couple
of hysterical
m
amas the past couple of weeks.
Seems like their boys all of a sudden ain’t coming home when they’re supposed to.
And just in talking with folks here and there, seems like a lot of folks been noticing a change in the niggers.
‘Course, at first, they just shrugged it off b
ut putting all this together—”

“Yes, Chief, puttin’
it all together, why
are you talkin’ to
me?”

“’Cause, Paul, like I said.
Any white man in town knows the heartbeat of Niggertown, it’s you.
And the way I figure it, if this troub
lemaker has ended up here—and
really, I think all of this is probably just coincidence, after all, Macon?
Surely ain’t no ro
g
u
e
crazy enough to take on this big a town, but just say he has.
Then I’d guess he’s holding meetings somewhere.
Not in town, ‘course, out in the woods someplace.
Anybody wants to make blood sacrifices and God knows what all else, town ain’t the place to do it.
And
if I could find out where—if,
mi
nd you, there’s anything to find—well,
I could just nip this thing right in the bud.
And if you got wind of any such goings on, then you could let me know.
Know you ain’t heard nothing yet, you’d
a
told me.”

Paul
whipped
several scenarios through his brain
at the speed of light
.
If he told Chief Ryles
where to find the
circle by the river, there’d be a big crowd.
And people might get hurt.
But if he gave the Chief Cain’s identity and location, that might work.

“Suppose I do some digging, Chief.
And I get wind of some stranger in town might fit in with all this.
If I can find out where he is for you, you could bring him right down to the station, couldn’t you?
No need to put a crowd of folks in trouble.
”

“
Well
l
l
,” the Chief drawled.
“I could, I ‘spose.
But I don’t really think that’d do much good.
What I’d like to do is follow this joree out to one of those meetings and catch him in the act.
Wouldn’t have no evidence otherwise.”

“
You really care about evidence, do you, Bobby"?”

“Well, no, but got to observe the protocol, don’t you know?”

“
But if it’s out in
the country, that’s not your—”

“Oh, Hank and me, we don’t pay much mind to that jurisdictional horseshit.
We
figure
all the
folks our responsibility
.
He’ll be right there with me.”

“Oh.
I see.
But Chief, any man that’s capable of something like you’v
e described, suppose he—what’s
the phrase?
Resists arrest?”

Chief Ryles smiled.
Like a predator. Like
a lean and hungry gray wolf.

“Now wouldn’t that be just my luck?”

“But if he has a following, people he’s using because they’re scared of him, they could get hurt, too.”

“With any luck, Paul, they’ll rush right to his defense.
And we can t
ake care of the whole lot of ‘em at one time.
Save everybody a lot of time and trouble, don’t you think?”

“
Or
even if they don’t. Come rushin’ to his defense. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“Damn, Paul, I misjudged you.
Didn’t think you had it in you. Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“I see,” said Paul.

“So if you should hear of any strange doins
’
on the grapevine, you just trot on in and we’ll get this wrapped right up.”

“I’ll be sure you hear about anything you need to know, Chief.”

Because what the
Chief needed to know and what he wanted to know were two entirely different matters.
And what
he wanted to know, he
wouldn’t
be
hear
ing
from Paul Devlin.

The Chief rose and strolled leisurely back to his horse
.
Paul headed back out to attend his house-bound patients.
At least one
thing Paul intended to do that
afternoon
was out of the way.
And at least one
thing was crystal clear. Going to the law wasn’t an option.
Paul was on his own.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Paul made Reverend
Isaiah
Gorley the last call of his rounds.
Nona Gorley pulled Paul inside the trim little house that stood near St. Barnabas on Congress Street.

“We jest finishin’ up dinner, Mist’ Paul, you stopped to eat yet?
No, you ain’t,” she said, answering her own question as she directed him to the table.
“But you
in
de
right place, I been puttin’ up vegetables.
Din’ bother to fix no meat but I’s got plenty of butterbeans and corn.
Look at
dis
okree, ain’t seen none better in I
doan
know when.
And
de
‘maters
dis
year!
Red as fire engines.”

