Seeds of Light
a novel
by Ira Hughes
Copyright (c) 1992
All rights reserved
Graphic Content
Copyright © 2000
Elegant Solutions Software Company
Huntsville, Al. 35803
http://esspc-ebooks.com
All rights reserved

Chapter 1

     The world that young Wade Holliday knew and loved ended on a bright autumn day in the early 1960s. However, I'll begin his story one day before so you can see something of that world.
     Wade was in his senior year at the University where he was studying pre-law. Just that very morning, he had received the call from his daddy telling him that he must come home for the weekend, for the "Big Rally". His daddy said that the Imperial Wizard was to be at the rally and that anyone who was a true Klansman would be there.
     Wade skipped a ball game he was to have played that afternoon and was soon in his shiny red Thunderbird speeding over the black ribbon roads of Alabama. He reached his home in Groversville, Tennessee just about sundown.
     Groversville is a proud old town located just inside the border from Alabama. Beautiful old homes sit in well-manicured lawns, back away from tree-lined streets. The tall brick courthouse is the center of the small town and most of the business section is in a four-block area surrounding it. Wade's daddy, Big Bob Holliday, has a law office on the east corner of the square, next to the Citizens' State Bank. The newspaper, The Groversville Weekly, is next to the hardware store. A jewelry store, a flower shop, Ted's Barber Shop, Homer's Fix-it Shop, a couple of restaurants, several clothing stores, Gibson's Five and Dime, the post office, Brown's Hotel, an office building, Taylor's Meat Market, two grocery stores, along with Jake's Bar and Grill make up the four main blocks of the small southern town. There are two service stations in the town: A Mobil if one enters from the south and a Shell if one is coming from the north. Parker's Drug Store is on a side street, next to the movie theater. A large, gray feed mill sits on its own lot, across the street from the theater. The jail is apart from the town, down near the river.
     The jail had been built away from the rest of the town because the founding fathers of Groversville feared that drunken prisoners might shout insults to the ladies of the town.
     And the Blacks live on the far side of the river; mostly, they live in little gray shacks. Now and then a white or brick house sits, foreign-like, among the shacks. That place, beyond the jail and winding Mohawk River, is called Happy Hollow, though no one ever said why.
     None of the black people were allowed to live east of the river. If, somehow, a Black could afford to purchase a home east of the river (sold to them by someone leaving town) well, the Klan would take care of that matter in a hurry. If the cross burnings didn't discourage the Blacks from moving in, a torch would be taken to the house. After a time or two of trying, the Blacks gave up the losing battle. In addition to the Happy Hollow Blacks, a few black families live on small farms, just outside of Groversville.
     Wade's home is at the edge of Groversville where the streets stop and lush green farmland begins. The Holliday place is an old, brown brick mansion that Wade's grandfather Justin Holliday built way back in 1920.
     Wade drove down the tree-lined drive, thinking that, most likely, no one would be home this late that Daddy and Aunt Sophia would have already left for the rally. He stopped his car in front of the garage and got out, just as Jupiter, his Iris Setter, came running from behind the house. The large red dog, his tail wagging with excitement, jumped into Wade's arms almost knocking him to the ground. Wade had gotten the dog for his twelfth birthday. He remembered that it had been raining the night Big Bob brought the dog home. Wade had made a bed for the dog in the kitchen. Later that night he had sneaked down to the kitchen and had taken the puppy up to his room. Since then, Jupiter had spent each night sleeping at the foot of Wade's bed, even when Wade wasn't home. Old Jupiter was now about eighty in human years, but still very lively.
     Before going inside, Wade sat for awhile on the porch, in a white wicker chair. Old Jupiter lay at his feet and looked up at his master with soulful brown eyes, waiting for the familiar scratch behind the ears. Wade felt a bit lonely, as he sat there in the gathering darkness and watched as soft gray twilight slowly erased the amber and rose of the early autumn sunset. Only a faint glow of pinkness remained in the western sky, when Wade reluctantly got up. He patted Old Jupiter one last time, then went inside.
     The inside of the house was bathed in gray shadows, but Wade didn't turn on the light for awhile. He stood in the shadows of the entrance hall, listening. Although the house was filled with silence, Wade thought that it still had a sound of home. Finally he turned on the light, went to the closet, and reached inside for the familiar robe and hood.
     As stars began to appear like a sprinkling of crystal ice in the dark velvet sky, Wade pulled his Thunderbird off of route 51 and on to a winding gravel road. About two miles down that winding road, Wade turned off onto a narrow lane bordered by giant oak trees. Soon he could hear a recording of "God Bless America" blaring over a loud speaker. At last, he came to a meadow, at the east end stood a long, low, brick building. Over the door a large sign, in large block letters, declared "Oak Grove Country Club". Dozens of car, mostly new and expensive, filled the concrete parking lot. Wade pulled his car along side a white Lincoln Continental. Reaching over to the next seat, Wade picked up his white satin robe and matching hood. He got out of his car and put on his robe. The loud speaker was now blasting Amos and Andy jokes, and the sound of laughter and muffled voices filled the night. Wade adjusted his hood over his wavy blonde hair, but didn't bother to pull his mask down over his face---The only time a Klansman covered his face was when he didn't want his identity known. Wade made his way towards the clubhouse. An outside light, near the door, shone out over a crowd of white-robed men and plain-clothed men and women milling around a wooden platform, which had been erected near the entrance.
     Wade climbed onto the hood of a car parked near the clubhouse. A few yards into the meadow, a large cross stood waiting in the shadows. The cross was made of two large logs which had been wired together; then the structure had been wrapped in old rags and finally covered with burlap, before being soaked with kerosene. Finally, a hole had been dug into the ground, where the cross now stood. To hold the cross erect, stakes had been driven into the hole. Many times, Wade had helped with the making of the cross. Nearby sat an old iron kettle, which decades ago someone had used to make soap, or to boil clothes in. It now held kerosene in which wooden torches were soaking, like giant matchsticks waiting to be lit. Beyond the newly erected cross stood several charred crosses: ghosts of earlier cross burnings.
     The door to the clubhouse opened, and a tall hoodless figure, in a green satin robe, emerged and bounced up the steps onto the platform. Wade watched as his father, Big Bob Holliday, took the microphone and began to speak: "Fellow Klansmen and future Klansmen," Big Bob began. His voice loomed loud in the night, and Wade knew that even without the microphone that no one would have had any trouble hearing the powerful voice. "Welcome to our rally," Big Bob said. "We're here tonight to recruit new members to our Klan. But as the Klansmen who invited you here have already told you: we don't take just anybody into this Klan. We're the Southern Knights of the Ku Klux Klan." All eyes were on Big Bob's face as he continued. "As Grand Dragon of Southern Knights, I'm here to tell you that we don't take any low-class into this Klan!" Big Bob shouted, his dark eyes glaring at the crowd.
     A roar of "Amen Brother" emerged from the crowd. "You, no doubt, have heard of other Klans being invaded by spies, FBI men, reporters, and Lord knows what!" Big Bob's voice became louder and angrier as he paced back and forth on the platform. "Let me warn anyone who thinks he can come into this Klan under false pretenses--- When we find you out, and make no mistake about it: We will find you out!" Big Bob shouted, shaking his finger at the crowd.
     A loud, "Yahoo!", from deep in the crowd, briefly interrupted Big Bob.
     "We'll do," Big Bob continued. "We'll do to anyone who dares to betray us what we've done to the burr-headed nigger!" The crowd responded with a thunder of applause. Finally, Big Bob was able to continue. "Also, we're here, tonight, to discuss what is happening to our country, what is trying to destroy our way of life." Big Bob's voice trembled for just an instant, perhaps only Wade notice; then it again filled the night, strong and powerful. "There is an infection in America tonight, dear people. It's dark and it's ugly! It's called Civil Rights and we all gotta fight it! To the last breath in the last white man, we gotta fight!" Big Bob roared, his face purplish in the artificial light.
      The roar of applause from the crowd was deafening. After several minutes, the noise died down and Big Bob spoke his voice calm now. "I want you all to hear what we're up against from someone who can tell it like it is The Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. Give a welcome now to my friend, Mister Sam Walters." The crowd responded with yet another thunder of applause, as a tall, thin man, in a purple satin robe, emerged from inside the clubhouse.
     Wade had known Sam Walters for as long as he could remember. Sam was often a guest in the Holliday home. Big Bob had met Sam, many years before Wade had been born, when both had been students at the University of Tennessee. Both men had joined the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, when they had been young men. In fact, they, like Wade, had grown up with the Klan being a major part of their lives.
     Back in the twenties, Big Bob's father, Justin Holliday, had been Imperial Wizard of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Wade's grandfather had died before he was born; yet, he felt that he knew him well. Big Bob had kept alive his memory of Old Justin with vivid details of story after story of the old man's escapades. And then, there was the giant picture, above the mantle in the den, of the man who had worn the purple robe.
     Some years back, both Big Bob and Sam had become disillusioned with the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan and had formed their own splintered group. From the beginning, Sam had been elected Imperial Wizard of Southern Knights, a position, which Wade was sure that his father coveted, although Big Bob had never said so. In fact, he often said that Grand Dragon was what he wanted to be, was all he had time to be. But Wade had a gut feeling that each time his father put on the green robe that he would have given up his law practice for that purple robe.
     Sam Walters, his purple robe shimmering in the light, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, began to speak. "Big Bob told you right!" he shouted into the microphone, his voice reaching out past the crowd, into the darkness of the star filled night. "There's an infection in America tonight. Her pure white image is being soiled; a dark spot has come upon her. As we gather here tonight, there are forces at work scheming to destroy our way of life. This cancer is called Civil Rights and is endorsed by our own government. And we gotta stamp it out, now!" His eyes took on a glassy glow as the audience clapped. "We've given our life's blood for this old U.S. of A!" Sam yelled. "And what are we getting for our sacrifices? Our leaders up there in Washington DC are giving our rights away! Let me tell you here tonight, if we don't put a stop to this poison that is invading our country, our nation will go to the niggers and won't be worth a damn! Our own government is trying to force us to let the little nigger heathens go to school with our own children. Now, are we gonna stand for that!" Sam shouted, going to the edge of the platform, glaring down at the mass of white-robed figures.
     "Noooo, nooo, never!" The crowd screamed back in unison.
     "Let me tell you this," Sam said, when he could speak above the roar of the crowd, his voice hoarse from yelling. "If our little children are forced, God forbid, to go to school with the nigger, our children's education will suffer tremendously. You well know, as I know, that it is a proven fact that niggers don't learn like we do; that, in fact, they are just plum dumb. And you know what's gonna happen if our children have to be taught with them. Well, the truth is the teachers will have to spend all their time trying to force some learning into the little fools' heads; which you and I know is impossible. And another thing!" Sam raged on. "They're trying to force us to sit down and eat with them. Now, can you imagine having to look at a nigger while you're trying to eat! I tell you, I will not. I repeat. I will not allow this to happen!"
     Everyone started screaming, "Nooo! Nooo!"
     "Back to Africa with the black bastards!" a shrill voice from the center of the crowd yelled.
     Wade stood upon the hood of the car. He was feeling the same anger as the rest of the crowd, as he raised his fist, high in the air above his head, and began screaming, "White Power! White Power!"
     Soon everyone was screaming, "White Power!" As a rage and hate that had been passed on for generations filled the Tennessee countryside.
     After several more minutes of racial slurs, and a few jokes about welfare niggers, Sam brought the rally to a close with the cross-burning ceremony. "Klansmen report to the cross," Sam said in his most authoritative voice. Wade obediently made his way, along with the other Klansmen, towards the darkened cross waiting in the meadow.
     The Imperial Wizard walked to the kettle, picked up one of the kerosene soaked torches and struck a match to it. Wade watched, as the torch became a smoky flame. One by one the Klansmen, led by Big Bob, picked up a torch, lighting it from the torch held by the Imperial Wizard. When each torch was an orange flame in the night, the Klansmen, led by the Imperial Wizard, formed a circle around the towering cross and began marching one after the other around the cross; their torches held in their left hands, high above their heads. Wade was suddenly aware of the sounds in the meadow: the faint crackling of the burning torches, of insects calling somewhere in the darkness, and the soft rustle of satin.
     After he had made a complete circle around the cross, the Imperial Wizard, his robe a soft glow of reddish purple in the torch light, walked to the cross and touched his torch to it. Flames quickly raced up the cross, erupting into eerie crimson tongues lapping at the kerosene soaked structure.
     The Imperial Wizard gave a last salute then placed his torch at the foot of the cross. "Behold the fiery cross. We honor its hallowed flame," he said. The other Klansmen, one after the other, dropped their blazing torches at the base of the cross.
     There was a minute of silence as everyone stared at the burning cross. Then Sam said, "Klansmen retreat from the cross." In silence, the Klansmen walked towards the clubhouse. The people who weren't Klansmen were beginning to get into their cars and were leaving; they would be told later if they had been chosen to be Klansmen.
     Wade spotted Big Bob's green robe and headed towards it. "How's it going, Daddy?" he asked, touching the older man's shoulder.
     Big Bob smiled at his son. "Glad you made it, son. Things are going good, real good. I think we got about a hundred people wanting to sign up. We'll take care of the details next week, gotta be sure they check out, you know."
     "Wade! Oh, Wade!" Wade turned towards the sound of his name, as his Aunt Sophia rushed over and gave him a big hug. She was almost as tall as Big Bob. Wade returned the hug warmly and kissed his aunt on the cheek. "Missed you, honey child. Are they feeding you right down at that school? You look a mite thin to me."
     Wade laughed and assured his aunt that he was fine.
     "We've got one special recruit," Big Bob said, grinning.
     "Oh, yeah? Who?" Wade asked.
     "Senator Hanson," replied Big Bob. "You know how long we've waited for this. I'll tell you, if we can get a voice in Washington, we're gonna have an easier time of it. We're getting ready to meet with the senator now. You come, too, if you want, son."
     "No. I don't think I'll stay around; I'm all tired out from the drive, and I didn't get much sleep last night, a fraternity meeting, "Wade said.
     Big Bob frowned slightly, then shook his head. "Ok, I'll tell you how it went tomorrow."
     "Would you like to go home as I go Aunt Sophia?"
     "No. I'm staying. I've got a few things that senator needs to hear," Aunt Sophia said, smirking at Big Bob. "I'll come with your father."
     Wade grinned and began walking towards his car. If she got the chance Wade knew that his Aunt Sophia would speak her mind to the senator about what the government ought to be doing, and maybe even throw in something about women not being allowed in the Southern Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Wade also knew that Big Bob would become angry with his sister, and that an argument would follow, and that the two wouldn't speak for days. Once, Aunt Sophia tried to start a lady's Klan and even had several of the town's women ready to sign up, until Big Bob called the men together and ordered them to put a stop to it; Sophia had never forgiven her brother.
     When Wade got to his car, he looked back at the cross: now a dying ember in the darkening meadow. He got in his car and drove away from the country club. As he drove down that dark road, he was feeling a bit lonely, wishing he could stop by Heather's house and that she would be waiting for him, wishing she hadn't gone off to Lexington to attend the University, where she was a nursing student. He smiled as he pictured the vivacious, brown-eyed beauty, who, someday, was to be his wife. But his thoughts were soon back on the Klan as he continued down that deserted road. He wondered how the meeting with the senator was going. He knew that if they could get the senator they would have an ace in the hole. Wade's thoughts turned to earlier Klan meetings, not so much the rallies, but the den meetings.
     The den of the Southern Knights of the Ku Klux Klan was a secret meeting place, located in the old, abandoned schoolhouse on Mike Braswell's property. Wade remembered earlier times that he and his father would put on their robes and hoods and head for the den meetings; Wade had always felt a deep feeling of excitement when he attended one of those meetings. He remembered a time before Big Bob left the other Klan. He had been a small child then, much too young for any part of the Klan. He remembered being awakened in the night by men's deep voices, and going to his upstairs bedroom window, and looking down on the mass of white-robed figures gathering in the yard below. He had been able to pick out his father, who stood tall and straight above the others. He again felt the excitement that had surged through his young body. Although he had been much too young to grasp what it was about, he had wanted to be part of it all. His dream had been to grow up and be one of the great white-robed hunters. It seemed that he had waited several life times before he was old enough to be brought into the Klan. He remembered the feeling of pride when his father had presented him with his very own robe and hood. He had stood as tall as he could beside his father when he had been put through the ceremony and was officially named a member of the Ku Klux Klan. Wade truly believed that it was his duty, as an American, as a white man, to keep the black man suppressed. His father had taught him that it was a sin for the Negro to try to be equal to the white man. And that it was the duty of the Klan to keep the South and all America the way that God intended it to be; Wade had learned his lessons well.
     "Wade," his father often said, "times are trying to change. We must fight for white supremacy. There are evil forces at work out there; some are so called white men, who want to bring the niggers up to our level." Wade could see his father's angry, red face as he had spat out the words, his voice trembling with hate, "It must never be, son. We must never let it come to pass. No matter what it takes, we must never let it happen! Never!"
     Wade had gone on many night raids; had burned more crosses than he could remember, but he had never been involved in any of the hard stuff. His father often spoke of the good old days. "Wade," he'd say, "we took many a nigger out for a flogging, and ever better than flogging was the putting of tar and feathers to their black hides." Big Bob had told of instances of white folks getting the same treatment if they dared to come to the aid of a Negro. Big Bob had never mentioned having been involved in lynching, but Wade guessed that he had taken part in earlier years; his daddy had often said that the only good nigger was one who was swinging from a rope.
     Big Bob, as well as being Grand Dragon of Southern Knights, was the leader of the local den. He would always bring the meeting to order, by first having everyone stand and pledge allegiance to the flag, and next came the pledge to the Klan. But what Wade believed his father liked most was reading from his "list" of black people who had been reported, by some Klan member, to have stepped out of place; mostly it was for a minor offense, such as not getting off the sidewalk fast enough when a white person came by. But lately, Big Bob was more worried. In the last den meeting that Wade had attended, Big Bob had said that the enemy was getting entirely out of hand; that with all the talks of sit-ins and boycotts that something had to be done. He had said that he realized most of the trouble was further south, but it could come to Groversville. But he wanted one thing made perfectly clear; that if any nigger in and around Groversville dared to start any trouble, that the Klan would teach them a lesson they would be a long time forgetting.
      At each meeting, after Big Bob had read from his "List", each Klansman would drink what he wanted from the "Shine Jug". Wade had just turned eighteen when he took his first drink from that jug. He could almost still yet feel the fire that had burnt from his mouth to deep in his gut. And he could almost hear the laughter of the Klansmen as they had watched him as he gasped for air. But soon, he had been able to drink the whiskey with the best of the Klan. The Klan had never condoned heavy drinking; in fact, more than one Klansman had been banished from the Klan because of drunkenness. But that shine jug was special; to drink from it was more like a religious toast. It was the very same jug that old Justin Holliday had used in his den meetings. Big Bob had boasted to Wade that in old Justin's day, the Klan had been very strong, with a membership that ran into the tens of thousands; even a governor had been a member and a close friend of Old Justin's. Wade had never seen any of the Klan drink enough to be considered drunk, but many had left meetings "Feeling Good."
     Old Man Piercy provided the shine. He lived in the old school house. It had one large room in front that was used for the den meetings and two smaller ones in back for the old man's living quarters. The school house hadn't been used for school in many years: not since the white rural schools had been consolidated into one large school building, located at the outskirts of Groversville. The Blacks still had their one school, located near Happy Hollow.
     Old Man Piercy got the whiskey for the Klan from his very own moonshine still. He was fiercely secretive about his still and never let anyone see it. In addition to being den keeper, the old man kept the Klan's supplies ordered, and when new members joined the Klan, their robes were issued through him.
     Wade's mother died when he was eight. At times he still missed her. When he thought of her, he thought of soft perfume and lemon cookies. Although his memories of her were mostly happy ones, when he thought of her, he was left with a lonely feeling; a longing for what might have been. His father had never remarried. Wade had inherited his mother's blue eyes and blonde hair, and from his father, his large muscular body. After his mother's death, his Aunt Sophia had come to live in the Holliday home and had been as close to a mother to Wade as she could. She didn't get along too well with Big Bob and made no bones about her disapproval of her brother's behavior with certain ladies of the town; there was always a great deal of tension between the two of them.
     Such was the world of young Wade Holliday on that starry autumn night in the early 1960s. There was no hint of the impending doom that lay ahead: A venture that was to change the young man forever.

Chapter 2

     The next morning, Wade was up before sunrise. Old Jupiter, lying at the foot of the bed, opened one eye and lazily wagged his tail when Wade got up. Wade showered and dressed. He had decided to drive up to Lexington and see Heather. God how he missed that girl.
     The house was quiet as Wade stood at the top of the stairs. He made his way to his father's room; the door was closed. He raised hand to knock, then changed his mind. He wanted to know how the meeting with the senator had gone, but it could wait.
      He left a note on the kitchen table telling his father and aunt that he was going to Lexington and would return late that night.
     As Wade drove away from Groversville, he marveled at the beauty of the rising sun: an orange ball faintly covered by a purple cloud veil. He drove on down that deserted country road, on that early Sunday morning, listening to soft gospel music and thinking of Heather.
     A loud bang and the sound of metal scraping against pavement jolted Wade out of his daydreams. He fought the steering wheel to keep the car on the road as it swayed from one side to the other. Finally, he was able to bring it to a stop off the side of the pavement. "Damn," he swore as he climbed out of the car.     Disgusted that a new tire would blow, he kicked the mangled rubber. He got the jack and spare tire from the trunk. And as he began to jack up the car, a gleaming light from the meadow caught his eye. At first, he thought it was the sun shining off a tin can. But as he finished changing the tire, he noticed that the light seemed to grow more brilliant with each passing moment. A few yards into the meadow, an old, red and white spotted cow stood, lazily chewing her cud, her soft brown eyes never leaving the light. Puzzled, Wade walked to the fence. A few yards inside the meadow, among the dying grass and weeds of autumn, lay a silvery object from which the light was pulsating. He pushed down the barbwire and cautiously went over the fence.
     The cow didn't look up as Wade approached. She just stood there switching her tail, as if hypnotized. As Wade came closer, he could see that the glowing object was shaped like a star, a glowing crystal star. He bent over the star, gazing in wonderment. The star was about the size of the star that had topped his Christmas Tree for as long as he could remember. Reaching down he picked up the star and turned it over and over in his hands. It appeared to be solid crystal, and the light was generating from its center. The star was unlike anything that Wade had ever seen, and he wondered if perhaps it was some new toy, maybe powered by a small battery. He looked the star over carefully, fingering it, trying to see if it had a seam, trying to see where a battery might be located. Suddenly, the star began to feel warm in his hands; slowly it became hotter and hotter, and a small tingling of electricity crept up his arms.
     He became frightened and tried desperately to fling the star, but it was as if it was glued to his hands. He watched in open-mouthed horror as the hair on his arms bristled and stood straight up, crying out in pain, as the currents of electricity became stronger. A gripping feeling of sickening fear filled his body, and he panicked, and screaming, he began to run helter-skelter through the meadow, trying to free himself from the terrorizing thing that the star had become. As Wade had begun thrashing about, the old cow finally took her eyes off the star, and throwing her tail high in the air, ran bellowing down the hillside.
     Wade, in his terror, tried to run back towards his car, just as a huge current of electricity surged through his body, sending him crashing to the ground and into unconsciousness.

Chapter 3

     Wade slightly opened his heavy eyelids, then quickly closed them again as the glare of sunlight sent stabbing pain shooting across his eyeballs. His mind felt cloudy, his tongue heavy and thick, and he was aware of being hungry and thirsty. He shaded his eyes with his hand before opening them again. The star! The star! he thought as fear swept his body. Raising upon one elbow, he looked fearfully around the meadow, relieved that the star was nowhere in sight. He became aware of an unusual stillness: The leaves on the maple tree that stood near the fence were as still as the boulder at its trunk. And it was quiet, too quiet; not an insect or bird could be heard. Wade pulled himself to his feet and stood on wobbly legs. His eyes focused on where his car had been. And fear, like he'd felt just before everything had turned dark, filled his body as he stared at the spot where his car should have been. His hazy mind tried to think. How long have I been out? What happened to my car? What has happened to me? Could it be a flashback, sending him on one of the bad trips? He'd thought he was all through that. He looked at his watch; it had stopped at seven o'clock. He realized that it had been approximately seven o'clock when the tire had blown. Wade shivered as he recalled the brilliant light that had been the star. Suddenly, he was staring open-mouthed at his arm. To his horror, he realized that his arm was black: a dark ebony black! He turned his hands, palms up, and the blackness was all over. He gazed stupidly at the darkness of his skin. The electricity from the star has damaged my skin! he thought, sinking back to the ground, feeling that he was going to pass out. Pushing his shirtsleeve higher on his arm, he was stunned to find a word on his arm. In capital letters, the word KANE was etched into his skin. In wonderment, he fingered the smoothness of the letters. Wade thought that the letters were deeper than what a tattoo would have been, more like what a branding iron would do. In a daze, he stumbled down the hillside to a small creek flowing through the meadow. Squatting at the water's edge, he scooped cool water into his cupped hands, drinking large gulps; then began to frantically splash the water over his hands and arms in a futile attempt to wash away the blackness.
     As the water settled and cleared again, Wade gasped at the reflection in the creek: A face that he had never seen before was staring, wild-eyed, back at him. In disbelieving horror, he gazed at the blue eyes reflected in the water. The eyes were the only features that were familiar. And the thought flashed across his mind that he was looking into his own eyes that were somehow inside a black head. He dropped his head into his shaky hands. "Oh, God"! he moaned, "I'm going mad! I'm going mad! Please clear my mind! "
      After a couple of minutes he again looked into the water, hoping against hope that there would not be a black face staring back at him. But the face that stared back at him, from the wavy creek water, was still black; the lips were full and the nose broad. He fingered the tightly curled hair that was even blacker than the face. "Oh, my God! My God! What has happened to me?" He screamed, throwing himself onto the ground, covering his face with shaky sweaty hands. Got to think. Got to think, was the thought that pounded at his tormented mind. He looked up into the bright blue sky and sobbed to the heavens, "I don't know what has happened here, but there has to be a logical explanation. All this black stuff has got to be just in my head. Maybe I'm dreaming; maybe my eyes have been damaged. Maybe what I see is an illusion, a flashback! That has to be it, he thought in desperation, the LSD coming back to haunt me! Everyone else will see me as just plain old Wade Holliday! With these thoughts running through his mind, the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach lessened somewhat, and he tried to clear his mind enough to think of what to do next. Daddy, Daddy, he thought. Daddy will know what to do; he will help me! He will understand that the drugs wasn't my fault, that I hadn't know they were in the drinks. He started running towards the road. With new found vigor, he climbed over the fence and began running down the road towards Groversville; towards the home which had always been a haven for him, towards the father who had always been there for him.
      Wade realized that he was about two miles outside of Groversville when he raced past the Old Bristol mansion. John Bristol was once the mayor of Groversville. He had been a true Klansman and had owned the largest farm in South Tennessee. Wade had been about fourteen that summer the mayor hanged himself.
     The whole town was in shock, and no one ever knew why that such a man as Mayor Bristol would take his own life. The mayor had an only child, a daughter; some said the most beautiful girl Groversville ever saw. She was a few years older than Wade. She had spent that summer with relatives up North and had just gotten home the day before the mayor's death. She was the one that found her father hanging from a rope in the basement of the mansion. She returned north after the funeral. And as far as Wade knew, she had never been seen in Groversville since. The mayor's wife moved to Florida and never came back to Groversville. She rented the farm out to a cousin, who came from Illinois; he mostly kept to himself, but with the aid of hired help kept the old place as grand as it was before the mayor's death.
     A stabbing pain was in Wade's side, and his breathing labored, still he ran, his feet pounding the pavement. A car was approaching; Wade wildly waved his arms, but it whizzed by. Wade pushed his feet to move faster. Another car, a blue Ford, inside were two young white men. Wade desperately waved and screamed, "Stop! Stop!"
     But the car sped on, as one of the men stuck his head out the car window, and laughing, yelled, "Run nigger run."
     "Oh, God! They see me as black, too," Wade cried. "I'm not a nigger! There has been some terrible mistake!" he screamed after the car, hot tears stinging his eyes as he watched it disappear around a curve.
     Wade went on towards Groversville; sometimes running and when he could no longer run, he walked. When he got to town, he was confused at what he saw there: People and cars were everywhere. And his cloudy mind asked why were so many people in town on a Sunday? People were going in and out of the stores and offices. And a chill came over Wade as he realized that it wasn't a Sunday, couldn't be a Sunday. Everything except churches, restaurants and Homer's Shell Station closed up tight on Sundays in Groversville.
     Wade wondered how long he had been in the meadow and why that whoever had taken his car hadn't found him? Wade began to run down the main street of his hometown, and people stopped and stared at the wild-looking black man.
     Wade ran to his father's law office and tried to open the door. It was locked, and he began to desperately pound on it, stopping when he saw the small "closed" sign in the window. He peered through the glass in the window, but everything was quiet and still inside. I've got to find Daddy, he thought in desperation. And he again started to run, this time towards his home.
     When he ran by Doctor Willard's office, he stopped short on the sidewalk in front of the building. The thought came to his tormented brain that the doctor could help him; that he would know what to do, that he would somehow know what had happened to him. Wade took the steps up to the porch of the office two at a time. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, the door swung open, and Mike Braswell stood before Wade. For an instant, the two men stared at each other; then Wade babbled, "Mike! Mike! Something terrible has happened to me! I've got to see Doc Willard!" In his rush to get inside, Wade pushed Mike aside, trying to get through the door.
     Mike's face flushed red with anger. "How dare you, nigger!" he hissed, grabbing Wade by the back of the shirt, pulling him backwards. "You call me mister, boy!" Mike said through clenched teeth. "And don't you ever dare to lay a hand on me again!" And with a giant push, he sent Wade tumbling down the steps and ran down to tower over the frightened black man. "You want to see the doctor; you use the nigger entrance!" Mike shouted. "And how do you know me, boy?" he demanded. "I've never seen you around here before!"
     Wade looked up into the face of the man he had known all his life, who was one of his father's best friends, and cringed at the hate in his eyes. He doesn't know me! he thought as a new rush of panic swept over him. He scrambled to his feet and fled to the rear of the building. As he ran around to the side of the building, he heard Mike curse, "goddamn nigger!"
     Wade knew there was a Colored entrance to the doctor's office. He'd been to Doctor Willard's many times in his childhood, for shots and medicine for colds and such. In fact, it had been Doctor Willard who had talked to him about death when they had learned that Wade's mother was dying. He had a deep love and respect for the older man and considered him to be one of his closest friends. But Wade had never before been to the rear of the office. When he got to the back door, he saw a small sign nailed to the door, which read "Colored Entrance". Wade hated to enter through that door, but realized it was his only hope of getting in to see the doctor.
     He entered into a long hall, which led to a small dingy sitting room, furnished with a few straight-back chairs. There were no magazines scattered around like he remembered in the comfortable waiting room at the front of the office, and he thought how stupid to be concerned about magazines at a time like this. An old, gray-haired black woman sitting quietly in a corner of the room smiled at him. Wade stared at her for an instant then hurriedly walked on through the room and down the hall, towards the reception area at the front of the building.
     Mary Bakerfield, Doctor Willard's nurse, whom Wade had known for as long as he had known the doctor, looked up as Wade entered. The smile that he usually saw on the nurse's face was not there and a look close to contempt was in its place.
     "I.I..I..I have to see Doc Willard, right away!" Wade blurted out.
     Mary stared at him, her mouth open in surprise. "You will wait!" she said sharply. "The doctor has two more patients to see before he can get to you colored folks."
     "But, I have to see him now! Please! You gotta let me see him!" Wade shouted, grabbing Mary's hand and gripping it tightly.
           "Let go of me!" Mary yelled, wrenching her hand free.
      Just then, Doctor Willard came running into the room, yelling, "What in the hell is going on here?"
     Wade looked at their faces and saw fear, anger, and     hardness. And the sick feeling of fear, like a hard ball in the pit of his stomach, intensified, and he fled, racing down the hallway, and out the back door, into the sunlight. He paused, leaning against a tree in the doctor's back yard; he took deep breaths, trying to get his wildly pounding heart to slow, else he feared he'd sink into the darkness again. He tried to think of what to do next. I must think. I must calm down and not panic. Mike and Mary had seen him as black, too, and he knew that it wasn't just in his head. And again he thought of his father. Daddy will know what to do, he told himself. He will have an answer; he has to know what to do; he has to tell me what to do! And with these thoughts pounding in his mind, Wade again began running towards his home, towards his only hope.
     The old brown-bricked mansion, with its green shuttered windows, looked the same as it always had to Wade as he ran down the tree-lined drive towards it. It meant a sanctuary; a haven from whatever possessed him. As he reached the porch, which was supported by large Greek styled columns, Jupiter came running from behind the house and without hesitating jumped into Wade's arms. Wade buried his face in the dog's shining red coat. "You know me, Jupiter! Thank God! You know me!" he sobbed. Wade looked up at the sound of a door opening and saw his father and Sheriff Jack Thompson.
     The two men stood on the porch, staring at Wade. "Hey! You, there! What are you doing here?" The sheriff yelled as he and Big Bob ran down the steps towards Wade.
     Remembering the way that he'd been treated at the doctor's office, Wade cowered and held onto Jupiter. Then he looked at his father and the fear lifted. "Daddy! Oh, Daddy!" He sobbed, running to the older man. "Help me! Oh, God! Daddy, please help me!" he begged, falling to the ground at his father's feet.
     A look of disbelief was on Big Bob's face, and for a moment he seemed stunned. Wade wrapped his arms around his father's legs and felt him stiffen. "Sheriff! Get this nigger away from me!" Big Bob yelled, beating at Wade with his fists.
     The sheriff grabbed Wade by the back of the shirt, yanking him backwards. "What's the meaning of this?" The sheriff demanded.
     Wade looked up at the sheriff and then at his father. He saw the horrifying hate in his father's face, and fear, more gripping than he had ever imagined, filled his gut. "Daddy! Daddy! It's me, Wade!" he sobbed hysterically. "Something awful has happened to me, but it's me inside, here!" Wade cried placing his hands across his chest and began babbling on incoherently.
     Big Bob looked horrified at Wade. "That's Wade's clothes this nigger is wearing!" he screamed, lunging for Wade.
     Wade felt his father's fingers tighten around his neck.
     "What have you done with my boy!" Big Bob screamed as his hands violently shook Wade, causing his head to wobble to and fro.
      Wade fought to breathe as the iron grip of his father's fingers closed even tighter around his neck; he tugged in vain at the hands that were choking away his life. The sheriff grabbed Big Bob and was finally able to pull him off Wade.
     Wade gasped as he felt a rush of air flow into his lungs. As he lay there on the ground, he could hear the sheriff shouting as he fought to restrain Big Bob. "Get hold of yourself, Bob!" the sheriff yelled. "If you kill him, we may never know what happened to Wade!"
     Big Bob was now sitting in the grass a short distance from Wade, and the sheriff was standing between them. As Wade lay panting in the grass, the sheriff came over and towering over him asked, "What have you done with Wade Holliday! You'd better tell us in a hurry if you know what's good for you, boy!"
     Wade looked up into the sheriff's hard face and could only sob.
     "He killed my boy! I know Wade's dead! I know he's never coming home!" Big Bob yelled, half sobbing as he again lunged towards Wade.
     The sheriff struggled to hold him back. "You've got to get a hold of yourself, Bob!" The sheriff said. "I'll take this boy on down to the jail and lock him up. We'll get to the bottom of this."
     Wade hadn't noticed when some of the men from town had started to gather in the yard. He looked fearfully at the hard and angry faces of the people who had been his friends and neighbors all his life, and cringed at the hate in their eyes.
     "Lynch him!" Someone yelled.
      "Now, you folks go on home, the Sheriff said, holding up his hand as if to calm the men. "We don't know what has happened here, and I know you all are concerned about Wade. I'm gonna take this boy on down to the jail and lock him up. And I'll find out what he knows about Wade's disappearance."
      "He killed my son!" Big Bob shouted. "What more do you need to know? Look! Look at him!" he screamed, frantically waving his hands towards Wade. "He has on my boy's clothes, and he even has on the very watch I gave Wade last Christmas!" Big Bob was suddenly on his feet and raced around the sheriff to Wade and grabbed the watch, tearing it from his arm.
     Wade shrank back in fear, and in panic tried to run. Then he felt the crashing blow of the sheriff's billy club as he was struck on the side of the head, and felt himself sinking into blackness.

