Spake As a Dragon (57 page)

“
Have to settle
accounts...use this money as y’all will. Sary and Ora Lee I have
fixed you up with an account at the bank as well, you can draw
money on it whenever you need. Malinda there is an account for Nate
and Elsa too.”

“
I see your mind is made
up, so there isn’t any need for me to try and change it. When are
you leaving?”

“
Luke, Nate and I are
saddling up first thing in the morning. Don’t worry we’ll be back
in a few weeks, a month at the most. I’m sorry Malinda, sometimes,
as you have always said: a man has to do what a man has to do. Oh,
I almost forgot, tomorrow the workers will arrive to begin cleaning
up and start rebuilding Scarlett. Anything, and everything you want
just let the superintendent of the building project know. Build it
as glorious and as beautiful as you can image, but one important
thing – I want a crew of his to burn all those slave quarters out
behind the main house. After the cleanup I want good, clean houses
built for our workers. Workers we will hire to run Scarlett when I
return.”

The next morning as Robert stated he,
Nate and Luke have their horses loaded and carry a spare loaded
down with supplies. They mount and are about to say their goodbyes
when Malinda walks from the porch into the yard.

“
I’m sorry Robert, but
when you and the boys left to go to war, I always believed in my
heart you would come back, this time my heart is saying you, Luke
and Nate will not return. So all I can say is ‘Goodbye’...
forever.”

BACK TO ALABAMA

A couple of weeks later they approach
the outskirts of the town of Albertville. “First stop,” said
Robert, “the post office.”

Opening the door Robert walks over to
the counter. The clerk looks up from his duties and asks if he can
help. Robert replies, “You work here by yourself?”

“
Yes ’er,” the clerk
answers, “we ain’t the size town where the post office is a very
busy place.”

“
How long have you been
working here? Did you work here during the War?”

“
Well sir, let me think,
going on about ten years I reckon, and yeah, I was here during that
terrible ordeal.”

Hearing that Robert reaches across the
counter, grabs the clerk’s shirt with both hands and jerks him
across the counter onto the wooden floor. The clerk tries to regain
his feet, but Robert smacks him across his face with his fist
knocking him to the floor again.

On his hands and knees, blood dripping
from his nose, he raises up one arm, “Now hold on Mister you had no
call to go and do that! I ain’t got no money in here.”

“
I ain’t robbing you, you
idiot,” as another fist drives the clerk to the floor. Half
unconscious the man stammers, “Wh...wh...what have I
don...don...done to you Mister?”

“
Nothing! You ain’t never
done nothing to me! I’ve never laid eyes on, you before in my
life.” He says grabbing the man by the hair of his head and landing
another solid, skin cutting, punch to his right eye.

Lying on the floor in his own blood,
he barely whispers, “If not you... who have... I done something
too?”

Kicking him in the ribs with his boot
Robert replies, “My wife, you low-down sorry excuse for a man...my
wife!”

Moaning and unable to breathe he
mutters he doesn’t know Robert’s wife.

Another swift kick and Robert answers,
“Malinda Scarburg, you remember her don’t you?”

Kicking him again the man barely
whispers, “Yes...yes, I knew her, but I was only following Simeon
LaPree’s orders. He had me keep all her letters she tried to
post...,” Stopping for a second to catch his breath, “...and none
was ever delivered to her house.”

Stepping on the man’s hand Robert
spins around grinding his spur into the clerk’s hand and fingers,
“Where? Where are my letters?”

Now the clerk is beyond talking, he
barely raises an arm and with his mangled index finger points to
the letter rack behind the counter. Robert jumps across the counter
and notices one cubbyhole filled with letters. He is right, they
are all his and Malinda’s, nearly three years worth.

Back across the counter he stands over
the clerk who is grimacing in pain. Blood is beginning to pool on
the floor; he coughs, spitting out a couple of teeth. “I guess the
next time you think about holding onto someone’s mail you’ll give
it a second thought, in fact, I suggest you find another line of
work, you’re not very good at this one. Have a good day,” kicking
him one last time he steps over the man’s lifeless body and returns
to Luke and Nate waiting outside.

