Death Comes Calling: ... in a Small Town

By Alan E. Losure

Death Comes Calling... in a small town is the exciting final novel in the Gas City, Indiana series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949231083

Book preview

Indiana

Chapter 1

January 8, 1896- Marion, Indiana, Near Midnight

The cold, wet snow continued to fall as both men trudged silently onward toward tonight’s house of entertainment. Patsy’s was a small local establishment where men of color could drink their fill of home-made gin and freely mingle with soiled doves for any personal pleasure they can afford. From the outside, Patsy’s looked like any other run-down two-story house located in the housing development on the east-side of the railroad tracks. Often referred to as Johnstown by the Negro population living there, it was a constant reminder to all that the races of mankind remain segregated. The older folks accepted this unwritten law as the way it had always been, while the younger ones hoped that the day might come when their children would be free to live wherever they can afford to live. Too many though, felt that day might be a hundred years or even further away. Only time will tell if this wish would one day come to pass.

Both men, cold but determined, continued their onward trek. They were brothers, recently released from a three-year jail sentence for armed robbery. They now lived in a small run-down shack towards the rear-section of Johnstown. Just for fun and spite, the brothers threatened the poor old home owner with a severe beating if he didn’t allow them free use of the rental property. Terrified, the old man had no choice but to give in. It was not like the white police force would come to his aid in this matter. Law enforcement’s main concerns lay on the other side of the tracks and within their own segregated white neighborhoods. That’s just the way things are, anyway.

The brothers were not new to Marion, having been born here but then raised by their religious elderly Negro grandmother. Their mother was a soiled dove, who lived hand-to-mouth wherever she could, eventually dying a hard, cruel, death at a very early age when the boys were quite young. That was when their grandmother took both of her grandsons in and tried her very best to provide a loving home life with a solid faith-based structure. She had failed to save her daughter from the depths of sin and, try as she might, her efforts proved unsuccessful with her grandsons as well. Both boys, Tom and Jack Milford, would have nothing to do with the straight and narrow pathway of life. Each had learned very early on that they were different and that the only person each boy could fully rely upon was the other. Fighting became a daily occurrence for them, both on their way to school, and returning from it. Crime seemed their only solution and it came easy to them. Mercifully, many might say, their grandmother departed to her own Heavenly reward while they were away in jail. Many of her friends said that the kindly old woman no doubt died of a broken heart. Perhaps that was true and God simply spared her from what’s to come.

The brothers were actually twins, but not of the typical type of twins people normally associated of brothers. Each boy had different fathers and theirs was a very rare medical condition. What made these young boys stand out in a crowd as quite different was the fact that Tom Milford was white and his twin brother Jack was Negro. Soon they were known locally only by the nickname they learned to hate: Salt and Pepper. Each boy grew up with a large chip on his shoulder and a feeling that he would never get a fair opportunity in life. Together, they needed to make their own way, using their own rules, and fists, as they go. By the age of nine, they had already experienced run-ins with the local Marion police force. Stealing from those more fortunate than themselves became second-nature to both boys. Each also possessed a cruel streak and enjoyed tormenting small animals, or even classmates, for fun. Soon, they were feared within their own community by young and old alike.

From an early age, Tom Milford knew that Jack would get them into scrapes and it was normally up to him to get them out of trouble. When the brothers were just thirteen, for example, it was Jack that held-up that tramp one night who had wandered into Johnstown.

The old man really didn’t have much to offer them when Jack came up from behind him and placed a razor to the shaking man’s throat. After acquiring what little was in the tramp’s pockets, Jack, out of pure meanness, sliced open the mans jugular vein. The startled tramp quickly bled to death before Jack’s eyes. Instead of showing great remorse for his horrible action, Jack enjoyed the moment and the power he now possessed over life and death. It was Tom who came to his brother’s aid, blaming the crime on an innocent tramp who was actually blocks away during the murder. The man was arrested and taken away to pay for the terrible act that his brother had actually committed. This was the way of the Salt and Pepper Brothers.

Each quit school in the eighth grade to pursue his own way in life. The very thought of going to school, holding a job, or becoming a respected member of the community, seemed a ridiculous idea to both brothers. Working a steady low-paying job was for chumps, anyway. Taking whatever they wanted and enjoying life, was their day-to-day plan. Live for today and let the ‘morrow take care of itself. For several years, their luck held out until finally, it failed them as they were captured and jailed in Wabash, Indiana for robbing a dry goods store with a small stolen handgun. Now, at last free, they have returned home to Marion and were anxious to make up for lost time and a little pay-back.

