Buffington

By Lawrence E Gulley

Buffington is the story of the founding of a town in the rural south. It’s about a family that experiences good times and sorrowful times. It tells the story of twin brothers, of Choctaw Indian heritage. One goes on to win the medal of honor, fighting for his country and the other, a serial killer.
Lonnie, the main character loses everything, but his self respect, honor, and his love for his beautiful Elsa, that he thought the enemy had killed. After several years and thousands of miles apart, they are re-united and Lonnie discovers that Elsa has been harboring a secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: IceBox Media
• Release date: Sep 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781943927128

Book preview

Chapter 1

Buffington was not unlike other small communities in early 1900’s rural, South Alabama. Everything was new. The post office, general store, saw mill, and the cotton gin. A new high school was being built. It was even being bricked which looked out of place for the area because all the other buildings were made of rough-hewn lumber or logs. New houses were being built daily in the small, yet booming community.

Every industry and business was owned by one man, Alonzo Buffington. He bought his first 320 acres for two bits an acre in 1895. He pitched his tent dwelling at the intersection of what had been, in the past, two well traversed Indian trails. The east to west trail, led from the adjacent eastern counties to the Alabama River, which was due west about 10 miles. The north to southwest path led from Montgomery, Alabama to Pensacola, Florida and beyond to the Gulf of Mexico.

There was a marsh that surrounded the little town on three sides. No one but Alonzo knew or ever would know what lie buried in the lowland on the eastern side. A secret of something he was compelled to do, in order to accomplish what he had to do to bring the unknown piney woods section to life, lie between him and his good Lord.

Alonzo was the only child of Brent and Jessie Buffington. He was born in 1873. In their eyes, he could do no wrong.

At seventeen, Brent Buffington had migrated down from North Carolina to Philadelphia, Mississippi following a lumber mill. In a short while he met the beautiful, young Jessie, who was a Choctaw Indian. She was a small little thing who barely reached five feet tall. She had dark skin, long, black, straight hair and black darting eyes. Brent was about six feet in height with a slender build, had almost kinky, red hair, with fair-skin and green eyes.

Jessie was very soft spoken and was the oldest of ten children. Her parents were poor dirt farmers who lived in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Philadelphia. Her parents sure didn’t object to her marrying at the young age of fifteen, it would be one less mouth to feed. Brent was seventeen at the time of their marriage in 1871.

Both Brent and Jessie received very little education. Sure, they could read and write and could do a little figuring, but that was about it. Jessie finished the third grade but had to drop out of school to help her mother with the other children. It was unknown exactly how much education Brent had. He was good with numbers, had a knack for fixing things and loved working on small

inventions in his shop when he wasn’t working in the lumber mill.

Alonzo made good grades in school. However, he not only looked like his father, but he had the same mannerisms and habits, too. Often, he would find himself daydreaming about something other than school work. Thus, he dropped out of school when he was eleven years old and began to follow his father around the mill.

Brent wasn’t a common laborer as most of the other men. He was more or less a machinist and kept the mill up and running. When he wasn’t adjusting, oiling, or greasing something, he could be found in his little shop at the mill filing saws or figuring how many feet of lumber was expected from different logs.

At first, Alonzo, or Lon, as he was commonly called, started out as a water boy. He earned twenty-five cents a day. By the time he turned twelve years old, Brent saw that Lon had a general knowledge of tinkering and repairing things, so he talked to Mr. Chapman, the mill owner, into hiring Lon on as his helper. Lon’s pay was upped to fifty cents a day. He saved every penny, hiding it in a wooden box in his father’s workshop.

Mr. William C. Chapman not only owned the sawmill and about 1500 acres of land in and around the adjacent community, he also owned a general store, and the town’s cotton gin. He had other investments in farming and raising livestock, as well. Mr. Chapman was a tall, cantankerous man that dressed real fashionable for the day. He always wore a light colored linen suit in the sultry, hot summers and then switched to darker colored woolen or cotton suits in the winter.

He ran his businesses from a front corner of his general store. The little office was surrounded by a half wall so that he could see who was coming and going. He genuinely loved people and conversed with them about all manner of things as they came in and out of the store.

Mr. Chapman had several conversations with Brent, usually about the mill, during the course of a month. Sometimes Mr. Chapman would ride his horse out to the mill to speak to Brent. Other times, he’d hem him up in the store and conversed with him there. Lon was almost always with his father during these times. He had the greatest respect for Mr. Chapman. Well, actually, Lon idolized him.

Lon had often heard people say that Mr. Chapman moved to the area penniless. Yet, by shrewdness and just general luck, he had created an empire of sorts. He was held with highest regard in the community.

