“Creek about a half-mile that way, runs into the Pearl River.”
“Do you know the way there, Bradford? Can you find it in the dark?”
“Shore enough can,” the man mumbled, still stunned by the night’s events.
“Good. Then you and I are going to go there, dump this gun and all the ammunition in the deepest spot. You got much family here, Bradford?”
“There’s just me and my daddy since…”
“
I’m sorry, but he’ll just have to get on without you for a good while. That’s better than your being hung. The reverend will make your good-byes for you. Later, maybe, you can send for him.”
“Ah don’t catch yuh meanin’…”
“You and I are leaving here now — and you are not going to come back. You are a dead man in this town the second that you are spotted. We are going to get rid of this gun and the ammunition, and then we are going to keep on going. When I came in on the train I saw a marshaling yard just outside of the city — place where there are lots of tracks and trains. Can you find it in the dark?”
“Shore can.”
“Then let’s go. Now it’s up to you, reverend, to report this to the police. Here is what you want to know happened. You heard firing near your church, woke up, got your gun and came to see what was happening. Everyone was gone. But you found the dead man lying in the road. That’s close enough to the truth to jibe with your conscience. You won’t be lying — just leaving out some things in order to save Bradford’s life. Then, after seeing the dead man, you went inside where you wrote a note saying there had been a killing. Went to the nearest house, woke them up, sent a boy running with it into town. Isn’t that what you would do?”
“Yes, that is what I would do. But…”
“No buts. That’s all you know and that is all you are going to say. But give us at least a half an hour’s lead before you send the note. I want us on a freight train — and as far away from here as we can get — by the time the sun comes up. I’m sorry about what has happened. I didn’t mean it to end this way. I came here to protect you folk and I’m afraid that I got you into worse trouble than you ever was before. For that I am truly sorry. But I would rather this nightrider was dead, whoever he is, rather than Bradford here. Now — let’s go.”
Their running footsteps faded in the darkness. Lomax gave a deep, shuddering sigh. There was big, big trouble coming. He prayed that this would be the end of the killing. He dropped to his knees and prayed out loud as though the sound of his voice might make that wish come true.
His watch was back in the house, so he couldn’t be sure of the time. When at least a half an hour had gone by he walked down the dirt road to the Broderick house, and knocked on the door until someone called out.
“Who there?”
“It’s me, Reverend Lomax. Open the door will you, Franklin?”
He wrote a note for the sheriff while he told Broderick what had happened. He did not tell him who the nightrider had been. This was bad enough. Their teenage son went running with the note.
“Go to bed,” Lomax said. “And get some sleep. It is going to be busy enough around here pretty soon.”
He walked slowly back to the church, immersed in thought. No good would come of this night’s work — and he was worried for the people of his congregation. As he came close he saw that the church door was open. He was sure that he had closed it. As he walked across the porch L.D. Lewis stepped out. Still carrying the rifle.
“Don’t worry for Bradford,” he said. “I got him onto a train and he is well gone by now. I told him to get to the next big town and to contact the Freedmen’s Bureau. Tell them everything that happened here tonight. They’ll take care of him, surely enough.”
“But you — you came back!”
“Sure enough did, didn’t I?” He laughed a bit as he said it. “No one ever said that I was too bright. But I couldn’t let you carry the can. Also — I didn’t feel right about asking you to lie. I have the rifle and all. I’ll give it to the sheriff.”
“They’ll kill you!”
“Maybe not. This is supposed to be a country of law. So let us just wait and see how that law works.”
It was a long wait. It was well after dawn and the sheriff still had not come.
“Seems that they don’t care much around here when their people get shot,” L.D. said.
“Oh, dear God,” Reverend Lomax said. “That is my fault. In the note, I just said that I was woken up by the sound of gunfire near the church, then found a man shot dead. I never did say that he was white.”
“Just as well — they would probably bring a lynch party. Any chance of some coffee while we’re waiting?”
“Yes, of course. I am being most inhospitable.”