“
What took you so
long?”

“
Me and the mail-clerk had
an enlightening conversation concerning the protocol of mail
delivery.”

“
Did youse straighten him
out Mister Robert.”

“
Yeah Nate, I believe the
young man now sees the error of his ways.”

Reining their horses around Robert,
Luke and Nate head out of town on Pleasant Grove Road to Doctor
Crawford’s place.

Riding into the yard and up to the
hitching post Robert yells, “Doc Crawford...hey Doc, you old coot.
It’s Robert Scarburg.”

The door opens partially and from
behind the screen Doc calls out, “Well I’ll be, if it ain’t Robert
Scarburg, and riding old Blaze too!”

Robert, Luke and Nate dismount and Doc
settles them into comfortable chairs on the porch while he brings
them cool water to drink. After Nate is introduced Doc asks, “What
brings you all the way down here Robert? I heard you were livin’ in
your old place in Carolina.”

“
Well, yes and no Doc. We
are living at Scarlett for sure, but the main house has long since
been burned to the ground by a bunch of army deserters. We are all
living in the guesthouse.”

“
Tell me Robert, what
about Matthew? Did he get back from the War, I see here Luke made
out okay, and Blaze, I see you are riding her, I recognize that
large ‘S’ in the martingale on her chest. There’s not another
magnificent animal as she.”

“
Yeah, Doc he got home all
right, but he’s missing one leg. He’s doing good tho’ so is the
rest of the family. Malinda says to give you her love, so does the
rest of the family.”

“
Fine folks Robert, you’ve
got some fine folks, you sure are missed around here. Every time I
past the farm I think of you all.”

“
Tell me about the farm
Doc. What happened after Malinda left?”

Doc sat there as though studying what
to say, and finally begins explaining how Malinda gave him a
quitclaim deed for the farm, but he did not have enough money to
pay the taxes. The county judge, sheriff and Simeon LaPree were all
in on the plan to steal Robert’s land.

Interrupting, Robert asks about
LaPree. Doc tells Robert that LaPree parents were a Negro
prostitute and a Cajun from Louisiana; he, in fact is a half-breed.
As the Commander of the Home Guard, he was ruthless and
brutal.

Doc continued. LaPree had set his eyes
on getting the farm in foreclosure. Doctor Crawford explained since
arriving from up north the carpetbagger Judge Slade had relegated
LaPree to a lower position in the pecking order. LaPree had always
been number two as Captain of the Home Guard, but he took orders
from the local Union commander Major Hilliard now his orders came
directly from the Judge. The Judge supposedly worked for the Major,
but upon Slade’s arrival Major Hilliard was suddenly transferred,
leaving Judge Slade in charge.

Explaining further, Doc said Judge
Slade had found out about a saltpeter cave on Robert’s property
that was worth a fortune and he wanted the property for himself.
This didn’t sit too well with LaPree. One day the Judge and LaPree
went hunting and for some unknown reason, the Doc said winking, the
Judge was accidently shot and killed. LaPree bought the farm for
almost nothing when it came up for auction. Everyone was so
terrified of LaPree no one would bid against him.

“
Thanks, Doc, where is
this LaPree feller these days?”

“
Why Robert! He’s living
right up there in your farmhouse. Acts like he is still Commander
of the Home Guard. Too big for anyone to touch, so I
hear.”

“
Well, we’ve got to ride
right by the farm on our way back, might just stop in there and
have a talk with this LaPree feller.”

“
Now hold on Robert, this
ain’t no amateur you’re dealing with. He’s a dyed in the wool,
bonafide killer. He’ll kill you at the drop of a hat.”

“
I ain’t aiming to drop my
hat Doc. I just want to see him for myself.”

“
Well, if your dead set on
going up there let me hitch up my buggy and I’ll ride along with
you. He might not be as apt to shoot you with a witness
present.”

“
Did you ever think he
might shoot the witness too Doc?”

“
Yeah, that thought did
kinda run across my mind,” Doc says grinning.

The three riders and the buggy
approach the gate leading up to the Scarburg’s old farmhouse.
Robert reins in Blaze, and sits with both hands on the saddle horn
staring hard up the roadway at the house he and Malinda had build
with their own sweat and tears.

