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“L.J.! Are you all right?” I knew he was not.
“Oh, hell, yeah,” L.J. said. “The damn thing just grazed me.” I could plainly see that it had taken a sizable chunk of flesh out of his cheek; blood oozed down his chin. That side of his face was black with gunpowder.
I heard more commotion in front of the house, then hoof-beats. The remaining Raiders had taken this opportunity to get the hell out of there.
“Moody!” I called.
There was no answer.
L.J. made a kind of whistling sound as he breathed through the new hole in his cheek.
“Moody, they’re gone! Come on out now, I need you!”
Again all was silent.
“You’d better… go see… ,” L.J. mumbled.
I rushed through the back door and stopped short at the threshold of the parlor. Abraham lay on his bed with the long barrel of a pistol pointed at his head. The man holding it had his other arm around Moody in a choke hold.
“You stop right there, Corbett,” said the Raider. “They’s nothin’ would give me more pleasure than to finish off this old troublemaking nigger, and then you.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t have to.
I watched Moody’s hand gliding into the pocket of her jumper. She pulled out a kitchen knife and in one smooth motion plunged it into the White Raider’s back.
Chapter 88
“BEN CORBETT HERE is a well-known nigger-lover, so I don’t expect him to know any better—but L.J., for the love of God, I never in this world thought I would find you pulling such a stunt.”
It was four in the morning, and we were standing in the dogtrot of the log cabin that belonged to Phineas Eversman and his family. Phineas was the chief of the Eudora police department, which consisted of him, Mort Crowley, and Harry Kelleher, who worked only part-time.
“Just hear us out, Phineas,” L.J. said. When he lifted the bloody rag from his face, his voice had a sickening whistle in it. “Your town is out of control.”
“Look, Phineas, you can call me every name in the book,” I said. “You can hate me and everything I stand for, but we still have five men in the back of our wagon who attacked and murdered innocent people in the Quarters tonight. We are witnesses, and we are here to swear out a formal complaint against these men. That means you are required by law to arrest ’em, hold ’em, and see that they’re brought to trial for murder.”
Eversman looked past me and out the front door. In the back of the wagon he saw five White Raiders tightly bound, hand and foot, by the very ropes they had brought with them for hanging Negroes.
Standing guard over these men were Cousin Ricky and eight of the ten surviving volunteer guards. Luther Cosgrove and a man named Jimmie Cooper had been gunned down. The captured men had laughed and hooted all the way downtown, promising us that their pal Phineas Eversman would soon set them free.
“Now, wait a minute, Corbett,” said Phineas. “The first thing out of your mouth was that you and these Nigras killed some of the men.”
“They attacked us!” I bellowed. “We had to fight back or we’d all be dead! Are you listening?”
“There’s no need to get ugly,” said Phineas. His voice was mild, but his eyes kept flicking outside to the tied-up men, as if he were weighing the risks on all sides.
L.J. pressed the bloody cloth against his cheek. “Phineas, you listen to me, now,” he said quietly. “It’s time, Phineas. It’s time to put an end to it—the violence, all the hatred against coloreds in this town. These Ku Kluxer gangs are tearing Eudora apart, limb from limb. People are living in fear, black and white. You know me, Phineas. I’ve lived here all my life. I was there tonight. I saw what happened. I demand as a citizen of this town that you arrest these men for murder. Right now.”
Eversman pulled his chenille bathrobe snug around his skinny body. He refashioned the knot in the belt, then made his way past us, outside to the wagon.
“Evenin’, Phineas,” said one of the Raiders with a chuckle. “I sure am sorry these bastards decided to wake you up for no good reason.”
Eversman didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. I thought I heard a quiver in his voice, but he spoke loud and clear.
“You men are under arrest for… for trespassing, assault with a deadly weapon, and… and…”
He couldn’t seem to get the words out, so I helped him.