Chapter 4

     Wade slowly came awake. He was lying on a cot in semidarkness. His whole body was aching, and he flinched when he touched a large lump on the left side of his head. He squinted into the shadows and could make out an outline of bars and guessed that he was in one of the cells in the local jail. As his eyes became accustomed to the shadowed light, he could see the sheriff sitting at a desk in a lighted area to the front of the jail. He became aware of voices in the next cell. "Hey, nigger," a husky voice whispered, "how did you kill that Holliday boy?"
     Wade cautiously raised up on one elbow. He could make out two men huddled on a cot in the next cell and the red glow of a cigarette as one of them took frequent puffs. "What'd you do with the body?" The man asked. And Wade's heart began to race wildly again as he realized that he was still trapped inside the black body. He sat up on the edge of the cot and held his head in his hands. Unconsciously, a low moan escaped his lips. "Guess the nigger ain't talking," one of men in the next cell said, then yelled, "Hey sheriff, the nigger's awake!"
     Wade heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and raised his head to see the sheriff coming towards the cells. The sheriff stopped at Wade's cell door and stood staring at him for a moment before unlocking the door. He came inside the cell and switched on the light, which was a single light bulb dangling from a cord suspended from the high dingy ceiling. Wade blinked in the bright light as the glare intensified the throbbing pain in his head.
     The sheriff picked up a straight-backed chair from the corner of the room and placed it before Wade. He slowly sat down and stared at the young man huddled on the cot. "Now, boy, you are gonna tell me what you know about what has happened to Wade Holliday. You're also gonna tell me who you are and where you come from. But first tell me! What you did with that Holliday boy!" the sheriff said, his eyes hard and cold, his face coming within inches of Wade's.
     Wade was aware that the two men in the next cell were watching and waiting and they scarcely seemed to be breathing. He looked into the sheriff's eyes for an instant, before dropping his eyes to the dirty, gray blanket that covered the cot. He didn't think that it would do any good to try and tell the sheriff that he was Wade Holliday trapped inside a black body. How could he expect the sheriff to believe such a thing? He didn't believe anything that had happened, himself. He prayed that he was in a nightmare and that soon a miracle would happen and he would awaken.
     "Yesterday," the sheriff was saying, "we found Wade Holliday's car about two miles outside of town, and today, you show up wearing his clothes and his watch. Now think about this, boy: You can make it easier on yourself by fessing up, or you can take the hard way and we'll beat the truth out of you! Now, which is it gonna be, boy!" The sheriff, his eyes glaring, brought his face down closer to Wade's.
     Wade shrunk back against the wall, as far away from the sheriff as he could get. His body trembled as he looked into the sheriff's angry face. My, God! he thought, have I been black for a day, two days maybe? Today must be Monday with all the shops in town open, but where had he spent Sunday and last night? Why had he not been found? Wade's mind whirled crazily with all the unanswered questions.
     Suddenly, angry shouts were coming from outside the jail. "Lynch him! Lynch the murdering nigger!"
     Wade almost fainted as fear swept through his body, and he thought he was going to be sick on the dirty, gray blanket.
     The sheriff quickly turned off the light and went through the cell door, closing it behind him. Wade trembled and bit his lip as he watched the sheriff go towards the front of the jail. The sheriff took a shotgun from a rack on the wall above his desk and went to the door, flinging it open.
     Wade clung to the iron bars of his cell, trying to swallow the lump of fear in his throat. Beyond the door where the sheriff was standing, blocking the entrance to the century-old jail, Wade could see about thirty Klansmen; one held a rope in his hand. "Sheriff, you just step aside and let justice be done! We aim to hang that murdering nigger!" yelled the angry man in the white robe, his face hidden by a hood. Wade recognized the voice of his father. My, God! he thought in terror, I'm going to be lynched by my own father! By the Klan, of which I'm an honored member! I'm going to be lynched for my own murder!
     "We don't want to hurt you, sheriff, but if you stand in our way we will come in over you!" Big Bob said, his voice trembling with rage.
     The sheriff's large frame blocked the doorway; the single light above the door gleamed on the shotgun lying across his arms. "You men go on home, now!" he said. "There ain't gonna be no lynching here tonight! Go on now and cool off!"
     "He killed Wade Holliday! You know he did! Killed him and stole his clothes and watch!" came the voice of one of the Klansmen.
     "There'll be a trial by law, and if he's found to be guilty; you can be sure that he will be put to death," the sheriff said. "But there ain't gonna be no lynching while I'm sheriff of this town! Now, I don't give a damn about that nigger back there in that cell, but I'll not have the Federal Marshals coming down here over a lynching! Now, I'm telling you all one more time to go on home!" the sheriff's husky voice filled the night as he faced the mob.
     Wade could hear the angry muttering of the Klansmen, and his knees almost buckled under him. In desperation, he pushed on the cell door, and to his amazement, it flung open. For an instant he stood frozen in the doorway, and then his feet seemed to have wings and he ran, ran for his life, towards the shadows in the back of the jail.
      "Sheriff! Sheriff! The nigger is escaping!" Yelled one of the prisoners in the next cell.
     The sheriff yelled, "Stop!" Stop!"
      Frantically, Wide struggled to open the back door; just as it swung open, part of the door frame was blown away by the blast from the sheriff's shotgun; some of the splintered wood flew onto Wade's head as he ducked and ran towards the embankment outside the jail. He jumped a ditch at the back of the jail and holding onto the small bushes growing on the embankment, he desperately pulled himself to the top of the hill. He paused for an instant and looked down on the jail yard, which was now filled with yelling Klansmen and the sheriff trying to see which way he had gone.
     One of the Klansmen looked up the hill and shouted, "There! There! Up there on the hill! The nigger's up there! Shoot him! Shoot him! Kill the bastard!"
     Another blast from the sheriff's shotgun cut off a small bush just inches behind Wade. As he darted through the underbrush, he could feel his clothes being torn as they caught on the bushes. He gasped for breath, his heart felt like it would burst at any moment; his whole body was bathed in sweat, and his mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton. It occurred to him how a hunted animal might feel. He could hear the Klansmen yelling as they tore through the bushes after him. "Over this way!" Someone yelled as they caught a glimpse of him.
     Wildly Wade ran on through the underbrush and darted across an open area. Gasping for breath, he paused at the iron bridge that spanned across the Mohawk River. Hiding behind its huge beams, he rested for a moment, praying that the Klansmen had lost sight of him.
     The bridge was made of twelve-inch wide slabs of iron, which extended some fifteen feet into the air. Beams of iron crisscrossed at the top and were bolted to the sides to hold the structure together; wide, wooden boards bolted to the bottom beams formed the floor.
     Wade could see the yelling Klansmen, several yards away, running towards the bridge. The men in their white robes looked like a herd of ghosts in the misty moonlight. Wade caught his breath for only a few more seconds, before he began to run across the bridge. The yells from the Klansmen intensified as they again caught sight of him. The sheriff raised his gun, and Wade heard the blast from the gun and the ringing of the shotgun pellets as they bounced off the bridge.
     He grabbed his right arm as a sharp, burning pain shot across it; one of the shotgun pellets had sunk into his flesh. Even with the pain in his arm, fear made him run even faster, and he was already across the bridge and several yards beyond the Mohawk River, when the Klansmen reached the bridge. In the distance, Wade could see the soft yellow glow of light in the windows of the houses of Happy Hollow, far to the south side of the river. He ran away from the Black section of Groversville. He had no sense of where he could go; he just wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and the Klansmen; he could still hear their angry cries as still they hunted him. The pain in his side was like a twisting knife; under his torn shirtsleeve, a warm trickle of blood ran down his arm, He stumbled and almost fell. He didn't know how much farther he would be able to run before exhaustion overcame him, his only hope was that the Klansmen were as exhausted as he.
     Wade ran through a wooded area and came to a small clearing. A small white church stood lonely in the moonlight, and he gratefully sank onto its steps; this was as close as he had ever come to a Black church. He wondered why black people bothered with church anyway. His father had pounded into his head almost from the day he was born: "They're not human, son. They don't have souls; there shore ain't gonna be any of them in heaven." With his ragged shirtsleeve Wade wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to think of what to do next. The panic again intensified as he heard the cries of the Klansmen coming closer. He buried his head in his trembling hands. His body quivered, as much from exhaustion as from fear, and he knew that he was just too tired to run anymore. In desperation, he started to crawl under the church, then paused as he thought that the Klansmen would probably search the church. Frantically, he looked around for somewhere to hide and eyed a tall maple tree growing in the churchyard and ran towards it. With his last ounce of strength, Wade pulled himself up through the tree's branches; he scooted out onto one of the larger limbs, high above the ground; there concealed by dense foliage, he waited. To his left was a cemetery in which row after row of white tombstones, some large, some small, glittered in the moonlight. Then he again could hear the yells of the Klansmen. "He went this way!" "Over there, towards the church!"
     Wade looked through the leaves of the maple tree; he saw a mass of white robes running towards the church. Oh, God! Please don't let them find me! he silently prayed as he huddled there on the tree limb, surrounded by hundreds of leaves, which fluttered ever so slightly in the night breeze. He hardly dared breathe, as the Klansmen and the sheriff, the shotgun in his hand, descended onto the porch of the church. Two Klansmen ran around to the back of the church. "No sign of him around here!" yelled one.
     "He's got to be around here somewhere. He couldn't have gotten far. I think the sheriff got him with that shot at the bridge. Maybe he's hiding inside the church," said a tall white-robed figure standing near the church. Wade recognized the voice of his father. He clung tighter to the tree limb, as he heard the sound of wood breaking as the door to the church was kicked in; then came the sound of benches being overturned and broken. Satisfied that no one was inside, the men returned to the porch. One of the Klansmen walked around to the side of the church and bent down in an attempt to look under the church. "I can't tell if there's anybody under there," he said. "Wait! I think I got a glimpse of something moving under there!" Suddenly, all the Klansmen raced to his side and hunkered down beside him, trying to see in the darkness under the church.
     The sheriff knelt, put his gun to his shoulder and ordered, "If you're under there! Come out, now!" A silence fell on the group; then the sound of gunfire.
     A trickle of cold sweat ran down Wade's back as he clung to the tree limb and closed his eyes, thankful that he had chosen the tree instead of under the church.
      "Now you get tough, sheriff!" Big Bob said, disgust in his voice. "If you hadn't stood in our way back at the jail, we wouldn't be out here now, and that murdering nigger would be swinging from a rope! If all you can do is shoot at the dark, you can go on back to your jail, and the rest of us will handle this; we don't want you around messing things up again. When we catch him, he's gonna swing! And all your talk of Federal Marshals won't stop it!"
     The sheriff didn't say anything.
     "Some of you men find some rocks and throw up in them trees; he could be hiding there," Big Bob said.
      Wade froze, closed his eyes and waited for what he knew would be his death. Just then, the sound of something running through the bushes at the other side of the church caught everyone's attention. Wade opened his eyes. From where he was, he could see down into the bushes and caught a glimpse of a dark object running through the underbrush; he thought it most likely a hog or a deer. The Klansmen started running that way, much to Wade's relief.
     "Some of you men go get the dogs!" Big Bob yelled. "If we can't catch him, we'll meet you back at the jail and pick up his scent from there!"
     Wade watched as two of the Klansmen headed back towards town; the others ran after the sound in the night. He breathed a little easier when the last one was out of sight. He was thankful that Old Man Conwell lived in the next county--- he had seen what his dogs could do to a man.
     Wade still clung to the tree branch, long after he could no longer hear the cries of the Klansmen, long after the quietness of the night settled around the church. In the distance, a dog barked, and a chill of fear ran down Wade's spine. Finally, he got up enough courage to climb down. For a few minutes, he stood in the shadows of the trees, trying to steady his trembling legs, trying to quiet the fear that had become his constant companion, trying to think of what to do next, of where to go. Knowing that the dogs would soon be on his trail, he began running down the road, away from Groversville, and away from the direction that the Klansmen had gone. After he had run some distance, he climbed over a fence into a cow pasture. He was half sobbing now, and begging to God to let him wake from this nightmare. Too out of breath to run anymore, he stumbled as fast as he could through the pasture, listening always for sounds that the Klansmen might be near. Soon, he came to a small creek and threw himself down at its edge and greedily drank of its cool water. Although his thirst was quenched, hunger was an empty hole in his gut. As he sat there on that lonely creek bank, the memory of a movie he had once seen flashed across his brain. In the movie someone had been escaping from dogs and had waded in water to lose them. In desperation, he thought: Could it work for him? Would it work for him? His mind was whirling with the thought that if he walked up to the highway and then backtracked to the creek and waded for awhile, that maybe, just maybe, the dogs wouldn't be able to trail him. He was exhausted, but he knew he had to try.
     Wade hurried as best he could back across the pasture, crossing the narrow road he had been on. His thought was to try to get to the main road that ran through Groversville. He circled around Happy Hollow and came to a cornfield and stopped to rest for a moment. He paused for only a short time; he felt the need to hurry and from somewhere got the strength and began to run. He ran on through the night, through the ripe and dying corn, its brittle leaves breaking as he brushed against them. After going through the cornfield, he made his way through some underbrush and finally came to the highway, throwing himself into the ditch by the roadside as car lights flashed by. When he could no longer see the red glow of the car's taillights, he crawled out of the ditch and began running back towards the creek, trying as hard as he could to stay in the path that he had come. He stumbled and sometimes fell. After what seemed like hours and miles, he found himself back beside the creek. He pulled off his shoes and socks, rolled up his ragged pants' legs and stepped into the water. The shock of the water's coolness almost took his breath away. He waded upstream, going slowly, the rocks on the creek bed jabbing into his feet.
     Silvery moonlight reflected in the water, stretching his shadow out lonely before him. The distant sound of dogs howling sent yet another chill of fear down his spine. He waded for about a mile and got out of the water on the far side of the creek, hoping that his plan would work. If it happened as in the movie, the dogs would trail him to the road and there his scent would end. Hopefully, the Klan would think that a passing car had picked him up. Wade spotted an old barn in the distance; it looked old, and cold, and lonely in the moonlight. Hoping that it would shelter him, at least for a little while, he headed for it.
     Wade had a general idea of where he was. He thought that he was near Old Brier Road. He knew there were a few Black families that lived along the road, on small farms. He crept along the side of the barn, towards the door. A ways down a path was an old, weather-beaten house. No lights shone from its windows, and Wade hoped if anyone was home that they were asleep. He cautiously lifted a board that was propped against the barn door holding it shut. Laying the board aside, he opened the double doors and stepped inside. Moonlight, shining silver through the cracks between the board siding on the barn, fell on an old, dilapidated wooden wagon. A ladder lead to a loft at the far end of the barn. Loose hay hung over the edge of the loft. Wade climbed the ladder and exhausted fell onto the soft hay. He was aware of being cold and sank deeper into the hay, covering his shivering body, all but just his face. He lay there in the hay, trying to get warm, and the reality of his situation overcame him. And he cried, like he'd cried when he'd been eight years old and realized after his mother's funeral that she would never come home again.
     After awhile, he sank into a deep sleep where visions of running snarling dogs, glowing shooting stars, faces white and black, and robed Klansmen running and shooting played as actors in his dreams.

