you think I ought to hurry on down to the creek and start fishing right away, Judge?” Jeff asked hopefully. “If I left now, I could be there in half an hour.”
“Fishing is something you ought to stay away from, McCurtain,” the Judge said. “You ought to do something that’ll give you exercise. Sitting on a creek fishing all day is the worst thing you could do. You wouldn’t have to carry so much weight around if you took the proper exercise.”
“I shed all my seasonal weight in the spring Judge. I’m close to fifteen pounds lighter than I was last winter.”
Judge Allen thought for a while, glancing casually around the room while he was making up his mind.
“I’ve decided you’d better get out there to Flowery Branch right away and make a show of trying to catch that nigger, McCurtain.” He looked Jeff straight in the face. “That Calhoun woman is going to be out getting names on that petition of hers at the crack of dawn. If the people take to it the way I fear, it’ll mean that we’ll have to safeguard our interests by siding with the majority. I ain’t in favor of sending the niggers to Africa, or anywhere else, no matter if every voter in Julie County signs the petition. But I can’t let my personal feelings influence me at a time like this. We’ve got the courthouse full of our men who look to me to keep them in office. You’re one of them, McCurtain. You want to stay in office, don’t you?”
“Sure I do, Judge, but—”
“Then get out there right away and move around in the act of trying to catch that nigger, at the same time dropping a hint that if you do catch him, he can be taken away from you if enough citizens demand that. By morning I’ll have a chance to see how that petition is filling up. As soon as I know how to act, I’ll send you the word.”
Judge Ben Allen stood up. The blanket dropped to the floor.
“All of us have a big stake in county offices, McCurtain,” he continued, “and we can’t afford to let the opposition turn us out after all these years.”
Jeff wished to suggest that it might be best if he went back to Lord’s Creek and waited until the decision was reached, but he began thinking about the likelihood of his being defeated in the race for the sheriff’s office, and he decided to do as Judge Ben Allen had told him.
It was difficult to imagine himself out of the sheriff’s office after all those years of living on the top floor in the jailhouse. If he lost out there, he would have to take up farming. He did not know what else he could do for a living.
The phone on the desk rang, causing all three of them to jump. Wardlaw moved to answer it, but Judge Allen picked it up, motioning Wardlaw back to his corner.
“Is this Judge Ben Allen?” a woman’s voice asked.
He grunted affirmatively.
“Judge Allen, I’m awfully sorry to call you in the middle of the night like this, but I’m worried sick. I’m Mrs. Anderson out here at Flowery Branch. My husband has gone off with some other men to hunt for a nigger boy named Sonny Clark, and I’m afraid he’ll be shot and killed by that nigger. I just know that nigger has a gun of some kind, and he might shoot my husband. Can’t you do something? Has the sheriff gone out to capture him yet? Do you know what’s happened since midnight? I’m out here all alone, and that nigger might break in the house and harm me. I think it’s the sheriff’s duty to track him down and kill him. When will that be done?”
Judge Allen nodded his head wearily at the phone. “Maybe you’d better phone the sheriff’s office, Mrs. Anderson,” he said as calmly as he could. “The sheriff will help you. Good night.”
He slammed the phone on his desk.
“Wardlaw!” he shouted. “If I ever catch you raping a white girl, I’ll cut your gizzard out! Do you hear me!”
The old Negro jumped as if somebody had jabbed a pin into his flesh.
“Yes, sir, Judge, I heard you.” He closed and opened his mouth several
“Fishing is something you ought to stay away from, McCurtain,” the Judge said. “You ought to do something that’ll give you exercise. Sitting on a creek fishing all day is the worst thing you could do. You wouldn’t have to carry so much weight around if you took the proper exercise.”
“I shed all my seasonal weight in the spring Judge. I’m close to fifteen pounds lighter than I was last winter.”
Judge Allen thought for a while, glancing casually around the room while he was making up his mind.
“I’ve decided you’d better get out there to Flowery Branch right away and make a show of trying to catch that nigger, McCurtain.” He looked Jeff straight in the face. “That Calhoun woman is going to be out getting names on that petition of hers at the crack of dawn. If the people take to it the way I fear, it’ll mean that we’ll have to safeguard our interests by siding with the majority. I ain’t in favor of sending the niggers to Africa, or anywhere else, no matter if every voter in Julie County signs the petition. But I can’t let my personal feelings influence me at a time like this. We’ve got the courthouse full of our men who look to me to keep them in office. You’re one of them, McCurtain. You want to stay in office, don’t you?”
“Sure I do, Judge, but—”
“Then get out there right away and move around in the act of trying to catch that nigger, at the same time dropping a hint that if you do catch him, he can be taken away from you if enough citizens demand that. By morning I’ll have a chance to see how that petition is filling up. As soon as I know how to act, I’ll send you the word.”
Judge Ben Allen stood up. The blanket dropped to the floor.
“All of us have a big stake in county offices, McCurtain,” he continued, “and we can’t afford to let the opposition turn us out after all these years.”
Jeff wished to suggest that it might be best if he went back to Lord’s Creek and waited until the decision was reached, but he began thinking about the likelihood of his being defeated in the race for the sheriff’s office, and he decided to do as Judge Ben Allen had told him.
It was difficult to imagine himself out of the sheriff’s office after all those years of living on the top floor in the jailhouse. If he lost out there, he would have to take up farming. He did not know what else he could do for a living.
The phone on the desk rang, causing all three of them to jump. Wardlaw moved to answer it, but Judge Allen picked it up, motioning Wardlaw back to his corner.
“Is this Judge Ben Allen?” a woman’s voice asked.
He grunted affirmatively.
“Judge Allen, I’m awfully sorry to call you in the middle of the night like this, but I’m worried sick. I’m Mrs. Anderson out here at Flowery Branch. My husband has gone off with some other men to hunt for a nigger boy named Sonny Clark, and I’m afraid he’ll be shot and killed by that nigger. I just know that nigger has a gun of some kind, and he might shoot my husband. Can’t you do something? Has the sheriff gone out to capture him yet? Do you know what’s happened since midnight? I’m out here all alone, and that nigger might break in the house and harm me. I think it’s the sheriff’s duty to track him down and kill him. When will that be done?”
Judge Allen nodded his head wearily at the phone. “Maybe you’d better phone the sheriff’s office, Mrs. Anderson,” he said as calmly as he could. “The sheriff will help you. Good night.”
He slammed the phone on his desk.
“Wardlaw!” he shouted. “If I ever catch you raping a white girl, I’ll cut your gizzard out! Do you hear me!”
The old Negro jumped as if somebody had jabbed a pin into his flesh.
“Yes, sir, Judge, I heard you.” He closed and opened his mouth several
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