Last in a Long Line of Rebels (19 page)

From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew
September 1863

The men have their schemes, but we are not without plans of our own.

I
yelled for everybody in the house, and after jumping around like grease in a hot pan, we were able to get Mama changed and seated in the front seat of the car.

Mama leaned out the car window, calm and beautiful in the midst of the excitement. If not for the occasional grimace of pain, you'd have thought she was leaving for a quick drive to the Piggly Wiggly.

She held my hand before taking off. “Get your daddy on the phone. Tell him to meet us at the hospital.”

“Can I come, Mama, please?”

She gave my arm a squeeze. “I wish you could, love, but the hospital says you have to be at least eighteen to be in the delivery room.”

I frowned. “I miss everything.”

Bertie started the car, and Mama let go of my hand.

“Once the baby's here, I'll send somebody to get you. Big sisters can visit till nine.”

They started down the driveway, with me, Benzer, Franklin, and Patty waving and following the car all the way down Flint Street.

Benzer and I stared at the stump that used to be my oak tree. I'd changed from my dress to a comfortable pair of jeans. The portable phone was on the porch swing between us, ringing every few minutes with news from the hospital (Mom is fine, still no baby, the doctor says probably later tonight), relatives looking for an update, and more folks asking if that was me on TV last night.

Aunt Sophie was as firmly planted at the hospital as kudzu, so Patty's dad drove over from Sparta to pick Patty up. Franklin had caught a ride home with them, in part I'm sure, to miss seeing Rainey Tree Service, finally and forevermore, kill my tree.

Benzer and I had watched it all, until the branches were sawdust and all that remained was the stump in the middle of the old roots, looking like a prehistoric spider rising from the soil. Now, hours later, the sun sat low in the sky, coating everything with a warm glow.

I looked over at Benzer. “You really don't have to stay.”

“So you've said for the hundredth time. I told you, I'm not leaving.” He was still in his best pants, but had taken off his dress shirt and now sat in his tee. His dark hair fell across his eyes, and the sun had turned him a deep bronze.

Benzer flipped through the diary. I'd shown him the chest and its secret compartment. “It's pretty amazing,” he said. “I know we didn't find the gold, but it was real.”

I nodded. “It's hard to believe.”

Benzer nodded. “Are you going to show the diary to your parents?”

“Eventually. I want to keep it to myself for a while.”

“Listen to this.
Dear Diary, It's with great joy that I tell you I've received a letter from Walter. It's a testament to his character that amidst this conflict, his chief concern was my welfare.
The date is around the same time as the letter you found.”

I moved to sit next to him. “Keep reading.”

“
The death of Brody and the subsequent revelations have changed us all in so many ways. My recent endeavors and his support of them are proof enough of that. I will heed his word of caution, for danger is everywhere.
”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Benzer shook his head. “I don't know. But if it was dangerous, they probably wouldn't want to spell it out for people.”

“Just another Mayhew mystery,” I said. A butterfly landed on the tree stump. I tried to look away, but couldn't—it was like the gap in my mouth when I lose a tooth, where my tongue keeps checking to see if it's really gone.

“I'm feeling better,” I lied, as if saying it would make it true, “much better already. Moving might be fun.”

Benzer raised his eyebrows. “I guess if you're losing the house, there's no need to go to church anymore.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but to tell you the truth, I've kinda enjoyed it.” I looked over at him.

He shrugged. “I have too. It was nice to fit in for a change.”

“What? What do you mean?”

He seemed to struggle for the right word, and I watched, amazed, as his face turned red. “It's hard being different all of the time. I'm already Italian and a Yankee. Do I have to go to a Catholic church sixty miles away too? I just wanted to see how it felt to be part of the town for a while.”

I was going to ask him to explain more, but Isaac pulled into the driveway. Benzer and I waved him up onto the porch.

“Why are you so dressed up?” I asked.

“Church. They had a get-together this afternoon to hear about my tryout.”

“Were they disappointed that you didn't get offered a scholarship?” Benzer asked.

“Sorta, but mainly everyone was talking about Lou.”

“Oh. You mean about the interview?”

“Yes, the interview. What do you think?” Isaac laughed. “I swear, the whole town heard what you said to that reporter last night.”

“Man, I can't believe I missed it,” Benzer said. “What did she say?”

“A lot of good stuff about me and some really bad stuff about Coach.” Isaac gave me a quick high five. “Thanks, Lou. Really. That was cool.”

Embarrassed, I played with a stray vine on the railing. “Yeah, well. I have a feeling I'll be flunking PE when I get to high school.”

Isaac laughed again. “Probably. But the good news is our phone's been ringing all day with questions about my statistics, and about whether I've decided on a college yet.”

Benzer and I both stood straight up.

“That's awesome,” Benzer said, a huge grin splitting his face.

Isaac smiled. “It's been a pretty good day.”

“So where are you going to go?”

“I don't know. Maybe MTSU or Tennessee Tech.”

I slumped.

Isaac looked at me. “Lou, it's not the end of the world—at least that's what I've been told. I guess not every dream comes true.” He walked back down the steps to the yard.

We followed him. “Isaac, we want season tickets to wherever you go,” Benzer said.