Chapter 5

     Somewhere a rooster crowed. And Wade lay there in the hay and slept on in a fretful sleep. In the early morning light he slowly came fully awake and sat up in the hay, wiping his hand across his eyes, and the blackness of that hand reminded him that the nightmare was still with him. His arm throbbed with a burning pain where he had been shot, and he winced as he ran his fingers over the wound. It had stopped bleeding and felt warm, and he thought that he had better try to find some water to wash out the wound. It hadn't occurred to him to wash it at the creek the night before; his mind had been so full of just escaping that he had forgotten that he had been shot. He crawled across the hay to a small window at the end of the loft. He could see a well-worn path that led from the barn to the old gray house. A porch ran across the front of the house. A lone cedar tree stood in the yard; a small apple orchard, some of the fruit still on the trees, was to the south of the house. A wood was to the back of the house, beyond the remains of a patch of corn and a small garden. A long lane ran through tall oak trees, up to the main road. A fenced meadow was behind the barn.
     Wade recognized the house--- once a few years ago, he'd helped with a cross-burning in the yard. An old Negro woman had lived there then. She had been on the Klan's list of black people who had dared      to step out of place; she had parked her truck right on the square in Groversville, and everyone knew that was something that only white people were allowed to do. She had refused to move her truck until she had completed her shopping. The Klan had taught her a lesson and put a scare into her. They had burned the cross and for good measure had slashed the tires on her truck that had been parked in her yard that night. After that night, there had been no more problems of the old woman stepping out of place.
     A cow's bawling startled Wade. He hadn't been aware of animals being in the barn. The front door of the house opened and a small black boy emerged. The boy looked to be about seven or eight years old and was dressed in jeans, a white tee shirt, and wore a red kerchief tied around his neck. His feet were bare, and he carried a gray tin bucket over his arm. He whistled "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as he skipped down the path towards the barn.
     Wade crouched behind a pile of hay and peeked around as he heard the squeaking of rusted hinges as the barn door was being opened. The boy flung open the doors, letting more light into the barn. He came inside and went to one of the stalls. "Miss Borden. Miss Borden, I've come to get your milk," he said, opening the stall door. The boy tore apart a bale of hay stacked near the door to the stall, throwing several large pieces to the cow. He picked up his bucket and stepped inside the stall. Soon, Wade heard the swishing sound of milk falling into the pail. He listened as the boy continued to talk to the cow. "How come you are black, but you give white milk, Miss Borden? How do you make the milk? I'm a wishing I knew all the answers. I'm a wishing I knew all the answers to all the questions in the whole wide world, Miss Borden. I'm a wishing, too, Miss Borden, that you could talk. I think you can talk to other cows, Miss Borden. And I'm a wondering what you say about people. Do you say we are good or bad? Do we look silly to you, Miss Borden? Would you like it better if there was no people in your life? You wouldn't never have to be locked up in a barn. But, then, you would have to stay out in the rain. So, I'm a guessing, Miss Borden, that having people in your life ain't so bad after all."
     Wade thought, Dumb nigger, talking to a dumb animal.
     When the boy had finished with the milking, he led the cow into the meadow at the back of the barn. "Go and eat what is left of the green grass, Miss Borden," the boy said. Wonder why you don't give green milk? See you tonight, Miss Borden."
     The boy came back into the barn and picked up his pail of milk. Just then, Wade's foot knocked a pile of hay off the loft. The boy looked up as the hay landed near the wagon. Wade sank as far down on the floor of the loft as he could get, hoping that the boy wouldn't try to find out why the hay had fallen.
     "Hey! Anybody up there!" The boy yelled. And Wade saw the ladder shake as the boy started to climb it. Wade held his breath and soon was looking into the startled brown eyes of the young boy.
     "Hey, Mister! What're you doing here! Who are you! Are you running from the law! Is the Klan after you!" The boy asked in one breath.
     Wade didn't know what to do. There was nowhere for him to hide, and he was too weak from hunger to run anymore. He hated the thought of asking a Negro for help, but he didn't think he had any other choice. Maybe the boy could find him some food. "'Yes," he said slightly above a whisper. "The Klan is after me."
     The boy's eyes widened. "Are you the one who escaped from the jail last night! You didn't kill Wade Holliday! Did you!"
     Wade shook his head. "No. I didn't kill anyone," he said, wondering what the boy knew about his disappearance.
     The boy continued, "Carl Johnson, from over in Happy Hollow, was by our house last night to warn my grandma that the Klan was out a hunting a Colored man and that they might bust into any house trying to find him. He said he seen the Klan chase someone across the Mohawk River and that they was a shooting at 'em. We hardly slept all night: We was afraid that them white robes would show up at our place. Are they after you, mister?"
     Wade just looked at the boy for a long moment before finally answering him. "Yes," he said. "That was me. But as I told you, I didn't kill anyone. Are you going to turn me in?" Wade asked wearily.
     "Heck, no!" the boy said. "I ain't gonna turn nobody in to the Klan. They'd get me, too, just for you being here in my grandma's barn."
     "Can you help me?" Wade asked. "I need some food and a change of clothes."
     The boy looked at Wade and nodded. "Wait here. I'll go ask Grandma; she'll know what to do." The boy gave Wade a last look, before hastily making his way down the ladder. He stopped to pick up his pail of milk, looked over his shoulder at Wade, then ran out of the barn.
     Wade lay there on the hay wondering what was going to happen to him now. He had hated asking that Negro for help, but he knew he just couldn't run anymore, that he didn't have the strength and if the boy turned him in, that it would just have to be.
     After a few minutes, the boy returned. He stood at the bottom of the ladder and yelled up at Wade. "Hey, mister, Grandma says to come on up to the house and she'll see about helping you, but to be careful that you ain't seen." The boy waited as Wade climbed down the ladder. Boy!" Did the Klan shoot you!" He asked, eyeing the dried blood on Wade's shirtsleeve.
     "Yes. I've been shot," Wade said softly, looking down at his bloody, dirt covered, tattered shirtsleeve.
     "Grandma says that we gotta help the Brothers if we are called on," the boy said, giving Wade a puzzled look. "How come you got blue eyes, mister? I knowed there was something different about you. I'm almost nine years old and I ain't never seen no blue-eyed colored man before."
     Wade stared at the boy, not knowing what to answer. "I ---- I don't know," he finally replied.
     The boy kept staring at Wade, his eyes narrowing as he continued to ask questions. "Just who are you, mister?" Where're you from, and what's your name?"
     I...I..., I don't really know," Wade said truthfully.
      "What do you mean, you don't know? You got amnesia, mister!" The boy asked, excitement shining in his large brown eyes. "That's a new word I learned in school last week."
     "Yes. Yes, I guess I do. I can't remember anything about me," Wade said slowly, thinking that amnesia would be as good an answer as any; anyway, he didn't know who or what he was himself. And maybe the boy would stop asking so many question if he though he didn't know any answers.
     Before leading Wade out of the barn, the boy went out into the barnyard and looked towards the road. "It's Ok, I guess. Grandma said to be sure that you wasn't seen. I can't see anyone on the road, and if we hurry we can get inside the house before anyone comes along." The boy grabbed Wade's bad arm. Wade jerked away, groaning with pain.
     "Sorry, mister," the boy said, taking hold of Wade's other hand. "We gotta hurry."
     As Wade and the boy approached the old gray house, a dark-skinned old woman came out onto the porch. Wade recognized her as the same one that the Klan had the trouble with. She could only have weighed, maybe, ninety pounds soaking wet. Her hair was a cloud of white cotton pulled into a bun atop her head. Her weather-beaten face broke into a smile. Bet she'd wipe that smile off her face if she knew I was Klan, Wade thought and almost smiled.
     "Here he is, Grandma!" the boy said. "And he shore is a sorry looking sight! The Klan done gone and shot him! And guess what! He's got amnesia to boot; don't know who he is, or nothing else either!"
     "Come on in, boy," the old woman said, holding the screen-door open. She gently took hold of Wade's arm. "You do look like you're in bad shape," she said, looking up at Wade with eyes of brown fire. "We'll see what we can do for you."
     Wade hated the touch of the old woman, but he let her lead him inside the house. His need to survive was greater than his hate. He felt that the old woman was the only thing standing between him and certain death, either by the Klan or starvation. The aroma of sausages cooking filled the air as Wade entered the old house and he realized just how hungry he was.
     The old woman looked at Wade and shook her head. "Don't know where to begin," she said. "Say, you've been shot? How bad is it?"
     "It's just buckshot," Wade said. "Look, all I want is some food and maybe some clothes, then I'll be on my way." He knew that his voice had a sharp edge to it, but he didn't care.
     The old woman stared at him, a frown forming on her face. "Well, young man, you just sit yourself down there at the table, no sense in you being so all-fired impatient. You won't be going anywhere for awhile if you've got any sense at all. The Klan being after you, you wouldn't get to the end of my lane. Guess we'll feed you first and then see about cleaning you up, but you're gonna have to wash your hands before you can eat. Go ahead and sit down and I'll get you some water to wash in."
     Wade didn't want to sit in this house. Every fiber of his being screamed, Get out! Run out the door! But he realized he was defeated, that the old woman was right, that the Klan would be out there, just waiting. So he sat at one end of the long wooden table, which was covered by a red and white checkered tablecloth.
     The old woman went to a water pump beside a porcelain sink and began pumping water into a white wash pan. She then poured hot water, from a teakettle sitting on the stove, into the pan, testing the water with her fingertips, then carried it to the table. She asked the boy to get soap and a towel, which he did, from a cupboard next to the sink.
     Wade hesitated before putting his hands into the water. As dirty and blood-caked as his hands were, he still didn't want to put his hands in a pan that a Negro had used. The old woman was staring at him. He finally picked up the soap, reluctantly put his hands into the water and began to wash away the blood and dirt. The old woman went to the stove, where steam rose from two large pots. She dished up sausages and eggs and brought them over to the table, setting the plate before Wade. "Eat," she said smiling.
     Again, he hesitated when he picked up the fork. He couldn't bear the thought of putting something in his mouth that had been in a Negro's mouth. He cringed; he could imagine the old woman with that very fork in her mouth. He looked up to find the woman and the boy staring at him. "Go ahead. Eat," she said. And the hunger in Wade's stomach was so great that he put the food into his mouth and he thought that he had never, in his life, tasted anything as good as those sausages and eggs. The thought of whose mouth the fork had been in was soon forgotten.
     The old woman brought a cup of steaming hot coffee to Wade. As he ate and drank, he looked about the room. He was surprised at the cleanliness of the room: the floor had been scrubbed to a chalky white and freshly starched white curtains hung from the windows. His father had always said that a nigger was filth and didn't know the meaning of clean; Wade had never doubted it. A large stone fireplace took up almost one whole end of the room. A rifle hung on pegs, above the mantel. On the mantel were many photographs of black people, which Wade guessed to be of the old woman's family. A small silver box sat among the pictures. A long library table, with a lace cover, stood under the window, next to the front door. A small cot, covered with a colorful quilt, was pushed up against the wall, near the fireplace. On the other side of the fireplace was an old mahogany rocker, with gracefully carved arms and back. A china cabinet, filled with dishes with a bit of yellow flowers on them, was near the back door. A small brown couch, along with the kitchen table and six chairs completed the furnishings. The walls were covered with paper of a small rose design. A braided rag rug, of many colors, covered a large spot in the center of the room.
     The boy sat at the table across from Wade never taking his eyes off him. When Wade had finished eating, the boy looked with eager eyes at his grandmother. "Can I talk to him, now, Grandma? Can I try to find out why he don't know nothing?"
     "Now, you hush your mouth, Josh, ---leave this poor boy alone," the old woman said, looking at the boy, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Then she turned to Wade. "Boy, you must have been starved," she said, as she slowly sat down at the table next to Wade. He didn't look at her for a moment, but could feel her eyes burning into his face. "By the way," she said, "my name is Molly. Molly Tolbert. And this here is my grandson, Josh. He'll wear you out with all his questions, but he's a good boy."
     "Ain't gonna ever know nothing if you don't ask questions," Josh said. "And I got a lot to learn. I wanna fill my brain with all there is to know in the whole wide world, Grandma."
     Molly laughed, reached across the table and patted the boy's arm. "Ain't nobody knows all there is to know, Josh."
     "Nobody yet, Grandma," the boy said, smiling at his grandmother.
     "Say, you can't remember nothing about who you are, nor where you come from?" Molly asked, turning to Wade.
     "No." Wade answered. He hated being questioned by a Negro, but knew that he would have to play along, for awhile, anyway.
     "Here, let me see about that arm," Molly said, taking hold of Wade's arm.
     He jerked his arm away from her touch. "No! No, it's Ok. It's stopped bleeding. I'll wash it out, myself."
     "Ok, son," Molly said, "have it your way. I was gonna do the wash today, but guess the water can be better put to use on you. Josh, you go outside and bring in the tub, and I'll make the boy a bath." Soon, Josh came back inside, lugging a large, gray wash tub. "Put it in the shine room," Molly said.
     "But, Grandma!" Josh protested. "Ain't nobody beside you and me supposed to go in there!"
     "Go on, Josh," Molly said. "It'll be all right."
     Wade sat at the table, his head felt dizzy and it seemed, to him, that the old woman and the boy were moving in slow motion, as he watched them carry buckets of water into the next room.
     "Come on, boy," Molly said. "Get on in there, before the water gets cold."
     Wade's jaw tightened. He wanted to tell her that she was not to dare to tell him what to do. But he got up and slowly followed her into the next room. He stared at what he saw there: copper pipes connected to two large metal containers, which sat on a huge stove, were all over the place; fruit jars, filled with a clear liquid, lined the shelves on the back wall. Although, he had never before seen one, Wade knew that he was looking at a moonshine still.
     The washtub, full of water, sat in the middle of the room, next to the stove. Molly went to a large wardrobe at the back of the room and took some clothes out of it. "These belonged to my husband," she said, holding up a shirt and pants. "He died two years ago. Never did get around to cleaning out his things, always thought they might come in handy someday. This here's my living," she said, as she looked at Wade staring at the still. "And for the "Cause", she added. "Come on, Josh. Leave the boy be. We'll talk after he's had a chance to clean up."
     "Aw, Grandma. Seems to me, I always gotta be a waiting," Josh protested, following his grandmother out of the room, closing the door behind them.
     Wade could hear the old woman and the boy talking in the next room, but couldn't make out what they were saying. He pulled off his filthy, ragged clothes and stood for a few minutes staring at the tub of water. Finally, he climbed into the warm water. Part of his mind said how repulsive it was being in a tub where Negroes had bathed, but another part was just thankful for the clean water. What is that old woman all about? he wondered, as he soaked in the warm, soapy water. He realized that she was taking a big chance in taking him in. If she were found to be harboring a hunted, black man, it would certainly mean grave consequences for her. And what was she talking about when she said, "The Cause"?
     He carefully washed the wound on his arm; it was puffy and red, and he knew that a gunshot pellet was still in his flesh. He got an eerie feeling as he washed over the letters engraved into the skin on his other arm. K-A-N-E, he carefully ran his fingers over the letters. Oh, God, he thought, what can it all mean? He thought he was on a bad trip all right, but it was something, had to be something, other than a bad flashback from LSD. Something much worse than that.
     After Wade dressed in the worn, but clean clothes, he went into the front room. The old woman sat at the table, addressing envelopes. "Come and sit," she said, motioning to the chair next to her. She smiled and added, "You do look much better, now that you're cleaned up."
     Wade wondered where the boy was, and his heart filled with fear. Maybe, he thought, maybe the old woman has sent for the law! "Where's the boy!" Wade asked sharply.
     "Why, he went to school," the old woman said.
     Wade breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess, I'll be going," he said.
     "Are you crazy, boy! Don't you know the Klan would get you before you got anywhere! If you wanna live, boy, you'd better be a staying right here!"
     Wade looked at the old woman. "Why are you helping me?"
     "Somebody gotta help a brother in trouble, and you're in trouble. Ain't you?" She replied.
     "That's for sure," Wade said. "But I want you to know that I haven't killed anyone." Wade didn't know why he was telling this to the old woman, but he felt a need for her to know that he wasn't a murderer, and he felt anger that it mattered what she knew or thought. And he felt that something that he had absolutely no control over had taken over his body, and was now beginning to work on his mind.
     "I believe you," she said. "You ain't the first one of us the Klan's been after. Don't you know nothing about the Klan, boy? They don't need for a person to have done anything. Most times, they just hunt us down, just because we're black." She looked at Wade, a frown on her face. "This amnesia stuff is a puzzle to me, seems to me you'd remember the bad stuff, if only in bits. Maybe you're from way up North and somehow got lost, maybe just passing through. Funny thing though, you talk like them white folks. When you speak, if I wasn't looking in your face, I'd swear there was a white person in my house."
     Wade's heart began to beat faster, and fear filled his body. And a voice deep inside his head seemed to shout: She knows! She knows! She's found you out! She's playing with you: like a cat with a mouse!
     "Well, don't you be a worrying none," the old woman said and didn't seem to be aware of Wade's trembling body. "You'll be safe here with Josh and me. After you've had time to rest up, I'll bet your memory comes back, too." Wade tried to read her face, to see what was lurking behind her smile, but all he could see was the smile.
     "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," Molly said. "I'm gonna go ahead and doctor up that arm of yours, can't have it getting infected." She went to a drawer in the cabinet and brought back a shoebox filled with assorted bandages, several rolls of tape and a bottle of iodine. She took a hold of Wade's arm and he didn't resist. She gently rolled up his shirtsleeve and ran her fingers over the wound. Wade could hardly bear her hand on him and bit his lip to keep from pulling away. "It don't look too bad," she said, "but that buckshot is still in there and I'm gonna have to dig it out."
     The front door suddenly swung open and Josh ran in.
     "What on earth, Josh?" Molly said. "You're supposed to be at school. Young man, you are not about to play hooky, just because we have a guest."
     "I ain't playing hooky, Grandma. I swear to God, I ain't!"
     "You don't swear to God, young man," Molly said sternly.
     "Sorry, Grandma," Josh said, dropping his eyes to the floor.
     "All right, Josh," Molly said. "Come over here and tell me what you're doing home."
     Josh went to his grandmother's side and stood looking into her face. "Well, Grandma," he said, "the teacher didn't show up. Just Jacob was there telling us to go on home, that the teacher had to go to Nashville, because her mother died. Jacob said there wouldn't be anybody to teach in her place and for us kids not to come back to school until next week. He said Miss Hannah ought to be back by then."
     "That shore is a shame about Miss Hannah's mother," Molly said. "But we'll find plenty of homework to keep you busy until Monday, can't have you falling behind in your schoolwork." "Aw, Grandma," Josh protested.
     Molly turned back to Wade. "I can see the gunshot down under that festered place on your arm. I think I can get it out with my tweezers, but I'm afraid it's gonna hurt you some."
     "Just go ahead and do it!" Wade said.
     Molly took the pair of tweezers from the shoebox and walked to the stove. She dropped the tweezers into one of the pots of boiling water sitting on top of the stove, then fished them out with a big long handle spoon.
     As gently as she could, Molly dug into the wound. Wade gritted his teeth against the pain. Molly found the piece of gunshot and pulled it out. "There," she said, pouring iodine onto the wound. "It ought to be all right now." She dressed Wade's arm with a piece of gauze.      "Here," she said, "let me roll up your other shirtsleeve. You look lopsided with one sleeve up and one down. As she began to roll up the shirtsleeve on Wade's left arm, she stopped suddenly, her eyes bright with wonderment. "Lordy, boy! Where did you get that!" She whispered, running her fingers lightly over the letters that were carved into his arm.
     "I ----- I don't know," Wade answered.
     "K-A-N-E," she spelled out slowly.
     "Holy Cow, Grandma!" Josh said, running to feel the letters. "How come he's got a name on his arm! Oh, Grandma, is it like the mark that your daddy and grandma's Kane had!" Josh was jumping up and down with excitement.
     "Be still, Josh," Molly said gently. "I don't know for certain if it's the same. I've never heard of anybody else, living or dead, having that mark!" she said, excitement high in her voice.
     Wade looked from the old woman, to the boy, and to his arm. An eerie feeling came over him and he shivered. "What are you talking about?" He asked, looking at Molly.
     "There's a legend," Molly said softly, "of a man called Kane. My grandmother used to tell me."
     "Are you gonna tell him, Grandma? Are you gonna tell him the story?" Josh asked, excitement dancing in his eyes. "Please, Grandma. Tell the story!"
     "Oh, Josh," Molly said, "you've heard that story time and time again."
     "I know, Grandma, but each time you tell it, it seems brand new again."
     "I'd like to hear it," Wade said. "Maybe it will give me a clue about this on my arm," he added, almost to himself.
     "Well," Molly began, "it was just after the Civil War."
     "Wait! Wait a minute, Grandma," Josh interrupted. "You gotta get in your story telling chair." Josh ran across the room and dragged the rocking chair across the floor, placing it near the table. "Come on, Grandma," he said, smiling at his grandmother, "sit in your chair, your stories always seem the best when you tell them from your chair."
     Molly laughed and sat in the chair; and Josh sat at the table across from Wade and waited. "Well, as I was saying," Molly began again, "it was just after the Civil War when our people was first feeling freedom." Molly paused, a faraway look on her face.
     "What happened next?" Wade asked, impatient to hear about this Kane fellow.
     "Well," Molly continued, "there was this one young man. My grandmother said that he was the proudest thing you ever seen, had been a soldier in the war. Before Mister Lincoln set us free, many of us just had one name. After the Civil War all Coloreds took on last names. A lot of Colored folks took on the last name of their former owners; some took on the names of famous men like Washington and Jefferson. But this one young man refused to take on any white man's last name and would only call himself Kane. The white men told him that he would have to take on a last name. When he refused, this angered the white men and they said that he was being disrespectful, and that they wouldn't put up with a nigger being disrespectful to a white man. They hunted him down and when they caught him they tied him to a tree and asked him what his full name was. All he would say was Kane. They beat him, but still he said that his name was Kane. Some of the white men wanted to hang him; they said as an example to other Coloreds. But some of the others said to make a living example would be better and would keep the other Colored folks in their place. So, they took a branding iron and burned the word "Kane Mullins" into his forearm, in just about the same place as yours is at. The Mullins was after a rich man over in Carson County. The Mullins man was a hated enemy of these white men. But my grandmother said that one week after the branding that the Mullins part of the name had disappeared, and only the word Kane remained." Molly stopped for a moment and looked at Wade. "Well, the legend goes that Kane turned into a wild man and lived in the woods and caves around Groversville. My grandmother said that a few people thought that he was evil and had the Devil's way, and they blamed him for all the bad things that happened in their lives, but she said that most Colored folks thought he was a hero: A man who had refused to bow to the white man. She said that some folks even thought he had magical powers and had protected them from bad things; my daddy was one of these-----but that's another story. My grandmother said she had seen him once or twice running through the woods, and that she liked to believe that he had the magic powers. No one knows for sure just what happened to him. I like to think that he's still out there," Molly said, a wishful look on her face, her voice fading into a whisper, "still out there, running free."
     Wade stared at her. He had never heard of a black man or any man called Kane. A chill swept across his body and he shuddered as he wondered if he was somehow inside the body of this black man, called Kane.
     Josh got up, walked around the table and stood beside Wade. Smiling, the boy said, "I know who you are, mister; it's as plain as day. You're Kane. Can I call you Kane instead of Mister?"
     Wade looked into the shining eyes of the young boy and nodded, and silently prayed: Please, God. Please let this nightmare end.
     So it was that a wealthy, young Ku Klux Klansman, in order to survive, became one of the people whom he hated most in all the world; finding himself in a world that he hadn't known existed.

Chapter 6

     Kane learned from Molly that she wouldn't be attending prayer meeting on Wednesday night, due to the church being torn up. "I get so mad!" Molly said, her dark eyes flashing. "The Klan don't have no respect, even for the Colored folks' church. They just out to destroy everything we got. I'm a Christian woman, but I shore would like to take a stick to 'em! Destroying God's house that away! Seems to me that ought to make Him awful mad at 'em!"
     "They were looking for me," Kane said.
     "It ain't your fault," Molly said. "It ain't none of our faults. They're just mean, mean to the core."
     Josh had gone to the small country store, just down the road from Molly's. She warned him, before he left, not to breathe a word about Kane. "Now, don't you go telling anything to that Old Jeb Taylor. I know how he likes to pry and tries to know everybody's business," Molly said, as Josh started out the door.
     "Don't you worry none, Grandma," Josh said. "I won't breathe nary a word about Kane."
     Kane knew who the store belonged to: Jeb Taylor, an old black man, had once been on the Klan's list; once they'd planned to burn his store down; he didn't remember now, for what reason. A huge thunderstorm had come up on the night that the store burning was planned, and the Klan just never got around to planning it again.
     Kane listened as Molly talked on and on. He learned that Josh's parents had been killed in an automobile accident, up North, and that Josh had been living with her for seven years. "Josh don't remember much about his daddy and mother, but he shore does grieve for his grandfather," Molly said, as a look of sadness filled her face. "He just never could understand why God would take his grandpa. Yes sir, my Joseph was a fine man. But anyway, my oldest son, the only child I got left, is in the big city of Birmingham. He's got his own furniture shop; he's a fine craftsman, makes some beautiful stuff," Molly said proudly.
     Kane sat there and listened as Molly talked, but he sure wasn't prepared for what she said next.
     "Basil, that's my son's name," Molly continued, "is also the leader of a group called Fighters for Freedom. A reporter once wrote an article about them and called them Freedom Fighters. The name stuck and we've been called that ever since. Oh, yes," she said proudly. "I'm also a Freedom Fighter, in my own way. That's the reason for the still. I sell the moonshine to an old white man named Piercy, and he sells it to the white folks. I can't sell it directly to the white folks. If the Klan ever found out about my still, they'd burn me out and heavens knows what else. But Old Man Piercy, now, he don't care where he gets the shine, just so long as he can make himself a dollar. We have a pretty good deal that benefits the both of us. The old man sells my shine all over the state of Tennessee: I make it, he sells it, we split the profit. The white folks think it comes directly from that old man." Molly began to laugh softly. "You know," she said, "it shore does this old heart good to put one over on the Klan, and it would be funny, too, if it wasn't so scary."
     Kane was boiling with rage and turned his face away so that Molly couldn't see what was in his eyes. He wanted to shake Molly until she stopped laughing, and he wanted to put a match to her home and watch her face as her home went up in flames. He could hardly believe what his ears had just heard: Old Man Piercy, a member in good standing with the Klan, helping to sabotage what the Klan stood for. Hell will be to pay when Daddy finds out, Kane thought. True, no one had ever seen Old Man Piercy's still, yet, no one doubted that it existed. That's one old man who's going to be in a peck of trouble, Kane thought. Oh, if Daddy only knew what was going on. Kane tried to think of a way to get word to his father.
     Josh came back from the store with the items that Molly had sent for. About mid-afternoon, Molly said she had to go into town and that Josh could go along. "Don't go outside," she warned Kane, "and if anyone come to the door just keep quiet and they'll go away. We'll be back in an hour or so."
     "We'll be back before you know it, Kane," Josh said. "Do you like the name Kane? I like the sound of it, I really do," the boy said, smiling as he went out the door. Molly followed Josh out the door and closed it behind her.
     Kane stood at the window and watched as Molly and Josh got into an old blue truck and pulled out of the dusty driveway. He had such a sinking feeling in his stomach. Was what the old woman said about wanting to help him all a lie? Was she, at this very moment, going into town to turn him in to the law? But, then, he reasoned, she wouldn't dare to bring the law back here. If her still were found, she'd be in as much trouble as he, if that were possible. And the fear inside him lessened a bit. Finally, he went into the shine room and lay on the cot, staring at the still. He ran his fingers over the deeply carved letters on his forearm. "Who is Kane?" He whispered to the silence. "Am I somehow Kane? Is Wade Holliday in the past? Am I two men? Oh, God, what has happened to me?" He closed his eyes tightly and tried to will sleep and darkness to shut out the horror of his mind.
     He awoke sometime later, to Molly and Josh's voices in the next room. His sleep had been without dreams and he felt somewhat rested. He slowly got up off the cot and made his way towards the voices in the next room.
     Josh looked up as Kane came through the door. "Still got your amnesia?" He asked.
     "Afraid so," Kane answered.
     "Sit down, son, there at the table," Molly said, her voice grave. "I seen something in town I want you to know about!"
     "Just you wait till you hear this!" Josh said, running around the table and plopping down, before Kane could get to the table.
     Molly told Josh to just be still and not say a word. "There's posters up all over town," Molly began. "Kane, there's a price on your head. Mister Holliday is offering ten thousand dollars for you! And I guess, anyone who sees you is gonna know who you are. The posters read: Wanted, blue-eyed Negro male, about six feet tall, maybe wounded. Wanted for the murder of Wade Holliday. I understand that they ain't even found a body. But, I know that their minds are so set if they find you, you'll hang for murder anyway. They ain't gonna stop to think that maybe that boy might have just run away. They're sending the posters all over the state. Them eyes of yours will give you away anywhere you go. Everybody's talking about it; they say that it's only a matter of time before they catch you." Molly bit her lip and looked from Josh to Kane. "We gotta make sure they are wrong," she said.
     "We can do that, Grandma. We truly can," Josh said.
     "They think you left town," Molly said. "I'm thankful for that; at least they won't be looking around here for you." Molly looked into Kane's eyes. "I'm thankful that Josh found you," she said.
      "Me, too,      Kane," Josh piped up. "Don't you think that was pure luck?"
     "The good Lord was watching, Josh," Molly said. "The dogs trailed you to the road and then lost your scent," she said, turning back to Kane. "They say you was picked up by a car."
     Fear was a sick, heavy feeling in the bottom of Kane's stomach. He realized that ten thousand dollars would be a lot of money for the old woman; money to help the Freedom Fighters, was the old woman thinking that the money would be worth the risk of her still being exposed.
     Molly saw the look on Kane's face. "Oh, don't you go to a worrying none about us turning you in," she said. "They couldn't offer us enough money to do that."
     "Why are you putting yourself in danger to help me?" Kane asked.
     Molly smiled, and said softly, "If we don't help you, who's gonna?"
     Kane didn't answer, he knew better than she, that nobody was "gonna".
     "As for the danger," Molly said, "I figure, I've been in danger all my life. I've lived in fear for so long that I guess I'm used to it. I figure that as a Colored person you can do one of three things: you can "Sir" to the white folks and never give 'em reason to be mean to you; most times, they don't need a reason. Or you can stand up to 'em and take all the punishment they have to offer; sometimes that punishment could mean the end of your life." Molly didn't say anymore, for a moment, as she looked at Kane. "Boy," she said, "I'm just a wondering if maybe you ain't a fighter, maybe you're from up North and you've been down South fighting for our freedom. Maybe you've been hit on the head and that is why you lost your memory."
     "I'll just bet that's what happened, Grandma," Josh said. "I just bet Old Kane here is a fighter."
     Molly smiled at Josh and continued. "Now, the third thing is to do like me: Let 'em think you are afraid of 'em and keep your mouth shut, the best you can, and find a way to fight. All I want for my fight is a better world for the children. I'm a old woman; I've survived many injustices, but I don't aim for Josh to suffer like I have. I aim to fight in my own way to make a better world for him. If I'm nothing else, I'm a survivor!" she said, and Kane saw fire in her eyes. "But, I want more for Josh," she continued. "You see, Kane, some people would say that my still, in there, is a sinful thing. But I see it this way; the Good Lord done give me the knowledge of how to make the best shine in all the state of Tennessee; I don't believe He'd want me to waste that knowledge."
     The best shine in all of Tennessee; that phrase rang in Kane's ears. He could remember Big Bob saying that Old Man Piercy's shine was indeed the best in all of Tennessee. 'One hundred-proof,' Big Bob would say after he'd taken a swallow from the shine jug. 'Clear as a mountain stream and with a kick as powerful my daddy's favorite mule.'
      Daddy will die when he finds out that his hundred-proof whiskey is being made by a little old nigger woman, Kane thought, amazed at what was happening right under the Klan's nose.
     "I send the shine money down to my boy," Molly was saying, "and the organization uses it to help feed some Colored family whose breadwinner has been fired for taking a part in a sit-in or boycott. I pray that what I do here will someday help to make it possible for Josh to go to a better school and pave the way for him to be whatever he wants to be in this life. My dream is that life will be fair to him." Molly smiled at the boy, who was leaning on her knee, and fingered his dark curls.
     The boy smiled and hugged her. "There's a better world ahead for us colored folks. Ain't that right, Grandma?"
     "Yes, Josh," she said, "I truly believe that will happen in your lifetime."
     "Tell him, Grandma. Tell Kane the story about the Seeds of Light," Josh begged his eyes shining with excitement as he looked into his grandmother's face. "Come on, Grandma, please," Josh continued to beg. "Come on and get in your story telling chair and tell him."
     "Now, Josh," Molly said, "Kane's wore out and may not want to hear yet another story."
     "Oh, but, it's the best story ever, Kane," Josh said, looking at Kane. "You'd like to hear it, wouldn't you, Kane?"
     "Yes. Yes, I sure would like to hear this story," Kane said, wondering what kind of tale he was in for now.
     Molly laughed and got up from the table, went to her rocking chair and sat down. Josh sat at her feet, eagerly waiting. Molly leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Josh shore is a story lover," she said, looking kindly at Kane.
     "Grandma is the best teller I know," Josh said. "The best in the whole wide world, I'll bet."
     "Well, Kane," Molly began, "I see each jar of shine that I make and sell as a buyer of seeds of sorts."
      "Tell him what kinds of seeds we gonna buy, Grandma," the boy said.
     "We gonna buy seeds of freedom," Molly said, her voice taking on a husky tone. "And we gonna plant them seeds deep, very deep. And they gonna sprout strong and they ain't nobody gonna stop 'em. Cause someday a special light's gonna come down and shine on them little sprouts, and glory to God!" Molly's voice was now almost like a preacher's, hot in his sermon, "someday that light is gonna shine!"
     "Hallelujah!" sang out Josh. "It's gonna shine! It's gonna shine! It's shore gonna shine bright!"
     Molly caught her breath and continued, "The fruits of the seeds are gonna be jobs, some just ordinary jobs, but also some jobs in high places for our people, too, just like the white folks. And we gonna live where we want, in any town in America, on any street, if we got the money to rent or buy, our color ain't gonna make no difference. It'll be the same as the white folks can do now." Molly stopped talking for a moment and stared out the window as if she was seeing what she was talking about. Josh was quiet, and he, too, looked out the window as if he, too, was trying to see what Molly was seeing.
      And Kane sat there and watched them both and though----Well, old woman, you just dream on, for all the good it will do you. But what you're dreaming will never be! It can never be, must never be! Old woman, the Klan will see to it that your dream will never be.
     Kane was aware that Molly was talking again. "And we gonna go anywhere we want, eat in any restaurant we want. We won't have to be out of town just because the sun sets."
     Kane knew that Molly was referring to signs posted at the edge of many towns all across the South: "Nigger Don't Let The Sun Set On You In This Town."
     "Yes sireee," Molly said, "that light that's gonna grow from these little sprouts; it shore is gonna shine bright someday," her voice trailed off into a whisper. "Someday." Molly didn't say anything for a few minutes. There was complete silence in the old house and Josh, too, was quiet. After awhile, Molly looked at Kane. "I aim to do what I gotta do to see that Josh has a better world. I aim to fight in my own way to make it happen. I know that there are some good white folks; there's some now, right here in the South, helping the fight for Equal Rights. But, Kane, there are so many that's so full of hate, they just can't see Colored folks as people with hopes and dreams. But we got 'em: We got hopes and we got dreams."
     Kane didn't say anything as he looked at the old woman, but he was thinking: you are a fool, old woman, and you will never see your stupid seeds of light grow. We will stop you. The Klan and I will stop you. We will keep you where you belong, old woman. You will never live on my side of the street. You will never work along side me. Just who do you think you are to try to change things, to try to destroy all we've worked for? We will not allow this to happen. We will not allow you to destroy our way of life; it will never happen. Never! He wanted to yell all his thoughts to the old woman. He wanted to force her to admit that she didn't have a right to dream such dreams, but all he could do was sit there in his enemy's house, and hate.
     "Are you all right, Kane?" Molly asked looking closely at his face. "You look like you're gonna be sick. Why don't you go into the shine room and lay down on the cot. You've been through a lot, not knowing who you are and being captured by the law and having the Klan after you and being shot and all. That's more than most folks could stand. Go on in there and rest up for a spell."
     Kane didn't say anything; he just got up and went into the shine room. And he almost smiled as he wondered what the old woman's reaction would be if she knew she had just told that seeds story to a Klansman?
     Kane lay on the cot and suddenly began to feel very ill; his head began spinning as chills shook his body, and he felt that he was dying. He moaned and faded in and out of consciousness. Molly, with Josh at her heels, rushed into the shine room. "Good Lord! Boy! What's happening to you?" She exclaimed.
     "Grandma! Grandma!" Josh yelled as he watched Kane shaking on the bed. "What are we gonna do? Is he dying?"
     "Let's hope not!" she said and ran back into the front room and got some cold, wet cloths and put them on Kane's face. "He's burning up with fever," Molly said. As suddenly as they had occurred, the chills and fever subsided, and Kane was aware of his surroundings.
     "Boy," Molly said, "we shore was worried about you, for a few minutes there. Never seen a spell like that come over anybody."
     "We thought you was a dying," Josh said.
      "I just feel so weak," Kane said. "I feel like my whole body has been drained."
     "Well, you just lay here for awhile," Molly said and went into the front room and came back with a bowl of hot soup.
     Kane didn't want to eat, but let Molly feed him a little of the soup. "No more," he said weakly, pushing her hand away.
     The sun was sinking low in the west, when Molly came into the room and told Kane that she was going to have to leave for a short while. "I hate to go off and leave you," she said, "but it's my turn to go over to Mrs. Kelley's and get her ready for bed. The ladies in the church take turns, and tonight is my turn. I'm sorry, but everyone is depending on me."
      "It's Ok, Grandma," Josh said. "I can take care of Kane. Now, you go on over to Mrs. Kelley's and don't go to a worrying none about us."
     "I'm all right now," Kane said. "I feel weak, but I'm feeling much better.
     Molly went to her neighbors. And Josh pulled up a chair next to the cot and started shooting questions at Kane. Kane had never known anyone who asked as many questions as Josh: "Do you know why dogs are spotted and people ain't? Is it just the hairs on the dogs that are spotted and how come the hair on people's heads don't have different colors and shapes like the dogs and cats have? How high is the sky? Why did God put salt in the ocean? Do you think that you could answer these questions if you didn't have amnesia?"
     "I don't know," Kane said wearily.
     "Most people say that they don't know the answers to my questions," Josh said, putting his hand on his chin, studying Kane. "Maybe you'll know a lot when you get your memory back."
     Kane tried to find out what Josh knew about the Klan. "Have you ever seen the Klan, Josh?"
     "Shore, Kane, I seen 'em many a time. One time they burned a cross, right out there in the yard!" Josh said, pointing towards the front yard. "Boy, was I scared, too! I hid under the bed. Grandma was scared, too. She tried not to be, so that I wouldn't feel so afraid, but I could see that she was, maybe not for herself, but for me. My grandpa used to tell me stories about the Klan, and I would get so scared that my knees would shake, and my teeth would jump together, and then Grandma would make him hush up. But I know the reason he was telling me all of them things was not to scare me but to make me know what could happen to me. I'll just bet Kane, that when your memory comes back, you'll know all about the Klan."
     That night, Kane lay on the cot in the shine room. Long after he could no longer hear Josh in the next room asking Molly endless questions; long after Molly and Josh were asleep, he lay there unable to sleep. Moonlight shone through the window and fell on the copper tubing of the still. His heart was heavy and he prayed for the nightmare to end, to be back home, away from these people that he was forced to stay with. He hated the old woman, the boy with his never-ending questions. But most of all, he hated the body of this black man that he was trapped inside of. After awhile, he fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning on the cot as dreams came to him: dreams of a great wooden ship filled with black men and women shackled in tiny cages; their cries filling the air, high above the ship. He awoke and bolted upright on the cot, his breathing labored, his body wet with sweat, his heart pounding wildly. It was almost dawn before he found sleep again.
     The next day, Molly worked with the still almost the entire day. Josh went to the preacher's house to help clean out the barn. Kane had a lot of time to think: When had he begun to hate the Black people? He couldn't remember a beginning. It seemed that the hate had been with him always. He had been taught that all black people were dirty and dumb. Well, one thing, he thought, Daddy sure was wrong about that; Molly was anything but dirty and she had to be smart. And Josh, he had to be about the smartest kid, he'd ever met, all the more threat to the Klan. He knew that he would have to find a way to let the Klan know what was going on right under their noses. Kane hadn't dreamed that such a fight was going on in his own community. Could, he wondered, could there be more like Molly, maybe fighting in different ways, but still fighting for the right to be equal. Daddy has more to worry about than he's ever dreamed of, Kane thought, and he knew that there would be more than cross burnings when Big Bob found out. What am I to do? What can I do? He wondered as he sat at Molly's table, looking out the window at the sunlit autumn day. Here I am sheltered by the very people I hate most. He knew that he'd be hung if he turned to the people he loved. He thought of going to Heather. Maybe he could sneak to her house when darkness came. He could climb the tree to the roof and steal in through her window. Maybe he could convince her that he was Wade; he quickly discarded the idea. He realized she would never believe such a story, even if he could get close enough to talk to her. Hell! He thought she hates these Colored people as much as I do and would never let one near her; would scream her head off if she saw one near her house. And he realized that she wouldn't be home anyway, that she was miles away in Lexington. He wondered if they had told her that he was missing and presumed dead, and how she would take the news. My, God, he thought, had it only been just last month that he had been home from college and had silently, under the cover of darkness, gone over to her house. He'd climbed the tree next to her window and she'd let him in. They had slept in each other's arms. God! her father would have shot him, had he known. Carl Gardner thought his only daughter was as sweet and pure as all southern daughters were supposed to be. Little did be know what lay beneath those innocent looking eyes of his beloved daughter.
     In the days that followed, Kane came to know well the routine of the Tolbert household: Josh went off to school weekdays and fished and asked questions on weekends. Molly tended to her still and visited her neighbors. Kane stayed in the house in the daylight hours, for fear of being spotted. He didn't think that Molly and Josh had told anyone about him; yet sometimes, he felt fearful and thought about leaving, but the fear of being out there with no place to go always stopped him. Sometimes at night when he couldn't sleep, he would open the door of the shine room and go out into the night. Sometimes he just sat on the edge of Molly's porch. And sometimes he would walk in the meadow to the edge of the woods. He suspected that Molly knew he went out at night, but she never said anything. Kane would hide when anyone came to Molly's house. He hid in the large wardrobe in the shine room; he hid there when Old Man Piercy came by, in the darkness of night, for a load of shine or to bring supplies so that Molly could make more shine.
     And then, Kane learned of Cable Miller, a black man, who was blackmailing Molly. One night, about midnight, a loud knocking came from the front door. In an instant, Molly was beside Kane's bed. "Kane! Kane! Quick. Get up and get in the wardrobe!" Molly whispered, turning on the lamp by his bedside. The loud banging continued as Kane got out of bed, and Molly quickly straightened the covers on his bed.
     "What's up, Molly?" Kane asked.
     "It's Cable!" Molly said. "Just go on. Get in the wardrobe!"
     As Molly hurried to the front door, Kane got into the wardrobe, pulling the door almost shut, but leaving a crack to look through. Soon, he heard voices, and Molly and a short, fat, black man of about fifty came into the room. Kane watched as Molly took several quarts of shine from the shelf. The man grabbed one of the jars and quickly unscrewed the lid; he took a large gulp and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his old tweed coat. "Mighty good, Molly," he said grinning, and moved his body so that he was against Molly, pinning her against the wall. "How have you been, old girl?"
     Molly was looking at the man with a disgusted look on her face and tried to push him aside, "Take the shine, Cable and get out!" she said. And Kane was surprised at the sharpness in her voice.
     "Now, Molly, you ain't trying to git rid of me, air you?" Cable asked, bringing his face down close to Molly's, smiling an ugly, leering smile, showing a few yellow snags for teeth.
     Molly glared at him. "We have a deal, Cable. You take the shine and keep your mouth shut. I don't have to like it!"
     Cable backed away from Molly and began putting jars of shine into a dirty burlap sack that he had brought with him. He paused for a second and looked long at Molly. "Too bad, Molly that you air a old woman; if you was a few years younger, we could make this deal a hell of a lot more exciting, but seeing as how you air a dried up old woman, you're too wasted fer any man. Just you keep the shine coming and I'll keep my mouth shut."
     Kane could see the anger on Molly's face as she faced the man. "Get out, Cable!" she said, her voice like ice. "Take the shine and get!"
     The man laughed and swung the sack over his shoulder. "You shore air a touchy old bitty, always have been," he said and swaggered across the room. When he got to the door to the front room, he looked back once more at Molly. "I'll see you soon, old woman," he said and laughed a loud, ugly laugh and went on through the front room.
     Molly didn't move until the front door closed. Then she went into the front room, and Kane heard her lock the front door. Kane waited until he thought that Cable had time to be out of sight and sound, before he came out of the wardrobe. He was surprised to find himself angry with the man called Cable for being so disrespectful to Molly. Molly was staring out the window, into the darkness, and didn't look around when Kane entered the room. "You and me, Kane, we're lucky that Cable Miller don't know you're here," she said softly. "He's a evil man. He'd sell out anybody, even his own family for a dollar, even to the Klan." She turned to face Kane and gently touched his shoulder.
     "He's blackmailing you?" Kane asked.
     "Yes, for some time now. He would turn me in, but he loves his whiskey too much. I can be shore of his secrecy, just so long as I supply the means to satisfy his craving. But even with the promise of whiskey, he would turn us in for the ten thousand dollars reward that's out on you, Kane. That kind of money would buy a lot of whiskey someplace else."
     "I'm sorry, Molly," Kane said, and felt that he truly meant it. "I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble. Maybe I should move on."
     Molly put her hand on his arm. "No, son. You're not to go anywhere," she said, her eyes misty in the lamplight. "Stay here, where you're safe."
     "No! No! Kane! You can't go!" Josh wailed, from his cot in the corner. "Old Cable won't be back for awhile, and you can hide and he'll never know you're here. You can't go out there! The Klan will get you, for sure!"
     "You go on back to sleep, Josh," Molly said. "Don't worry. We'll keep Kane here, safe with us."
      Later, after quiet had again settled on the old gray house, Kane slipped out the outside door of the shine room and made his way towards town; the longing for things of home was more than he could bear. A quarter moon gave a faint light, and he thought that he had never seen the stars shine so bright, but the beauty of the night only added to his loneliness. There was a chill in the air, and he pulled the old brown sweater, that had belonged to Molly's husband, more tightly around him. Going the back way to his house, he was able to avoid most of the town. Quietly, he crept along the east side of the house. The old mansion had never looked more beautiful.
     Old Jupiter came running around the side of the house and jumped into Kane's arms. Kane hugged the dog. "Even the color of my skin can't fool you, old boy," he whispered. He looked up at the window to his father's bedroom and all was dark. Kane wondered if his father was sleeping or lying awake, staring into the darkness, wondering and worrying about his only son. He longed to go to his father and tell him that his only child was alive. He sighed for what could not be and patted Jupiter on the head. He went around to the other side of the house and began to climb the old oak tree that grew near the window to his room. Cautiously he made his way out onto the branch that grew over the porch; silently, dropping down onto the porch roof, as he had done so many times as a child. He thought of how like Heather's was his house, even to the tree growing near the windows. He raised the window and climbed inside. The room was in shadows, but he could make out the big four poster bed in the corner, and he could see his banner on the wall. His trophy was on the dresser just as he had left it; he had won that trophy pitching for his high school baseball team. He went to his bed and quietly lay down. He lay on his back staring into the dim shadows, the sadness in his heart was almost more than he could bear. He'd had to come back, even knowing that it would mean certain death if he were caught; he'd had to feel home again. No one, he thought, no one would believe that I'm Wade Holliday trapped inside the body of a black man called Kane. Even I don't believe it. Maybe I'm dead; maybe I'm a spirit doomed forever to be inside the body of this Kane person. And the thought send chilling shivers over his body. Kane lay on his bed listening to the sounds of his house. Funny how beautiful the simple sounds of a home can be, he thought. This was my world, he whispered to the shadows. Now what kind of world am I in? He lay there for a long time before going to the closet. He felt inside and it seemed that the clothes he hadn't taken to college were still there, just as he had left them. He longed to take some jeans and a shirt, but knew he couldn't explain where he got them to Molly.
     Knowing he had to get out of there before morning came, he climbed out the window and crept across the porch roof and into the branches of the tree. When he got down onto the ground, he found Old Jupiter patiently waiting near the tree. The old dog whined and wagged his tail. "They locking you out of the house, now, boy?" Kane whispered. He said one last good-bye to the old dog and sadly started back towards Molly's. When he got out onto the road, he     looked back at the old mansion and felt a tug at his heart. He could make out the dark outline of Jupiter still standing by the tree where he had told him to stay. He hadn't known when he was growing up and even when he had been away at college that home could mean so much; he knew now what they meant by the saying: 'You don't miss it until it's gone.'
     The paleness of morning light was upon the world, when Kane got back to Molly's. Quietly, he opened the door of the shine room and went inside.