Arriving at the establishment’s front door, they entered bold-as-brass as if they owned the joint. Three working girls were drinking gin with their customers as every eye in the room gazed upon the newcomers. The brothers were now well known, and feared, at Patsy’s, having enjoyed its pleasurable activities several nights before. Everyone also knew to watch what they said at this point as each brother was without fear, and quick to take offense. Each carried his own razor, and was not afraid to use it.

Welcome back, came an unconvincing voice from the back of the room. It was the lady who called herself Patsy, the owner and madam who looked out the best she could for her working girls. Kick the snow off your boots, boys, and come set next to the stove and warm up, she told them. Tiny, take their coats and bring our guests something to drink. The man known as Tiny served drinks to Patsy’s customers and broke up fights when needed. His nick-name Tiny was more of a joke, as the man was anything but small and quite capable of handling himself in a fight. Occasionally, his services were required when men got too rowdy or began fighting over the same girl. Patsy has a total of six soiled doves working for her with four on duty during the evenings while two had their evening off.

Where is Veronica? Jack Milford asked. Tell her I’m here and I ain’t gonna wait, he stated to Patsy, in a voice forceful enough to be taken as a demand.

She’s with another client right now, Patsy said, But I’m sure one of the other girls would be happy to oblige you, Sir.

Without any further comment, Jack Milford pushed Patsy to the side and began climbing the stairs to the second floor. You can’t go up there now! she shouted as Jack’s brother Tom stepped between the stairs and the owner, brandishing his own razor. That certainly got everyone’s attention, including Tiny who came to an abrupt halt behind Patsy.

You just stay where you are and nobody’s gonna get sliced open, Tom instructed. The other customers who were drinking with the girls downstairs quickly decided they had urgent business elsewhere, grabbed their coats, and fled. The frightened girls then huddled together and remained very quiet with their eyes wide with fear.

Jack Milford reached the top of the stairs and kicked open Veronica’s bedroom door. Hey dude! came a loud shout from the bed. I paid fer dis time. Gets out or I’ll toss ya out of the window! Jack Milford reached into the bed and pulled the startled naked man up by the throat. He then smoothly flicked-open his razor and sliced open the man’s exposed stomach. Blood began gushing forth as the startled man realized he was severely injured. Veronica began screaming as the bleeding man made a grabbing gesture for his injured stomach. Jack Milford remained holding him by the neck and with a violent motion, shoved the man through the upstairs glass window. Glass shattered as the unfortunate injured man tumbled helplessly out the window, striking a snow drift and remained deeply embedded in it as a large pool of blood soaked into the snow.

Turning to the terrified woman, Jack said, Next time I come here, you cum ah runnin’. Hear me woman? The terrified girl jerked the sheets up over her head as she continued to scream. Hearing the screams and sounds of broken glass, Tiny made an attempt to advance up the stairway but suddenly felt a terrific pain as Tom’s razor slice his left arm wide open. Screaming, Tiny backed away quickly and grabbed a near-by towel to cover the severely bleeding wound. I’ll kill you fer that! Tiny shouted at his assailant.

Tom Milford shouted upstairs to his brother, Let’s get out ah here! Jack bolted downstairs as Tom tossed his brother’s coat to him. Say anythin’ ta da police bout us and we is gonna cum back and kill ya all! Understand?" Tom warned. With that, both brothers raced out the doorway and into the darkness of the night.

Night duty police officer Kyle Holloway really liked his job. Kyle was the first Negro police officer to be hired on the Marion Police Department and he felt he owed it all to his friend; Gas City Marshal, Justin Blake. It was Blake’s positive recommendations that had helped pave the way for a minority to finally hold a full-time police officer position. Kyle was hired to police the Johnstown district and over-all, he felt like he had been accepted within the local Negro community as well. At first, many questioned why he would accept such a job as a few people of color felt no kinship with the white police. Still, most offered him good-will wishes and prayed that he would succeed. His success might even open the doors for others to follow in his footsteps one day.

