Sentinels (21 page)

That's just crazy,
Toby thought. But what wasn't insane or feigned was Franklin's anguish—he knew the giant dreaded Diggs and the prospect of bearing bad news to him.

Whatever Diggs had planned required help from these five lackeys, at least, and he knows I can handle the three morons who infiltrated my property in the first place. So how long will it take for that coward to regroup and find more flunkies?

“Think it over, Franklin.” Johnson clapped the despondent man's shoulder. “The big dance is Saturday night. We could always use an extra hand.”

Toby clenched his fists in victory under the table. He had the date and a rough timeframe.

“Yeah, okay.” Franklin didn't mean it. “I know where to find you.”

Chair legs scraped wooden flooring en masse, and Johnson and his men left Franklin sitting in a stupor. He felt as if every pair of eyes in the bar watched him, but he only cared about what Toby saw. He didn't bother looking at the freedman and trudged out of the bar.

Toby bought a bottle of whiskey and left to see if the blacksmith finished with his horse. The stallion took to the shoes and seemed to enjoy the clip-clops it made while trotting home. Toby wasn't in a hurry. Money under the porch or not, he understood the savagery preparing to descend on Elkton's property. Should he warn him? Sheriff Clement probably already had tipped him off that something was brewing. Maybe Elkton and his sharecroppers would vacate the place and allow Clement and the Army to arrest whoever they could when they showed up with torches aflame. But none of them knew the day it would happen. Toby did. Toby now had the opportunity on Saturday—
tomorrow
—to slay perhaps one-hundred symbols of hatred. And he could. Surely he could.

Go to the Sheriff's Office, tell him I overhead when the attack's coming, but tell him it's set for Sunday so they'll hold back. Then the Klan's all mine. The sheriff can send in his men and the soldiers to mop up the bits.

But he had to warn Elkton and the sharecroppers. Today. Now. He would not risk those lives.

Maybe I'm being watched? What if me riding over there puts things in motion and triggers an early attack, tonight even? Are the Klansmen already here? Hiding?

Toby hated feeling paranoid, but so many pieces now seemed to move at once.

“Hold up, boy.” Toby reined in his horse, which stood motionless in the middle of the desolate road midway from downtown Henderson to his farm. He sat on his horse repeatedly going over scenarios that could render a cataclysmic blow to the Klan—to the point where it might never again step foot in Henderson.

Toby eased the stallion around and headed back to town. The Sheriff's Office would be the first stop, and then a few others.

Chapter Thirty

Noah Chandler, as Toby rode back toward Henderson, left the mercantile with two new pillows for Natalie for use at their home while she recuperated.

He parked his wagon on account of he'd look ridiculous galloping home while hugging two huge pillows. The shop-keep wrapped them in brown paper and bowed them with twine. Maybe he could get a few other things to make the next week more enjoyable with his little family. Like food.

Natalie really ain't up to cooking,
he thought.
Maybe I can make her something nice. The butcher had some tasty-looking turkeys dangling around. How hard is it to make stuffing, anyway? It's just a bunch of ripped-up bread and herbs. But it's a lot of food.

And then Noah's Saturday evening began falling into place when he saw Doreen Culliver bringing to the church some of the food that mourners had donated to her. He waited for her to leave empty-handed and then called to her.

Startled, she squinted to see who it was, and then checked both sides of the street before crossing to meet Noah, who sat atop his rig.

“You look like a piss-poor mummy. But I'm glad you're able to get out,” she said. “How's your wife and baby?”

He ignored the comment about his bandage—he forgot that everybody but him could see it.

“Both are doing well, thank you. In fact, if you'd like to meet them tomorrow, I'd love to have you over for dinner. Deputy Harrison will be there, too.”

Noah improvised as he went along. He knew Harrison would be off of work, too, and as it happened, was single.

And he's a handsome guy,
Noah thought.
Hell, if I was a lady, I might—

Noah shook his head.

“I'm thinking of a nice roast turkey,” he said.

“That's kind of you, and I'd be happy to. And I can bring food for you and your wife! Hell, I could turn my house into a market right now, Noah. It ain't a problem.”

He knew her grin to be genuine because of all the teeth he could count.

“I've got every type of potato dish you can imagine and plenty of fresh vegetables,” she said. “And pie! I've got so many damned pies stacked up they could topple and crush me! I am not kidding.”

Noah laughed. “All right. I'll bring some corn.”

Why not?
Toby had offered him some fresh sweet ears.
The offer! That's what Toby was talking about!
He could gather them when meeting with Toby on Saturday to discuss the investigation that was supposed to be Sheriff Clement's concern.