Chapter 7

     The weather had been unusually warm, more like summer than fall. Kane couldn't remember having lived through a more beautiful autumn. Molly said that maybe there wouldn't be a winter at all. Josh said that it could be warm all it wanted to, up until Christmas time, and then he was going to order up a big snow, maybe even a blizzard. But this evening, Josh had been unusually quiet; he hadn't asked one question.
      Molly had asked what was bothering him. Josh had managed a small smile and said, "Just tired, Grandma."
     Somehow, Kane knew that there was more to it than that; he couldn't attribute the feeling to anything other than just a gut feeling.
     As Molly busied herself with stuffing envelopes with money for the "Cause", Kane and Josh sat on the porch steps and watched the moon rise. In silence, they watched as the moon, like a giant ball, slowly rose above the treetops. At first it was a deep gold; as it climbed higher it turned to silver, making the world almost as bright as day.
     A deep sadness filled Kane: a longing to be home, to fill secure. He looked at the quiet boy sitting beside him. "Want to tell me what's bothering you, Josh?" He asked.
     The boy looked at Kane and then looked behind him to be sure that Molly wasn't within hearing distance. "I went where Grandma told me not to go," Josh whispered, his voice breaking, his lower lip trembling as he continued. "I went down to where the white boys were playing ball. I know that I could play just as good as any one of them, if they would let me try. You know what they done, Kane?" Josh said, tears welling up in his eyes. "Don't tell Grandma. It would only make her sad if she knew the white boys made me cry. I was just standing by the fence watching and wanting to try out the bat that one of the white boys had. I bet I could've knocked that old ball clean over the fence with that fine bat. Well, when they noticed that I was there, they just stopped playing and stood and looked at me for a minute." Josh stopped talking and brushed aside a tear that was sliding down his cheek. He looked at Kane for a moment then continued. "Then one of them says, 'Look there's a nigger standing over by our fence'. And another one says, 'What's you doing here, nigger? You get away from our fence, get away and get back where you belong. You don't belong here. This is for white folks only. You, dirty nigger get on back where you belong. Now!' But I didn't get; I just stood there. I didn't know why I should have to get. I wasn't bothering anything. I just wanted to watch. Then, they all gathered together in a group, and started coming towards me. 'We said to get! nigger!' they all started shouting as they began running hard at me. And Kane, I was scared, really scared. And the only thing I could do was run." Tears were now streaming down Josh's face as he recalled the incident. "And they were running after me, running so fast. 'Let's beat up a nigger!' one of them yelled and they got some rocks and started throwing them at me; one hit me on the back of my head. See," Josh said, rubbing his hand across the back of his head.
     Kane felt the lump. And a wave of shame caused a lump in his throat as he remembered a similar incident in which he had taken part in the "rocking" of another young Colored boy. Then, too, it had been because he and some other boys thought that the Colored boy was where he didn't belong, where he had no right to be, and it was their aim to teach him not to step over that boundary between black and white.
     "Why, Kane? Why do they hate me so? Do you know the why of that, Kane? I ain't never done nothing to them. I just wanted to play. Is it really because of the color of my skin? How can they hate me for just that reason? It ain't fair, Kane! It just ain't fair!"
     Kane gathered the boy in his arms. He could feel the small body shaking with sobs, and he blinked back his own tears. "I know, Josh, I know," he whispered. And he realized that he truly did know. He knew that for the first time in his life he was really seeing the reality of life through another person's eyes. The hate of a lifetime was gone. When had it died? Kane didn't know, maybe yesterday, maybe today. The boy was no longer the hated black savage that Kane had once thought him to be. As he held him, Kane realized that Josh was just a boy, a small boy with a big hurt; a hurt that Kane wanted desperately to make go away.
      "Grandma says that it won't always be like this. But when is it gonna change, Kane? When can I play in any ballpark that I want to? When are the white boys gonna see me before they see my black skin? How long am I gonna have to wait, Kane? How long? Why is it like this? Why does it hurt so much to be colored? Do you know the why, Kane?"
     Kane didn't answer the boy. All he could do was hold him. He, too, felt the hurt, anger, and frustration.

Chapter 8

     The fourteenth of November was Josh's birthday. The weather was still warm, and the day began without a cloud in the sky. A soft southern wind gently rustled the remaining leaves on the trees. Josh could hardly contain his excitement. Molly had allowed him to stay home from school and had baked his favorite chocolate cake and given him a fishing pole. Kane wished he had something to give the boy.
     By twilight, billowy gray clouds had started to drift across the sky. Old Man Piercy came by for a load of shine and to bring Molly supplies for the shine making. As always, Kane hid in the wardrobe. Later, after Molly had gone to prayer meeting, Kane and Josh sat on the porch, in an old, wooden, two-seater porch chair and listened to the rain start. First a few giant drops could be heard splattering on the board roof of the porch. Soon, the rain came in sheets and the sound on the roof was a roar.
     Josh and Kane were beginning to get wet and went inside and watched the rain beat against the windowpane. After awhile, the rain slackened and was falling steady, softly. Josh hadn't asked a question in maybe ten minutes. "How does it feel to be nine years old, Josh?" Kane asked.
     "Bout the same as eight," Josh said.
     "Nice birthday," Kane said.
     "Shore was," replied Josh, "but---."
     "But what?" Kane asked.
     "Oh, nothing," Josh said, looking down at the floor. "Just a wishing for something that can't be."
     "Oh, come on, Josh, tell me what you're wishing for."
     "Well, promise that you won't tell Grandma," the boy said and raised his dark eyes and looked into Kane's. The light, from the lamp on the table, fell on the boy's face, and Kane thought that he had never seen such longing on anyone's face. "What I'd really like," Josh said, "what I want most in all the world would be to go down to Parker's Drug Store. I'd like to go inside and walk right up to the soda fountain and order a dish of strawberry ice cream and have Mrs. Parker serve it up to me in one of them pretty long-stemmed dishes, just like she does for the white boys. I've looked in the window and seen her do it many times. I tried to do it once;" Josh's voice trembled as he continued. "I tried to buy a dish of ice cream, and I had the dime to pay, too. I'd heard her tell the white boys they could have the ice cream if they had the dime to pay. But, she wouldn't let me, said she couldn't have no Colored boy eating at the counter, and if I wanted ice cream that I could buy the kind that was in a box, if I went outside the store to eat it. But, Kane, I didn't want a box. I wanted the dish. Why do you reckon it's like that, Kane? Why can't I eat a dish of ice cream in at the drug store, if I've got the dime to pay? I didn't tell Grandma. I guess she knows that a Colored boy can't eat a dish of ice cream at Parker's Drug Store; I guess that she might even know the why. But I didn't want to make her sad and tell her what she already knows in the first place, so I just went off by myself and cried."
     Kane looked into the sad eyes of the young boy and felt a sadness deep within himself. He had never given a thought as to what it would mean to be denied services. He had eaten countless dishes of ice cream at Parker's Drug Store. He and Robby Parker, the son of the drug store owner, had been best friends since first grade. He and Robby had even sneaked into the store on Sundays, when it was closed. Mister Parker kept a key hidden behind a loose brick outside the back door, just in case he was to lose his regular key. As far as Kane knew, Mister Parker had never used the key, but he and Robby had. He remembered how the two would sneak inside, and Robby would fill two dishes high with ice cream. And after they had eaten all they could hold, they would wash the dishes, and Mister Parker was never the wiser. Kane wondered if the key was still behind the brick after all the years that had passed since he and Robby had used it. Robby had died, at the age of thirteen, of leukemia. And Kane had never entirely gotten over the loss of his best friend. Suddenly, Kane wanted more than anything to make Josh's birthday wish come true. His heart was pounding hard, and he didn't dare think of what would happen if he were caught. But if that key was still behind the brick, Josh would have his birthday wish.
     "Josh," Kane said, "let's you and me go for a walk. There might be a nice surprise in it for you. And Josh, do you have a dime?"
     "Shore, Kane. I got a dime. Why?" Josh said, excitement shining in his eyes. "We gonna walk in the rain, Kane? In the dark?"
     "Yes, Josh," Kane said, smiling at the boy, "that's exactly what we're gonna do."
     Josh ran into the shine room and came back with a dime, his slicker, and an old slicker for Kane. "This was Grandpa's," he said, handing the rubber coat to Kane.
     Kane and Josh walked down the road towards Groversville. They hid in the wet bushes at the roadside when a car came by. For a while, they walked in silence as the soft rain fell on their slickers. "I like the rain. Don't you, Kane?" Josh said. "Do you know how the water gets into the clouds? The teacher said that the sun draws it up there. And the preacher said that angels come down from heaven with buckets and dips it out of the ocean and take it up to the clouds. I think that God just points his finger and that old water jumps right up into them clouds. Once I asked my teacher: why is water wet and if water is stronger than fire? Seems to me that water is the stronger, since it can destroy fire. But if you boil the water over a fire and it boils down to a dry pot, then I think that the fire has destroyed the water. But the teacher just said that I ask too many questions. Guess that means that he didn't know the answers himself. Huh, Kane?"
     "Could be, Josh. Could be," Kane laughed.
     The road was a barely visible dark strip before them as they walked on through the rain and the darkness. Before long they could see the lights of Groversville. When they got to Groversville, the town appeared deserted; it seemed that everyone was staying inside on this rainy night. Kane and Josh made their way down the alley behind the drug store. Tall, dead weeds, now heavy with rain, swayed ever so slightly against the board fence that ran the entire length of the alley. Kane held his breath and gently touched Josh's shoulder and told him to duck down. He had seen car lights on the next street over. The car went on by and Kane breathed easier. A dog barked in the distance, and Kane's heart began to beat faster and he started to doubt whether he was doing the right thing, by bringing Josh to town, putting the boy in danger. And he knew he would be betraying Molly if he let Josh get into any trouble. And he didn't want to think of what would happen to him if he were caught, but still he kept on going until they were at the back of the drug store, which was in shadows.
     It all looked the same as it had so many years before. God, Kane thought, that was so long ago. He found the loose brick and the key was still there. He held it in his hand; it seemed to be the same key that he and Robby had used, though it was a bit rusty. He put the key into the lock and it turned. Josh was looking up at Kane with anticipation on his rain-soaked face. Kane opened the door and they stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
     The back of the store was in semi-darkness; towards the front was more light. Kane and Josh took off their raincoats, hanging them on pegs by the door, and water dripped from the coats onto the red tile floor.
     The street light, on the corner, shone through the large front window, casting a pale yellow light on the ice cream counter. "Pick your seat, young man," Kane said.
     Josh grinned and jumped upon one of the red and silver stools and spun around and around. ''I've always wanted to do this," he said, his eyes shining with pleasure.
     Kane put a white soda jerk's cap on his head and grinned at Josh. "Now, what can I do for you, young man?" he asked.
     Josh's face beamed in the light from the street. ''I'll have a dish of ice cream, strawberry ice cream, in the tall stemmed dish, if you please," he said, laying a ten cent piece on the counter top. "And I have the dime to pay," he added.
     "That's all you need, Josh," Kane said, dishing up two generous scoops of strawberry ice cream. It had been worth the risk, he thought as he watched Josh spin around and around on the stool, stopping now and then to take a bite of the ice cream. When Josh was finished eating, Kane started to wash the dish, then changed his mind and left the dirty dish, beside the dime, on the counter.
     "Won't they know that someone was here?" Josh asked.
     "Yes, I guess they will," Kane said. "But you have paid your dime. You don't have to wash the dishes."
     "Just like anybody else?" Josh said.
     "Just like anybody else." Kane said. "We'd best be going or your grandmother will get home before us." They put on their slickers, and Kane quietly opened the back door, locked it behind them and put the key back behind the brick.
     In silence, they crept along the back alleys of Groversville and were a good distance down the road towards home before Josh spoke: "Thanks, Kane," he said. "Thanks for the best birthday that I've ever lived through. And you don't have to worry none about me trying to go back there, ever."
     The thought had crossed Kane's mind, and he'd thought that he would talk to Josh about it later; he didn't want Josh to think it was all right to break into another person's property.
     "I've done what I've always dreamed of doing," Josh said. "I've been served a dish of ice cream at Parker's Drug Store, and I've spun around on the silver stool. Thank you, Kane, for making my dream come true. I won't tell anyone, not even Grandma. It'll be our secret, just yours and mine," Josh said, throwing his arms around Kane and hugging him tightly.
     "It won't always be like this, Josh," Kane whispered, as he stood on that lonely, rain-covered road in Tennessee and held the boy. He was slightly aware of the rain falling softly on his face, and a tear mixed with the rain as he continued. "Someday, Josh, you won't have to sneak into the drug store in the dark of a rainy night to be served a dish of ice cream, or anything else. Someday, you'll be able to walk right up to the counter, and they will have to serve you. All that will be required of you is that you have the dime to pay."
     Later that night, Kane lay on the cot in the shine room and thought of what it had meant to Josh to have been granted the simple request of being served a dish of ice cream. And for the first time in his life, he felt that he truly knew what injustice really meant. And for the first time in a long time, he slept without dreams.