Lon loved his father but he often wondered why Brent couldn’t be more like Mr. Chapman. His father was content by just keeping everything working properly at the mill and tinkering with his small inventions at home. He sort of reminded Lon of a man with one leg shorter than the other one; he just walked around in circles and never owned anything for himself. Brent seemed satisfied in their rented house and three meals a day on the table. Lon dreamed of owning things like Mr. Chapman, being a man of substance.

It wasn’t often that Alonzo left the little neighborhood where he lived and worked, but when he did, it was usually to accompany his mother on trips to visit her people on the outskirts of town. He didn’t like the trip to the depressing home of his mother’s parents and other family. Nonetheless, they were his grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins, so out of respect for his mother, he went. They always went on Sunday afternoons after church. Jessie always loaded the little carriage down with two or three boxes of food when they went.

Lon wondered how the same blood could be pulsing through his veins as theirs. They were gentle people, it seemed. Yet, their living conditions were deplorable. Surely someone could put another pillar under the sagging porch and nail screen over the windows to keep the swarming flies and mosquitoes out.

One thing he did enjoy and admire though was the bright colors of the houses in which they lived. They were all purple, blue or a lime green. Then, around the age of 15, Lon found something even brighter that caught his fancy. It was the beautiful, young Reba McGhee. She was a distant cousin whose family was visiting his grandparents on one of Jessie and Lon’s monthly trips.

He figured he’d caught the pretty girl’s attention too, for he noticed her giving him a good going over with her eyes while she was whispering in another cousin’s ear. The two girls were giggling, even though she made sure to keep a good distance away from him the entire visit that first day.

Lon found out that Reba’s family lived near his grandparents. Her parents were Jake and Lillie McGhee. Reba’s father had a better job than most of the Choctaw Indians in the area; he worked for the railroad.

After meeting the lovely Reba, accompanying his mother on

the once dreaded monthly visits became a pleasure. Lon began to spruce up a little bit more by splashing on some of his father’s bay rum that his mother gave him every Christmas. Jessie noticed the difference in Lon, but never said anything to him about it. After making him swear he’d never mention it to their son, she did tell her husband.

Everything was going very well for Lon. He continued to put every penny he earned in his box and it was beginning to add up. About all he ever bought was his shoes because Jessie sewed most of his and his father’s clothes.

When Lon turned sixteen, he began courting the beautiful Reba in earnest. He would pick her up in the carriage on Saturday afternoons. They would spend the evenings holding hands and talking and laughing. Sometimes, Lon would lean in and steal a kiss from Reba’s cheek. On Sundays, he would escort her to church.

Although, Reba’s father worked for the railroad, her family was poor. Both Lon and Jessie noticed that she wore the same two dresses on every occasion. So Jessie, who swore that she had sewn the dresses for herself but they just didn’t fit her properly, managed to slip Reba the clothes in a back room or some other secluded place without Lon knowing about it. Reba took the dresses, reluctantly, after all she was a proud young lady. However, she sure was glad to get the clothes. Jessie promised that neither Lon nor Brent knew anything about it, making Reba feel much better about accepting the garments.

The little country church they attended was very small, it was filled to its capacity with a 100 worshipers. Mr. Chapman had the church built. He and his wife always sat on the second pew to the right. Lon sang in the choir, making sure that Mr. Chapman noticed him.

Brent seldom accompanied Jessie and Lon to church. He only attended on special occasions, like Easter and Christmas. He preferred to stay at home and tinker in his workshop. In the fall and winter months, he would go quail hunting with his dogs. Lon loved the sport, to boot and on Saturday afternoons, the two would take the dogs out together. Sometimes they’d bring in a haversack full of the birds and at times they wouldn’t. They still loved the sport, whether they killed anything or not, for they loved to see the dogs work.

On July 11, 1890, Lon found out that life can be changed or snuffed out in an instant. The Buffington’s had been in the bed for a couple of hours. All three of them were sound asleep when, all of a sudden, Lon was awakened by the sound of bricks from the chimney falling on the tin roof of the house. He tried to get out of bed to light the lamp but the whole house was shaking. Things started to turn over or fall in the house. The sound of the wind was horrendous. Lon heard the tremendous crash that came from the direction of his father and mother’s bedroom. Rain was pouring inside the house. Everything was pitch-black and Lon knew a tornado had hit the house.

Finally, the noise of the wind subsided and Lon called for his parents but there was no answer. Lon slipped on his dampened shoes beside his bed. Without tying them, he felt his way out of the house and to his father’s workshop, silently thanking the Lord that the workshop was still there. He knew where the covered lantern hung on the wall. Grabbing it, he found the big box of sulphur matches and lit it. The darkness of the night slowly sprang to life as Lon adjusted the wick and walked outside. Strangely, the rain ceased just as quickly as it had started. He could see stars in the sky back toward the east.