Unfortunately, Kyle felt he lacked total acceptance from some of his own brother officers who scoffed openly at the idea that a Negro man should hold policing powers. It was their pressure on the chief of police that delayed them issuing him a service revolver. In fact, he was the only full-time officer without one. Kyle knew full-well that he was being watched and evaluated closely from both sides of the fence. That responsibility rested heavily upon his shoulders, but Kyle was not the type of man to buckle under pressure. Born and raised in Marion, he had worked as a young man in his father’s barbershop as a boot black. Determined to make something of himself, Kyle had left home a year ago and moved to Gas City. There, he found a factory job as a floor sweeper and late at night worked at George Townsend’s Saloon on Main Street as a swamper. It was the kindly Townsend who provided him a place to live outside of town where he had eventually found himself a target of the evil 13th Disciple and his band of killers. Kyle was of great assistance in helping the Gas City’s marshal’s office round-up the men and finally bring the killing spree to a final conclusion. It was also this action that brought him to the attention of the Marion police department, and he was then offered this job.

Kyle worked with two other white police officers patrolling Johnstown at night. They rotated their shift so that two remained on duty, allowing one a night off. Hesitant at first to put much faith in this unproven Negro, both eventually realized Kyle’s honest, even-handed approach to solving problems and grew to respect and like the man. In fact, both men encouraged their chief to issue Officer Holloway with his service revolver as soon as possible. Perhaps it would happen one day, but until then, Kyle relied upon his nightstick when trouble reached a point beyond common reasoning.

Tonight, Kyle was patrolling Johnstown with his fellow officer, Giles Cory, when each heard the terrified screaming of women a few blocks away. Arriving at the location outside of Patsy’s, a group of women were attempting to treat the bloody arm of the man called Tiny. Turning to the police officers, the injured man said, The Salt and Pepper Brothers were here again and done this to me. They also pushed a man through the second-story window and I think he might be dead. Officer Cory immediately proceeded to check on the status of the man in the snow drift. Soon, a local doctor arrived to treat the injured Tiny’s arm having pronounced the other man dead and seeing to it that the body was removed. Kyle was determined to catch the thugs as he searched for their tracks leading away in the snow. Using a lantern provided to him by one of the women, Kyle was able to follow their tracks in the snow which lead to an old run-down house. Approaching cautiously, he found the house empty. Looks like dey left in quite a hurry, Kyle thought. Out back, two sets of fresh horse tracks proved him right. Being on foot, Kyle knew he would have to wait to follow the tracks when he got off duty in the morning. Tomorrow was his scheduled day off but Kyle Holloway would not be spending Sunday dinner with his parents as he had planned, but on a city-owned horse following the tracks of the killers.

Early the next morning, Kyle checked-out a horse from the police yard and packed himself a small bundle of personal belongings. He knew that his department considered crime on people of color a low priority and it was up to him to pursue any leads that might result in the arrest of these men. His department received a bulletin recently that the brothers had been released from jail and word-on-the-street said that they had returned to Marion. The nickname of Salt and Pepper Brothers was a well-known joke within the police department. Their uniqueness should make them easier to track down. Kyle pushed onward in his search and finally reached the conclusion that the tracks were heading in the general direction of Gas City. Soon, the tracks were mixed with others and the trail went cold. Kyle Holloway continued on his journey, knowing exactly what he had to do.

Chapter 2

A Visitor Comes Calling

Gas City Marshal Justin Blake stood looking out of his home’s large living-room window. It looks to me like we got about six more inches of snow last night, he replied to his wife’s weather inquiry. Virginia Blake was still dressed in her morning house coat as she began preparing their Sunday morning breakfast. Justin reached over to the coat rack and put on his heavy coat and gloves. I’ll shovel a path to the barn for us. Be right back, honey. Stepping outside into the cold January morning air, Justin began clearing his way to the small rear barn as he opened its large wooden door. Inside, his horse Spunky gave a snort in recognition of his master as he waited for his morning feeding of hay. After eating it’s breakfast, Spunky will be harnessed to the Blake’s small carriage for their weekly trip to Sunday morning church services at the Reverend Stokes’s church. It didn’t take long before Justin finished his tasks and headed back inside. We’ll need to bundle you up in blankets this morning, Virginia. The air’s pretty bitter, he told his wife as he stomped the excess snow off of his boots.