Chapter 9

     On Friday, Molly announced that the following day they would be going to visit her son in Birmingham.
     Josh jumped up and down, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. "You should see Birmingham, Kane! It is sooo big, giant buildings and everything; guess you can't remember if you've been there. I'll get to see Uncle Basil and Aunt Till and the cousins. Uncle Basil is the best Freedom Fighter in the South; that's what I'm gonna be when I grow up. I'll be the best Freedom Fighter this world has ever seen!"
     "Hold on now, Josh. You have a lot of growing to do," Molly said, laughing and hugging the boy.
     "Kane is gonna come with us? Ain't he, Grandma?" Josh asked.
     "We'll see," Molly said, smiling at Kane.
     Kane didn't say anything. He wondered what it would be like to be a Freedom Fighter, and he wished that he could go with Molly and Josh to Birmingham. But the fear that he would be caught made him sick to his stomach. And he didn't know if he could take the chance, even if Molly was willing. Going into Groversville in the darkness of night was one thing; going into Birmingham in bright daylight was quite another.
     Molly went into town that afternoon, when she returned she handed Kane a pair of sunglasses. "Here," she said, "you wear these tomorrow, and we'll pass you off as my blind son. This way nobody will see your eyes, and you can take the old walking cane that belonged to my daddy, that should help to make it look like you're blind."
     Kane thought that her plan might work and agreed to go to Birmingham.
      "I'll drive the truck as for as Birkley, and from there we will take the bus on to Birmingham. I called Basil from the pay phone in town, but didn't dare tell him about you over the phone."
     "Boy, Uncle Basil is shore gonna have a surprise," Josh said.
     Molly arranged with a neighbor for the care of the cow and chickens.
     "What about Cable?" Kane asked, wondering what the blackmailer would do if he came around and found Molly gone.
     "He's not due to come for a load of shine for about a week," She said. "What he took last time will keep him drunk and laid up till then. I'll lock the house up tight and everything should be all right until we get back. We'll be back on Monday."
     By sunup the next morning, the three were on their way. Kane lay hidden under a tarpaulin in the bed of the truck. Molly had been afraid that they would be stopped in Groversville if anyone saw a strange man in the truck. And she had tucked the tarp tightly around Kane. Molly and Josh were in the cab. Kane wore an old suit that had once belonged to Molly's late husband; it was a bit too large. He also had on a pair of shoes that Molly had given him; they, too, had been her husband's, but they were the right size, and Kane was thankful for that. He held the sunglasses in his hand, and the cane lay nearby. Kane felt a bit more secure as he lay there in the darkness under the tarp, on the hard floor of the truck bed, and listened to the humming of the truck tires as they rolled over the pavement. Molly had said that when they got to Birkley, it would be safe to pass Kane off as her blind son, as no one in Birkley would be likely to know her.
     Kane realized what a chance Molly was taking on his account and a deep feeling of admiration filled his heart. One thing for sure, he thought, that little lady has guts.
     After a long while, the truck came to a halt, and Molly pulled the tarp off Kane. "Quick, get inside the cab," she said. "We're almost to Birkley. It ought to be safe now."
     Kane blinked in the bright sunlight and put the sunglasses on. He was glad to get inside the cab of the truck and sit down. It had been uncomfortable lying on the hard floor of the truck bed. He looked through the sunglasses at the approaching town of Birkley and tried to think of how a blind man would act.
     Josh said that Kane looked just like a movie star in his sunglasses. A short time later, Molly pulled the truck into the parking lot of the bus station. "I'll leave the truck in the parking lot until we got back from Birmingham." She told Kane to sit on one of the benches near the entrance to the station. "Let me lead you," she whispered, taking Kane's arm. Kane closed his eyes and dragged his cane along at his side, as he allowed her to lead him to the bench. "You stay here with Kane," she told Josh. "I'll go inside and buy our tickets."
     Kane had never ridden on a bus before. He had always been driven to any place that was too far to walk. And when he was old enough, he had taken some of the money his mother had left him and bought a car of his own; he remembered fondly the 1950 Chevy coupe that had been his first car. He wondered about his Thunderbird, if it was in his father's garage? He had thought about looking for it that night when he had gone home, but time had been short, and he had felt the need to hurry back to Molly's.
     Josh was asking more of his questions: "Why, Kane? Why is the color red called red? Who decided that it should be red? How come a chicken has feathers? If it's to make them fly, how come they don't fly like birds? How come they fall down after just a short distance? Why do horses have hoofs and not toes? How come they don't put shoes on cows? How come weeds grow better than flowers?" Josh asked, pulling up a bright green weed growing in a flowerpot near the bench. "All them flowers have up and died, but this old weed just keeps on a growing. Do you know the why of that, Kane?"
     "No, Josh. I can't answer that," Kane said.
     "Well," Josh said, with a long sigh, "seems to me that the pretty ought to outlast the ugly."
     Kane was relieved to see Molly returning. She sat on the bench between Kane and Josh. "There's posters of you all over the walls inside there!" she whispered, worry written all over her face. "Somebody has drawed a sketch of a face and it looks a lot like you, even has blue eyes. I guess somebody that seen you when you was in jail was able to draw that picture." Kane felt her tremble, and he too felt the fear.
     People were lining up to get on the bus. Kane thought that Molly was getting up and stood up. "Sit down," Molly said, grabbing hold of his arm. We have to wait. We have to wait til all the white folks gets on the bus, then we can go."
     Kane felt a deep burning anger rising up inside him. He wanted to yell that he would be damned if he would wait, but the fear of being discovered stopped him.
     Finally, Molly said that it was all right for them to get on the bus. "Remember to pretend that you can't see," she whispered, taking Kane's arm. She led him to the steps and told him to go ahead. Kane got on the bus, and Molly, with Josh a step behind her, gave their tickets to the bus driver. Kane held onto the seats as he made his way down the aisle, hoping that everyone would think that he was a blind man. About halfway down the aisle there was an empty seat next to a distinguished looking, white gentleman, and Kane sank into it. A hush fell over the bus. Kane could feel all eyes on him.
     "How dare you!" snapped the white man. "Get in the back of the bus where you belong, nigger!"
     "Hey! You, there, boy, move it on back where you belong!" yelled the bus driver.
     A rage such as he had never known surged through Kane. He wanted to yell at the driver and the man to just try and make him move, if they thought they were men enough. Just then, Molly was at his side. "Sorry, mister," she said. "My boy, he's blind and can't tell what part of the bus he's in."
     "Well, blind or not if he don't know how to behave you'd better keep him home, and don't let him go around trying to be white. You tell him what color he is, woman! You teach him where he belongs," the man sneered.
     Molly, again, apologized to the white man. Kane couldn't believe her smiling face as she whispered in his ear, "Don't cause any trouble! If you're found out, you'll be lynched for shore!" Kane shook with rage as he let Molly pull him to his feet and lead him to the back of the bus. He was amazed and very angry that Molly still had the smile on her face. As Kane sat between Molly and Josh in the Colored section of the bus, the anger still boiling inside him, he tried to think of why he had sat next to the white man. Why hadn't he just simply waited for Molly to tell him when to sit? Looking at Molly's, still smiling, face only made his rage more intense. How could she just sit there and smile? he wondered. He knew that she had to have been humiliated. How could she stand it, pushed aside day after day, treated like so much dirt? His head was throbbing with pain and anger. He felt a need to lash out. He felt raging hate for the well-dressed white man who had treated him like so much dirt. He wanted to jump out of his seat and run and grab the white man, and drag him to the Colored section and force him to sit. But he sat still. He knew that Molly was right, that it would mean the end for him if he were found out, and maybe the end for Molly also.
     Josh, his large brown eyes taking in the situation, leaned across Kane and whispered to his grandmother, "Someday, Grandma, can I sit in the front of the bus?"
     "Yes, Josh," she said gently, her voice low so that only the people in the Colored section could      hear. "Yes, you most certainly can. Someday you'll be able to sit anywhere you want, and there won't be nobody telling you that you gotta move. Someday the first person to board the bus is gonna get the first pick of the seats, and no matter what color their skin is, they ain't gonna have to move. But it'll take time. We gotta be patient. But I promise you, Josh, someday that's the way it's gonna be."
     Kane sat quietly on that bus to Birmingham, on that sunny fall day, a raw rage burning deep inside him. He hated the white people sitting so superior in the front of the bus. When the bus finally pulled into the station in Birmingham, the people in the Colored section waited until all the white people had left the bus; the driver then gave the signal to leave.
     Kane allowed Molly to lead him out of the bus. He was hot and thirsty. He spotted a water fountain and started walking towards it. Molly quickly grabbed his arm. "Remember. You're supposed to be blind!" she whispered. "And besides, you'll have to use the other fountain, the one for the Colored."
      Kane could see a sign above the fountain that he had started for. The sign read "White Only". The other fountain, a smaller one of stained and cracked porcelain, stood several feet to the left and had a sign which read "Colored". Separate drinking fountains weren't new to Kane. He had seen them all his life, had drunk from the white only fountains for as long as he could remember. But today it was different. He felt the hot anger rising inside his chest again and took a step towards the white only fountain.
     "Please, Kane!" Molly pled with him, still holding onto his arm. "They'll find you out if you keep calling attention to yourself. If you touch that white, water fountain, you'll be arrested and they will find out who you are! What are you gonna do when that happens? What do you think will happen to me and Josh? You just think about that!" Molly was looking at him with concern and anger on her face.
     Kane stopped, and just stood there for a couple of minutes. He took a deep breath and patted Molly's hand. He felt shame that he was causing her so much worry. "It's all right, Molly, he whispered. "I'll not cause you anymore trouble. I promise."
     Molly gave a sigh of relief. "The water all comes from the same place," she said wearily. "I guess the white folks think that we'll contaminate it just by drinking out of their fountain. For people who thinks they're so superior, they shore are ignorant about a lot of things. I don't care though. Look at it this way, Kane, ain't no white folks gonna contaminate the Colored fountain."
     Kane watched her drink from the fountain for the Colored, and he knew; he knew that she really did care; that she cared from the bottom of her soul, even though she was smiling. And he thought with great sadness, that her whole life had been like this, putting on a smile to hide the hurt, to survive in a white man's world.
     Josh drank after Molly was finished and wiped the water running down his chin with the back of his hand. "Come on, Kane," he said. "The water's good. Ain't you thirsty?" Kane just stood there and looked at the boy. He thought that he would die of thirst before he let someone tag a water fountain and force him to drink from which fountain they had chosen. So, he said that he didn't want any water, anyway.
     "Sometimes pride will get you killed, Kane," Molly said looking at him strangely. "I'm a thinking that I made a mistake in bringing you with us," she said with more sadness than anger.
     "I promise that I'll be no more worry to you, Molly," Kane said, wishing that he could erase the look of pain and worry from her face.
     "How long are we gonna have to wait til Uncle Basil comes and gets us, Grandma?" Josh asked, when Molly returned from placing the phone call to her son.
     "Till said he had gone down to his shop for a few minutes, and that she would send him to pick us up just as soon as he gets back. Wanna stay out here? We can go inside and wait in the Colored waiting room, if you want."
     Kane said that he had rather wait outside and Josh agreed. So, Kane and Molly sat on a bench, and Josh tried to talk a squirrel out of a tree near the bus depot. For awhile, Molly and Kane sat in silence and watched as passengers got on another bus or took taxicabs, or got into cars with friends and relatives. Soon, only Molly, Kane and Josh were left in the outside waiting area of the bus station. Finally Molly spoke, "I don't know much about this amnesia stuff, Kane, but you ain't dealing with prejudices any too good."
     Kane looked at Molly. "It's not fair, Molly," he said.
     "There's many things in this old world that ain't fair, Kane. But you gotta deal with 'em just the same. Prejudices comes in many forms, Kane. Some people got it wrote all over their faces, big and ugly for the whole world to see. Some got it hid under a smile, and some just in between. Sometimes I think I'd rather see it plain and ugly. At least a person knows where they stand with people like that. The kind I hate the most is the kind people have who thinks they should get a reward from God for being kind to Colored folks. The White Methodist Preacher's wife is like that; she always has that little smile painted on her face when she looks at me. It never changes, always the same, just so, never any bigger or smaller, like it is frozen, or had been painted there. I was in town one day and was carrying a load of packages down the street. She left a group of ladies that she was a talking to and offered to help me carry my packages to the truck. I thanked her for helping me. She said that she always believed in treating Colored folks just like they was as good as regular people. Well, Kane, I wanted to slap that painted smile right off her face, but I just stood there trying to tell myself that God didn't want me to hit that white woman. And I heard her say when she rejoined her friends, 'Now, God wants us to be kind to the Colored. That is, them that knows their place. It ain't for us to understand why He put these people in this world, but He'll explain it all when we get to heaven.' And she was a smiling like she just knowed that the Lord was a gonna bless her extra special. Well, Kane, the Devil got a hold of me and filled my heart with rage, and I shore had to do some praying to keep my hand off that woman. But the Lord beat out the Devil and made me see that I could scratch that woman's eyes out, but that in the end I would be the loser, and that they would take me away from Josh, and he would be the loser, too. So you see, Kane, you can't always act on how you feel; most times you can't act on how you feel. You just got to trust in the Lord to get you through. But as I drove away I yelled back at her and said, 'I always tried to treat you folks like you somebody, too. I'm a wondering how the Lord's gonna explain you, when I get to heaven.' And for once the painted smile was gone."
     Kane smiled at the picture Molly had painted in his mind, of the stunned preacher's wife, but he felt sad, too. And he sat beside Molly on that bench outside that bus station in Alabama, and neither one said anything for sometime. Kane thought of his father and his heart filled with more sadness, he longed to see him and to go home. Oh, God, he silently prayed, please help me.
     "Kane," Molly was saying, "I wish you could know who you are, where you come from, and who your people are."
     "Thanks, Molly," Kane said. "Thanks for taking care of me."
     "We gotta help one another, Kane," she said. "And we gotta do our best to love our enemies. I know that the Bible tells us to always love our enemies, but it's hard, Kane, mighty hard. Sometimes I just can't seem to turn the other cheek. I have to pray on that a lot."
     "Molly! Molly!" Kane turned toward the voice and saw a plump black woman of about thirty-five hurrying towards them. Behind her was a tall, thin, black man of about forty, his hair graying at the sides. The man had a smile on his face that looked like Molly's smile, and Kane knew that he had to be Basil. The woman threw her arms around Molly and hugged her. The man then picked Molly up, swinging her around and around.
     "Glad to see you, Ma," he said laughing, as he put her down.
     Molly's face was aglow as she looked at her son. "This here is my son, Basil," she said to Kane. "And this lovely lady is his wife, Till. The man and the woman looked questionably at Kane. Molly took Kane arm. "This," she said, "this is Kane. I didn't dare write you about him or tell you anything about him over the phone. He ain't blind, but we have to pretend he is."
     Just then Josh came running to them and threw himself into his uncle's arms. Basil hugged him, and Till went on about what a fine young man that he was growing into. Basil held out his hand to Kane and warmly shook Kane's hand. "Welcome to Birmingham, Kane," he said smiling. "You are welcome in our home. Looks like Ma's gonna have quite a story to tell us."
     "Oh, Uncle Basil!" Josh said, dancing around his uncle, "you ain't gonna believe all we got to tell you about Kane. It's a great story, and true, too."
     Molly hugged her son again. "Thanks, Basil," she said.
     "Now," Basil said, "let's all get in the car and head for home. Till and her mother has a big dinner cooked and I'm starved."
     "Me, too, Uncle Basil," Josh said.
     Kane rode beside Josh in the back seat of Basil's old Chevy. Molly sat with Basil and Till in the front seat, and the three chatted as Basil drove through the streets of Birmingham. For once Josh was quiet. Kane looked out the car window. He recognized the street they were on as the one that the University was on. As they passed the drive that led to the campus, he stared at the stately white buildings. He could see Hampton Hall, his old dorm. Had it really been just a few short weeks ago that he had been safe inside those walls? Looking out the back window of the car, he could see the window of his old room, and his heart ached as he watched it grow smaller and smaller.
     Josh looked at Kane. "Ain't that a pretty college, Kane? I'd like to go to a big school like that when I'm all growed up. But I'll bet they wouldn't teach you to be a Freedom Fighter in there," he said thoughtfully. "And that's what I wanna be most of all."
     Kane thankfully drank the iced tea that Till had prepared. Till's mother had stayed with Basil's and Till's three children, and went home soon after Kane and the others arrived at the house. The children were happy to see their Grandma Tolbert, and Molly made a fuss over each one of them. Till served a bountiful dinner and proved to be as good a cook as Molly.
     After dinner, Molly explained about Kane; that he was wanted for the murder of one Wade Holliday. "But of course, he didn't do it," she quickly added. They never even found a body. That boy might have just run away. But, you know that Kane wouldn't have a chance to prove his innocence if he turned himself in."
     Basil and Till nodded in agreement. "If you say he's Ok, Ma, he's Ok," Basil said.
     Josh was outside on the porch playing with his cousins and asking questions that a grownup would have had trouble answering. Kane looked around the modest house; it was neat and clean. Till brought out recent school pictures of the children, and Molly beamed with pride as she looked at them. As Basil and Till told of each child's accomplishments, Kane thought how like his father and aunt had been when he had been growing up. Kane remembered a baseball trophy that he had won, and his father showing it off to a cousin from Chicago. And how Aunt Sophia had shown off the painting he had done in Forth Grade Art Class; she still had that painting hanging in her room.
     Kane listened quietly as Basil told what the Freedom Fighters were doing to help the "Cause". He was surprised to learn of how well organized they were.
     "Tomorrow being Sunday, we'll be going to church," Basil said, " but it's a different church than our usual one, a new one that has been built in the last few months. Ma, I think you will really like it. And you come along, too, Kane, if you want. I guess if Ma could bring you all the way to Birmingham without you getting caught that you should be safe in church. There's a new minister there," Basil continued. "He's been preaching up North, but he's from Birmingham; was born here, but got educated up North. He decided it was the Lord's will that he come back down here and preach and help with the "Cause"; got a big following, too. He teaches nonviolence. He says that we're gonna win our Equal Rights. But that we're gonna have to fight for them, but not out of anger and violence; says we're gonna fight peacefully."
     "Sounds like somebody worth listening to," Molly said, smiling at her son.
     "By the way, Ma," Basil said, "all that money you sent has helped some folks over some very rough times, and they're mighty grateful to you."
     "Glad to do what I can to help the "Cause", Molly said.
     That night, Kane was given a room to share with Josh. Long after the boy's chatter had ceased, Kane lay awake staring into the darkness, wondering what the next day would bring and about the minister that Basil was so taken with; what of his idea of winning equal rights with nonviolence? How would Basil and Till react if they knew that the man who lay in a bed in their house, had, in another body, been a Klansman? He thought of when he had been a student at the University. He had often visited friends who lived in town. He thought of their grand homes, and knew that now he wouldn't even be allowed in their yards. He thought of the fine restaurants he had eaten in; now, he wouldn't be allowed to enter the door, much less eat at one of the fancy tables. It was a long time before he fell asleep.
     The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, they headed for church, dressed in their Sunday best. Kane wore the suit that he'd worn the day before and he also wore the sunglasses.
     Molly said she was glad that Kane had come to Birmingham with them and that he most certainly was gonna go to church. "I just wish you could remember who you are, Kane," she said. "There must be folks wondering and worrying about you on such a beautiful Lord's day."
     Kane sat between Molly and Josh in the back seat of the old Chevy. He wondered, as he looked upon the sunbathed morning, how his father was, back in Groversville---if he was going to church on this Sunday morning. Before Kane had gone off to college, he had always attended church with his father and Aunt Sophia. Heather would, most times, join them. Both families belonged to the same church: The First Baptist Church of Groversville. It hadn't seemed strange, back then; that the preacher would preach about love to all mankind and then preach about keeping the Negro suppressed. The preacher often preached of White Supremacy. He had preached that God had made the Negro a lower class of people, and that God wanted them to be kept in their place, and that it was up to the white man to see that God's will be done. Back then, Kane had thought the preacher was right, as did all the other people in that church. It seemed he could hear the amens, even now, echoing through the church. He was seeing things differently now.
     Basil pulled the old Chevy into the parking lot at the church. A crowd of people was already in the churchyard; some were going up the steps into the church. "Told you, this preacher had a big following," Basil said.
     Kane took Molly's arm and allowed her to lead him into the church. They sat in a pew beside Josh, with Basil and Till and their three youngsters.
     The church was brought to order, just like the church that Kane had attended all his life. He had expected it to be different. He didn't know what he thought the difference would be, but he had thought that it would be there.
     A picture of Christ hung on the wall behind the pulpit. Kane had half-expected the picture to be of a black Christ. His father had once told him that: 'Niggers think that there's a Colored Christ and even had a picture of one hanging in their churches, somewhere in the South, in the early century.' Kane, now, wondered if that was true, or if it was just a Klansman's tale. He stared at the picture of Christ hanging behind the pulpit; it was almost identical to the one that hung behind the pulpit in the First Baptist Church in Groversville.
     Soon, the congregation was singing songs. The same songs that Kane had sung as Wade Holliday. Good God, he thought, who is Kane? And who is Wade Holliday? I don't know who or what I am. What's the reason for it all, Lord? He silently prayed. Please show me the reason. He was lost in thought and hadn't realized that the singing had stopped and that the preacher had started to speak. "We must love our enemies and pray that love will replace the hate in their hearts," the preacher said, jolting Kane back to reality. "Yes, we must love our enemies and we must try to understand them, but we must not let them defeat us!" Kane stared at the young black man standing behind the pulpit. "We have many burdens to bear," the young preacher said. "The road ahead is long, and rough, and at times it may seem hopeless, but we are strong. And the Lord is on our side, and we will make it through. Have faith, brothers and sisters! Have faith!" His voice was now almost a shout as he continued. "It is time! It is time to be done with being treated as lower class citizens! We can not overcome by just sitting passively by and letting things go on, as they have for centuries! But, we're the ones who are going to have to change things! That old enemy, he's not going to change! He's happy with things just the way they are. So it has to be us that does the changing. We all, each and every one of us will have to do our part! We have a choice--- we can fight for our freedom, or we can sit back and do nothing and let the injustice continue! Yes, we have the choice!" the preacher's voice loud, clear, and strong reached out beyond the church. Kane thought it could have been heard through the heavens. And he thought: powerful, very powerful.
     The preacher was a short man, but the power of his words made him seem very tall. Kane looked at the faces of the congregation and could see that the young preacher held them spellbound. It seemed that he could feel hope flowing from the man to each of them. He looked over at Molly; she was absorbed in what the preacher was saying, and Kane saw tears in her eyes.
     "This is America," the preacher continued. "And the constitution says that all citizens will have the right to the pursuit of happiness! And that all citizens will have the protection of the law of this great nation! Now, this doesn't mean just the white man! This means all! All the citizens of The United States of America will have the same rights!"
     Shouts of "Amen, Brother"! flooded the church.
     "We have a right to be treated equal!" the preacher said. "A right to be the best we can be! -----Our limits being our own. The right to be treated with human dignity! Yes, we are guaranteed these rights, but the guarantee, up until now, has been hollow! So, we're going to have to go out there and fight for our right! And this is going to be the hard part, dear brothers and sisters--- we're going to have to use nonviolence to do it. This is war!" he shouted, sweat popping out on his forehead. "And we have to fight it with marches, sit-ins, speeches, and boycotts! It is time for our army to rise up and sweep this nation!"
      Suddenly, the entire congregation was on their feet, as shouts of "Amen!" and "Yes, Lord!" echoed throughout the church.
     "There's danger here," the preacher said when he could be heard again. "The threat of bombings, arrests and all sorts of violent acts against us are ever present, but, we will, we must, be brave and overcome! Thanksgiving is just about here, and I ask each of you to think long on what you have to be thankful for, and I'm sure that you will find an abundance that God has given you. Count your family and friends, and look to tomorrow. I believe that if you can see it in your mind's eye, it can become reality. So, I say to you, brothers and sisters, see! See! See justice! And see freedom!"
     In an instant, everyone in the church was shouting and crying. Kane felt his own eyes stinging. Someone started singing "Onward Christian Soldier". Soon all the voices mingled together with hope and joy. And Kane thought that surely the voices in that Negro church could be heard above all the churches in Birmingham, on that Sunday morning.
     Everyone was quiet as Basil drove home from church. It seemed that even the children were lost in thought. As Kane had listened to the talks of peaceful demonstrations and what had been accomplished so far, he had realized that the Black People would no longer allow themselves to be suppressed; that they were willing to fight for dignity, and he thought that he truly understood what the word meant.

Chapter 10

     That afternoon, the Freedom Fighters were holding a meeting in Basil's basement. Kane sat between Molly and Josh, near the front of the room, which had been filled with rows of folding chairs.
     Molly had, at first, told Josh to stay with Basil's children, but with Josh's persistence had finally given in and let him come. "I'm gonna be the top-notch Freedom Fighter, someday, Grandma!" Josh had said. "Just how do you think I'm gonna accomplish that if I don't know what's going on? Now, you just tell me that, Grandma!" And Molly had smiled and given in.
     Kane took off his sunglasses and pretended to rub his eyes, all the while looking around the room. He stared at the tile floor, which had flecks of red and yellow, like paint drops, splattered here and there. The walls were gray, unpainted, cement blocks. The glare of the lights that were suspended from the rafters hurt Kane's eyes.
     Soon the speakers were seated at the long table facing the filled room. The young preacher was sitting next to Basil, and five more men and one woman sat at the table. Kane stared at the woman. Somewhere, in the shadows of his mind, he knew that he had seen her before. Her dark auburn hair fell softly about her slender shoulders; her eyes were a deep green. Kane felt that she knew exactly who she was and where she was going. He quickly put his sunglasses back on. Molly was giving him the eye, and Kane felt that she was thinking someone was going to notice that a blind Colored man was staring at a white woman.
     Basil introduced the guests, most of whom were from up North. "And this, brothers and sisters, is Amanda Stevens, from right here in the South, lives right here in Alabama now. She was born and raised in Tennessee," Basil said.
     Amanda stood up and said that she was going to do everything in her power to help in the freedom fight. Suddenly, a picture from the past formed in Kane's mind. In an instant, he knew where he had seen her before. Of course, he thought, old nigger lover, Amanda Stevens. It had been the year he was a freshman in high school that he first remembered seeing her, and what a fireball she had been back then, too. The Third Period History Class had been given an assignment. Kane could remember it clearly, now. He was vaguely aware of Basil announcing the progress of the Freedom Fighter's Movement. Kane's mind was back in time, to another time, another place. He could see Amanda as she had been then, an independent, young schoolgirl. 'A little girl with a big mouth, who needs to be taken down a notch or two,' was the remark he had heard one of the teachers making to the principal, after Amanda had been called into the principal's office.
     The assignment had been to write a report on what are your rights as an American. The class had turned in their reports and most were pretty much the same, except for old Amanda. The teacher had read her report to the class and said that it was an example of someone not following instructions. Amanda's reports had been "How The Color Of Skin Affects Americans' Rights". Amanda had argued with the teacher. Kane could see her now, standing there at her desk arguing with the teacher, Mr. Pruitt: A small white-haired man, a member of the Ku Klux Klan. Amanda had asked him to please explain the plight of the Black citizen if all Americans had the same rights under the laws of the nation. By the time the class was over, Amanda had earned an F, a trip to the principal's office for sassing the teacher, and the name, Nigger Lover. But, Old Amanda hadn't seemed to learn from her mistakes. Kane could remember seeing her at her locker, later that day, with fire in her eyes, as if to say, I'm right. I got an F, but I'm right, so there. Amanda hadn't been someone who he had really noticed before that day. She hadn't been in his class, so to speak, not one of the "In" crowd. She was the daughter of a poor farmer, and she worked, after school, at the nursing home at the edge of Groversville. Soon after the incident at school, Amanda's father had died, and the family had moved away, and Amanda had been forgotten. But, now, here she was, from out of yesteryear. Kane couldn't help noticing how beautiful she had become.
     "You don't know me," Amanda was saying. "A few years ago, I lived in Basil's hometown of Groversville, Tennessee. I didn't know him then. He had moved away before that. You may be asking yourselves why I'm here? What are my motives? The reason has a name: Bertie Mae Mann. Bertie Mae was a dear person, a funny person. She was my friend, and she died." A look of sadness came across Amanda's face as she continued. "When I was a teenager living in Groversville, I worked part-time in a nursing home. My daddy was sick and my mama had a hard time taking care of him and five young children, with only me to help out. When things seemed darkest, we found a friend in Groversville. Bertie Mae worked at the nursing home, as a cook. I think she was about sixty. She started helping out my mama. She knew that we didn't have anything to give her in return, and she never wanted anything. That was the kind of person Bertie Mae was. Then one day Bertie Mae got sick and went to the hospital over in Scottsburg, as Groversville didn't have one." Tears were now streaming down Amanda's face as she continued to tell the story of Bertie Mae. "They let my friend lay there in the hallway of that hospital and die! And why? They wouldn't admit her; they said they had to wait for a room in the Colored section of the hospital. Oh, yes! there was room in the white section!" Amanda said with bitterness. "But Bertie Mae wasn't white. By morning, Bertie Mae was dead; her appendix had ruptured. And that's why I'm here. Bertie Mae shouldn't have died like that."
     Kane didn't think there was a dry eye in the room when Amanda sat down. Next, Basil introduced a tall white man. "This is professor, Luke Kellor, a friend of Amanda's, and also our friend. He's been working for Civil Rights for some time now. He's been fired from his job at the University for voicing his beliefs. 'Stirring up discord' was the official charge. He's here to help organize a peaceful sit-in."
     The professor had snow-white hair, a closely trimmed white beard, and keen blue eyes. He told of what was needed to organize a sit-in. The meeting continued with plans for a sit-in at one of the lunch counters in Little Rock. Freedom Fighters, from all over the South, were to be in Little Rock on Tuesday. Sit-ins were to take place all over the city.
     After the meeting, Basil said, "I hadn't planned on going to Little Rock, really didn't think I could afford to take off work. But, now, I believe it is something I must do."
     Till took her husband's hand and nodded in agreement.
     Josh could not keep still. "We gotta go, Grandma! We gotta go to that sit-in, down there in Little Rock!" he said, dancing around the room.
     Molly smiled. "Ok, Josh," she said. "We gotta go."
     "And Kane, too?" Josh asked.
     "And Kane, too," Molly said and smiled at Kane.