“And your wife won't mind me being there? I mean, I'd be happy to help around the kitchen so she don't have to move.”

“Well, I must say that's sort of the idea,” Noah said. “And no, I think she'd be delighted to have as a guest the woman who tended to her wounded husband and made sure he got the necessary care. She's been wanting to thank you personally but couldn't see herself getting out of the house any time soon.”

“No thanks is necessary but I understand it. What time?”

“How about six o'clock?”

“Ain't that a little late?”

“I'll be cooking most of the day. But if you want to come over around four and help out, that should speed things up. I'll be back from getting the corn by then, and we can all can relax a little bit before supper's done. Or, more accurately, you can make sure I don't set the turkey on fire.”

They agreed and went their separate paths—Noah's included stopping by the Sheriff's Office.

“I told you we're fine without you,” Clement barked at Noah when he entered. “I don't got the time to berate you, I gotta head over to the Tavern to help toss out some drunks.”

The sheriff left, and that meant Harrison minded shop. He, too, readily accepted Noah's offer, and not just because he'd be hungry.

“You say she's cute?”

“And newly widowed,” Noah said.

“Ain't that a bit, I don't know, creepy to be moving in so quick?”

Noah explained the hell Robert Culliver put her through—on the condition Harrison not repeat it.

“And she's got so much food left over from the funeral, I guarantee if you hit it off with her she'll have you over right soon.” Noah gave Harrison the time to be there.

“Well, I hope she don't suggest Sunday, I'll be busy—what with the Klan supposedly coming to town.”

“Do what now?”

“You ain't heard?”

Harrison laid out what was slated to go down Sunday night at Leroy Elkton's farm.

“
That
many Klansman are coming to
our
town?”

“Supposedly. That's the word,” Harrison said. “I mean, I ain't been here long but I got an idea of who's a regular and who isn't. If I see a bunch of strangers wandering around like they got no purpose—well, other than the usual cavalcade of drunks—you better believe I'll check 'em out.”

“And how do we know about this?”

“Toby Jenkins—he left not too long before you came in. Said he overheard talk of it at the Tavern. He even told us who might be involved. Clement's watching out for them personally. Just keep quiet about it. We want to surprise as many of 'em as we can when they strike.”

Noah turned pensive, ignoring Harrison.
It'd be suicidal for the Klan to expose its numbers like that. They've got to know we're on alert based on the killings going on.

“Hey, now don't you get any ideas about joining us,” Harrison said. “The doc and the sheriff were adamant: you ain't doing shit until you're fully recuperated.”

“Even if I was fit for duty, so to speak, Natalie would probably divorce me if I said I was going to where you all are going Sunday. But if you need anything, you just holler.”

“Go on, get. We'll be fine.” Harrison waved him away and again thanked him for the invitation. The younger deputy went to the holding pen to check on a barroom brawler who was sobering up from the night before. Noah left, but not before meeting Brady Young, the town's undertaker, on the porch about to enter.

“Any word on my case?” Young said.

“I'm not on, and I've sorta been out of the loop recently. Don't know of any case involving you. Sorry.”

“Well, given all the excitement around here, I can see why investigating the disappearance of a chopped-up, unclaimed Klansman doesn't get top billing.” Young moved to Noah's side to slip into the Sheriff's Office but a muscular arm rammed against the frame to block him.

“What are you talking about?” Noah couldn't explain why he felt dread.

“Those Klansmen that were murdered on the road by Elkton's? Well, nobody ever claimed the last body. Hell, nobody even identified him. I had to bag the torso, head, arms and legs and keep them in my ice house out back. Someone busted it open the other night and took it.”

Young spotted Harrison returning and called to him.

“Any word?” Young then turned to Noah. “He took the report.”

“Nossir, Mister Young. I've heard of grave robbing but ain't never experienced one. I've come up empty.”

“Hell, they didn't have to rob me. I'd have just
given
it to whomever. Now I gotta get a new lock for the door. It's on order from the mercantile. Pervert ripped it right off the frame.” Young then addressed Noah, again, silently. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Noah lowered his arm to allow Young entry.

“When this happen again?” Noah asked Young from behind.

“What was it, four nights ago?” Young said.

“Yep.” Harrison said.

“I mean, I got zero respect for that Klansman,” Young said. “But I'd like to think that when someone robs your place—or anyone's place—of body parts, generally speaking, you wanna find out who took 'em.”

“Can't disagree.” Noah's sickened feeling worsened. “I'll see you tomorrow, Harrison.”

He shut the door without waiting for a reply.

Chapter Thirty-One

“You sure about this?” Sarah Jenkins eased back and forth on her front porch's rocking chair while she breastfed Isaac his Saturday afternoon lunch.