“Sure,” Isaac said. “You'll be first on the list.” He stopped in the middle of the lawn and ran a hand across the oak stump. “It's a shame about your tree, Lou. I know how much you loved it.”

I sighed. “Yeah, thanks.”

He bent down; a small twig lay at his feet, its lifeless leaves turned inside out. As he held the twig up to the sky, the leaves took on the orange tone of the sun. Suddenly, in a deep baritone Isaac sang,

The oak, he grows in sun and wet,

and mighty branches soon unfold;

When soil and bark and light have met,

to spin their leaves like Havilah's gold.

The last word hung on the air, floating in the space between the three of us. My skin had turned cold, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stiffen.

“What did you just say?” I asked in a whisper.

“It's just an old song my great-grandfather used to sing. Probably an old slave tune, passed down.”

Benzer and I watched him pull out of the driveway. Finally, I gathered enough sense to speak.

“Benzer,” I whispered. I was holding a hand over my heart to keep it from jumping out of my chest and doing a break dance on the sidewalk. “Did you hear what I just heard, or am I dreaming?”

Benzer shot me a puzzled look. “I heard it, but what does it mean?”

I smiled, slowly at first, then big enough to make my cheeks hurt. “It means we just found Havilah! C'mon!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the front porch. The diary lay in the swing, and I quickly flipped the pages until I found the entry dated June 1863.

Walter will be departing soon, his duties resuming with the completion of this mission. How I dread that day! I believe he senses my distress, for today he brought the most unusual present—an oak sapling. With great ceremony, he gathered my father, and Silas, and with the aid of Jeremiah, planted it in the front yard. He gave an eloquent speech of which I only remember the following: a small thing when nourished and cared for, will take root and grow to great heights. It was rather sweet, and most unlike Walter to be so bold.

I held the diary out to him. “Check out the date; it's just a few days before the gold was stolen.”

Benzer turned the worn pages carefully. “Here's what I don't get. If the reverend buried a big pile of gold somewhere around the tree, wouldn't they have noticed?”

I shrugged. “Maybe they weren't all that smart.”

Benzer laughed. “They'd have to be pretty dumb to be looking for gold and not see a fresh hole had been dug in their front yard.”

Laying the diary back down, we went to stand next to the stump. An idea was forming in my brain, and I ran my hand across the wood. “You're right. It'd be hard to miss”—I looked up at Benzer—“unless there was already a hole dug! Where's the copy you made yesterday?”

Benzer pulled the paper from his back pocket again and we held it between us. The photo showed a thin sapling right where the stump now stood. I jabbed it with my finger. “It would be easy to dig the sapling out and replant it. He hid the gold with the tree!”

“That's it!” He circled the stump. “Dang! We'll never be able to dig it out from under this thing.”

I crouched down beside what was left of the tree. Deep gouges were cut into the wood every eight inches, all around the base. I'd watched Mr. Rainey use a large drill to make the holes, which Mama said would be filled with fertilizer to speed up decomposition. I put a couple of fingers in the largest one. On one knee, I peered through the hole; Daddy's dump truck was visible on the other side.

“I've got it!” I jumped up and ran behind the house to Daddy's shop. I burst through the door and hurriedly found the keys to the dump truck hanging on the wall.

Benzer stood in the yard watching as I raced back into the yard and climbed on the bed of the truck. “Don't just stand there. Help me with this,” I said, pointing to a thick chain coiled like a snake.

“Lou, have you lost your mind?” Benzer asked.

I didn't answer. “Take this end over to the stump. I think it's small enough to go through the largest hole.”

“Your daddy is going to kill us. You know that, right?”

I smiled. “No, he won't. Not when we hand him the gold. Now, hurry.”

Benzer pulled the chain over to the stump and began threading it through. I picked up my end and attached it to the truck. I'd seen Daddy drag out all kinds of junk clean as a whistle, even though it'd been firmly embedded in years of dirt and briars. It didn't look so hard.

The phone rang from the porch, but we ignored it. The last call had said the baby wouldn't be there for hours.

Once Benzer had the chain completely through the stump, I threw him a metal fastener from the back of the truck. He pinned the chain securely to itself. “Now what?”

I dug the truck's keys out of my pocket. “Do you want the honor, or should I?”

Benzer shook his head. “No way. Your dad yelled at me once for just sitting in the driver's seat.”

“Whatever. At least get in here with me.”

We climbed into the worn interior. I'd only driven a couple of times in my life, mostly in open fields. But I figured all I had to do was get us into gear and drive forward. Once the stump was out, we'd park the truck back safe and sound. We buckled our seat belts, and I looked at Benzer. “Ready?” He nodded, eyes wide, and I turned the key.

The engine roared to life. I closed my eyes and sent up a small prayer. Grabbing the gearshift like I knew what I was doing, I pulled it toward me. A loud grinding noise shook the cab.

“Push in the clutch!” Benzer yelled.

I glared at him, but didn't say anything. By stretching my left leg as far as it would go, I could reach the pedal. I pushed it to the floor, then moved the gearshift again. This time it slipped perfectly into gear. Tentatively I pressed the gas, causing the truck to lurch forward and immediately die.