Go get washed up, she told him. I’m turning the eggs over now. Justin could smell the slab of ham cooking as soon as he entered their home and his stomach growled with the anticipation of the pending food. He walked over to the sink’s hand pump and began washing up. Justin then set the table with eating utensils and poured two cups of coffee, just as Virginia brought over two plates of food. After saying grace, he dug into his breakfast with gleam. Tastes great, honey. I’m lucky I married a good cook, he happily told her. In reality, Justin felt he was the luckiest man alive to be married to the former Miss Virginia Cole. Just three years ago, he had arrived in town with little prospects in life but a strong willingness to work hard. Ex-Marshal Brewster saw something very positive in him and offered him a deputy marshal position. Police work proved interesting and rewarding to Justin Blake…until Brewster was killed while saving Justin’s life. Tempted to quit and walk away, he was talked out of it by his friend, the Reverend Clarence Stokes. Time tends to heals most wounds and eventually Justin began to recover from the loss and eventually, promoted to Gas City’s marshal. Tragedy again returned last fall, as his friend Deputy Zeke Miller was killed in the line of duty while battling a crazed strangler who was terrorizing the town. Justin continues to privately grieve for both of his departed friends. Meeting and falling in love with Virginia had finally made his life experience true meaning and he had been blessed the day that they met. She continued to that day to work as a loan officer at the First National Bank in town. Many husbands might not approve of their wife working a job, but Justin knew that her work was important to her and fully approved of her interesting and rewarding occupation.

As soon as breakfast was over, Virginia set about dressing for church as Justin returned to the barn carrying a pan of water from the kitchen for Spunky. It was then that Justin heard the approach of a lone rider. Looking outside, he was surprised and very happy to see who the individual was. It was his friend Kyle Holloway. Kyle! It’s great to see you. What are you doing in these parts on a Sunday morning?

Remaining on his horse, Kyle replied, I have a day off and I’m following a couple of criminals dat may have come dis here direction. I’m on my way now ta visit with Mr. Townsend fer a spell but I wanted ta drop buy and say hello ta ya.

Townsend was the saloon keeper who had also befriended Kyle and had given him a place to live and work when he lived in Gas City. I’m sorry I cannot invite you in now as Virginia is still dressing for church. Why don’t you come back later and have Sunday dinner with us? We would love to have you and I want to hear all about your job in the Marion Police Department. We’ll get home about noon, so drop by anytime.

There was a slight hesitation in his demeanor before Kyle replied. If you think it’s all right with da misses and all. Thanks Justin. I’m lookin’ forward to it. Well, I best be ah gettin’ on my way an all. See ya at noon. Kyle guided his horse away and soon was out of sight. Justin completed harnessing Spunky and proceeded inside to fetch Virginia. Retrieving a heavy wool blanket, Justin assisted his lovely wife into the carriage and covered her legs as they proceeded towards church.

I see that you had a Negro visitor, Virginia spoke. He was in a police uniform too. Trouble?

No, not at all. That was Kyle Holloway. You met him once last year, don’t you remember? I recommended him for the job as a Marion police officer. He’s in town on official business so I invited him to have lunch with us today. I hope that’s all right with you? Virginia said nothing and they continued their journey onward in total silence, with the only noise coming from the hoofs of the horse’s treads in the deep snow.

Young Brad Lockridge was never sorry that he had applied for the position of part-time deputy marshal since the city council had authorized the hiring of another full-time and part-time deputy position last fall. Marshal Blake had requested two full-time positions but had reluctantly accepted the council’s ever cost-minded decision. With the death of Zeke Miller, Justin found himself needing desperately to find a replacement, knowing full-well that Zeke could never actually be replaced. Needless to say, there wasn’t a huge rush of men to apply for the job and he was forced to move his friend, Wilbert Vance, over from day shift to nights in order to assist fellow deputy, Michael Davidson. Justin really hated to do that, knowing that Wilbert’s wife, Rachael, was due to have her baby this coming April. That left Justin all by himself to work the day shift. The biggest problem he had was covering for the day shift on weekends. He and Virginia were also getting quite tired of him having to work seven-day shifts in order to make everything work. Someone had to be on duty to escort most of the Friday and Saturday night arrests over for trial and fines on Saturday and Sunday mornings, as well as being on duty to contact him should an emergency arise. ‘Squire Hugh Williamson worked out an agreement with Mayor Davis Huffman so that each of them would take turns filling-in every other weekend morning to judge drunks and other petty disturbances. That way, the city would not incur the costs of feeding prisoners and holding them over the weekend. On the rare occasion that a serious criminal was arrested, other arrangements were made to hold him over in jail for trial by ‘Squire Williamson the following week. That’s when young Brad Lockridge stepped forward and made a request to be considered for the Saturday and Sunday part-time deputy marshal.