Chapter 11

     The next morning, Kane, Molly, Josh, Basil and Till went to the church, to meet with a group of Freedom Fighters. Till had arranged with her mother to stay with the children. In all, there were fifteen people gathered in the church, ready to make the trip to Little Rock. Kane sat with Molly and Josh, in a pew near the front of the church. To his right, he saw Amanda sitting with the professor, and his heart fluttered.
     The preacher went to the pulpit and surveyed the group. "Thank you all for being here this morning," he said. "We are about to begin a journey that will take us face to face with hate. Danger lurks everywhere, and I want you to be aware of what could happen out there. If anyone here feels that they don't want to, or can't pay the price, please don't go. We will understand if you choose not to go. But once you are in those cars headed out of town, we want total commitment to the "Cause". No one will think badly of you if you do not choose to go. It is your decision to make, and you must do what is in your best interest."
     Kane looked around the room, at the faces of the people. No one looked like they had any doubts about making the trip.
     "My brother, Sam, is here with us this morning," the preacher said. "He's had some experiences with sit-ins and can tell us what we can expect to endure, once we get to the lunch counter. He will have some tips on how we can deal with it." Kane watched as a tall, lean black man, sitting next to the professor, got up and went to the pulpit.
     Sam looked at the people sitting before him and began to speak: "Our sit-in must be non-violent. We can not retaliate, no matter what is done to us. To fight back is to lose. If any of you feel that you can't take it, please don't go. He looked the group over and continued. "I would like to demonstrate some of the things that we can expect to encounter. Joe, will you come forward and be my assistant?" Sam said, picking up a chair, placing it in front of the pulpit.
     A young black man came forward and sat in the chair.
     "Now," Sam began, "I'm the white guy," at which everyone laughed. "And Joe, here, is the nigger, who has come down here and dares to step out of his place! He's no longer a good nigger; he's a bad nigger! He's done crossed over that line. Why, he's wanting to eat at my lunch counter, and us white folks ain't gonna stand fer that. Now that he's here at my lunch counter, how am I gonna get him to move? Well, I done called him a black nigger son-of-a-bitch, but he just sits there and stares straight ahead." Sam walks around and around the chair, his hand on his chin studying the young man in the chair who gives no sign he is aware that Sam is there. "Well," Sam said, "what if I pull his burr hair? Pull it out by the roots; see if he'll move then!"
     Everyone's eyes were on Sam as he circled around Joe. As he came around back of him, he reached out and yanked the young man's hair, pulling so hard that Joe fell off the chair. Joe got up and sat back down in the chair, still staring straight ahead.
     "This was just a small example of what to expect," Sam said. "You will be spit on, kicked, maybe even burned with cigarettes, and then they will call the police, and that's when the real punishment will begin. It's an almost guarantee that we'll be thrown in jail, and some of us will, most likely, be beaten. If someone dear to you is sitting next to you at the lunch counter, and they are singled out for punishment, you can't help them. You are to sit there, that is all. If you can't handle the punishment to yourself, or to some friend or family member, don't go. You will only hurt the "Cause"." With that, Sam returned to his seat beside the professor, and Joe went back to his seat.
     The preacher returned to the pulpit. "There are three carloads of us going to Little Rock," he said. "What we'll have to do is separate. We don't need for word to get out that a caravan of Colored people is on the road; we'd never get out of Birmingham. We'll leave in fifteen minutes intervals. Each driver will be given a map. The route that you are to take will be marked on it. We'll stop in Red Key tonight. A friend of the professor's owns a hotel at a golf course down there and has promised to put us up for the night. We will meet with other groups, from other cities, at a Colored park just outside Little Rock; that is marked on your maps also. We should arrive at the park at about ten tomorrow. We will be given lunch and information on the sit-in, before going to the lunch counters. As Sam told you, we will probably go to jail. We will try to make bail, but there are no guarantees. And again, I say. If you can't pay the price, please don't go. Now, let us pray." Everyone stood as he led them in prayer.
     Basil volunteered to be the last driver to leave. The preacher and his brother, with four other men, left first; fifteen minutes later the blue sedan carrying Amanda, the professor and two young black women followed. Fifteen minutes later, Basil pulled the old, green Chevy onto the road. It had been hard for Josh to wait. He kept saying that he wished they could have been the lead car. Finally, Molly told him to hush-up, that waiting was something he was going to have to practice on.
     When they were well outside of Birmingham, and the long highway stretched ahead, Molly said, "God be with us."
      Kane felt a bit worried, but he was excited, too, as he wondered what he would encounter on this journey. Molly began to sing old Negro Spirituals. Soon, everyone in the car was singing along, everyone except Kane, he just listened. He thought the people in the car were scared, but he knew that they were glad too. Glad that they were going to take a stand. Kane hoped that the price they would have to pay wouldn't be too high.
     Till had packed a picnic lunch. And after awhile, Basil pulled off the side of the road and they ate. They had passed a picnic table sitting under a large tree at the roadside, and Josh had asked Basil to stop. "I can't do that, Josh," Basil had replied. "That table wasn't put there for Colored folks. Someday it will be there for all people, but not today."
     Till studied the map. "The way I figure it," she said. "We ought to be in Red Key by about three o'clock. I don't feel good about going to that hotel though."
     "Aw, Till," Basil said, "it'll be all right. The professor said that his friend had it all worked out. No one is gonna know that a group of Freedom Fighters are there. The professor said that the place is secluded, and mostly only used on weekends. And, too, it being Thanksgiving week, most folks will be at home with their families."
     It was just past three P.M., when they arrived in Red Key. Red Key is a small town, about the size of Groversville. "The professor told me," Basil said, "that no Colored folks live in Red Key: but that some work here, as maids and handymen, coming in from Hadleyville. And if we should be spotted at the hotel, we can be passed off as employees."
     Basil drove on through the town, and at the very end, before the streets gave way to open highway, they found the sign that the instructions written on the map said would be there. The sign read: Shady Hill Inn and Golf Course, and had an arrow pointing to a narrow lane. "It's about time, "Josh said, "I gotta go to the toilet." He had asked to use the rest room a few miles back when they had passed a service station that had a sign which read: "Rest Room". And before Basil could say anything, Josh had said, "Not for us Colored folks?"
     Basil drove for about two miles on the narrow road. Soon, they could see part of the golf course, and in the distance, a large white hotel. Josh said that it looked like the White House. Basil suddenly slammed on the brakes! A police car blocked the entrance to the inn's circle driveway! "Lord, help us!" Molly whispered as two policemen circled around the car. A dreadful feeling of doom swept over Kane. He didn't have his sunglasses on, and he didn't dare take them out of his pocket, now.
     "What in the hell are you niggers doing here!" the older of the policemen angrily asked, peering into the car. "Get your black asses out of that car! Now! And don't be a giving me a story about employees!"
      Kane swallowed hard, the policeman was tapping his fingers on his billy club. Before anyone could get out of the car, an angry yell filled the air. "Get! Get the hell out of here!" Kane looked towards the inn to see the professor running towards them with a raised golf club in his hand. He had a crazed look in his eyes and his white hair seemed to be standing on end. When he reached the car, he began pounding on it with the club, all the while screaming and cursing. The people in the car stared at him in shocked disbelief. The policemen stepped aside, laughing.
     "Get! Get away from here!" the professor screamed in Basil's startled face, dropped a piece of paper in his lap and winked. Then he turned on the policemen. "Can't a man even play golf in Mississippi anymore, without having to look at the black sons-of-bitches! I came all the way from New York and look what happens! My partners don't show up. And what's this about them staying at the inn? I won't have it! Do you hear? I won't have it!"
     "We're taking care of it, sir," the policeman said.
     The professor turned back to the people in the car, again beating on it with his golf club. "I said to get the hell out of here! Turn this damn car around, and get the hell out of here! Get going, now!" he screamed.
      Basil threw the car in reverse, backed up, and quickly turned around. And the group gladly sped away from the inn. Kane was stunned and wondered what went wrong. Josh sat wide-eyed and asked what was going to happen next. Kane could see beads of sweat standing on Basil's forehead as he steered the car around the winding road.
     "What are we gonna do, son! What do you reckon happened to the other two carloads of people?" Molly asked, worry heavy in her voice.
     "I don't know! I just don't know, yet!" Basil said, his voice grim. Everyone breathed easier when they got onto the main highway and saw that the policemen weren't following. Basil pulled off the side of the road and stopped and unfolded the piece of paper that the professor had thrown into the car.
     "What does it say?" Till asked.
     "It says," Basil read, "Go south three miles, turn right on Buck Creek Road, old farm house two miles out."
     "What on earth are we gonna do, Basil?" Till asked. "We're lucky we got away from the policemen without being beaten or arrested. Should we turn back? Do you think the note is a trick of some sort?"
     "I just don't know, Till. I just don't know," Basil said, gripping the steering wheel. "I like to think that the professor was just putting on a show for the policemen, to help us get away. What do you think, Ma?" Basil asked, looking at his mother.
     "It could be a trick," Molly said. "Could be some sort of sick game that the professor is playing. We can only pray that he did it to help us."
     "I'm low on gas," Basil said. "We were supposed to fill up at the inn. We can't go on, and we can't go back, and we certainly can't stay here. Looks like we're gonna have to try what the note says."
     "The Lord will be with us, son," Molly said. But it was a worried carload of people who drove down that country road, searching for a road called Buck Creek.
     Basil followed the directions on the note. They went south for three miles and there found a sign saying Buck Creek Road. Many pine trees dotted the landscape. And cotton fields, empty now except for a few white puffs on dry stems, stretched along each side of the road. They passed a beautiful white house surrounded by a white wooden fence. A distance to the back of the house could be seen a tin-roofed, sharecropper's shack. When they had gone about two miles down Buck Creek Road, Basil turned onto a dirt lane, overgrown with weeds, and stopped the car. Several yards down the lane was the ruins of a large, once white house, now weather-beaten gray. The once white fence that ran along the lane was without paint and was rotted and broken in many places. A rusty mailbox stood beside the road. Kane could faintly see the word, "Worthington," through the rust.
     "Are we gonna go in there!" Josh asked.
     "This has to be the place," Basil said as he began driving the car through the high weeds towards the house. There were several pine trees growing in the yard. As they got near the trees, the front door to the house opened and to everyone's relief Amanda and the preacher's brother, Sam, came out to greet them.
     "We were scared to death that you wouldn't make it," Amanda said.
     "We was scared, too," Josh said.
     "I'll show you where we're putting the cars," Sam said. "We're putting them in the barn so they can't be seen from the highway."
     Molly, Till, Kane and Josh got out of the car and Sam climbed in beside Basil.
     Kane stared at the house: it looked as if it might fall down at any moment: windows were broken; large holes were in the porch floor. But he thought that Amanda standing there on the porch was a beautiful sight and couldn't help staring at her. For an instant, she stared back at him, then she told everyone to hurry inside.
     Inside, Kane looked around at the ruins of what had once been someone's home. A broken stairway led to an upper floor. Several pieces of old, dust-covered furniture were scattered about the room. The people who had been in the other two cars were there, except for the professor. The preacher came forward to greet them.
     "What went wrong?" Molly asked.
     "Somehow word got around that we were going to be staying at the inn," the preacher said.
     Amanda continued to tell what had happened, "The professor called his friend at the inn, when we were about half way there, and a good thing that he did. His friend said he couldn't let us stay at the inn, that he had gotten a threatening phone call this morning. He said the caller said that word had gotten around that he was opening up his inn to a bunch of Coloreds, and if that were true, his inn would be burned to the ground. He said he was as sorry as could be, but it would be impossible for him to let us stay at his place. He told us to come to this place. Luckily, we were able to catch the preacher and warn him and the others. We tried to wait on the road outside of Red Key and warn you, but the police came by; they almost stopped and we barely got away. The rest of us got into the preacher's car and came on down here with him. And the professor went on to the inn to see what was going on there, and to be there to warn you when you showed up."
     Soon, Basil and Sam were in the room. "Sam told me what happened," Basil said.
     "The professor will try to bring supplies later," the preacher said. "We'll have to stay here for the night. The professor's friend told him that word was out in town not to sell any gas to any out of town Coloreds."
     Kane thought how lucky they were that Basil had not tried to buy gas in town.
     "The professor said he thought he could get us enough gas to get us a safe distance from Red Key," the preacher continued. "I'm sorry things have turned out this way."
     "It's not your fault," Basil said. "We knew when we started this journey there were no guarantees that all would go as planned."
     The people in the old house began to plan on what could be done to make their stay there as comfortable as possible. Kane went outside and sat on the chipped and broken cement steps to the porch. The group had agreed that it would be safe to go outside as long as they kept a lookout for anyone on the road. Kane could see dark gray clouds rolling in from the west, and a deep feeling of despair filled his heart. He could hear Molly and the others talking in the house, but he felt totally alone. Soon, Josh came and sat beside him. "Watching the pictures in the sky, Kane?" Josh asked.
     "What?" Kane asked.
     "Oh, you know," Josh said, "the clouds. I think they are God's paintings in the sky. Ain't you ever just laid on your back in the grass and watched God draw his pictures?"
     "Well, I've watched the clouds turning into shapes, Josh. Guess I just never thought of them as God's pictures," Kane said.
     "Yep," Josh said. "That's what they are. But these clouds ain't my favorite kind. These are mostly just mountains, sometimes, if you look close you can see a giant bear or house. The kind I like the best," Josh said thoughtfully, "is the white, fluffy kind with a bit of gray around the edges. I've seen the greatest things up there. I've seen ships with giant sails and sailors in them, too. I've seen all kinds of animals, and I've seen Old Abe Lincoln's face, beard and all." Josh looked into Kane's face. "And he never, ever smiled. I've been a hoping to see a smile on his cloud face. He never smiled in the pictures of him in books, so I thought shore there'd be a smile in the clouds, but there never is. Why do you think that is, Kane? Why didn't Mister Lincoln ever smile?"
     "I don't know, Josh," Kane answered.
     "I asked Grandma once," Josh said. "And she said that she thought it might be because he was carrying the weight of the world around on his shoulders."
     Kane remembered a time when he had agreed with the Klan, when they had blamed Lincoln for the start of the trouble with the Negroes. Now he didn't feel any blame at all. Now he just felt sad: as sad as Old Abe Lincoln.
     The wind had picked up and was blowing dust around and around in the yard where the grass and dried weeds didn't grow. And the pine trees were beginning to bend slightly with the force of the wind. Kane and Josh stood in the yard, their faces turned into the wind, as the clouds became darker and lower. The air was heavy and the world was in shadows, almost like twilight.
     "Looks like she's really gonna blow!" Josh said. "Do you think it's a tornado, Kane!"
     "I don't see a funnel cloud," Kane said. "Probably just a thunderstorm." The sky was now heavy black clouds from horizon to horizon. And then the rain came, splattering giant drops of water on the man and the boy as they ran for the shelter of the porch. The raindrops parted the dust in the yard, and soon turned it to mud.
     Molly was at the door telling them to hurry inside. The old house shook with the force of the storm, and what windows that were left rattled violently. There was a loud crash as one end of the porch collapsed. Kane was fearful that the house would fall down on them. Rain was blowing in at the broken windows. The old house was in almost total darkness. And Kane was aware that no one was speaking, not even Josh. He could hear breathing and the splattering of rain as it blew into the room, and the creaking of the house.
     Finally, Amanda broke the silence. "Does anyone have a match?"
     Basil flicked on his cigarette lighter. Amanda was holding a candle in a rusty brass candleholder. "This was lying by the fireplace," she said, as Basil lit the candle. Someone found some more candles and soon the room was filled with flickering candle light. There was some concern that the light might be seen from the road, and the men looked around for something to put over the windows.
     Sam picked up a candle and went into the other room and soon came back with a hammer, some nails and an old oilcloth. "There's a workshop off the kitchen," he said. "All kinds of tools back there, looks like a carpenter once lived here."
     One of the men cut the oilcloth into pieces with his pocketknife, and Basil and Sam nailed the pieces over the windows. The candles no longer flickered, now that the wind didn't blow through the windows, and the room was bathed in soft yellow light. The rain continued to leak into the room from the ceiling, and everyone tried to find a spot where they wouldn't he dripped on. No one talked very much as the storm beat against the old house. They sat, where they could find a dry spot, on the dusty furniture. As Kane looked at the faces of the people in the room, he wondered if any of them were wishing that they hadn't come and were home safe and dry.
     After some time, the rain slowed, and the wind calmed to just a whisper. Basil removed one of the cloths from the window. And to everyone's relief the darker clouds had gone away and the world was lighter. Molly began blowing out the candles. "We'll need these when darkness comes, she said.
     "If we're going to have to stay here for the night, we might as well be as comfortable as possible," the preacher said. "There's some pieces of wood and a few logs out there in the barn that we could burn in the fireplace."
     Sam and two of the men volunteered to go for the wood. Josh had gone outside. In a few minutes, he was back inside, pulling on Kane's arm. "Hurry, Kane," he said. "Hurry! It'll be gone if you don't hurry! Kane wondered what Josh had found and let him pull him out onto the porch. "Look! Look, Kane! Ain't she a beauty?" Josh said, pointing to the east. The late afternoon sun shining through the soft rain had formed a brilliant rainbow, and Josh's eyes shone with wonder as he showed Kane his discovery. For awhile, they didn't speak as they stood there on the decaying old porch.
      Finally, Josh broke the silence. "How does the pretty colors get up in the sky, Kane? Do you think," Josh continued before Kane could answer, "do you think that God put all them pretty colors up there so that people will just stop, and look, and say "Wow"?"
     Kane smiled at the boy. "Well, Josh," he said, "I can see that God just might do something like that."
     "God put the prettiest colors in all the world right up there in that old rainbow," Josh said. "Do you know that everything has a color, Kane? Even feelings, they got color, too."
     "What do you mean, Josh?" Kane asked
     "Feelings got color, too," Josh said, looking up at Kane. "Like love. Love has a color. Do you know what color love is, Kane?"
     "No, Josh, no, I guess I don't. I never thought of love as having a color. Who told you that love has a color?" Kane asked.
     "God told me," Josh answered. "He didn't speak to me in a voice out of the clouds, but it's something that I've been a knowing, and I know that God put that knowing inside me. I know that the color of love is a rosy pink, a happy color. I especially feel the rosy pink color when Grandma hugs me, cause I know she loves me so. But take hate, now that's another thing." And a look of sadness crossed Josh's face as he continued. "Hate is a cold gray color, like the steering wheel on Grandma's truck on a cold, icy morning. I seen the gray color of hate one day, down at the feed store. I was just walking along and a bunch of white men was setting there, and I looked up into their faces, and their eyes had the cold gray hate in them. But, now, take the white boys, they have a red hate; I seen that, too, when they was chasing me. The red hate was burning hot in their eyes. I think that when they have growed to men that the red hate will turn to the cold gray. Do you know the why of that, Kane?"
     "No, josh. I can't say that I do," Kane answered, a feeling of sadness tearing at his heart.
     Josh was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to figure it all out for himself; then, he looked at Kane. "Do you think there's gold at the end of that old rainbow, Kane?"
     "I really don't know, Josh," Kane said smiling, "there just might be at that."
     "One time I tried to get to the end of a rainbow," Josh said. "I run and run as fast as I could, but the rainbow faded away before I could get to it, but that was when I was a little kid, about five I guess, now I know better. But if I could travel as fast as the speed of light, I just bet I could reach the end of that old rainbow. But you know what, Kane?" Josh asked, looking around to be sure that no one else was listening, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, "I don't think that there's any gold at the end of it."
     "Oh?" Kane said. "And just what do you think is there?"
     "Well, I got me this notion," Josh said, his eyes shining. "I bet I could find God at the rainbow's end, but I don't think that He's white like the pictures down at the church. One time I asked Grandma if colored folks' God was black like us, and she said that there is only one God for colored folks and white folks, too. And then I asked her if the pictures in the church was of a real God? And she said that it was God's son. So I'm a guessing that most folks think that God is white; but not me, I've got another idea."
     "And just what is your idea, Josh?" Kane asked.
     "Well, sir," Josh said. "I think that God is all the colors in the rainbow. Every time I see a rainbow, I get a special feeling, like God is smiling down on me, and I always feel the rosy feeling. And I don't think that He's in the shape of a person either. I think that He's always all around us, sometimes invisible like the wind. But if I had to say about his color, I'd just say that He's all the colors of the rainbow."
     Kane didn't say anything. He hadn't considered God to be anything but white. But now, he didn't know. He wasn't sure about anything.
     The man and the boy stood on the porch and watched in silence as the rainbow faded into nothingness.

Chapter 12

     Twilight brought a gust of frosty air, sending shivers through the people in the old farmhouse. The preacher lit the wood in the fireplace; soon roaring flames brought a welcoming warmth to the room.
     "Looks like it's going to be a wintry night, fraid the Indian Summer we've been having is over," Molly said, holding her hands out before the open fire.
     "Why is warm weather in fall called Indian Summer, Grandma?" Josh asked, going to stand beside his grandmother. "Wouldn't there still be a spell of summer in the fall if there'd never been any Indians?"
      "Good question for the weatherman, Josh," Molly said, smiling at the boy.
     Some of the men nailed the oilcloth back over the windows, while Till lit candles. Molly found an old broom and swept the floor. Sam managed to get the rusted water pump in the kitchen working. Kane kept looking at Amanda, but avoided her eyes when she looked his way. No one spoke of the hunger that Kane thought they all must have been feeling. The preacher and Sam told of experiences that they had been through in earlier sit-ins.
     Basil was on the porch and came rushing inside, "Could be trouble," he said, his voice tense. "A car just turned into the lane." Everyone held their breath as a car came to a halt in the yard. To everyone's relief, the professor got out, and they all went out onto the broken porch to greet him. He had brought much needed supplies. He said that his friend from the inn had sent them. There was food, water, blankets, and five-gallon cans of gasoline. The professor said his friend was sorry that things had turned out the way they had and that he wished he could have done more.
     Basil and Sam brought an old table from the dining room and set it in front of the fireplace. Molly cleaned it off as best she could and set the brass candle holder in the center. She placed the paper plates, plastic knives, forks and spoons, and paper cups that the professor had brought on the table. Till and the two young girls put the food on the table.
     The preacher walked to the table, "Please, everyone," he said, "form a circle around the table and let's join hands for a prayer."
     As the circle formed, Kane found himself standing between Josh and Amanda. As he took Amanda's hand in his, he wanted to hold her hand tightly, but he held her fingers lightly, hoping that she wouldn't notice how his hand was sweating.
     "God, be with us on this journey," the preacher prayed. "Help us to withstand whatever lies ahead."
     Echoes of "amen" filled the room. Then the group began filling plates.
     "This shore is one fine picnic," Josh said, filling his plate with sandwiches and potato chips.
     Kane filled his plate and went to sit on the bottom step of the stairway. Josh had wanted to venture up the stairs earlier, but several of the steps were broken, and Molly had forbidden it.
     As he ate, Kane studied the group of Freedom Fighters. He thought that not one of them had dreamed, when they began this journey, of being here tonight in the ruins of an old farmhouse. The two black girls looked tired, and sat on a blanket, eating and talking quietly. He wondered about their parents, surely they would be worried about their daughters, but they must have felt it important that the girls come on the trip. Kane looked at Basil and felt that the man must be carrying a heavy load: he had his children back home to worry about, and Till's, Molly's, and Josh's safety. And the young preacher and the other men: they had families to worry about, too. Sam? Kane couldn't see Sam as a preacher like his brother. Perhaps, somewhere down the road, Sam would be a politician. He smiled to himself as he looked at Molly. You'll make do, Molly, he thought. Whatever life throws you, you'll make do. The professor? Kane thought, someday the professor would probably make his way back East and be the teacher he wanted to be, perhaps in time his teachings would be accepted. And Josh? Kane thought about what a remarkable boy Josh was and felt that the boy would surely grow up to be someone special. As his eyes fell on Amanda, he found himself wishing that he could get to know her better. Amanda looked at him and Kane felt suddenly shy as their eyes met. His heart began to beat faster as she made her way across the room toward him. She placed her hand on the wobbly staircase and looked into his eyes. The firelight was soft on her lovely face. and Kane felt that he could be failing in love. For an instant, he thought of Heather and wondered if what they'd had, had been love. He knew that what he was feeling for Amanda was entirely different.
     "I've been watching you," Amanda said, her eyes suddenly cold. "Molly told me all about you, or what she believes to be all about you, but I've been watching you, and something, I can't say what, but something just isn't right. You always seem to be just on the outside. I know that Molly trusts you completely and looks on you as a son, but I feel there is more to you than you want us to know. I feel that something is hidden, something dark and terrible."
     Kane didn't know what to say and couldn't keep eye contact. He was shocked and crushed at what she had said. Finally, he was able to look at her. "I'm sorry you feel that I'm a threat," he said. "I care very much for Molly and Josh. Please believe me, I would never do anything to harm them."
     "You'd better be telling the truth," Amanda said, her voice cold, "because I'll be watching you, and if you ever do anything to hurt them, you'll have me and the Freedom Fighters to answer to!" With that she swiftly turned on her heels and returned to the others.
     Kane was stunned. Was she on to him? He wondered. How could she know anything? He shivered. He felt so cold and so alone.
      After awhile, Molly brought him a cup of hot coffee. She had found a coffeepot and boiled some of the coffee that the professor had brought over the open fire in the fireplace. "You all right?" She asked. "You look wore out. I hope this ain't been too hard on you. It's been a trying day for all of us."
     "I'm ok, Molly," Kane said, managing a smile.
     Molly sat beside Kane on the stair-step. "I'm worried," she said, "about taking Josh to that sit-in. The more I think about it the more I worry. At first, I thought it would be all right, now, I don't know. I think it'll do us all good to go and take a stand for what is our rights, but I worry so much about what could happen. If anything happened to Josh, I don't know what I'd do. And if something should happen to me, what would become of Josh? I know that he'd have Basil, but that child has lost so much already. It all weighs so heavy on my heart, Kane."
     Kane patted her arm. "Don't worry so? Molly," he said. "I think everything will turn out all right."
     "I'm worried about you, too, Kane," Molly said, looking into his face. "Do you think you're gonna be able to handle a sit-in?"
     Kane thought that Molly was probably remembering how he had reacted on the bus. "I promise I'll do what I'm supposed to do, Molly," I'll be ok. Please don't worry about me. I'll do exactly what Sam told us to do."
     "You just remember that, come tomorrow," Molly said.
     The preacher was calling everyone to come and gather around the table. "We'll be leaving before sunup in the morning," he said. "So, I want all of you to get as much rest as you can. I'm sorry that you're going to have to sleep on a hard floor, but it's the best we can do. There are plenty of blankets, so make yourself as comfortable as you can; hopefully, by tomorrow night we will have made it safely through the sit-in and will be sleeping in a soft bed. God willing."
     Kane avoided looking at Amanda, but he could feel her eyes on him. The preacher said a prayer that God would bless and help them have a safe tomorrow. Then everyone took blankets and looked for a place to bed down. Out of the corner of his eyes, Kane saw Amanda putting her blankets near the two girls, by the door to the dining room. Basil put another log on the fire, then blew out the candles. The light from the fire in the fireplace cast shadows about the room.
     Josh was already fast asleep, curled up on a blanket, in a corner of the room. Molly gently removed his shoes and covered him with a second blanket. Kane looked at the sleeping boy, who he now cared for so deeply, and wondered on what grand adventure Josh's dreams were taking him. Soon everyone had found a place to lie down. Kane Spread one his blanket on the floor near Josh and pulled his second blanket tightly around his shoulders before lying down. Even with the roaring fire, the drafty room was chilly. He lay there and listened to the sounds in the room: the crackling of the fire, the soft creaking of the house as a slow wind blew against it. Kane watched as the flickering firelight cast dancing shadows about the room. It's all so like a dream, he thought: My being here, this day, and all the days since I've been Kane. After awhile he slept.
     Kane awakened sometime later to the sound of rain failing softly. He raised upon one elbow and looked around the room. The fire had died down, leaving just glowing coals in the fireplace, but emitting enough light that he was able to see dimly about the room. Everyone seemed to be sleeping, but an empty blanket lay near the stairway where the preacher had been lying.
      Kane got up and as quietly as he could put a log on the dying fire. He picked up his blanket, tiptoed across the floor, silently opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. A board creaked with his weight, and he looked at the sleeping bodies inside. No one stirred, and he closed the door behind him. He looked towards the barn; a faint light was visible just inside the open doorway. He shivered in the icy, wet air and pulled his blanket tight across his shoulders and began walking towards the light in the barn.
      As he got near the barn, he heard someone talking. He stopped in the shadows just outside the open doors; inside, a flashlight lay on a bale of hay. The preacher was kneeling beside the hay, his eyes tightly closed, his hands folded in prayer. Kane could see tears glistening on the man's face in the light from the flashlight. He knew that he was an intruder on the man's private world, yet he stood there as if rooted to the spot and listened as the preacher talked to his God. "My heart is heavy tonight, Father. It's breaking in two. I'm not asking anything for myself, Dear Lord. I'm not asking that my burdens be lighter. I only ask for the strength to bear them. My little son came to this morning, Lord, and I could tell that something was heavy on his mind. His little heart was broken, Father. He told me that the little, white boy, who he thought was his friend, had told him that he could no longer play with him because he was a nigger, and he asked me, why, Daddy? Why is this so?" The preacher's voice broke as he continued. "Lord, I had to set that little boy on my lap and tell him, just as my own daddy told me so many years ago. I had to say, son, you are as good as anyone black or white. Now, Lord, this is a talk that the white man will never have to have with his children, and I'm praying that someday, soon, the world will be such that it won't be necessary for the black man to have this talk either. So you see, Father, it's not for me, but for the children that I'm begging tonight. Please lessen the hurt, somehow, Lord."
     With tears stinging his eyes, Kane turned away and quickly walked back to the house. He went inside; it seemed that everyone was still sleeping. The blanket around his shoulders was wet and he lay it near the fire. He picked up the blanket he had been lying on earlier, wrapped it around his shivering body, and lay on the bare floor, closer to the fire. Sometime later, he heard the preacher return.