Paul
’s sto
mach
r
umble
d
a
t the
aromas wafting from the back of the house
.
He
took the
plate piled high with the bountiful plenty of the Southern summer and sighed in contentment.

“Isaiah, don’t know how you keep from being big as a barn, way Nona cooks.”

“
Dat’s a blessin’ from
de
Lord,
Mist’ Paul, and
dat’s
de
truth.
None of my folks run to fat.”

Reverend Gorley leaned back in his chair and sipped from his tea glass, watching Paul eat.

“Ain’t
dat
I ain’t glad to see you, Mist’ Paul,
doan
take no ‘ffense, but why you ‘cide to stop in?”

“Oh, I just thought it couldn’t hurt to take another look at your eyes, Isaiah.
You know me, can’t leave nothing alone.”

“You worry too much.
Jest saw me yestid
’
y and I
doan
think my eyes
goan
show much more today
den
dey
did
den.
Dat’s a little mo’ caution
den even you usually show.
D
oan
you think?”
Reverend Gorley raised his eyebrow with the question.

Paul laughed.
“Alright, alright, you caught me.
I do want to keep an eye on you, Isaiah, but
that ain’t why I’m here now.
I
got somethin’
I need to talk to you about.”

“Well,
we both here.
Talk.
”

Paul finished off the last of his buttered cornbread stick and pushed his plate back.

“Nona, that was wonderful.”

“You best say so,” she declared, picking up the plate.

“Isaiah, Sadie tells me a new man came into St. Barnabas end of the winter.
Says
his name is Cain.”

Reverend Gorley’s mouth tightened.
“
Dat’s so,” he said.

“What do you know about him?”

“Know we
doan
need him in our
c
hurch!”
declared Nona Gorley in a firm voice.

“Nona, now
dat’s not a Christian thing to say.
Church belong
to every
body.”

“Doan
you try and fool me, Isaiah Gorley!
Lived
wid you for
thirty
years, birthed and raised
yo
’
five chillun!
You ca
n’t sta
nd
de
man!”

“Ain’t required to like every
body, woman, but it be our Christian duty to love ‘em anyway.
Ca
n’t turn nobody out of my
c
hurch and still call myself a man of God.”

“Ummmp!” snorted Nona
. She
turn
ed
on her heel
and
departed to her kitchen, muttering under her breath about the stupidity of men in general and her man in particular.

“Nona
doan
like
him,” said Isaiah with a grin.

“Neither does Sadie,” said Paul.
“
Do you
?”

Reverend Gorley frowned.
“No.
I doan
.
Dat’s
de
pure-de
-
truth and I ca
n’t ‘xactly say why.
I hopes it’s not ‘cause I be jealous.
See,
de
young folks,
dey
always comes to me
wid
dere
problems.
I been real proud
of
dat
over the years
, real proud.
An’
dere’s always been fo’ or five young ones hangin’ ‘roun
de
house any given time, even after ours growed up and gone.
But
de
past few months,
dey
seem to be hangin’ ‘roun
dis
Cain fellow an’ it got my nose out of joint. B
u
t
dat’s a failin’ in me, hurts my pride which we ain’t ‘sposed to have an excess of anyway, you know, ain’t his fault.”

Paul leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.
“Isaiah, I have to tell you about this man.
His faults you can’t even imagine.
”

Some time later when Paul finished, Isaiah sat quietly.

“Isaiah?”

“He usin’ my chilluns.”

“Yes.”

“Joshua
goan
be alright?”

“I think so.
I hope so.”

“Lord, my God, the trials he sends his people!
Now, I gots to tell you, I
doan
hold
wid all
dat
soothsaying and such, but I do
know
dere’s folk what do.
An’
de
Bible, it do speak of demons though in my ‘sperience, mos’ demons,
dey
mo’ rightly got another name, an’
dat
name, it be an evil man.
An’ no matter whut, we got us an evil man now, sho
’
‘
nuff.
Whut you want me to do, Mist’ Paul?”