The Stigma of God

By Jack O. Horton

The story takes place in the rural North Carolina area in the early 1940s. It is the story of a six foot colored boy who has a skin pigmentation of a white boy and he also has a hair and facial features that most white boys have but he does not want to be labeled as a white boy. He enlists in the Marine Corps through a misunderstanding in his enlistment papers. His fellow recruits and his superiors all think that he is a white boy unbeknown to him. He serves in the second war for Guam and he is decorated for his bravery. He returns to the United States and is charged with training new recruits who, like himself, were allowed into the marines via a document signed in 1942.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543458084

Jack O. Horton

Jack O. Horton is a retired General Real Estate Appraiser. He had a stroke in 2016 that forced his retirement after 29 years. He is also a retired letter carrier after 32 years; a veteran of the Korean Conflict serving as a Sargeant-First-Class and a retired member of the US Merchant Marines serving as a sea going barge captain. He is married and has been for almost 67 years to his wonderful wife. They have four daughters and five granddaughters. They live in Elizabeth City, NC 27909.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

It was a sound of dogs. Dogs baying like they were on the scent of something. The baying was distant, afar off and it sounded like an echo. Still, the sound was distinct and unmistakable, dogs were barking like they had a scent or were looking for a scent.

Ezekiel Jones was an elderly colored man; more elderly because he looked elderly. Slight of build, he carried his 150 pounds well. He rose from his cot in the barren room and went to the lone window in the only wall in the room that had a window and he looked out to see if the dogs were any that he knew. He could not see the dogs but he knew their sounds. The lead dog had to be Bugle, the County Sheriff’s prized hound. His baying sound was so identifiable that most folks would know it was him. The sound of the baying finally died away and Ezekiel climbed into his cot and pulled the covers over his sparsely haired head. After all, those dogs were not his concern.

The Reverend James P. Jones, no kin to Ezekiel, beat his bony hands together in time to the Christian music and the singing of his very active congregation in the old wood sided church near Pittman’s Creek. The women in his congregation were into the music, clapping and swaying to the beat with many in the aisles moving and dancing as the music hit them. Reverend Jones’s thought, They really have the spirit. The song ended and the only sounds left were the rustling of the congregation getting back into their seats and getting ready to hear the Reverend Jones’s sermon. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you people must have Jesus in your hearts to sing like that. It does this old soul good to hear you, said the preacher in his most joyful voice. My scripture tonight is from the Book of Matthew. I will read the verses to you, you may follow along if you want. I am in the Book of Matthew, Chapter 2 and I will be reading through to verse 23.Verse one: Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the King. There came the sound of heavy footsteps on the front porch of the church, the old preacher continued trying to read his scripture, Behold, there came wise men from the East, he was interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door of the church so that the preacher could no longer be heard. The congregation was agitated and began stirring around, So, Reverend Jones knew that he had to go and see what was making such a noise and he said, Excuse me folks, but it looks like I better go see what all the ruckus is about if I am going to be able to finish this sermon.

He left his pulpit and went through the vestibule to the front door and stood there as he opened the front door to see a scowling hulk of a man staring down at him. Sheriff Topping stood six foot four inches tall and he weighed two hundred sixty pounds. He was an imposing figure to any who stood before him and Preacher Jones was only five foot eight inches tall and weighed one hundred forty pounds soaking wet. He was not an imposing figure to anyone. A huge, muscular hulk with dark hair creeping out from his Sheriff’s hat and hairy eyebrows that had never known trimming, the Sheriff towered over him with a menacing look enough to scare anyone. The men with him never dismounted but stayed on their horses with their rifles across their mounts. Who’s in thar? the Sheriff bellowed out at the preacher. He sounded louder than the church bell in the old steeple of the church. The sound seemed to make the wood porch boards shake. We only got the local women here tonight and we’re having our prayer meeting, replied the Preacher in a voice that could not compare to the Sheriff’s. The Sheriff did not reply but pushed the Preacher aside and went into the vestibule and looked into the sanctuary. The women looked anxiously at the Sheriff but no one said anything. You didn’t say anything to this Sheriff unless he talked to you first and the people knew this and so were very quiet. The Sheriff took a minute to survey the scene before him and then, turned to the preacher. His voice sounded even louder than the congregation’s singing as he told the preacher, if you see anyone you let me know, you hear! and just as abruptly, he turned and walked heavy footed off the church porch never noticing the blood stained footsteps on the wood floor. There was only the sound of his footsteps and the movement of his body as he mounted his horse, jerked the reins around turning the frightened horse’s head savagely to one side and he thundered away yelling to his men, Let’s get them dawgs and then we’ll get that still. All of the other men followed him.