Chapter 13

     The world was still bathed in darkness as the group prepared to leave the old farmhouse. Their breakfast had been bread and cheese, left from the night before. Molly had brewed a pot of strong coffee. After they had eaten, Basil doused the fire with water; then, the preacher led them in prayer. They had decided to leave at ten minutes intervals, with the preacher, Sam and the four other men going first, then Amanda, the professor and the two girls. At last, Basil, Till, Molly, Josh and Kane left. As they drove out of the driveway, Josh looked back at the old house, now, just a dark shadow behind them. "I'm gonna put that old house in my mind's memory book," he said. "And today, I know that the sit-in will make a special memory for my memory book. Don't you think so, Grandma?"
     "Yes, Josh," Molly answered, and Kane thought that her voice had a hint of worry in it. "Yes, I believe that what we will find on this day will indeed be something worthy of your memory book."
     "What's this memory book, Josh?" Kane asked.
     "Well, Kane," Josh said, "I just take all the things that I want to be a remembering and put them in my head. And Grandma says that it's my memory book. But not all the memories in my memory book are good ones; some are in there that I really don't want. But Grandma says that's the way things are, says you gotta take the bad with the good and that's how you grow. So I sorta divide them up. I put the good ones on the right side of the page and the bad ones on the left. And, Kane," Josh leaned over and whispered in Kane's ear, "that time at the drug store, why it's right there on the right side of the page, right beside my best ones."
     They were the only ones on the highway, as Basil drove down Buck Creek road. In the distance, a dog barked. Now and then lights appeared in the windows of the houses along the road.
     They arrived at the roadside park, just outside of Little Rock, at about 10 A.M. The sun shone warm in a deep blue, cloudless sky. Josh remarked that God hadn't started to paint yet. A long picnic table was piled high with food, which had been prepared by members of a local Black church. Small black children played on the swings and slides as their parents discussed the sit-in. A sheriff's car drove slowly by. "They know we're up to something," a young black lawyer said. "And they will be watching us. After we have eaten, we'll go to the church and then on to the lunch counters, getting there about 11:30; that will be just before the regular crowd arrives. There are four drug stores with lunch counters that we have targeted to hit today. We will fill up every empty seat in there. Remember, just sit quietly and be polite and ask to please be served. Of course, you will not be served, and the police will be called, just try to stay there as long as you can. We are certain to be arrested, perhaps beaten. I ask you not to take any of the young children."
     Josh looked at Molly and whispered, "I'm old for my age, ain't I, Grandma?"
     "It'll be Ok, Ma," Basil assured his mother.
     "We are to divide up into four groups," the speaker continued. "You will be given a number of one, two, three, or four. You will have a group leader. If you are number one, you will go to the Southwood Drug Store, number two, Main Street and so on. If you want to stay with the people you know or came with, just ask for as many of the same number as are in your group and you can all go together. We will drive to the Maple Street Church parking lot and catch the buses to the drug stores. I want to thank all of you who came from out of town to help us. Remember all you have been taught in preparation for this sit-in. And may God go with us."
     The preacher got fifteen tags with number 2 on them. A Mister Jones said he was the group leader and if they would follow him he would take them to the church to catch the bus.
     Molly was still worried about Josh going. "He'll be all right, Ma," Basil said. "Josh will do as we tell him. Right, Josh?" Basil looked into the back seat and grinned at Josh.
     "Sure, Uncle Basil," Josh said. "I'll be the best sit-in person you ever seen."
     "I'm not worried about what Josh is gonna do," Molly said. "I'm worried about what them white folks are gonna do!"
     They left their cars in the parking lot at the church. There were thirty people in Kane's group who rode the bus and got off at the corner where the drug store was located. No one said anything as they walked into the drug store.
     Three white waitresses were behind the counter preparing for the lunch crowd; two white men sat at the counter drinking coffee. On cue, the group of Black people took the stools. Kane's heart was beating so hard that he thought he might pass out, and he wondered if any of the group was as scared as he. They all looked so calm, so controlled.
     The white men sitting at the counter looked in disbelief at the group of Black people. "What the hell do these niggers think they're doing!" one of them said, his face flushing red with anger.
     The waitresses just stared at the Black people in disbelief and didn't say a word, but one waitress hurriedly went into the back. The waitresses ignored the black people and one began nervously stacking paper cups and sorting silverware, the other took her pad and pen and went to stand before the professor and Amanda, "May I have your order, please," she said, nervously twitching her shoulders.
     "We'll have what these people are having," the professor said, motioning down the line of black people. The waitress stared for a moment at him, then returned to silently arranging the cups and silverware.
     Just then the third waitress returned with the manager. The manager a short, pudgy, balding man of about fifty, his face red with anger, stood on the other side of the counter, "You people get out of my store, now!" he demanded. "You know we don't serve no Coloreds!"
     "You call the police and get these niggers out of here, Joe!" one of the white men said. "You throw 'em out!"
     The leader of the group, Mister Jones, said calmly, "We would like to be served, please."
     "This is my store! My private business! And I don't serve no Coloreds! Now, I want all of you out of here, or I'm calling the police!" the manager yelled in the young Black leader's face.
     No one moved or said anything; they just sat up straight and stared straight ahead. The manager threw up his hands, then rushed towards the back, yelling, "I'm calling the police!" We'll see how fast these fools get out of here then!"
     Kane was sitting between Josh and Basil. Josh whispered to Kane, "I wish I could spin around on this stool like I done at Parker's Drug Store, but I won't. I'll be still, just like Uncle Basil told me."
      A crowd of white people had gathered on the sidewalk outside and was peering in the window.
     Someone in the crowd yelled, "What the hell is them niggers doing in there!" Someone else yelled, "They're trying to take over the lunch counter!"
     Soon, the sound of sirens filled the air. Two policemen, their hands on their guns, burst through the crowd, and into the store. "Ok!" the lead one barked, "break this up and move out!" No one at the counter moved or spoke. Kane looked in the mirror that covered the wall behind the counter; a tall policeman stood directly behind him, holding a billy club in his hand and began tapping it sharply on the edge of the counter next to Basil. "Now! you niggers get out of here, now!" He shouted.
     Basil stared straight ahead and said, "We just want to be served, sir." Kane was afraid that the policeman was going to lay his billy club up the side of Basil's head, and he remembered the feel of Sheriff Thompson's billy club as it had smashed into his head that day in his daddy's yard.
     The policeman's eyes glared; his lips began twitching as he barked, "This man does not want to serve niggers! So you niggers get out of his place of business! You will go peacefully, if you know what's good for you!"
      Still, the people at the counter just sat there and stared straight ahead. "All we want is lunch," Basil said.
     The policeman angrily pounded on the counter with his club and began yelling to the other cop, "Get on the horn, Kenny, and call for a back up! Tell 'em to bring the paddy wagon, looks like we're gonna have to put these damn niggers in jail!"
     The manager wildly flung his arms and yelled at the policemen, "You, make these damn niggers move out of my store!"
     The policeman pointed his club at the manager and shouted, "The damn niggers would be moved, just as soon as the reinforcements arrived! I don't need you telling me how to do my job!"
      And the group of Black people sat at the counter and waited.
     Kane thought about what Sam had said and wondered if he would be beaten by the police, but was more worried about Molly, Josh and Amanda, and what was going to happen to them.
     One of the policemen walked over and stood next to Amanda and the professor. For a few seconds he just stared at them, then demanded, "What in the hell are you two doing in here with this bunch of niggers!"
     "We're here to be served lunch, just like all the others sitting here," the professor replied. The policeman, with a look of disgust, said to the professor, "You know, people like you, you're worse than the niggers! All you do is make our job harder. You're just out to stir up trouble. If it wasn't for people like you, our niggers wouldn't be trying to step out of their places. Well, let me tell you this!" he snarled, "if you wanna be a nigger, then we shore gonna accommodate you, and treat you like one!"
     Out of the corner of his eye, Kane saw one of the white men who had been drinking coffee at the counter get up, with his cup of coffee in his hand, and walk up behind a young black girl and began pouring the coffee over her head. The girl was startled and flinched, but she just sat there. Kane could see it all in the mirror. The man hissed at the girl, "Nigger bitch, how do you like that!" Still the girl just sat there, the coffee running down onto her white blouse.
     Tears were mixed with the coffee on her face, but she didn't move. Kane saw that Basil was watching it all in the mirror, and he saw that Basil's jaw was tightening and was afraid that he might blow the whole sit-in. Kane felt anger and disgust at the white man, but he realized that not too long ago, that man could have been him.
     Suddenly several more policemen swarmed through the door. And the policeman who was first on the scene began shouting, "You damn bastards, you're all under arrest! Move it on out to the paddy wagon, or we'll drag you out."
     No one at the counter moved. Kane wondered if everyone else was shaking inside as badly as he was? The policemen began pulling and kicking at the Black people. Most of the people began moving peacefully out of the store; the policemen dragged those that resisted out. Kane went peacefully, he wanted to avoid as much contact with the policemen as possible. Molly had voiced a concern to Basil about the danger of Kane being found to be wanted for murder. Basil had told her he thought that it would be all right, as long as Kane kept his mouth shut and wore his dark glasses; that the police would most likely pay more attention to everyone else before they paid any attention to a blind man.
     The policemen began throwing people into the paddy wagon. Kane climbed in on his own and looked around for Molly, Josh and Amanda and was relieved to see them climbing into the wagon.
     Basil had an ugly gash on his forehead and blood gushed down his face. Till, her face tear-stained, tried to help her husband get into the wagon. Molly said, "Oh, Lord!" when she saw her son.
     "I'll be all right, Ma," Basil said, as he sat next to his mother and held a handkerchief to his head. Soon, all the Black people from the lunch counter were crowded inside the paddy wagon, and the door was slammed shut and locked. The crowd that had gathered on the sidewalk in front of the drug store cheered as the wagon pulled away. Suddenly someone in the wagon started singing "We Shall Overcome"; soon everyone was singing. Molly was still worried about Basil and said that he might be hurt worse than he thought.
     "I'll be Ok, Ma. Somehow, we'll all be Ok," Basil said, putting a comforting hand on his mother's shoulder.
     "When we get to the jail everyone just do as the policemen say," the preacher said. "We have accomplished what we set out to do, no use anyone else getting beaten if it can be avoided. No doubt we'll all be thrown in jail; we'll just have to wait until they come to bail us out, just try to stay calm and everything will work out all right. Remember. We have the Lord on our side."
     The policemen herded the group into the jail. The police chief, a tall, thin man with a long nose and a thin line of hair on his upper lip stood leaning against the wall. He tapped his fingers against his belt buckle and slowly looked the group over, his eyes narrowed into slits as he said, "Got another bunch of trouble makers, have you boys?" When are you niggers ever gonna learn to stay in your place?" He said, walking back and forth in front of the group; his eyes were cold as he continued. And Kane thought of what Josh had said about the cold gray hate. "You know all you're doing is causing my boys more work, and you ain't never gonna be white, no matter what! So why don't you just go on back to the way you used to be, and everyone will be happy, and I won't have to fill up my jail with the likes of you! And you!" he said, stopping in front of the professor and Amanda, glaring at them. "You come down here and stir up our Coloreds! We had mostly good Coloreds, only had to hang one now and then, before people like you started coming around." He turned back to the Black people, "You think these white folks care anything about you?" he yelled, pointing to Amanda and the professor. "Hell! they don't care what happens to you. They're just out to stir you up, to somehow benefit themselves! They're using you, and you all are too stupid to see it! All you had better stay at home where you belong and stay out of the white man's place of business!"
     "All we want is our constitutional rights," the preacher said. Now, Kane could see that the police chief was really getting angry; his eyes were glaring and his mouth formed a thin, hard line.
     "You have not heard a thing I've been saying to you!" he shouted. "I'll show you your constitutional rights! Lock 'em up, boys! I'm sick of looking at 'em!" With that, he turned on his heels and went to the door of his office, pausing for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. Looking at Josh, he said, "Get that damn kid out of here! Lock the rest of 'em up, but throw the kid out!"
     "Oh, no!" Molly said, "Josh'll have to come with us! Please don't send him out there by himself. He's just a boy!"
     "Don't you tell me what he's gonna have to do, woman!" the police chief said, turning on Molly. "You had no business bringing a kid along! You have no business here at all! I said to throw him out!" He went into his office and slammed the door shut.
     "I'll be Ok, Grandma," Josh said, "I'll wait out on the steps." A policeman grabbed Josh by the back of the shirt and proceeded to remove him from the room.
     Molly started to follow and a policeman blocked her path. "Don't you hurt him none," Molly pleaded. Josh looked back over his shoulder and gave her a nervous smile.
     "How long do you think we'll be in here?" A worried Molly asked Basil.
     "I don't know, Ma," Basil answered, "hopefully, someone from the "Cause" will come down soon with the bail money." He gently patted his mother's shoulder. "Don't worry about Josh, he'll be Ok until we can get out of here."
     A policeman took the men to a cell in the back of the jail; a matron took the women in another direction. As they were being locked up, a policeman, Kane guessed to be hardly out of his teens, came rushing by. "Gotta call that another bunch of niggers are over at the lunch counter on Emerson Drive," he yelled to the policeman who was locking the cell door.
     "Oh, hell!" came the reply. "Call and see if the boys over at Southside can help us out. We can't hold anymore here!" he said, angrily kicking the cell door. "You, come here!" he said, pointing to Sam. "Come here, nigger! I've got some questions and you'd better know the answers!"
     The other policeman laughed loudly and said, "Leo, you treat these niggers real soft like. I'll go make the call to Southside." He was still laughing as he disappeared down the hall. And that laughter sent shivers through Kane.
     The preacher stepped forward and said, "I'll be glad to answer any questions you have to ask, sir."
     "Get your black ass away from me!" The policeman sneered. "I didn't ask you! I said that nigger over there! He's the one that's gonna be answering the questions!"
     Sam tried to assure the others that he would be all right. Kane and the others watched helplessly as the policeman unlocked the cell door, yanked Sam through, then closed and locked it and began shoved him down the hallway and out of sight.
     The preacher went to the small barred window of the cell and stood looking to the outside. Kane could see his lips moving in prayer. He wondered what was happening to Sam somewhere in this ugly gray jail. He was also worried about Molly and Amanda. And Josh, would he be all right, all alone in a strange city, where he was hated just because of the pigment of his skin?
     There wasn't much talking in the cell for the next two hours. Kane could tell that the preacher was worried sick about his brother. In all, twelve men were packed in the cell. There were six dirty, gray-striped mattresses stacked in a corner. The men had laid them on the floor and were sitting on them. There was a sink on one side of the cell and a commode; neither looked like they had been washed in months.
     After what seemed like hours, the policeman returned with Sam, opened the cell door, and threw him inside. Kane was heartsick when he saw Sam's face: it was covered with blood and his eyes were swollen almost shut.
     The preacher rushed over to his brother, "He needs a doctor!" he yelled at the policeman.
     The policeman laughed. "You'll get no doctor in this jail, nigger." He was still laughing as he walked down the hall and went out the door, closing it behind him.
     "How bad is it, Sam?" The preacher asked, gently running his fingers over his brother's swollen face.
     "I've been through worse," Sam said, through cut and swollen lips. "I think I might have some broken ribs. They beat me pretty hard."
     Basil wet a handkerchief at the small sink and began to wash Sam's wounds.
     "I wish I could have taken the beating for you, Sam," the preacher said.
     "It's all right," Sam said. "It wouldn't have done anybody any good for you to have taken the beating instead of me. Don't worry, I'll be all right in time."
     The preacher and Basil helped Sam up off the floor and onto one of the mattresses. All they could do was make him as comfortable as possible.
     As the afternoon wore on, the men waited and worried, but tried to keep each other's spirits up. Kane stood at the window and looked out across the jail's lawn at the busy street. As he looked at people walking along the street and driving by in their cars, he doubted that one was aware, or even cared, that such misery was inside these walls. Once he saw Josh go around the side of the jail, but he didn't look up and Kane decided against calling out to him.
     The sun was sinking into the horizon, when a policeman came and unlocked the cell door. "All right, all you niggers, and you nigger lover," he said, looking at the professor, "get on out here."
     Everyone in the cell breathed a sigh of relief. No one had said anything about having to stay the night in the dirty jail cell, but Kane thought that everyone was surely praying that someone from the "Cause" would get down there with the bail money.
     As they stood before the police chief and were told that they could go, Kane was relieved to see Amanda, Molly and Till in the group.
     "My grandson?" A worried Molly asked. "What happened to my grandson, Josh? He's the little boy that you made go outside!"
     "This police department is no baby-sitter!" the chief sneered. "You're a old fool to bring a kid along to stir up trouble! Woman, you'd better teach him better, if you want him to live to grow up! You're setting a poor example! You niggers know your place and that is how you had better be teaching the young!" He sighed in disgust, then continued, his voice as sharp as a knife's edge. "Your fine has been paid, and I never want to see any of you in my jail again!" "Most of you are from out of town and you had better hope that I never see you in Little Rock ever again! And as for you northern instigators!" he said, glaring at the professor and Amanda. "You show up in Little Rock again and there will be no mercy showed to your nigger loving hides! You're a disgrace to your race! Now, my men are gonna take you out-of-towners back to the church where you left your cars. Oh, yes, we know that you set this up," he said, looking at the minister of the church where they had left their cars. "What we oughta do is burn your church to the ground. And if you ever pull something like this again that is exactly what is gonna happen. Do you understand me!" He shouted in the minister's face.
     "Yes, sir. I understand," the minister said. Kane wondered if the minister would lose his church anyway.
     Then the police chief turned to Sam and sneered, "So you wouldn't talk, when we beat the hell out of you. Well it don't make a damn bit of difference, we know everything anyway, and we knowed it even when we was beating you. You ain't so tough. You're just stupid! Now, all of you get out of my jail and out of my sight!"
     When they got outside, Kane was relieved to see Josh sitting on the steps. "Boy, Grandma, I'm glad to see you!" Josh said, hugging his grandmother. "I thought you never was gonna get out of there. I done like you told me, I stayed right here, only walked around the jail a few times."
     "You done good, Josh," Molly said.
     As the paddy wagon pulled away from the jail, Josh asked, "Is Uncle Basil gonna be all right, Grandma?"
     "Now, Josh," Molly said, "don't you go to a worrying none about your Uncle Basil. He'll be just fine."
     "Are we going home, Grandma?"
     "Yes, Josh," Molly breathed a sigh of relief, "looks like we'll be on our way soon."
     "Sure has been one big adventure since we left Groversville," Josh said, grinning at Kane.
     Sam was in a lot of pain, and when the paddy wagon stopped at the church, the preacher asked the policeman to let him take Sam to a doctor before they left Little Rock.
     The policeman laughed in the preacher's face. "There ain't gonna be no doctor looking after you niggers!" he said. "Now get in your cars and get the hell out of Little Rock! And if you ever show up here again, you ain't gonna be needing a doctor, you'll be needing the undertaker!"

Chapter 14

     The policeman, his red light flashing, followed the three cars until they were well outside of Little Rock. Kane sitting in the back seat of Basil's car with Josh, and said a silent prayer of thanks when the police car turned off onto another road. Darkness now engulfed the Arkansas countryside. Kane breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at the stars dotting the sky and felt lucky that he wasn't sitting back there in that dirty jail cell. As the car sped on down the highway, he could see the taillights of the preacher's car several yards ahead, and two red dots further on up the road that he thought must be the professor's car.
     "Lordy, what a day," Molly said. "Son, you shore you're all right?
     "I'm fine, Ma," Basil said. "In some ways it was a very good day," he said, smiling at Till sitting beside him. "I think that because of the sit-in we did today, that the others who do the next one will be better prepared and it will be easier for them. And I pray that before long it won't be out of the ordinary for a Colored person to sit down to eat in any restaurant or lunch counter in any city of this nation. And I'm proud that we played a part." Molly said amen. And Till reached over and gently stroked the side of her husband's face.
     After a long while, the cars ahead pulled off to the side of the highway, and Basil pulled in behind them. The professor got out of his car and was coming back to Basil's car. Kane saw Amanda get out and was now standing by the preacher's car talking to him.
     "You folks doing Ok?" The professor asked, looking into the car. "Is everyone hungry?"
     "Boy, am I ever," Josh said.
     "We're stopping at the next truck stop, about five miles ahead," the professor said. "Amanda and I will go inside and get the food."
     A grin spread across Josh's face as he looked at Kane. Kane had felt hunger pangs hours before and had thought that it might be a long time before he ate again.
     "Park as far away from the entrance to the truck stop restaurant as you can," the professor said, "maybe you can escape being noticed. Lord knows we don't need anymore trouble before we get home."
     "Amen to that, brother," Basil said.
     "Now, what do you all want to eat?" The professor asked. Everyone in Basil's car ordered hamburgers and shakes.
     After a few more minutes on the interstate, they exited to a Mile Saver Truck Stop. Basil did as the professor had asked and pulled his car away from the entrance to the restaurant. He pulled along side the preacher's car, which was parked at the end of the large parking lot, far to the left of the restaurant. Kane could see Sam lying in the back seat; he appeared to be sleeping.
     "How's Sam doing?" Basil asked the preacher.
     "He's sleeping now," the preacher said, his face grim. "He's been in a great deal of pain. We'll get him to a doctor as soon as we get home, just wish I could do it sooner."
     "Wish there was something we could do," Basil said.
     "Pray for him," the preacher said. "That's about all any of us can do at this point."
     Kane watched the comings and goings at the truck stop; no one seemed to pay any attention to the two cars parked in the shadows. A large sign above the door to the restaurant read: "White only".
     After awhile, the professor and Amanda came out with the food. After they had eaten, they talked about what to do next. "I'll be able to fill up my car with gas," the professor said, but the service station won't sell to Black people at night and it'd only draw attention to us if you tried. There's only one attendant, so he'd suspect something if I showed up three times in three different cars."
     "I well know, they wouldn't see to blacks here," Basil said.
     "We can stop at Goodstown, about an hour's drive away," the preacher said. "I know of a Black church; it's in a rural area, just outside Goodstown. I know the minister, Frank Carr; served in the army with him. We'll be welcome there. Maybe Sam will be able to rest better in a bed. We ought to have enough gas to get that far. We can spent the night and leave at daybreak for home, we ought to be there by the afternoon."
     After they were on the road again, Molly said, "I thank the Lord that we're not gonna have to go through any small towns after dark. I shore thank Him for this interstate. You may not know this, Kane," she said, looking back at Kane, "but being Colored and being seen in a small town after dark could be deadly."
     "What he don't know, he's learning, Grandma," Josh said. "Ain't that right, Kane?"
     "I'm trying to learn, Josh," Kane said. "I sure am trying."
     The travelers were tired and sleepy when they arrived at the rural Alabama church. The preacher went to the house next to the church and knocked on the door. A surprised, but smiling, middle aged black man welcomed them into his home. He was excited to hear about the sit-in and said that he wished he could have been there. Mrs. Carr tended to Sam's wounds and put a bandage on Basil's forehead. The preacher asked about a doctor.
     Frank Carr sadly shook his head, "The feelings toward Colored people around there are very hostile, especially towards strangers. The one doctor in town is rumored to be a Klansman, don't think it would be safe to go there."
     "We'll just have to wait til we get back to Birmingham. Sorry, Sam," the preached said.
     Sam tried to form a smile on his swollen mouth, "I'll be fine."
     Molly, Amanda, and the two girls were given the spare room in the house, and the men were taken to the basement of the church. There was a long room with several cots lined against the wall. The minister said that the room was used when people stayed over at the camp meetings that were held during the summer.
     A sleepy-eyed Josh crawled into one of the cots and was soon fast asleep.
     Kane lay there in the darkness for sometime and thought about the day that he had just been through, where the past few weeks had taken him, and he wondered what lay ahead.
     After just a few hours, Basil got everyone in the basement up. Kane thought that Sam looked awful, much worse than he had the night before: His eyes were both swollen shut, and the preacher had to help him get around. Kane wondered as he looked at the preacher's face if he was thinking that maybe the price his brother was paying for the sit-in was a bit high.
     The minister's wife prepared breakfast for them. They ate, and were soon on their way home. They stopped in Goodstown to fill up with gas. And Kane thought, as he watched the white service station attendant fill Basil's car with gas, what a difference daylight and darkness meant to a black person in a small southern town.
     Soon they were back on the interstate and well on their way home. "We'll be in Birmingham by noontime," Basil said.
     "Me and Josh and Kane will be getting on home," Molly said. We've been gone longer that we planned; my neighbor will be tired of doing the chores."
     Kane saw a worried look cross her face and wondered if she was thinking --What if Cable Miller should come by early for his load of shine?
     It was just past twelve o'clock when they arrived at Basil's. Basil and Till begged Molly to stay until after Thanksgiving. And Kane was relieved when she declined. Till's mother fixed sandwiches, and as soon as they had eaten, Basil drove them to the bus station.
     "Ma," Basil said, "I just wish you wouldn't go home today. It'll be after dark by the time you get home, and you know I'll worry if you're out on the road after dark."
     "We'll be all right," Molly said. "You take care of yourself and don't go to a worrying none about me. I wish you'd have a doctor look at that head of yours," Molly reached over and gently touched the bandaged forehead of her son. "I just wish, son, that the world was such that you'd never have to suffer anything like this."
     Basil took his mother's hand in his and looked into her eyes. "Anything that I may have to suffer I can handle because of you, Ma, and all you have taught me. I'm all that I am because of you. So don't you go to a worrying about this boy of yours, he'll make out just fine."
     The bus was just about ready to leave as they boarded. Kane let Molly lead him onto the bus and followed her to the back. The anger that he had felt the first time on the bus was now a faraway, dull feeling. He just felt beaten and tired as he sank into the seat for the ride to the only home he had left in this world.
     It was a weary threesome that rode in the old truck that night in late November. Molly and Josh rode in the cab; Kane lay underneath the tarp in the back of the truck, his body shivering in the cold night air. It was late night when, at last, they pulled into the yard to the old gray house.
     Molly gave a sigh of relief that all was as she had left it. She lit a fire in the fireplace. "Home," she said and went about the room touching familiar objects. "I'm just thankful that the good Lord watched over us and let us make it back here safe and sound."
     "Home is the best place in the whole wide world. Ain't that right, Grandma?" said a sleepy Josh.
     "Yes, indeed," Molly said. "Now off to bed with you, young man."
     Soon Josh was fast asleep, on his cot in the corner. Kane went to his bed in the shine room. Molly had given him an extra quilt because the nights were colder now. Soon he was warm underneath the covers; still he didn't sleep for a long time.

Chapter 15

     Thanksgiving Day was warm and sunny. Molly baked a chicken. As Kane sat at Molly's table, he wondered if he wasn't there: would the house have been filled with friends and maybe some relatives?
     "We shore have a lot to be thankful for," Molly said, taking a deep breath and looking about the room. "You know, Kane," she said, "this old house may look mighty shabby to some folks' eyes, but to me it holds much more than the eye can ever see. I can feel the good times this old house has known. And the bad times too," Molly added. And Kane thought that for an instant a shadow of sadness crossed her face.
     "But, Grandma," Josh said, his voice a bit sad, and Kane thought that Josh had seen the sadness in her face, too. "Don't the good times just chase the bad times right out the door?"
     Molly looked at her grandson and smiled. "Yes, Josh, they surely do. And one of the best times in this old house's remembrance was when you came to light it up."
     Josh grinned and looked at Kane. "And when Kane come to us, Grandma, that's a good remembrance, too."
     "Yes indeed, Josh," Molly said and smiled at Kane. "Someday, Kane," she said, "someday I believe you will remember who you are, and I'll just bet that you'll have loving parents and a good home."
     "And a horse," Josh said. "Will you let me ride him, Kane?"
     Kane laughed. "Yes, Josh. When I get my memory back and if I have a horse, you most certainly can ride him."
     Josh was silent for a moment and a look of sadness crossed his face. "Grandma," he said, "if Kane gets his memory back, he'll be leaving us, and I want him to stay here with us forever."
     "That is what you want, Josh," Molly said gently, "but what you want might not always be the best for someone else. When Kane gets his memory back, of course he'll want to go home. But he can always visit us; it won't be like he'll be gone forever."
     "But it won't be the same, Grandma. It just won't be the same."
     "I know, Josh," Molly said softly. "I know."
     Molly said that she and Josh were going to attend the Thanksgiving Service at church that night.
     "Can I stay home with Kane? Please, Grandma," Josh begged.
     "No, Josh," Molly said. "I'm sorry but you'll have to come with me. It's gonna be a special Thanksgiving service, and the pastor wants everyone to be there, and that means you, too, Josh."
     "Ok, Grandma," Josh said, hanging his head. "I'll go with you, but I wish Kane could come, too."
     "I wish that, too, Josh," Molly said.
     Molly went to the shine room, put several jars of shine into a burlap sack and set it on the porch. "Cable might come by for his shine while I'm gone to church. Kane, you're gonna have to do without any lights until we get back. We'll be back as soon as we can. If Cable shows up, he may pound on the door, just keep quiet, and he'll finally take his shine and be on his way. I'm sorry we have to leave you here all alone on Thanksgiving Night. But I feel that we would be letting the pastor down if we didn't go."
     "I'll be Ok, Molly," and Kane assured her. "You and Josh go and enjoy the service."
      He watched from the window as Molly and Josh got into the old truck and drove away. As he looked at the gathering twilight, a wave of loneliness swept over him. After awhile, he went out the back door and sat on the step in the darkness.
     It was unusually warm for a late November night. A gentle breeze touched his face, ever so lightly, as he looked up at the stars that dotted the heavens. And he wondered if he was to be forever a man that Molly and Josh called Kane? He thought of his father, just a couple of miles away, yet, he knew that he was as far away as the stars. He thought of Heather. He'd gone through the newspaper that had come while he was away in Birmingham; a small item in the personal column had caught his eye. He had read: Miss Heather Garner is home for the holiday, accompanied by her fiancée, Mister Ralph Baxter, of Lexington. He hadn't felt a great loss when he read about her and wondered why he wasn't upset at losing the woman who was someday to have been his wife. Had he ever truly loved her? He only knew that he wished her luck with this Ralph person and happiness all through her life. He then thought of Amanda and wondered where she was on this Thanksgiving night? Was she was with family and friends? And he wished that it was possible to get to know her.
     As the darkness deepened, Kane sat there remembering Thanksgivings of his past. The first Thanksgiving he could remember was when he had been about four years old. He pictured his father sitting at the head of the long table in the dining room; the turkey that he was about to carve. His father's hair had been dark then; without any of the gray that it now had. And his mother had been there, smiling and pretty in her blue dress that matched her eyes. And his mother's father and mother had been there: Grandma and Grandpa Wade. They had been killed in a train accident the next year. Kane couldn't see a clear picture of them in his mind; all he could see was his mother's sad face at the funeral. Big Bob had made a toast to Grandpa Justin, on that faraway Thanksgiving Day. Big Bob made a toast to his father at every family gathering, as if that gesture would somehow make old Justin not so dead. Kane had been sitting there in the darkness for a long time when he heard Josh calling to him from the front of the house. Kane got up and went inside. Molly had lit the lamp, and Josh had the sack of shine thrown over his shoulder.
     "Kane! Kane! Guess what!" Josh said. "Old Cable Miller got himself killed tonight! A big truck run over him--- smashed him flat to the road!"
     "Josh!" Molly said, shaking her finger at the boy.
     "Well, Grandma, that's what I heard Brother Edwards telling Brother Williams, and Brother Williams said that he reckoned that the Lord done called a devil home. I'm just glad that old Cable won't be bothering you anymore, Grandma."
     "Josh," Molly said gently, "Christian folks shouldn't ever rejoice because some poor soul lost his life."
     Josh looked up into his grandmother's face and said, "Not even if that poor soul was a devil, Grandma?"
     "It ain't for you to say who is a devil, Josh; only God can say that," Molly said. "Now put the shine in the shine room, and I'll put it away in the morning. You get yourself ready for bed."
     Soon Josh was in his bed and asleep. Kane sat at the table watching Molly as she sat rocking in her chair. Finally she looked at him. "You know, Kane, it's so sad, but not a single soul is sorry that Cable Miller is dead. I knowed him for more than twenty years. He was a liar and a thief, never done a honest day's work in his life; drunk or sober, he was the same, mean clean through to the bone. He beat his wife and children and made life hard for his poor old mother, and at times my life has been a living hell because of him, and I have to tell Josh not to be glad that he's no longer in this world, when I'm feeling such gladness that I'll never have to look on his face again." She looked away from Kane, and he wondered if she was thinking if what Josh had said that Brother Williams had said was right: that God had indeed called a devil home tonight.