Lon made his way back to the house, which wasn’t but about 75 feet from the workshop. His heart sank as soon as he saw the condition of the house. No walls were left standing but two in his bedroom. Most of the roof was ripped off and carried away with the tornado. Directly over his mother and father’s bedroom, the heavy beams from the ceiling had fallen across their bed. Lon worked like a mad man removing bricks, dirt, barbed-wire, and just about everything imaginable until he could see their bodies. He never tried to move the heavy beams for fear of damaging them even more. He knew that his folks were dead. He spread a wet blanket over their bodies.

In shock, he paced towards Reverend Hick’s house, their nearest neighbor. He found Rev. Hicks on the porch of his house, holding an oil lamp. He was trying to get a good look to see if his house was damaged. Lon noticed the top of a big tree lying in the preacher’s yard.

Rev. Hicks had noticed a light in the darkness but didn’t know who it was until Lon spoke. He asked with a hollow, shaky voice, Hello, Reverend, is everyone alright?

Yessir, Son said Rev. Hicks. It was some mighty strong winds there for a while, though. Just look at the top of that big tree! Snapped off from heaven knows where and landed right here in my yard for me to clean up. What about y’all’s place? asked the preacher, while thinking, Son, what are you doing out at this time of night?

Chapter 2

Lon’s father had managed to save back a few dollars. Luckily for Lon, he’d also taken out cheap burial policies on all three of them with Chapman Insurance Company. The policies were worth $150.00 each. Two cheap caskets were bought from Mr. Chapman’s store and Mr. Chapman also sent some nice clothes from the store to see that the bodies were properly dressed. Since, the weather was hot and steamy, they had to be put in the ground as soon as possible. Therefore, Lon’s parents were buried the next day.

Rev. Hicks gave a long and heart-wrenching send-off at the funeral. Lon could tell that everyone wanted the preacher to hurry up and fi nish so they could retreat to the nearby shades of the big oak trees where it would be cooler.

After the double funeral, everyone stood around catching up on everyone else’s business. Once new marriages were made known, new babies were seen and other recent illnesses and deaths were discussed, the family gathered at Jessie’s parents’ house for a meal. There was more visiting and talking as they ate. It seemed everyone had a story, joke, or memory to tell about Brent or Jessie.

Reba sensed that Lon felt uneasy being around all the saddened people with their recollections of his parents. He was still in a daze from the casualties of the storm: his parents, his home, his whole way of life. So, she gathered a few edible things in a split-oak basket and they rode by carriage to a nearby creek. They ate there in silence, under the shade of some willow trees away from the clamor at his grandparents’ home.

The day after the funeral, Lon and Reba’s eight-year old brother, Levi, salvaged everything that could be used from the wreckage of the house, which wasn’t much. The small cast iron stove was still in good shape, along with Lon’s bed, some pots pans, dishes, and a few linens were about it. Lon’s parents lived very frugally so there wasn’t much to save. They moved it all into the workshop because Lon planned to just set-up housekeeping there.

His mother’s personal items: clothing, cheap jewelry, and a treadle sewing machine, he loaded up on a wagon and he and Levi took it to his grandparents’ house. He kept her worn bible and a small tintype picture of his parents. His father had been a simple man and hadn’t cared for any extras, so he had few possessions of his own. With the exception of his father’s shotgun and a few tools that happened to be in the house, Lon heaped all the unsalvageable items in a pile in the back yard and burned them.

Later that afternoon, he was just about ready to take Levi home when Mr. Chapman drove up in his carriage. He was dressed fit to kill, wearing an almost white suit, a wide, red neck tie, pinned with a diamond stick pin that glittered as he made his way toward Lon.

I’ll have some of the men to come out here and clean up all this mess. We’ll salvage what lumber that we can, he said, as he shook Lon’s hand.

I’d like to keep the good lumber so that I can build onto the workshop. You see, I intend to just move in there, Lon said. Then he added, If it’s suitable to you, Sir.

Sure, anything that you want, Son, and again, I’m so sorry about your parents. Brent was a good man and your mother was a good, righteous woman.

Thank you, Mr. Chapman, and thank you for handling everything for the funeral, I didn’t even know that we had a burial insurance.

Brent had me to take it out of his pay once a month. That’s one of the reasons I’m out here. I brought you the remainder of their policies. Also, I was curious if you’d be interested in your father’s job. Of course, I’ll up your pay and, heck, I won’t even charge you rent on this old workshop here, he said, as he handed Lon a thick envelope.

Yes sir, I’d be pleased to go back to work, and thank you about the free rent, Lon said, before Mr. Chapman could change his mind. You know, I’m on my own, Mr. Chapman, and I’ll have to look after myself from now on; so just how much of a raise are we talking about?

Well, I looked on the books before I came out here and saw that I was paying your daddy $2.00 a day and you fifty cents a day, which makes a grand total of $2.50 per day. So, I thought you being as young as you are, and everything, I’d offer you the job at $1.75 a day and we’ll see where it goes to from there.