“
What is it Father? Is
something wrong?”

“
No, just wanted one good
look at the place, and to remember back when we all arrived in ’52.
Come on let’s go see this LaPree. When we get up there, Luke let me
do the talking – I know you’re hotheaded and might get LaPree
stirred up and agitated too much. You heard what Doc said this man
is a killer! Just remember, let me do all the talking.” Spurring
their horses as Doc slaps his horse’s flank they enter the open
gate and lope at a slow pace up the road to the house.

Entering the yard as the dust settles
they can see a man sitting on the porch. He is leaning back in a
straight chair with his boots resting on the porch rail. He sits
upright as the three come to a stop.

Without getting up, LaPree directs his
comments to the new strangers, “Welcome to my hacienda Señores. Git
off of them hosses and come upon my veranda and rest yerselves,
I’ll get us a bottle of Tequila.”

Robert remains mounted, “Sir, I can
see by your dress and the manner of your speech you must be from
Mexico. I salute you Señore,” tipping the brim of his hat. “I am
very pleased you are of Mexican descent and are not of that lowly
Negro race. I cannot tolerate the Negroes; the only thing worse
than one of those black skinned Devils would be a Cajun. Both races
are stupid, lazy, and must have the white men, and, of course, the
Mexicans to show them how anything is done. Oh, did I mention
cowardly? No? They are cowardly too.”

Luke is sitting on his horse listening
to his father.
Why
, he thought,
is he saying all these
terrible, nasty things, he doesn’t believe a word of what he is
saying.

“
Oh, I am sorry Señore,
there is one other race of people worse than the Negro or the
Cajun, that would be a mix of the two – a half-breed! Don’t you
agree, my Mexican friend?”

LaPree had taken Robert’s tongue
lashing insults too long. He rises from his chair and moves toward
the porch steps. “Wait,” said Robert, “I forgot, a half-breed with
a prostitute as a mother would rate right up there too. What you
think about that, huh
Señore
?” Robert said the word
Señore
sarcastically.

LaPree takes a couple of steps from
the porch into the yard. His silver spurs rhythmically jingle with
each step. He pitches the remainder of his cigar to the ground. His
hand drops slowly to his six-gun strapped to his leg and slips off
the leather strap holding the gun in its holster. He is getting
ready to make this gringo eat those words, he is ready to ‘slap
leather’.“Señore, why would you come to my house and make such
insulting remarks? Who are you Sir before I kill you?”

“
Oh, I’m sorry
Señore
,” Robert said emphasizing Señore, “I didn’t introduce
myself – maybe you have heard of me, I am Robert... Robert
Scarburg.” He let the words slowly flow from his lips.

Stuttering LaPree struggles to speak,
“Scar...Scarburg? Are you acquainted with Malinda
Scarburg?”

“
Yes, I believe I am – I
am her husband! You half-breed lowlife!”

With a foot still in his stirrup
Robert begins to dismount from his horse. He swings his left leg
over Blaze’s back, but before his foot touches the ground LaPree
goes for his six-gun. A loud thunderous gun blast sounds; however,
he had not cleared leather, it came from Nate. His Colt was a
fraction of a second faster. He has outdrawn LaPree.

LaPree takes a staggering step
forward, buckles to his knees and looks wide-eyed at Nate. With one
hand he grasps his chest, blood flows through his fingers and runs
down his hand and drips onto the ground. He looks down at his
bloody hand. He cannot believe he has been outdrawn. Spitting a
chaw of tobacco toward the gasping LaPree, Nate wipes the juice
from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and utters, “That one
is for my Pa and brother Jefferson.”

Nate, taking pleasure now, fires the
finishing shot squarely into the center of LaPree’s chest, about
two inches from the hole the first bullet made. “That one is fer
shootin’ my Ma, I said I would get you for killin’ my Pa and
brother and shootin’ my Ma, consider yourself got,
Mister
Simeon LaPree Commander of the Home Guard. LaPree falls with a thud
facedown on the ground – dead, his hand still clutching his
unfired, Colt .44.