“This is an opportunity that doesn't come along very often.” Toby stood in front of his wife with his back to her.

“One-hundred Klansmen? Think they can handle that? There's a big difference between eight and a hundred.”

“They don't have to kill all of them, dear—just take down enough of the bastards to scare the hell out of them, make them never want to get near Henderson again.”

“And what if they go rogue on a few more of the good guys? We can't have any more dead soldiers or sheriffs.”

Toby twitched back and snapped at Sarah. “They didn't kill Cole! How many times I got to say that?”

“I think one of them slipped away, Toby.”

“
No!
They learned from the last time.”

“They should've learned not to in the first place. You said you could control them.”

Toby looked at the floorboards.

“I know I did. Do you think I wanted that to happen?”

“Course not. But it
did
.”

“They know now. They know the difference.”

“They
couldn't
tell the difference between white-robed Klansmen and blue-uniformed soldiers. What makes you think they can differentiate between the sheriff and his deputies, the Army and those Klansmen?”

He didn't answer and left the porch toward the barn.

“Stop! It was dark the last time, I'll give you that,” she continued, raising her voice enough to delay her husband, who turned to face her. “Maybe they won't be as foolish this time if the sun's still out. But they'll be seen, too, Toby. You know that.”

“They know to go after anyone wearing white sheets—and nothing else.”

“And when they're spotted?”

“It'll be a melee.” Various scenarios flashed through his mind. “Nobody'll believe a Klansman's ravings. A bunch of them'll get liquored up before attacking.”

“But the lawmen, Toby. Their word carries some weight. They've escaped notice only because the people who've seen 'em have either been drunk or miles away. You
cannot
forget them when you see them up close.”

“They'll wait, Sarah. Pick and choose their targets, strike quickly and retreat to where they can't be seen. They're good at hiding.”

“You shouldn't do it. We've been luckier than a blind man beating Jesus at poker. It
won't
last.”

“The sheriff and the soldiers have the numbers, but not the will.”

“To do what? You mean execution without the trial?” She continued rocking, caressing the back of Isaac's soft head while he nursed.

“Sometimes guilt's a foregone conclusion. The way I see it, you wear white, you ain't got a right to a defense.”

“You said they were meant to protect the farmland
only
. And I found no fault with that. I feel safer than I ever expected. But everything that's been handed down to us over the years goes to dust the second they get traced back to us.”

“Even if they're killed—and I ain't seen that happen yet—
nothing
points back to us. You think they're gonna talk about us? Not likely.” He focused on Isaac while he spoke. “As long as I'm around, I'm protecting you and Isaac from those men as best I can without anyone finding out how. I know I can do it too.”

She eased out of the chair to go back inside.

“Isaac's sleeping. Best to lay him down and then me right after. I'm beat—not just from caring for him, but arguing with you. I can't win so why do I keep trying?”

“When this is over, Sarah, violence against the freedmen will go down—it'll never end, but I'll be buying us all some time, maybe enough for Isaac to grow a bit without learning hatred.”

She opened the door and looked over her shoulder to Toby.

“Yeah, good luck with that. And it ain't gonna happen as long as he's around you.” And then she was gone.

Toby had tired as well.

But I'm right.

He unlatched and walked open the barn doors and waited.

Stirring and shuffling steps greeted him, along with the sounds of tools being removed from wall mounts.

“Come on out,” he said and backed up to make room. “All of you, come out where I can see you!”

They shambled out of the barn, and then Toby described what was to happen and how they would react when confronted by the bad men.

They hovered and swayed where they stood, never taking their eyes off of their master.

“And when you get back, you know where to go.”

They exaggeratedly nodded, their heads nearly knocking their knees before returning to meet Toby's gaze. They gripped their tools and bounded up the path to leave the farm and follow Toby's commands to the letter.

I don't hate,
he thought while watching them flee.
I eliminate it. Thank you, Father, for teaching me how.

Toby fastened the barn doors and strode into the house to rest with Sarah. He told Noah to stop by that afternoon, and he'd awake in enough time to greet him.

He stood on his porch and turned in a half circle to survey his land and the future he was building for Isaac, for all of this would be his one day, and Toby would teach his boy how to protect it.

They'll wait in the shadows of the woods surrounding Elkton's farm. And when the Klansmen come, they'll never know what happened. I just hope those hooded sons of bitches make it sooner than later. I want this to end. I want them back here. Unseen.

Toby knew it would be near impossible for them to go unnoticed if the Klan struck in broad daylight.

Sarah's right. Those men'll never forget seeing their faces.

Toby locked his front door unaware that others had been watching his every move.