It was only two years ago that sixteen year old Brad began running around with the wrong crowd of older boys. It was only through the efforts of his loving mother, the Reverend Stokes, Justin, and ‘Squire Williamson that the youth was shown the error of his way and given a second chance to make something of himself. From that day forward, Brad Lockridge studied hard in school and stayed out of trouble. Privately, he became aware of a growing desire to one day becoming a law enforcement officer. Now eighteen, Brad had read of the vacant part-time position in the Gas City Journal newspaper and applied in person that very day. Justin was a little reluctant to hire Brad due to his youthful age but finally agreed to do so after discussing it with the other deputies. Lets give the boy a chance, they all thought. So far, everything had worked out just fine.

It also became standard operating procedure for the off-going deputies to forcefully instruct any prisoner that they had better cooperate fully with Deputy Marshal Lockridge’s instructions or else they will face their own angry wrath. The average arrested men were mostly those who drank a little too much, got into bar fights, and knew the routine having been in jail before. Brad would escort them over to be judged as they paid their fines, and then they were released to go home. Several had also implied they were more afraid of facing their wives’ wrath, than any legal judge. Now, Brad reported for duty every weekend morning and represented the office, made patrols, and took down citizen’s complaints until the evening shift deputies came on duty. Should any emergency arrise, Justin would be contacted. So far, it’d worked out just fine.

A very tired Wilbert Vance entered his home and kissed his sleepy wife good morning. Their schedules were opposites now, as he was going to bed after eating a light breakfast. Since Rachael Vance was pregnant, she’d experienced nausea to many typical cooking odors, especially frying bacon. As a result, Wilbert cooked his own eggs and left out the bacon. She was the niece of the late deputy Zeke Miller and until recently, employed at the emporium store. Rachael poured herself half a cup of coffee and sat down. So how was your night? she asked him. Only two arrests but we did break up a fight down at Red Beards Saloon. I sure wish Justin could find another replacement for Deputy Lang soon. Joseph Lang had been hired to fill the vacant position last year by the death of Zeke Miller. Lang was friendly at first but apparently had become unhappy with the job and quit in early December. With the new full-time position unfilled and Lang’s empty slot, it made the deputies very short handed. At least Justin allows Michael and I to have an occasional night off but it leaves the other deputy working alone, which isn’t good or safe. How are you feeling today, sweetheart?

I’m doing just fine. After you eat, I think I’ll go back to bed with you anyway. Soon the parents-to-be drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Over at the Davidson’s home, Doris Davidson was busy at work making breakfast when her husband entered. Good morning honey. Have a quiet night? she asked him.

Not too bad. Pretty much the same as usual, I guess. That sure smells good and I’m starved. Serving him, Doris sat down at the table. Wilbert ever say how Rachael is doing?

Between mouthfuls, Michael replied. I guess cooking smells are making her sick, especially bacon. Wilbert says he really missed bacon, saying it with a smile as he shoved a full strip of bacon into his own mouth. The Davidson’s had been married eight years now and had been unable to have a child. While seldom discussed, each felt that God had a reason for denying them children and they had finally grown to accept it.

I need to drop over one evening and check on her, Doris said. I do miss our checkers tournaments while you boys work nights. Maybe we can start them up again as soon as the weather breaks if Rachael is up to it. Anyway, go get some sleep and I’ll clean up everything here. Michael kissed his wife and within minutes, he was sound asleep.

The Reverend Clarence Stokes always made it his policy to stand at the open doorway and welcome each and every attendee into his church. Seeing familiar faces approaching, he welcomed them, Good morning Virginia and Justin, as he shook hands with the arrivals. Going inside, the couple took a seat and waited for services to begin. Justin made friendly eye contact with many of his friends before returning to the same unanswered question. Come on Virginia. Please tell me what’s wrong? Instead of an answer, he continued to receive the silent treatment for the remainder of the service and their ride home.

Shortly after noon, Kyle arrived at their home and Justin welcomed him into the living room as Virginia continued preparing dinner. You’re looking very well, Kyle, he told his friend as he offered a seat. I bet George Townsend was surprised to see you today.

Yes, Mr. Townsend made a big fuss about me an all. I hope I ain’t bein’ ah bother in commin’ over here today, Kyle softly spoke.

No, not at all. We’re very glad to have you. I see you are in uniform and you mentioned this morning that you’re here in town on official business, Justin remarked.