The preacher closed the door and went back through the vestibule up the aisle to his pulpit. He’s gone, he said to reassure the crowd. The rustling of held-in-breaths and the stirring of relieved bodies told him that they knew the Sheriff had left. Unknown to the preacher, a figure was hiding in the church loft with a wound dripping blood down on the back of the preacher’s coat as he stood at the church’s door. He never noticed the drops of blood dripping from the loft that now began to hit the vestibule floor as the preacher returned to his pulpit. Jim Wilkins lay still on the wood floor of the loft. He knew that the Sheriff had gone but he did not realize that he was still bleeding from his gun wound and that he was also dripping blood down on the vestibule floor. He did not realize how lucky he had been. The Sheriff had completely missed seeing the loft.

Jim Wilkins had been tending to his still when he heard the Sheriff and his dogs approaching, so he dropped the firewood that he was carrying and ran back into the woods away from the still. Unfortunately for him, the Sheriff caught a glimpse of Jim as he ran and began firing his rifle at Jim and the others with him also started firing at him. Jim was hit but he kept on running. He only had one other clearing to cover then he could hit Pittman’s Creek and wade down it in order to throw the Sheriff and his dogs off. He struggled on, the dogs not far behind as they followed his scent right up to the creek’s edge. They milled around yelping and barking trying to find Jim’s scent again. The Sheriff finally told his men, he had to go either downstream or upstream so let’s go upstream and then double back if we don’t see him. We’ll bust that still up later, he said. Pittman Creek ran about two hundred yards from the still. It ran in the woods and into a clearing where the old church stood, then across the road toward the town and then past the town.

Breathing heavily, Jim reached the creek. It was cold and only about a foot deep when he entered but he knew that it was deeper farther down. He reached back to where the bullet entered and put his handkerchief on the hole. It seemed to stop the bleeding a bit. He still was bleeding too much. He knew that he couldn’t bleed much longer so he plodded on getting wetter as he went. The brackish, yellowed water behind him colored red with each step. The lights of the church shown just ahead of him and he thought if I just get there I’ll have a refuge. He struggled ashore at the church and he heard the voices singing; they sounded a bit spiritual to him as he crept around to the front porch. He hesitated to make sure that he had not been heard. Then he went across the porch making only a faint sloshing sound that could not be heard over the singing. He was leaving blood stained steps everywhere he went. He cautiously cracked open the front door and peered inside the vestibule with the congregation beyond. He saw the women singing and he saw the old preacher by his pulpit. It seemed that the preacher was looking at him and the cracked open door. Jim thought that he could not get to the loft with the preacher there so, he waited. Finally, the preacher bent down to retrieve something from his pulpit and Jim saw his chance and sprinted across the vestibule to the stairway and up into the loft he went. Once there, he began to breathe easier and he lay down on the loft floor to rest. While Jim rested, the bleeding began again and his blood now puddled on the wood floors seeking some sort of outlet. Finally, Jim fell asleep. The blood found the cracks in the wood floor and began to drip through. The drops fell on back of the preacher’s coat.

The old preacher reached his pulpit again and began to speak. He coughed a bit and asked his congregation, Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I was in Matthew, Chapter Two. He finished reading the scripture. His back had been saturated with Jim’s blood and he finally began to feel that something was wrong back there. He continued to talk but he reached to his back exploring the coat and when he brought his hand to the front where he could glance down and see it, he saw the red on it. He knew that he must have been shot or something as he had blood on his hand. He excused himself to his congregation and he removed his coat. He felt the wetness of the coat but he felt no pain. He could not explain the situation so, he kept his coat off placing it on the chair behind him and he went on with his reading. He read through Verse 23, stopped his reading and began his sermon. The preacher talked on for almost an hour when he noticed that some of the congregation was nodding so, he ended his sermon and announced the benediction hymn which would end the service. He still wondered how that blood got on his coat without him being hurt in some way. The congregation rose and began to sing and the exultation that he felt with their earlier singing returned and the joy that he had felt before in his heart returned also. It seemed as if the Lord had inspired them with their musical talents, they sounded so good to him. The congregation ended their singing, put on their sweaters and light coats and began to file out of the church. The old preacher followed them, cutting out the church lights as he went. He pulled out the keys from his pocket and he got ready to lock the front door. He reached the vestibule and noticed the blood on the floor. Now, he knew where the blood on his coat had come from, the loft area. He cut the church lights back on and he climbed the ladder up into the loft. He hadn’t gotten fully into the loft when he saw Jim Wilkins lying asleep on the loft floor. He also saw the blood that had leaked from his body as he lay there. The realization of what he saw and what he knew hit him all at once.

