Lynching - Annick Press

Copyright Annick Press 2012
chair, it looks like this is one telegraph our telegraph
man knows nothing about. And Mr. Moultray looks
peaked all of a sudden. It’s the same look he wore when
Louie Sam told him he was going to fix him. I flash to
a memory of Mr. Moultray’s hand making contact with
that pony’s hindquarters. I see bound legs thrashing in
midair. My nice normal feeling is chased away.
The governor proceeds to read the telegraph to
the crowd.
“‘I am requesting in response to a communication
from Her Majesty’s Government in Canada that you
instruct your territorial police to watch out for and
arrest members of a lynch mob charged with hanging
a Canadian Indian on Canadian soil near Sumas
Prairie, British Columbia, pending the Canadians’
application for extradition proceedings.’”
The crowd goes dead silent. The governor looks out
over the assembled folk of the Nooksack Valley like a
judge about to pass sentence.
“Pursuant to these instructions,” he says, “I have
directed Mr. Bradshaw, the prosecuting attorney of
the Third Judicial District in Port Townsend, to act
immediately and vigorously against the leaders of this
lynch mob so that they can be extradited to Canada,
where they will stand trial for their crimes.”
Mr. Moultray and Mr. Osterman sit gobsmacked. Or
maybe I just think they must be, because I am for sure.
“As to the issue of statehood,” says the governor,
“perhaps that is best left to another day.”
Having said his piece, Governor Newell stands
above us on the boardwalk, as though expecting the
leaders of the Nooksack Vigilance Committee to step
forward and face judgment this very moment. But
nobody moves—except Miss Carmichael, whose hand
goes to her mouth as she utters a small cry. I look
around to see if Father is still here. He’s at the back
where he was earlier, standing beside Mr. Stevens.
Both of their heads are bowed, eyes hidden by their
hat brims. Everybody is silent—until an angry voice
booms out of the crowd.
“We was promised a talk on us becoming a state, so
let’s hear it!”
We all crane our necks to see that the speaker is
Dave Harkness. His face is all red with fury. Annette
Bell is standing there beside him frowning, with
her arms crossed tight. She says something to Mr.
Harkness, who then pipes up again.
“If the United States Government has got
something to say to us, they can come say it to our
faces instead of sending their hired mouthpiece to do
it!” he says.
The crowd, so silent a moment ago, sends up
a cheer. People are hollering about freedom and
democracy, and about how no Washingtonian got
to cast a vote to elect Governor Newell to office, so
he has no rightful place messing in our business and
130 131