THREE men sat around a table that evening in the office of Sheriff
Parker in the court-house. The sheriff was one. Another was
Commissioner Henry Lane. The third was Ed Stewart.
The latter was talking.
"Yep, after I talked to that nigger Williams, I rustled ‘round among
the niggers on my place. At fust, they wouldn't talk much. But I
found a way to make 'em! By God, a taste of a horse-whip'll make any
of 'em open up! Found they's only two niggers we got to worry 'bout.
One's this nigger doctor. The other's my nigger Tom Tracy. She'ff,
if you hear'n tell of an accident out to my place in the nex' few
days, you needn't bother to come out to investigate. It'll be
se'f-defence. Tom Tracy's goin't come up on me with an open knife.
I'm goin' t' shoot t' save my life."
The three laughed at the good joke. The sheriff agreed not to
bother. "Good riddance!" he commented.
Stewart went on:
"Now ‘bout this other nigger. He's the brains of the whole thing.
But we've got to be mighty careful, 'cause these other niggers
thinks he some sort of a tin god. Ef they think he's bumped off
'cause of these lodges he's been organizing, they might raise hell.
Ev'ry nigger out my way would go through hell 'n' high water for
him. Never seen ‘em think so much of another nigger befo'. Mos' the
time they'll come and tell me ev'rythin' that any them other niggers
doin'. This nigger Harper's got ‘em hoodooed or somethin'."
The sheriff broke into Stewart's monologue in a complaining,
reminiscent fashion:
"Don't know what's gettin' into the niggers nowadays. They ain't
like they useter be. Take this nigger's daddy, f'r example. Old man
Harper was as good a nigger's I ever seen. If he met you on the
street twenty times a day, he'd take off his hat 'n' bow almos' to
the groun' ev'ry time. But these new niggers, I can't make heads nor
tails of ‘em. Take that uppity nigger they burned this mornin'.
Always goin' 'round with a face on 'im like he's swallowed a mess of
crabapples. What if that Jim Archer did have a little fun with the
nigger's sister? 'Twon't hurt a nigger wench none. Oughter be proud
a white man wants her."
His voice took on at the next remark a tone of pained and outraged
surprise.
"Nigger gals gettin' so nowadays they think they're's good as white
women! And what ‘chu think that old fool Judge Stev'nson said t' me
to-day? Had the nerve t' sayt' me that he don't blame that nigger
Bob for killin' Jim Archer!"
He demanded of his companions in an almost ludicrous surprise:
"What's goin't come of the South when _white men_ like the judge say
such things? Guess he's gettin' so old he's kind of weak in the
head! I tol' him he'd better not say that to nobody else. Somethin'
might happen to _him!_"
"Damn Judge Stevenson!" broke in Stewart, anxious to get a chance to
tell his story. "He alw'ys was a sort of ‘nigger-lover' anyway!"
Henry Lane spoke for the first time.
"Reck'n the Gov'nor'd say anythin' ‘bout this burnin'?" he asked in
a tone that anticipated the answer.
Parker laughed ironically.
"What kin he do?" he demanded. He answered his own question.
"Nothin'! Under the laws of Georgy, he can't even sen' a man down
here to investigate unless he's officially asked by citizens of th'
county! And who's goin' t' ask him?" He laughed again. "If anybody's
fool enough to ask him, they'll be havin' a visit paid ‘em one of
these nights! Reck'n we don't need to bother none 'bout the Gov'non
meddlin' in our affairs," he ended assuredly.
"Le's get back to this Harper nigger 'n' quit all this foolin'
'round," Stewart demanded, irritably. "How're we goin' t' settle
him?" He added, after a pause: "Without stirrin' up the niggers all
over the county?"
"An' they ain't all we got to look out for," added Sheriff Parker.
"They's some white folks 'round here who'll kick up a stink if we
ain't careful." "Who'll do that?" asked Stewart contemptuously.
"Judge Stev'nson can't do it all by hisse'f." "Well, there's him an
old Baird an' Fred Griswold. An' then the one's mos' likely to raise
the mos' fuss is Roy Ewing. He thinks a lot of that nigger lately
for some reas'n. Ain't been able t' figger it out as yet, but he
sets a heap by him." He scratched his head in an abstracted manner.
"Tol me over t' the sto' yestiddy that this Harper's a fine type of
nigger t' have ‘round Central City 'n' that we oughter encourage
other niggers to be like him."
"Another one gettin' ol and weak-minded befo' his time!" was
Stewart's comment. "But I want t' know if we're goin' to sit here
all night talkin' ‘bout things that's goin' t' keep us from
punishin' this nigger or if we're goin' to get down to business.
Fust thing we know, we'll be ‘lectin' this nigger mayer the town!"
His sarcasm was thinly veiled, if veiled at all. Parker and Lane
showed by the sudden flush on their faces that the shot had reached
its mark.
"You don't have to be so cantankerous 'bout it, Ed." Parker showed
in his voice, as well as on his face, that he didn't particularly
care for Stewart's brand of irony. "You know we're jus' as anxious
as you to get rid of him. But we got to be careful. You live out in
the country ‘n' you don't know the situation here in town like me
‘n' Henry."
He sat meditatively for a time. Stewart fidgeted in his chair, and
Henry Lane sat lost in thought. Parker suddenly sat up eagerly.
"I got it!" he exclaimed. The others looked at him inquiringly.
"We'll fix it so's we can say that Harper insulted a white woman!"
His companions looked slightly disappointed and doubtful.
"How're you goin' t' do that?" asked Lane. "This nigger, as fur's I
can see, since he been back's been stayin' out where he b'longs in
the nigger section. Only time he comes over this way's when he comes
to the bank or the sto' or here to th' court-house. That's one thing
I can say in his fav'r! Bein'in France ain't sp'iled him none so
fur's white women's concerned. If he ran around with them Frog
women, he never tried any of it 'round here."
"It ain't necessary for him to bother with white women in Central
City for us to put that on 'im," Parker declared defensively.
"Nearly all white folks ev'n up No'th b'lieves that ev'ry time a
nigger's lynched down this a way, its 'cause he's raped a white
woman." His manner became triumphant. "Here's how we'll fix it."
The three men, although they were alone in the dark court-house and
there was none to hear, drew their chairs together. Their heads were
close for more than ten minutes, while they talked excitedly
together. Occasionally there would be a low burst of laughter—again
an oath. At last Stewart rose, took a paper-bound book from the
desk, copied for some time from it, and left the court-house.
The next morning each of fifteen "white, Protestant, Gentile"
citizens of Central City received a letter. There was no writing of
any sort on the envelope save their names and addresses. They were
of ordinary quality such as can be purchased at five cents a package
in any cheap stationery store. In it was a letter typed on plain
paper, of a quality to match the cheapness of the envelope. There
was no printing of any sort on the letter, nor was it addressed
other than: "Dear Sir." It read:
DEAR SIR:
You have been chosen, as one known to be loyal, brave,
and discreet, to meet a situation affecting the welfare of the
Nation, the State, and the Community. You are hereby commanded to be
present at the time and place and date given on the enclosed card.
Be wise! Be discreet! Discuss this with no one! Fail not!
THE COMMITTEE.
There was a plain card enclosed, also of cheap and easily obtained
quality, on which was typed a date, time, and place. …
_Mirabile dictu_, each of the fifteen recipients of this cryptic
missive was a Ku Klux Klansman. …