Jim Wilkins was well known in the area, well known for making whiskey. He was the person the sheriff had shot and was chasing. The old preacher also realized the predicament that his knowledge would bring on him. The church was to be a sanctuary from everyone yet, he had told the sheriff that he would report anyone that he saw around the church. What was he to do now? His mind stayed on that thought as he climbed down from the loft, crossed the vestibule, cut the church lights out then locked the front door and went over the front porch. He too, never noticed the blood stained footsteps on the porch. How he got the blood on his coat was now resolved but now the thought whether to tell the sheriff about Jim stayed with him. It was with him as he walked along the darkened dirt road back toward town and his house.

Jim Wilkins heard the preacher as he locked the front door and left the church. He waited a while before he got up and climbed the steps back to the vestibule. He saw where his blood had dripped on the floor but he declined any thought to clean it up. He removed the soaking handkerchief from his wound. It had stopped bleeding but Jim knew that it could start up at any time and he also knew that he needed a doctor. He made his way to the front door. It opened from the inside and as Jim opened it, he noticed that everything was dark so, he slipped out of the church, crossed the porch and went out into the night. He was going home but he knew to watch out for the sheriff because the sheriff would still be looking for him. He wondered if the Sheriff knew it was him and not someone else. There were several people that he knew that made moonshine.

The preacher still thought about his situation as he approached his house; could he, as a man of God, leave Jim Wilkins in the church loft? Should he tell the sheriff that Jim Wilkins was in the loft? What to do! The thought stayed with him as he reached his house and wearily climbed the stairs to his front door. His wife need not know what had happened that night at the church. He made up his mind to let God take over and whatever God told the preacher to do, and he would do. How did things go? were the first words that the preacher heard from Ruby, his wife, as he entered his house. A round-faced woman, a bit heavy all around, Ruby was in her night clothes and ready for bed but she had always stayed up for the preacher whenever he had prayer meetings and tonight was no exception. They talked a bit and the preacher told her about the congregation’s singing and that he felt that they were somehow inspired. He still felt joy in his heart when he thought about their singing. Jim Wilkins kept interrupting his thoughts. He could not get the man out of his thoughts. Jim Wilkins was still on the preacher’s mind while he changed his clothes and put on his night clothes preparing to get into his bed with Ruby. He knew that he had to make a decision but he hoped that God would help him as he prayed for guidance in the matter. He fell asleep knowing that any answer to his problem might still be there in the morning but he still hoped for a solution to his problem.

CHAPTER TWO

Ezekiel Jones woke with the sun starting to shine through the window. He looked at the clock on the wall, Six o’clock, already. I must have a clock in my brain, he muttered. He rose from his cot and ambled over to the other cot in the bedroom where he shook Etta, his wife, It’s time, he said in a half sleepy voice. While Etta struggled to wake, he slipped on his pants and shirt taking off his slept-in clothes. He headed for the bathroom to wash up some before eating his breakfast. Etta went to one side of the room and got out of her night clothes and pulled on an old cotton dress over her shapeless body. She was ready for the day. She went to the wood stove in the kitchen and cranked down the ashes and put in several pieces of newspaper and paper bags as well as several sticks of kindling wood. She lit a match by scratching it on the metal stove, then lit the paper wadded up under the kindling wood. As the fire roared to life, she closed the top of the stove and turned to the batter that she had made the night before and checked the heat on the iron griddle before cooking the pancakes which is what she planned to fix for her family’s breakfast.

