between the door and jamb when it was shut. Perfect for eaves dropping. I got up off my stool and tiptoed around the corner, where I couldn’t be seen between the counter and the wall. The sheriff started with some idle chit-chat about how business was going and how he liked Manuel’s food. Then he finally got to his real purpose for being there.
“Mr. Cruz, I guess you heard about Ned Higgins missin’.”
“Yes sir. I have heard talk from some of my customers about it. They say he left town in Mr. Winston’s truck.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the talk that’s goin’ around,” the sheriff said. “But I talked to George Winston and he said he couldn’t figure it out. Said as far as he knew, Ned liked his job and was happy. You know he’d been with Mr. Winston six years.”
“I don’t know,” Manuel responded, “maybe somebody offered him something better and he just didn’t want to tell Mr. Winston about it.”
“But why would he steal his truck? He’s got a pretty nice old car of his own. It just don’t make no sense. No sense a-tall.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sheriff. Maybe for some reason he just needed a truck. Maybe he was in some kind of trouble and didn’t want to be seen in his car. Who knows why some people do the things they do.”
“Well, accordin’ to Mr. Winston, you may have been the last person to have seen him last Friday night. Mr. Winston said y’all were at his cotton gin and he was gonna give you a ride home in his truck. Did you happen to notice which direction he went in after he let you out? Was he actin’ strange in any way?”
“He never gave me a ride, Sheriff. I walked home.”
The sheriff was silent for a minute, then said with a sigh, “Well, it just seems strange, that’s all. Did you and him have any kind of argument after Mr. Winston and his daughter left the gin?”
“I wouldn’t call it an argument. He made some remarks about me being a Mexican, and he let me know he didn’t particularly like Mexicans, or negroes. But I have gotten used to that kind of talk. I’ve heard it so many times I no longer pay attention to it.”
Manuel was as cool as a cucumber. If the sheriff was trying to rattle him, he was having no success whatsoever. I supposed an educated man like Manuel, who had traveled and worked with some rough characters and spent a lot of nights in the hobo jungles had pretty much seen it all. Especially when you consider that a lot of the men were prejudiced white men, some who had come from places devastated by the dust bowl and had lost the farms that had been in their families for generations.
“Well, Mr. Cruz I appreciate your time, and if you do hear anything…..”
That was my cue. I quickly tiptoed back around the counter and sat back down on my stool. When the two men came out of the kitchen, I pretended to be looking at the newspaper that was laying on the counter. The sheriff nodded to me once again as he started toward the door. As he opened the door to go out, he turned as if he were going to say something, but changed his mind and closed the door.
*****
I asked Ben if the sheriff had been to talk to him yet. Cotton picking had started and I knew it would be difficult to see him except late in the evenings for several days. He told me the sheriff came by and asked him if he’d seen Manuel leave with Ned Higgins in Mr. Winston’s truck. Ben told him that he hadn’t. Then he asked if Manuel and Ned had had an argument of any kind. Ben said the same thing Manuel had said. That Ned made some derogatory remarks about Mexicans in general, but that
“Mr. Cruz, I guess you heard about Ned Higgins missin’.”
“Yes sir. I have heard talk from some of my customers about it. They say he left town in Mr. Winston’s truck.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the talk that’s goin’ around,” the sheriff said. “But I talked to George Winston and he said he couldn’t figure it out. Said as far as he knew, Ned liked his job and was happy. You know he’d been with Mr. Winston six years.”
“I don’t know,” Manuel responded, “maybe somebody offered him something better and he just didn’t want to tell Mr. Winston about it.”
“But why would he steal his truck? He’s got a pretty nice old car of his own. It just don’t make no sense. No sense a-tall.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sheriff. Maybe for some reason he just needed a truck. Maybe he was in some kind of trouble and didn’t want to be seen in his car. Who knows why some people do the things they do.”
“Well, accordin’ to Mr. Winston, you may have been the last person to have seen him last Friday night. Mr. Winston said y’all were at his cotton gin and he was gonna give you a ride home in his truck. Did you happen to notice which direction he went in after he let you out? Was he actin’ strange in any way?”
“He never gave me a ride, Sheriff. I walked home.”
The sheriff was silent for a minute, then said with a sigh, “Well, it just seems strange, that’s all. Did you and him have any kind of argument after Mr. Winston and his daughter left the gin?”
“I wouldn’t call it an argument. He made some remarks about me being a Mexican, and he let me know he didn’t particularly like Mexicans, or negroes. But I have gotten used to that kind of talk. I’ve heard it so many times I no longer pay attention to it.”
Manuel was as cool as a cucumber. If the sheriff was trying to rattle him, he was having no success whatsoever. I supposed an educated man like Manuel, who had traveled and worked with some rough characters and spent a lot of nights in the hobo jungles had pretty much seen it all. Especially when you consider that a lot of the men were prejudiced white men, some who had come from places devastated by the dust bowl and had lost the farms that had been in their families for generations.
“Well, Mr. Cruz I appreciate your time, and if you do hear anything…..”
That was my cue. I quickly tiptoed back around the counter and sat back down on my stool. When the two men came out of the kitchen, I pretended to be looking at the newspaper that was laying on the counter. The sheriff nodded to me once again as he started toward the door. As he opened the door to go out, he turned as if he were going to say something, but changed his mind and closed the door.
*****
I asked Ben if the sheriff had been to talk to him yet. Cotton picking had started and I knew it would be difficult to see him except late in the evenings for several days. He told me the sheriff came by and asked him if he’d seen Manuel leave with Ned Higgins in Mr. Winston’s truck. Ben told him that he hadn’t. Then he asked if Manuel and Ned had had an argument of any kind. Ben said the same thing Manuel had said. That Ned made some derogatory remarks about Mexicans in general, but that
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