Yes, I’m trackin’ a couple of twin brothers who killed a man and cut up another with ah razor. Ever hear of the Milford Brothers? No? Well, deys better known in Marion as da Salt and Pepper Gang, beins’ dat one brother is a white man and da other bein’ colored. Same momma but different pappies. I trailed their horses a cumin’ towards Gas City before their trails got mixed up with others.

No, can’t say that I’ve heard of them, Justin replied. They shouldn’t be hard to spot, though.

They’s a bad bunch, Justin, and I wanted ya to know first hand and ta be very careful if ya boys run up again em an all. Real quick ta kill a man over nuttin’.

Justin thanked his friend for the information just as Virginia entered the living room to announce that lunch was ready. She’d made a large pot of chili that morning that simmered on the wood stove while they were away attending church. On a cold day like today, it sure smelled good and should hit the spot quite nice. Justin asked his friend to have a seat and Virginia dipped three large bowls of the soup. After grace was said, Justin encouraged his friend to dig in. Taking a bite, Kyle replied, Dis sure is good chili, Mrs. Blake, only to receive no reply from her. Everyone continued to eat in silence as there seemed a definite chill now beginning to fill the air. Justin was greatly disappointed in his wife’s behavior toward his friend and felt they were most likely going to have an argument about her coolness later today.

Finally, Virginia sat her spoon down, looked up, and began to speak. Mr. Holloway. I have something I need to say to you. My husband has already heard this story before but I feel I need to say it and get it off my chest today. Justin quit eating and looked sternly at his wife, wishing she wouldn’t continue.

Virginia, please don’t go there…

She then continued, When I was a ten year old girl, I had a best friend named Betty Lawrence. She and I liked to play imaginary games together out in the near-by woods as small children often do. One day during the summer, I was sick with a sore throat and mother kept me inside, so my friend ventured out alone to play. She didn’t return home that evening so a group of very concerned men, including my father and hers, formed a search party and went looking for her. Later they found her dead lying on the ground. She had been…molested. Heartbroken and in a furry of rage, one of the men in the group noticed smoke coming from a camp fire about a half-mile away and determined it must be the camp-site of the killer. Approaching, they found an older Negro man cooking his supper. He was quickly taken into their custody. The man pleaded to know why he was being accosted as every man in the party struck him with all their angry might. Once accused of the killing and…the unspeakable act…the old Negro pleaded his innocence. A rope was then produced, a noose was formed, and the rope was soon flung over a large near-by tree branch. He was then lynched. All this is known by my husband and as a result…I have always been uncomfortable in the presence of any Negro man.

The startled look upon Kyle Holloway’s face clearly showed he wished he was now having dinner at his parent’s home in Marion and not here. Justin’s face flushed red with anger that his wife would bring up such a terrible thing now to his friend. After the briefest of a pause, Virginia continued to speak. What my husband doesn’t know…and what I have never shared before, is this. Father said that before the man was lynched, he begged that his hands be untied so he could speak with God in open prayer. This was allowed and as the man keeled on the ground, the men surrounded him and watched with anxious anticipation. It was then that the old Negro began to pray out loud. He said that God himself knew of his complete innocence in this horrific crime. He then prayed that the Lord would forgive those men bent upon killing him and asked that they’d be forgiven one day for the terrible thing they were determined to accomplish. I have no fear, he told the men, I’ll be with my Savior in Heaven this very day." My friend’s father, personally placed the rope around the man’s neck and together as a group, the rope then was pulled tightly and tied off onto the tree. Within a short time, the man had stopped struggling and the body swung silently back and forth. She paused only for a brief moment.

Father then said that the men just stood there quietly watching the dead man’s body swinging back and forth and the reality of what each of them had done began to settle in. Then one of the men said, I’m having serious doubts this man was guilty after all." Then another replied that they should have turned him over to the law for a proper trial instead.

If only someone had shown any doubt, another stated, he too would have voted to hand him over for trial. Father told mother the second-half of this story the following morning and he didn’t know that I was listening in another room. He cried as he told it and I know he felt terrible guilt to the day that he died for what he and the others did to that old man. Later that summer, a local white boy was arrested for attempting the same thing with a thirteen year old girl. Clearly, he was the real killer and the old Negro was innocent."

Virginia stopped speaking and looked Kyle Holloway directly into his eyes. Tears were streaming down the man’s cheeks. Today in church, the Reverend’s message was on the power of forgiveness and it was only then that I felt that his message was directed towards me. Through the years, I have developed a hateful and harmful grudge against all members of your race, and it was this hate that was hurting me most of all. I felt I needed to share the entire story with you and I hope…no, I pray…that you will forgive me and one day look upon me also as a friend.