Josiah heard his parents stirring in the other room but he hated to get up. The old cot was warm and he was so comfortable. He knew the air would be cooler when he got up but still he hesitated. Finally, with a bit of disgust at having to move, he got out of his cot and began to dress. The same pants and the same shirt that he wore the day before were still clean enough, he thought so, he got into them and put his socks on followed by a scuffed-up pair of shoes. He didn’t dress as well as some other kids in school but it did not bother him. Josiah was a bit different than most black boys. Although he was six feet tall and weighed 180 pounds, his coloring was a big difference as he could pass for being white if he desired. A white person of Spanish descent or a Filipino and his facial features were also different as he did not have the larger lips or nose as some blacks did. He seemed to be unaware of his differences because he always portrayed himself as black or colored as most whites said. His other features were evenly spaced and his hair was straight. He kept his hair styled because Janice, his sister, who wanted to be a hair stylist when she finished school, would style his hair as her practice and it kept Josiah looking well-groomed with his hair styled. Now, Janice, his sister, looked like most colored people did. She was a brown skinned girl with black hair worn almost straight down. She was about five feet, six inches and slender in form. Etta had heard many remarks about her children but she always came back with I have always been faithful to my husband She knew that she looked colored and she knew that it would be impossible to mistake Ezekiel for being colored as his skin was almost black. So, when she had answered her critics, she left it at that.

Their room was divided in two units. Josiah had one side and Janice had the other side. The room was separated by a large blanket that hung on a rope dividing the room. He went into the bathroom which had just been vacated by Ezekiel. He splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth which, by the way, were a thing of hygiene that his teacher, Miss Gooding, wanted him to do. Now he was ready for the day. He went to the stove where his mother was starting to cook the pancakes. Is there anything I can do? he offered. She looked up at him and said, Put out the plates and cups. Josiah turned and went to the cupboard to get the four plates and two cups as he did not drink coffee and neither did Janice. He placed them on the table and went back to his mother. Anything else, he asked? Knives and forks, she said without ever looking up at him. Josiah went to the cupboard to get the knives and forks. After doing that, he went back into his bedroom as he still had time before he would be eating and then to go to school.

Ezekiel came over to where his wife was cooking. He did not say anything, just stood there. She knew he was there as she felt him near her but she continued cooking. A sound from the other bedroom caused both of them to look that way. Janice was getting up. They both knew it would be a while before they would see her as it took her a long time to get ready. Breakfast time was not a family affair for them as everyone usually did their own thing. They did eat together. Etta, Ezekiel and Josiah gathered in chairs around the table as Janice was usually a bit late. Ezekiel said grace and Etta put pancakes on their plates. They all had butter and syrup on their pancakes and were just beginning to eat when Janice appeared in the room. After, a hasty morning to them, she sat down to her plate of pancakes. No one said anything, they just ate.

Ezekiel finally broke the silence when he pushed away from the table and announced, I got to go now. He had a job as janitor at the town hall thanks to the mayor who was the owner of Ezekiel’s house and the 25 acres of land that went with it. The town mayor was Ezekiel’s landlord and he was a very strict man. Sometimes, Ezekiel thought that just getting the house rent free was not enough to offset tending to the crops. Tilling the soil, planting the tobacco sprouts, hoeing them, cutting the leaves and tying them together for the Mayor seemed to be too much. But when he tacked on his job, he felt that maybe it was all right.

Ezekiel had a mule that he used for plowing and on occasion, when there was no plowing and the weather was bad, he would ride the mule to town about two miles away. He kept the mule tied up in the old shed back of the courthouse until it was time to go home. He kept him fed and watered there. Other times, he sort of enjoyed the walk, especially if the weather was good. Ezekiel would leave in time to walk the two miles to his job. Today he walked as he had enough time and the weather was okay for walking. At 06:45 a.m. Ezekiel started walking to town having to start work at 07:30 a.m. He knew that no one else would be there before him, so he did not hurry.

CHAPTER THREE

Back home Janice, having finished her breakfast, in a hurry as usual, went back into her bedroom to finish getting ready to go to school. Janice was a slender colored girl with a tan color. She had a normal figure for a girl of her age, seventeen and she was just about average in most everything else. She knew that she was limited in what she had to wear. She chose a dress she had not worn for several school days, put it on and then applied her make-up. She then put on her shoes, gathered her books and went out of the room to find Josiah waiting for her in the kitchen. They went out the door and started down the dirt road to town and the school. It was slightly less than two miles to the school and they usually walked it in thirty minutes or less. They were not in a hurry this morning so they did not walk fast. The sun was up and it looked like it would be a normal day.

The school building had been built for the white students in the County and it was not large enough to house both the whites as