Lynching - Annick Press

Copyright Annick Press 2012
Pete got a snide look.
“And how do you plan to do that without a horse?”
He raised a good point. Father would be riding
Mae. Our mule, Ulysses, was only good for pulling the
plough and sometimes the buckboard wagon. But then
an idea struck me.
“I know where there’s a horse.”
“Where?”
“They put Mr. Bell’s horse in Mr. Moultray’s livery.
I don’t reckon Mr. Bell would complain about me
borrowing him, considering the purpose.”
Pete’s wheels were turning.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
“You’re not invited.” Now that I had the upper
hand, I wasn’t about to let it go.
Pete came back with, “You’re taking me with you,
or I’m telling your pa and Mr. Moultray what you’re
up to.”
He had me. There was nothing I could do but
give in. Besides, the truth was that I wouldn’t mind
his company. It was a dangerous road we were about
to travel.
I went home and did my chores. At supper, Annie
told Mam I was coming down with something, all
because when I was splitting wood and she was
feeding the chickens she kept prattling on asking me
what names I liked for the new baby, and I told her
in no uncertain terms that I did not feel like talking.
Mam held her hand to my forehead and agreed that
I felt warm. She told me she wanted me to go to
bed right after I was finished eating. Little did she
know that she was aiding my plan to join the men
at The Crossing, because I knew I could easily slip
out the window from the back room we kids shared.
I was careful not to look at John while we sat at the
table, for fear he would see in my eyes what was on
my mind.
All this time, Father was busy gathering his
disguise. When at last he appeared, I thought Mam’s
jaw would hit the floor.
“What on earth!” she cried.
Over his head was a gunnysack from the mill,
with holes cut in it for his eyes. Mam’s petticoat
was hanging from around his neck. The layers of
cloth flounced over his shoulders when he walked,
something like feathers on a fluffy bird. Annie
laughed, thinking she’d never seen such a funny
sight as our Father at that moment. But Isabel was
frightened and would not stop crying until Father
removed the gunnysack from his head. Once she got
over her shock, Mam was furious that he’d ruined her
petticoat by cutting holes in it for his arms. She barely
said good-bye to him as he headed out to saddle Mae.
It seemed like the argument they were having that
morning was still going on.
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