A subdued Kyle Holloway then replied, Ain’t nuttin’ you got to be forgiven about as far as I’m concerned, Mrs. Blake. Fear and hatred in a young girl is a powerful thing. I too have witnessed ah lynchin’ when I was ah young boy. It t’was a terrible thing to see an one dat I ain’t never gonna ferget. Dat’s one reason I was glad ta take da job as ah policeman. Da law must apply evenly ta everyone or we ain’t got no law at all. As fer bein’ ah friend, I am might proud to thinks of you and Justin as my good friends.

Much relieved, Justin reached out and squeezed his wife’s hand lightly to show how proud he was of her. The power of forgiveness is a truly wonderful thing. At the end of the day, everyone was honestly sad to see Kyle Holloway leave and ride back towards Marion.

Chapter 3

Evil Stalks The Land

Just before day-light on a Monday morning, the Salt and Pepper Gang arrived outside of a small darkened farmhouse located a mile north of Gas City. Their meager food supply had ran out yesterday and both men were hungry after having spent all day Sunday in an abandoned cold barn. Looks pretty quiet. Let’s move in and wake-um up, Jack Milford said to his brother. Riding up quietly, one brother opened the barn door and escorted the horses inside while the other watched the house for any sign of movement. Though armed, both brothers preferred not to have to shoot anyone as the noise was sure to travel and may raise concerns. Soon, both brothers were hiding behind the outside well when the door to the outhouse opened and a man began walking back towards the farmhouse. Reach for it Mister, was the command that completely startled farmer Ben Johnston. He was quietly taken prisoner and marched back towards the doorway. Who else is in there? the other brother demanded to know.

Only my wife Cindy, came the reply. Please don’t hurt her. What is it you men want of us anyway? the farmer asked.

Breakfast, for starters, came the reply, as the group entered the farmhouse. Shoved inside and into a wooden chair at the kitchen table, Ben Johnston was told to be quiet and maybe he wouldn’t get hurt. Upstairs, his wife was hearing the ruckus and after covering herself with an old house-coat, she came down stairs to see that two armed men had invaded their home.

You! came a shout from Jack Milford towards the woman, Come down here and make us a big breakfast or I’ll shoot your husband dead right where he sits. With that statement, both men began laughing. Brother Tom then added, Yea, and we want biscuits and gravy, bacon and eggs with lots of hot coffee too.

It’s gonna take a spell to get the stove fired-up and then whip-up a batch of bisques, she told the armed men. Making eye contact with her husband, Cindy felt that he agreed she had no other choice under the circumstance but to comply with their demands. Maybe the men would leave after they eat anyway. The mantle clock struck six a.m. as each of the Johnston’s thought the same thing: Their son Timmy would be returning home in one hour.

Eight year old Timmy Johnston had chosen to spent the night with his friend Billy over at the Adam’s farm, only a half-mile away. The boys liked to take turns doing so and Ben saw no harm in it as long as the lad returned early enough to attend his choirs and then get to school on time. He was told to be home by seven a.m. and both parents were now worried he would walk in and startle the desperate men. Neither wished their son to be exposed to a frightful scene such as this or harmed in any way. Ben searched his mind and finally felt he came up with a plan of sorts, if the men will only agree to allow him to follow through with it. But for now, he must sit quietly and stall for time.

We’re cold, build-up that fireplace, Jack demanded. Make it a roaring fire! Ben advanced towards the still glowing overnight ashes and added a few pieces of split wood from the wood box. Soon he had a good fire blazing away. Ben then returned to his seat and looked again at the hands on the mantle clock. Time continued to tick by slowly as he watched his wife struggle to whip-up the large breakfast that the strange intruders demanded. He would wait until near seven before he asked to go to the barn and hopefully, warn off the returning Timmy and to get him to summon help.

The two hardened men made themselves comfortable and began searching around for anything of value to steal. Where ya keep your gold at, mister farmer? was asked of him time-after-time, but Ben’s reply was always the same. We’re poor dirt farmers barely getting by. We have no gold. Clearly, neither man was satisfied with that answer but at that time, breakfast seemed more important to them. Soon the bisques were in the oven and their aroma seemed to pacify both men at this point. Glancing back at the mantle clock, Ben felt that it was near time to make his play.