I appreciate the offer, Mr. Chapman, but I have plans. Now, I’d be willing to take the job at $2.00 a day, plus a 50 cent raise yearly for three years with a helper, of course. You can pay him whatever you want. I just can’t see me doing the same thing that my father did for less money just because of my age, said Lon never taking his eyes off Mr. Chapman, looking him square in the eyes.

Lon knew he had him. He’d found out from some of his kin during the funeral that two of the saws had quit working down at the mill and no one knew a thing about them. They ran off steam and could be very dangerous so everyone was scared to fool with them.

"Damn, Son, you’re in the wrong position! I need you at the cotton gin to haggle the price of cotton with all these farmers, each

thinking their cotton is a better grade than anybody else’s."

Lon noticed the gold in the old man’s teeth catch a sparkle in the late afternoon sun as he grinned. He breathed a sigh of relief, figuring he had won the bargain.

I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Lon, I’ll go along with your proposal, providing you agree to stay with me at least three years, I mean, you did say that you had plans.

You’ve got a deal, Mr. Chapman, and I promise to do you a good job, said Lon as he held out his hand to the old gentleman to shake on their agreement.

Well, I know that it’s soon and everything, I mean your parents are not cold in the ground hardly, but do you think you could show up for work tomorrow morning? I’ve got the perfect helper for you at the cotton gin. I’ll send him around there to you in the morning. Name is Homer, and he’ll do anything that you tell him. He’s just too frail for that gin labor, but I know that he needs the work.

Yes sir. Homer. Alright, I’ll be waiting on him, Lon said, as Mr. Chapman untied his horse and heaved himself into the carriage.

I’ll tell you what else I’ll do. Tomorrow’s payday. I’m going to pay your fifty cents a day, even for the days you were off for the funeral. I’ll start the raise tomorrow, making you draw $4.00 for this week. After that, you’ll be getting you $10.00 a week, just like your pa. Mr. Chapman sort of chuckled to himself, and tipped his narrow brimmed hat to Lon. He drove away with his spirited gelding trotting a fast clip as he headed back toward the little settlement.

It was getting near dark when Mr. Chapman left and Lon had to get Levi home. He told Levi to just stay in the wagon while he ran into the workshop. Lon didn’t take time to open the envelope, he just stuck it in his secret place in the wooden box, locked the padlock on the door after he went out, and then joined Levi in the wagon.

Lon thought Levi was an odd child. He never spoke unless he was asked a question, but he would do anything that Lon asked him to do. Like Reba, the Native American features were very prominent in Levi. His black hair was worn down to his shoulders. One of his ears was pierced from which hung two bright pieces of brass, one in the shape of a quarter-moon and the other a star. He was bright, though. Lon had to admit that Levi could read much better than he did when he was eight years old.

The Native Americans weren’t allowed to attend the same school as the white children. The old school that they went to was an old, run down, blue building with just two rooms, grammar school and high school. The school was referred to as the Blue School, because of its color. Whatever the condition of the school, Reba and Levi, along with the other siblings, seemed very knowledgeable and kept themselves clean and held their heads high.

Secretly, Lon thanked his lucky stars that he looked like his father and not like his mother’s people. He saw the abuse and downgrading the Native Americans suffered at the hands of some of the white people. It just wasn’t fair. The only jobs that they could get to support their families were of menial, backbreaking labor that was on the lowest of the pay scale.

When he took Levi home, Reba’s parents insisted that Lon eat supper with them. He was starved, so he took them up on the offer. Besides, he got to eat by the side of his sweetie, the pretty Reba, who was steadily up and down from the table tending to the smaller children.

After the meal, Lon excused himself. I’m sorry I have to eat and run, but I have to go back to work in the morning.

They all understood. Reba’s father stood and shook Lon’s hand as he left the table, My condolences, again, Lon. If you need anything, let us know.

Lon nodded and headed for the door. Reba followed him out with the lantern. He briefly hugged and kissed her good night while they were standing on the front porch.

He whispered in her ear, Thank you, for what you did yesterday evening. I love you. Reba squeezed his hand and then held up the lantern for him until he crawled up into the wagon.

After unhitching the horse and feeding it and the dogs in the

pen, Lon went into his workshop and locked the door behind him. He reached up and grabbed his lantern and struck a match. Immediately, the small place came to life. Lon went straight to the envelope and opened it. They were all crisp $20.00 bills. Lon counted out $260.00. Along with the money was an itemized record for the funeral. Mr. Chapman also wrote a brief note that if Lon wanted tombstones for the graves that Mr. Campbell, who worked in his general store, made nice cement tombstones for $10.00 each. Lon made the intentions of going into town that very Saturday to make arrangements for the stones to be made.

Along with what Lon had