I need to go out to my barn and start milking old Bessie. I’m way past due and I can hear her bellowing from here. This was actually a true statement but in Ben’s mind, the cow must wait until Timmy was warned-off.

Cindy began serving both men their large breakfast and each being the human pigs they were, they shoved huge bite-full’s into their awaiting mouths. Having received no answer to his request, Ben asked again. This time, he received his answer. No! It was then that one of the brothers casually mentioned that their horses did need feeding and watering as they wouldn’t be sticking around too long after breakfast was over. Tom stopped eating long enough to look harshly at Ben. Forget your stupid cow, he told him, I’ll give you ten minutes to feed and water our horses. Any longer and I’ll start havin’ a little fun with your wife. That statement made the other brother laugh and put a chill down Ben’s back. Go!

Ben raced to the barn and upon entering, closed the barn doors. Both of the men’s horses were mulling around, still saddled and his cow was bellowing up a storm. Going to the rear of the barn, he opened the seldom-used entry door and began searching the road for his son who should be on his way home. Time continued to tick by as he worried please don’t be late today, Timmy. Taking a few moments, Ben saddled Timmy’s small pony and waited as time quickly ticked away.

Young Timmy Johnston had a great time sleeping over at his friend’s farm house and hated to leave. Pa expects me home on time so I better walk a little faster he thought. The snow was deep for a young lad of eight but he was determined to arrive home on time and to remain out of trouble. Looking towards home, Tommy thought he saw someone waving at the rear door of the barn. Must be seeing things he thought. Nobody ever uses that rear door in the barn. But the closer he got, the more positive he was that it was his pa waving at him. Timmy waved back. The figure was frantically waving to come on, so Timmy began running. Then he noticed his pa was making a sweeping motion with his arm. He wants me to cut through the field and come to him out back. The lad did so and approached his excited father but before he could speak, he was dragged inside and taken to his saddled pony. Timmy, listen carefully. There are two bad men inside our house holding us prisoner. One of them is a Negro. I need you to mount up, go through this narrow doorway, and ride as fast as you can into town and tell the marshal we need help. Go through the field like you arrived so you won’t be seen. He lifted his son up onto the animal and squeezed the pony through the tight opening. Know that we love you son and we are counting on you. Now go! Timmy was off and on his way, hoping and praying that his parents would be safe until he could manage to locate the marshal and return.

Stepping back through the front barn door, Ben ran to the farmhouse and entered just as the mantle chimed for seven a.m. About time you got back, mister farmer. Bother men were finished with their breakfast and seemed somewhat anxious. A quick look into the terrified eyes of his wife told him the story. Something bad was being planned for them.

Last fall, the city council, in its wisdom, finally came to the conclusion that the marshals’ office and jail should be removed from the fire barn and constructed in another location. Justin was quite thrilled as he has long been an advocate of this very idea. He desired the new wooden structure to be built on Main Street in the heart of the town. Unfortunately, the city council saw it a bit different. Land was much cheaper down by the railroad depot and it was thought that a jailhouse should be down nearer the low end saloons where many of the jail’s clientele came from. Main Street property needed to be reserved for building stores and other places of business, the council stressed. Justin finally decided not fight it and agreed with their plan. He had pushed the idea to scrap the single old jail cell used for many years and to install a new double-cell with a heavier locking system in the new building. In addition, a larger office area should be built for desks and files. Naturally, the firemen were thrilled to get the old marshal’s areas for themselves. The old jail cell bars in the fire barn were to be cut out at floor level to prevent a trip hazard. For many years to come, the remains of the cell bars were clearly seen in the wooden floor planking.

Tom and Jack Milford were soon to be rich men by their standards. Please, the farm wife begged, Don’t hit my husband anymore. I’ll tell…I’ll tell, she screamed. There’s a loose floor board under the table and a cash box is hidden under it. Please tell me my husband is alright!

Knowing that her husband was already dead, Jack lied, He’ll be alright now that you’ve told us about the money. Shoving the table back, the loose board was located and the cash box retrieved. Opening the lid, they dumped its contents upon the table and began counting. $128.50! Jack said in triumph. What about jewelry? Assured that this was all the family possessed, it was now time to have a little more fun. Shoving the chair with Mrs. Johnston now securely tied up to the front of the fireplace, Jack forced the bottom legs of the chair with her legs and bare feet into the flames and held her there. Her screams’ of total anguish only excited him more as she fought with all her might to overcome the horrendous pain. Soon…and not nearly long enough to suit him…she