Chapter 16

     With December came colder weather. Molly said that all the signs pointed to it being a long, cold winter. Kane helped Molly gather firewood from the woods behind the house, always careful not to be seen. One day two men from the church brought a truckload of wood, and Kane hid in the shine room. Molly looked with satisfaction on her larger woodpile, "I guessed that will just about see us through the winter, even if it is going to be the longest and coldest ever seen in Tennessee."
     "Let the snow fly!" Josh yelled. "I won't have to go to school if it snows too much. But," he said thoughtfully, "I'd shore miss seeing Sage Newly."
     Kane and Molly heard about Sage Newly almost every evening at the supper table. Josh would tell something Sage had done in school. "Sage Newly is a year younger than me and still believed in Santa Claus," Josh said one evening. "And I do, too, Grandma," he added quickly, looking at his grandmother. "I shore do believe in Santa Claus, too. I truly do, Grandma."
     Molly smiled at the boy and said, "I truly hope so, Josh.
     "Sage has lighter skin than any of the other kids in school," Josh said thoughtfully. "Him and his mother moved from Chicago. They live in one of the old sharecropper cabins over there on the Mayor Taylor farm."
     "It's the strangest thing," Molly said. "Josh's teacher told me that the man that runs the farm brought Sage to school; said that Sage's mother was sick. That man told the teacher Sage and his mother had just moved here from Chicago, and that Sage's father was staying there and his mother was hired help for the farm. "Well," Molly continued, "the preacher's wife and some of the other women from the church went over to that old house. They said they took food and wanted to see if maybe they could help out the sick woman and invite her to come to church. Well, they was met in the yard by that old caretaker of the place, and he told them to get off the property and never come round there again; said that Sage and his mother didn't want no visitors and if he ever caught them coming round there again he'd have them arrested for trespassing. He did take the basket of food and said he'd see that Sage and his mama got it. It shore does worry my old heart though: wondering about that poor woman up there in that old shack."
     "Sage don't talk much about his daddy," Josh said "just said that he wouldn't be seeing him again. I heard the teacher a telling Jane's mama that Sage shore was smart for just a eight year old boy, could be because he's always writing poetry and telling all them Chicago stories. He tells good stories. But he could never tell any as good as you, Grandma. They're just different, that's all. I'd like to go over to his house sometime, but Sage said that his mama didn't want any visitors. He asked her once, but she said no visitors, and that was the way it was gonna have to be. But Sage said he's shore gonna have a visitor, come Christmas Eve. He said there's one visitor that his mama ain't gonna mind coming to see them. He says as shore as Christmas, that old Santa Claus will be coming to his house, come Christmas Eve."
     "Lordy, I hope that boy ain't in for a broken heart," Molly said, shaking her head.
     Josh continued, "Sage says he knows just how it's gonna be: first he'll hear the sleigh bells, then a Ho, Ho, Ho. And old Santa Claus will park his sleigh in his yard and come to his porch, cause he don't have no chimney. And Sage says Santa Claus will have something nice for his mama, something to put back the smile on her face. He says that for him, old Santa Claus will have the Case Pocket Knife he seen in the window of Gibson's Five and Dime. You know the kind I'm talking about, Grandma, just like my very own knife that Grandpa give me." Josh stopped talking for a moment, walked to the fireplace and took the metal box from the mantel. He brought the box to the table and set it before Kane and carefully opened it. "Here's my Case Knife, Kane," Josh said, unwrapping a small, bone-handled pocketknife from a carefully wrapped tissue paper. "I ain't seen my knife since before Grandpa died. You see, Kane, Grandpa and me, we'd sit, there, before the fire on winter nights, and whittle. Grandpa would get each of us a nice piece of cedar. I'd try to whittle my piece into something but never did get it to look like I wanted. But Grandpa could make most anything with his big knife, here." Josh picked up another tissue wrapped item from the box. "Could I show it to Kane, Grandma?"      Josh said looking at Molly.
     Molly nodded that it would be all right. Josh gently unwrapped a bigger knife, much like his smaller one. "Grandpa said when I was growed to a man that I could have his knife. Ain't that right, Grandma?"
     "Yes indeed, Josh. That's exactly what your Grandpa said," Molly said.
     Josh ran his fingers gently over the knife, then looked at his grandmother, and with tears in his eyes said, "I miss him, Grandma, I miss him everyday. I'm wanting to see him bad."
     "I know, Josh." Molly said, pulling Josh into her arms. "I miss him, too. We'll always be missing Grandpa, Josh. But we'll always have his memory. He'll be forever in your memory book, so he'll always be with us."
      Kane saw tears in her eyes and felt his own blurring.
     As each December day brought Christmas nearer, Josh became more and more excited. "I can't hardly wait," he said. "I think Christmas is the best time in the whole world."
     Molly was baking cakes and cookies as gifts for her friends and neighbors, and the little gray house was filled with delicious smells. Josh was telling Kane about the Christmas tree. "There's a cedar thicket just over the hill behind the barn. Grandpa and me always went there and brought the tree home, but last year Grandma had to help me." Josh stopped talking and a look of sadness crossed his face; then his face brightened as he looked at Kane. "And this year, you can cut the tree, Kane," he said. "Can't he, Grandma?"
     "I think it would be an honor to have Kane cut the tree, Josh," Molly said.
     Molly filled a box with a cake and cookies and mailed it to Basil and his family. Kane wished that he would have presents to give to Molly and Josh. He'd always been good at making things out of wood and began looking around the place for material to work with.
      It was Josh who showed him the little storage room, in the barn, next to the corncrib. Josh had stored some acorns there. Kane found two handsaws hanging on the wall of the room, and a few more tools that he thought he could use. In a box on one of the shelves, he found, carefully wrapped in old newspapers, a broken stained glass window, and he asked Josh about it.
     "Grandpa told me a story about that stained glass," Josh said, a smile lighting his face. "That glass came all the way from New Orleans, Louisiana. Grandpa said the first time he ever laid eyes on my grandma was in a big, old, burned-out church down in New Orleans. My grandma had gone down there to visit a cousin. The cousin was a member of a church that had the most beautiful stained glass windows that you ever seen. One night a big storm came, and a lightening bolt hit the church and set it on fire. Well, Grandpa said that most of the church was burned to the ground, but the one wall that had this beautiful stained glass window wasn't burned at all. Grandpa said he was a member of that church, but that he didn't go so often. He said all the men members had to help tear down what was left of the church. Grandpa said that he went down to the burned out church on a sunny summer morning and what does he see standing near the stained glass, but my grandma. Grandpa said she was the prettiest thing that he'd ever laid eyes on, just a standing there with the light from the morning sun coming through the stained glass window on her face. Grandpa said he fell in love with her right on the spot. He said the church didn't have enough money to rebuild, so he asked how much they'd take for that stained glass window. He worked out a deal with the other members of the church, and he worked for two solid weeks, hauling half-burned boards and stuff, for that window. Grandpa told me that when he first laid eyes on Grandma that he knowed right then and there that she was the woman he was gonna marry. Grandpa had him a plan; he planned to marry Grandma and build her a house and have that stained glass in a window so she could see the pretty colors all the days of her life. Well, Grandpa courted my grandma for a short time, and then he asked her to marry him. She said yes. And she told me," Josh said with a smile, "that she fell in love with Grandpa the first time she seen him, too. She said he was the handsomest man that she had ever seen in Groversville, and New Orleans to boot. So they got married at Grandma's cousin's house and went to live in a rented room above the restaurant where my grandpa worked. You see, Kane, Grandpa had a plan to someday own his own restaurant. Well, anyway, Grandpa said he put the stained glass in a window so that the sun would shine through on Grandma's face as she looked at it each morning. They lived in that rented room for just over a year; my daddy was born there. Then," Josh's voice became sad as he continued, "then Grandma's mama died and her daddy got sick, and her and Grandpa moved back here to take care of him. Well, Grandpa had a old truck and they loaded up everything they owned, including the stained glass window, and headed for Groversville. Well, just as they got into Tennessee, a tire blowed up on Grandpa's truck, and the truck run into a ditch, and the stained glass, which had been on the back of the truck, fell out and broke into pieces. Grandma said that was the first time she ever seen my grandpa cry. She said he just sat there in that ditch holding the broken pieces of stained glass and crying. When Grandpa got here he put them pieces of glass in this box and stored it there on the shelf. He'd let me look at the pieces sometimes and tell me the story. He always said he was gonna fix Grandma a window out of the pieces. And Grandma always said that it didn't matter about the window, that it was Grandpa's wanting to make the window that mattered." Josh was silent as he carefully rewrapped the pieces of glass. Finally he spoke. "Kane," he said softly, "do you know why people have to die?"
     "No, Josh. I don't know," Kane said. "I guess that only God could answer that, could be he's saving them from some heartache here on earth." Kane put the box of stained glass back on the shelf.
     Josh got his box of acorns and said he was going to make his grandmother a necklace out of them. "I can cut out the centers and varnish the hulls and string them together. Don't you think Grandma would like a acorn necklace for Christmas, Kane?"
     "I'm sure that whatever you give her she will love, Josh."
     Kane couldn't get the story of the stained glass off his mind. He thought if he could get his hands on a glasscutter, he could make Molly her window. And two nights later, when Molly and Josh were sleeping, he made a trip home. A cold, light rain was failing as he made his way towards his old home place. He shivered inside the old, brown coat that had once belonged to Josh's grandfather and sunk his hands deep into the pockets, wrapping his right one around the flashlight he'd taken off the shelf in the shine room. He knew that Big Bob used to have a glasscutter in the garage. Kane remembered that many years ago his father had used it to cut some glass to size for a bookcase in his law office. He just hoped it would still be there. He had last seen it in the top drawer of the old desk that sat against the back wall of the garage.
      When he reached his home, he stood for awhile at the end of the lane. He just stood there with the rain falling lightly on his face and stared at the dark outline of the old mansion. There were no Christmas decorations shining brightly from the windows, and Kane wondered if his father would decorate at all this year. Christmas time at the Holliday house had always been a big event, with the whole place filled with decorations. Kane wished he could go inside the house and tell his father that his son was alive and take away the pain that his father must be feeling, not knowing what had happened to his only son.
     After a few minutes, he made his way around to the side of the garage. He heard a rustle in the shrubs, and fear leaped into his throat. He was relieved to see that it was Jupiter. Kane hugged the wet dog. Jupiter licked Kane's face and whined.
     It was total darkness inside the garage. Kane turned on his flashlight for just an instant to see where he was going; then quickly turned it back off for fear that it would be seen through the window. He caught a glimpse of his Thunderbird parked in the garage. As he ran his fingers over the rear fender, he wondered if he was ever to drive it again. He and the dog crept along the wall. Kane touched familiar objects in the darkness. He felt the desk and pulled open the drawer. He shined the flashlight into the drawer, quickly located the glasscutter and put it in his coat pocket.
     A dusty, ragged Klansman's robe hung on a nail above the desk. That robe had hung there for years, and Kane hadn't given it any thought when he had been Wade Holliday. Now, he stared at it and felt sadness, and it seemed that he could hear a small boy asking, "Why, Kane? Why do white men wear robes and hate so much. Do you know the why of that, Kane?" He turned off the flashlight and lingered a few minutes with Jupiter. He ran his hand lightly over his Thunderbird, wondered if anyone had driven it since that day his life had changed. He gave old Jupiter one last pat on the head, then headed back towards Molly's.
     Kane told Josh about his plan to make the stained glass window as a Christmas present for Molly. Josh could hardly hold his excitement. "Oh, Kane!" He said jumping up and down. "It'll be the best Christmas present in the whole wide world. Please, let me help. I'll do my part, for Grandpa."
     Kane carefully cut the pieces of glass into small squares. He then made a frame to fit the small window that was near the fireplace. Josh had helped him pick the window. "It's gotta be the window that the morning sun's gonna shine through, just like Grandpa dreamed about," Josh said.
     Josh abandoned the acorn necklace. He sanded and varnished the small pieces of wood that Kane cut to fit around the squares of glass. "Grandma," Josh told Molly, "don't you go near the barn when me and Kane are in there. We're making you the best Christmas present you could ever hope for. You won't believe your eyes when you see it!"
     While Josh was in school, Kane was also working on a present for him. Kane had asked Molly about making a portable wall on wheels so that Josh's cot could be blocked off from the rest of the living room. Molly was pleased with the idea and bought some wheels and a can of blue paint at the hardware store in town.
     Finally, the day came to go and get the Christmas tree. Josh took his grandfather's ax from the woodpile, and he and Kane made their way through the field towards the cedar thicket. Soon, they came to a small grove of cedar trees. Josh picked out a young cedar that was as tall as Kane. "Ain't it the most perfect Christmas tree in the whole wide world, Kane?" Josh said, his eye sparkling.
     A few flakes of snow had begun to fall as Kane began chopping at the evergreen. His thoughts were years away to when he had been a small child, and he and his father had gone into town to purchase the Christmas tree. Each Christmas, the feed storeowner, Joe Givens, would fill the lot next to the store with dozens of bushy pine trees from Michigan, and Big Bob would let Wade take his pick. Kane blinked aside a tear as he thought of the world that was now lost to him.
     "Kane," Josh was saying as the two made their way back to the house: Josh carrying the ax and Kane with the tree slung over his shoulder. "Kane, I've been a thinking about Sage Newly. I know he thinks that Santa Claus is gonna bring him that Case knife for Christmas. Some of the kids at school told him there ain't no Santa Claus, but old Sage just smiled at them and said that he knowed different, and I know he truly believes. But, Kane, I've been a worrying about how sad he's gonna be if Santa Claus don't come to his door on Christmas Eve. He's so poor, Kane," Josh said, looking up into Kane's face.
     Kane looked at the young boy with the snowflakes falling on his face and wished he could wipe the sadness from his eyes.
     Josh continued, "Sage has holes in his shoes and his clothes are rags. I wanted to give him some of my old clothes, and Grandma said to have him come by after school. Well, when I told Sage, he just got mad and said, no way. He said that he liked his own clothes just fine and that him and his mama wasn't gonna take no handouts. Sometimes I think that he don't have anything in his dinner bucket either; he never eats with the rest of us kids. He goes outside, by himself, no matter if it's raining or cold. And I think he just pretends to eat his dinner. I bet if I could see inside that dinner bucket, I wouldn't even see a piece of bread." Josh shook his head and sighed and said, "I wish he'd let me share my dinner with him. Grandma says she thinks that he's too proud and that being too proud can be hurtful sometimes. I know Sage wouldn't take anything from me, but if Santa Claus brought him a gift then he would think that was all right. Do you think he thinks that way because he thinks it's Santa's job to bring presents to all children? Do you guess Sage Newly is a thinking that a way, Kane?"
     "That might very well be the way Sage Newly is thinking, Josh," Kane said.
     Kane made a stand out of two pieces of wood and nailed it to the bottom of the tree. Josh helped him carry the tree inside and stand it in the front window.
     Molly smiled with pleasure saying, "Now that is what I call a fine Christmas tree. Josh, you and Kane must have picked the very best one out there."
     "Yep, it's the best, Grandma," Josh said.
     From her bedroom, Molly brought a large cardboard box filled with Christmas decorations. As Josh took each piece out of the box and handed it to Molly, she told when they had gotten it. One piece was a small wooden rocking horse, and she lovingly turned it over and over in her hand. "This one, Josh," she said, "I remember it very well. See the teeth marks here, Kane."
     Kane examined the decoration and saw that it had tiny teeth prints on it. Josh looked at him and grinned. "Tell Kane, Grandma. Tell him how I just about eat up the Christmas tree that year when you first got this decoration, and I was just learning to walk, and my mama and daddy and you and me and Grandpa all had Christmas right here in this very room."
     Kane looked at Josh; the boy's eyes were shining as Molly told the story, her eyes misty with remembrances.
     When they had finished decorating the tree, Josh went to the mantel and took down the small metal box. He carried it to the table, opened it, and removed his Case knife, unwrapped it from the tissue paper and caressed it lightly. Looking at his grandmother he said, "Is it true, Grandma? Is this knife really mine and mine alone?"
     "Why, yes, Josh, of course it is," Molly said. "Your grandpa give that to you and it is yours for always."
     Josh lovingly turned the knife over and over in his hand. "Well, Grandma," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm a gonna give this knife to old Sage Newly, cause I'm a knowing that he's been a wanting one so bad."
     "Josh," Molly said, "are you shore you want to give your knife away? You know that if you give a gift, you can't take it back, so you'd better be shore that this is what you really want to do, before you go giving away something you prize so dearly."
     "I've been a thinking about it, Grandma. I've been a thinking about it for two days now, and it's what I wanta do. I wanta be Santa Claus for Sage Newly this Christmas. I've been a thinking that Sage wouldn't take it from me if I tried to give it to him outright. He didn't draw names like the rest of us at school did, and he didn't come to school the last day before Christmas vacation. I'm a knowing that he didn't come because he didn't have a present to give the teacher; I'm a knowing that would of made him feel ashamed, so he just didn't come to school at all."
     "Are you really and truly shore you want to do this, Josh?" Molly asked again.
     "Yes, Grandma," Josh said, "I truly wanta do this. I truly do. I've been a thinking that I could wrap it up real pretty like, and when it gets dark on Christmas Eve, me and Kane can walk over to Sage Newly's house and put it on his front porch. I know I'm gonna miss my knife, Grandma," Josh said, looking at his grandmother. "But I've been a seeing in my mind what Sage Newly's face is gonna look like when he opens up his package and finds his very own Case knife inside, and that makes me very happy, Grandma," Josh said smiling.
     Molly smiled at her grandson. "You shore are something, Josh," she said, hugging him tightly.
     The day before Christmas Eve, the mailman left a large brown package hanging on the mailbox. Josh raced down the lane and lugged it back to the house; it was a package from Basil and his family. Josh begged Molly to open the package, and she finally gave in and opened it. There was a big red package for Josh; inside were a water coloring set and a new hat and a pair of gloves. Molly received pictures of her grandchildren and a pretty, pink shawl. Kane got new jeans and a checkered flannel shirt. He was touched that Basil and Till had sent the gift to him, and he was grateful for the new clothes.
     Christmas Eve morning, to Josh's delight, giant snowflakes began falling. Kane and Josh had decided the best time to put in the stained glass window would be when Molly left to deliver her baked presents.
     Josh told Molly, "You just take all the time you want, Grandma. Me and Kane, we got a lot of things to do while you're gone."
     As soon as Molly and the old truck were out of the yard, Kane and Josh raced for the barn. By now, the ground was completely covered with snow, and large flakes continued to fall heavily as Kane and Josh carried the window of stained glass into the house. "I bet this window is the most beautiful gift that anyone will get, even more beautiful than what the grand white ladies, who live in the pretty houses in town will get. Don't you bet that is true, Kane?" Josh said, gently running his fingers over the window.
     "I know it is the very best present in all of Tennessee, Josh," Kane said, smiling at the boy. Kane worked to take out the old windowpane. After awhile, the prized stained glass window was in place, and Kane and Josh stood back to admire their work.
     "You know, Kane," Josh said, his dark eyes shining, "I'll just bet that Grandpa can look down from Heaven and see his window. And I'll just bet that he's shore gonna smile when he sees Grandma's face when she lays eyes on this. Don't you think so, Kane?"
     "Yes, Josh," Kane replied, a lump in his throat. "I believe your grandpa will see it all."
     Josh could hardly be still as he waited for his grandmother to return. "How come she's taking so long, Kane?" He asked, as he ran from the window, to the door, and back again. "Seems like she's been gone a awful long time."
     Sometime later, they heard the truck pull into the yard. Josh flung open the door, and ran, coatless and hatless, into the snow, yelling, "Grandma! Grandma, how come you've been gone so long?"
     "I ain't been gone all that long, Josh," Molly said, laughing, as she got out of the truck. "And what's this, young man, out in the cold without your coat and cap?"
     Josh grabbed his grandmother's hand and danced up and down. "We've got a surprise for you, Grandma! Me and Kane, we've got a surprise!" He said, his voice high with excitement. "Now, you gotta close your eyes when we get to the door. Hurry up, Grandma! It's the best, Grandma! You ain't gonna believe your eyes!"
     Molly laughed at the excited boy as he pulled her towards the house. Kane, standing in the doorway, smiled.
     "Now, Grandma," Josh said, stopping at the door, "you gotta shut your eyes real tight and not open them til I tell you."
     "All right, Josh," Molly said, smiling, as she squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
     Josh led his grandmother across the living room and stopped before the stained glass window. "Now! You can open your eyes, now, Grandma!" Josh said breathlessly.
     Molly opened her eyes and stared at the window before her. She didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, she reached out and gently touched the window. "Oh, my!" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's your grandpa's window, Josh. It really is. It's your grandpa's dream come true! How did you ever do it?" she asked, drawing Josh into her arms, as tears began streaming down her face.
     "We done it, Grandma!" Josh said. "Kane and me, we done it. Ain't it the best, Grandma?"
     Molly looked at Kane, wonderment in her eyes. "Thank you both so very much," she said. "You have made this old woman so very happy, and it's better than the best, Josh, it's beautiful."
     "And them tears, Grandma? Them are happy tears, ain't they?" Josh asked.
     "Oh, yes, Josh," Molly said, smiling. "These are some of the happiest tears that ever run down this old face."

Chapter 17

     Later that afternoon, Old Man Piercy came by and picked up a load of Molly's shine. Kane knew that the old man would take it home, tie a red ribbon around each jar, and before nightfall would have made a stop at every Klan member's house in Groversville and wished them a Merry Christmas with a jar of shine. And he knew that each Klan member would think he was the receiver of a jar of the best shine in Tennessee, from Old Man Piercy's very own still. Kane smiled as he watched the old man drive out of Molly's yard, remembering Big Bob saying what a valued Klan member the old man was.
     Josh carefully wrapped his prized Case Knife in green wrapping paper, tied it up tightly with a red ribbon, and printed on the paper: To: Sage Newly. From: Santa Claus.
     Molly filled a small cardboard box with cookies and wrapped a bright red shawl in wrapping paper. "I knitted this last winter," she said, "thinking I would use it this year, but my old one is still good, and I have the pretty new one that Basil and Till sent me. Maybe Sage Newly's mama would like this one. I sure wish I knowed why that poor woman stays shut up in that old house like she does. -----There are some rumors," she said, almost to herself.
     "What kind of rumors, Grandma?" Josh asked.
     "Oh, never mind," Molly said. "You know I don't hold to rumors, especially about people I ain't never even seen. Now, Josh, we don't know how Sage and his mama are gonna react to us trying to give them gifts. Remember how the ladies from the church was turned back when they went up there. I just don't want you to be disappointed."
     Josh looked at his Grandmother and smiled. "Don't you go to a worrying none, Grandma. That old white man ain't gonna be there tonight. And they'll take the presents cause Santa Claus is bringing them. And I aim to make shore that Sage thinks he heard Santa Claus," Josh said, going to the closet and retrieving a long piece of leather with bells attached to it.
     "What on earth, Josh?" Molly said, as the boy began running about the room, ringing the bells.
     "Well, Grandma," Josh said, stopping in front of Molly, "Sage Newly said that he was gonna hear Santa Claus's sleigh bells, and since me and Kane are gonna be Santa Claus, we need sleigh bells. Just wish we had a sleigh and reindeer, too."
     "Oh, Josh," Molly said, laughing, "you are too much."
     "Tell Kane, Grandma. Tell Kane about these here sleigh bells. Please, Grandma," Josh begged, sitting down at Molly's feet, placing the strap with the sleigh bells into her lap.
     Kane sat at the kitchen table in that little gray house; snow continued to fall outside; the fire burned brightly in the fireplace, as Molly sat in her rocking chair and began the story of the sleigh bells. "When I was a little girl," she began, as she gently stroked the narrow strap with the bells, a faraway look in her eyes, "I lived right here in this house. The shine room wasn't built then. There was just this room and the back room, which is now my bedroom. There was six of us living here: my mama and papa and my two older sisters, Lettie and Martha, and my baby brother, Jackson and me. Well, it was Christmas Eve, and Mama had the fire going in the cook stove, and the house smelled of good things to eat." Molly closed her eyes and sniffed the air as if she was smelling those smells of so many years ago.
     "It smelled a lot like it does right now, right, Grandma?" Josh said.
     Molly opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Yes, Josh, much like it does now. And I was so excited," Molly continued. "I wanted Christmas to hurry and get here, and it seemed to my young mind that it was a taking forever. Papa had left that Christmas Eve morning to take some presents to his brother's family, who lived over in Casey County. There was about a inch of snow on the ground, but the sun was a shining, and my Papa said, as he got in his horse drawn sleigh, that he'd be back before sunset. Well," Molly continued, "by mid-afternoon, the sun no longer was shining, and low gray clouds swirled overhead. Soon, snow started to fall, and it fell harder and harder as the hours passed. Then the wind began to howl something dreadful, and my mama said that it was a blizzard. I could tell that my mama was worried sick because my papa wasn't home. All us kids was scared and some of us started to cry. Mama told us to hush up, that crying wasn't gonna help nothing. She lit the lamp and put it on the table in front of the window, so that Papa could see it and find his way home, if he was out there in the snowy night. After awhile, the wind stopped blowing so hard, and the snow was falling softer, and we heard the bells ringing."
     "These very bells, right here, Grandma?" Josh asked.
     "These very bells, Josh," Molly said and continued with the story. "My papa said these bells had most surely saved his life. He said it was the strangest thing, that he had just left his brother's house, when he met a ragged old man coming towards him. He said he stopped his sleigh, and the old man never spoke a word, but tied this strap of bells onto the horse's bridle, and before my papa could ask why he had done this, the old man was gone into the woods beside the road. Well, Papa said he thought about taking the bells off, but that he kinda liked the sound they made when the horse moved his head, and that the horse didn't seem to mind. My papa was still several miles from home when the blizzard started. He said it was a snowing so hard, and the wind was a blowing so strong that he couldn't even see his horse in front of the sleigh. He said all he could hear was the wind a howling and them sleigh bells a jingling. Well, Papa said he couldn't see to drive the horse; so he just tied the reins to the sleigh and hoped that the horse would find its way home. He said that he huddled under a quilt he had on the sleigh and tried not to freeze to death. Papa rode like that for a long time, just listening to the wind and the bells, and praying that God would lead that old horse home. Well, Papa said that the sleigh run over something in the road causing it to turn on its side. And Papa was throwed out into the snow. And the horse got scared and run off. Papa said he could hear the bells but couldn't see his hand before his face. Well, he got up and run blindly after the horse and the ringing bells, yelling at the horse to halt. Finally, the horse stopped. When the horse would sling its head from side to side, the bells would ring and Papa just followed the sound. When he got to his horse, he turned the sleigh right side up and got in and the horse found its way home. And Papa said if it hadn't of been for the bells, that he never would have found his horse and would have surely froze to death, out there in the dark and cold."
     "And the old man, Grandma?" Josh said, "Who was that old man who gave your papa the bells and saved his life?"
     "Well," Molly said looking at Kane, "my papa swore til the day he died that he had come face to face with the Kane of the legend." Molly tenderly ran her fingers over the bells. "These bells have been a hanging on that closet wall for nigh onto sixty years," she said. "I remember that I got a doll and a pretty new dress that Christmas, but the best present was my papa coming home safe and sound."
     "Well, Grandma," Josh said, "me and Kane, we'll shore take good care of your bells if you'll let us take them, tonight, when we play Santa Claus to Sage Newly. We'll take the best care ever."
     Molly handed the bells to Josh, smiled and kissed his cheek. "I know you will, Josh," she said.
     When Kane and Josh left Molly's for Sage Newly's, the snow had stopped, and a silver half-moon was shining brightly, and dozens of bright stars twinkled in the sky above them. The air was sharp and cold, as the two made their way across the fields of snow towards Sage Newly's house.
     "Ain't it just so beautiful, Kane?" Josh said. "Look at how the moonlight is making sparkles in the snow; it looks like the ground is covered with diamonds. And just look at all them stars. Kane, do you think one of them stars, up there, could be the one that led the wise men to the baby Jesus? Maybe that one right over there," Josh said, pointing to a bright star in the east.
     "It just might be, Josh," Kane said softly.
     As they came within sight of the little house, they could see a dim light shining from within. Josh's plan was to very quietly put the presents on the porch, then ring the bells as loudly as he could and hide, so that Sage Newly would think for sure that Santa Claus had left the presents.
     Kane and Josh crept upon the porch, scarcely making a sound. "Look! Look, Kane!" Josh whispered, as he looked in the window. "Sage's mama is white!"
     Kane looked in the window; a small white woman sat in a chair, near the fireplace. A boy, a little smaller than Josh, lay at her feet, staring into the fire.
     The woman leaned her head back, and Kane got a full view of her face. He gasped. It was the mayor's daughter. He realized that he was looking at what had once been the most beautiful girl in Groversville. Her face looked old and drawn now, as if all the life had been drained from it. Now, he understood why the mayor had hung himself. He wondered what had happened in the woman's life that she would come back here, with her young son, and live in such poverty.
     There was not a single thing Kane could see inside the cabin that gave a hint that it was Christmas, not one single thing, except the gleam in Sage Newly's eyes.
     "Mama," the two on the porch heard Sage say, "Mama is it about time for Santa Claus?"
     "Sage," the woman said, wearily, "I told you not to expect Santa Claus to come our way."
     "He's gonna come, Mama. He'll be here, I just know he will. You'll see," Sage said, looking up at his mother, his eyes filled with hope. And Kane thought the look on Sage's mother's face was the saddest thing he'd ever seen.
     Josh placed the sack of presents near the door, and he and Kane quietly backed off the porch. When they were in the yard, Kane took the strap with the bells out of his pocket and handed it to Josh. Josh swung the strap in a circle above his head, and the bells rang merrily in the moonlit night.
     They could hear Sage yelling from within, "He's here, Mama! He's here!"
     Kane and Josh quickly ducked behind a large tree in the yard. Kane put the strap back into his pocket, as the door to the cabin opened, and Sage ran out onto the porch, followed closely by his mother. Kane and Josh peered around the tree at the two on the porch. Sage was jumping up and down as he picked up the sack with the presents. He ran to the edge of the porch and looked off into the night. "I wish I could have seen him, Mama! I wish I could have laid eyes on old Santa Claus! I told you he'd come, Mama! I told you!" Sage said. The woman looked out into the snow-covered yard. She stood there for a moment, looking bewildered; then, she led the boy back inside, closing the door behind them. Kane looked down at Josh whose smile was as bright as the stars.
     When Kane and Josh got back to Molly's, several gaily-wrapped presents lay under the tree. "Oh, Grandma! Santa Claus done come while me and Kane was over at Sage Newly's," Josh said, grinning at Kane.
     "He shore did," Molly said, smiling. "But he said to tell you especially, Josh, that not one of them presents is to be opened until in the morning."
     "I'll wait, Grandma," Josh said, "but I shore hope Christmas hurries."
     Molly looked at Kane and Josh and said, "I want both of you to know just how much my window means to me. I've been a sitting here looking at it and there is so many remembrances in it, of when Grandpa and me was young. It means more to me than you could ever know."
     "I love it too, Grandma," Josh said, going to the window and running his finger over the glass. "And I'm thinking that Grandpa is looking down from Heaven and smiling."
     "I was just thinking that very thought, Josh, Molly said.
     "I think Sage Newly is liking his present just about as much as you like yours, Grandma. And you ain't gonna believe this," Josh said, looking at Molly, "but Sage Newly's mama is white!"
     "I heard a rumor just last week that Sage's mama was a white woman," Molly said. "Clarice Meeks, from the church, was a telling me about it. She said her brother, who lives in Chicago, knowed the man that Sage's mama had married. She said that the man was shot and killed, and that his family hadn't accepted his marrying a white woman and had disowned him and wouldn't have nothing to do with his wife and child. He told her that the woman and child was a sleeping on the streets of Chicago. So I guess the poor woman had no choice but to come back here. The story goes," Molly continued, "that the girl's mother said she never wanted to see her daughter again, but that she would allow her to live in the old sharecropper's cabin, if she stayed hid away. I don't like rumors," Molly said, shaking her head, "don't pay much attention to 'em, but, guess this one must have some truth to it."
     "Grandma," Josh said, thoughtfully, "if Sage Newly has a white mama and a black daddy, then he's half-white and half-black. Is that right, Grandma?"
     "Yes, Josh, I reckon that's right," Molly answered.
     "Well then, Grandma, how come Sage is more black than white? Anybody that looked at him would say that he's a Colored boy. Do you know the why of that, Grandma?"
     "I don't have an answer to that, Josh, "Molly said.
     "Well, Grandma," Josh said, "it seems to me that Sage is brown. But if his mama's people ain't a wanting him, and his daddy's people ain't a wanting him either, does that mean there just ain't no place for the brown?" Josh asked sadly.
     "Don't you go to a worrying none about Sage Newly, Josh," Molly said gently. "God's gonna find a place for the brown."
     "I hope so, Grandma," Josh said, "cause I shore do like Sage Newly a powerful lot."
     It was late when, at last, Josh fell asleep. Kane whispered to Molly that he would bring the room divider inside. He got the divider from the barn, and Molly held the door open as he carried it inside. Kane had made the divider out of two lightweight doors he had found stored in the barn. He'd put the doors together using hinges that Molly had gotten at the hardware store. Last he had painted it blue. With the hinges and wheels, the divider could be folded and rolled against the wall when not in use. Kane's had a hard time keeping the divider hidden from Josh.
     "Oh, Kane," Molly whispered, as they placed the portable wall around Josh's bed, "this is gonna make Josh one happy little boy. He's always wanted his own room." She patted Kane on the shoulder and smiled at him as they stood beside the cot where the sleeping boy lay. "Josh and me," Molly said, "we're richer this Christmas, Kane. We're richer because you've come our way."
     Kane hugged the old woman, tears filling his eyes. If you only knew, Molly, he thought. If you only knew, would you still think yourself richer?
     Josh pulling the quilts off his bed awakened Kane early Christmas morning. "Come on Kane," Josh said, excitement ringing in his voice. "Hurry up and get up, or you're gonna miss Christmas for sure! Thanks so much for making me my own room, Kane. It's great! But hurry up, there's presents to be opened!" Josh grinned at Kane and ran out of the room.
     Kane quickly got dressed and went into the front room. Molly and Josh were waiting by the tree. "We're gonna put all the presents on the table and open them together," Josh said, taking presents from beneath the tree and placing them on the table. "Grandma," Josh said, "you sit down next to your window so the sunlight can shine on your face just like it did years ago, when you and Grandpa was young and living in New Orleans, Louisiana."
     Molly sat down at the table next to her window. The light coming through the stained glass fell on her face. Josh smiled happily as he looked at her.
     They opened their presents: Josh got a flannel shirt and new jeans and a leather belt from Molly. Kane got a shirt and a pair of gloves. Josh gave Kane a notebook and two pencils. "You can write down anything that comes in your head that might help you to get your memory back," Josh said. Then, Molly handed Josh a small package wrapped in red wrapping paper.
     "Wow! Another one!" Josh said, "I thought we'd opened all of 'em." He tore the package open and was speechless as he held the knife that had once belonged to his grandfather. Finally, Josh said, "But, Grandma, I wasn't supposed to get this for years and years, not until I growed to be a man."
     "I think you've growed enough for it now, Josh," Molly said, tenderly.
     Josh ran around the table and hugged his grandmother. "Thanks, Grandma. I'll take such special care of it and I'll keep it forever and ever."
     Josh strutted around the house all day with his prized knife in his pocket. And he went and sat on his cot several times, just to be in his special room.
     Even with all the joy and happiness that filled the little gray house on that Christmas Day, Kane felt an overpowering loneliness, as he thought of his own childhood Christmases. He wished he could turn back the years and be a child again, and experience a Christmas of his youth, to know only joy, free from any worry, if only for an instant.

Chapter 18

     The winter wasn't as long, nor as cold, as Molly had feared, and spring came early to Southern Tennessee. The preacher and the people at Molly's church found out about Kane and vowed to keep the secret. From time to time, Kane would read in the paper that Big Bob Holliday was still looking for his lost son. And, sometimes, there would be a report of someone claiming to have seen a blue-eyed Negro in a nearby county, but when the authorities arrived he was always gone.
     Josh said that Sage Newly carried his most prized possession to school in the pocket of his ragged jeans.
     With the coming of the new spring, Kane became despondent. He knew he couldn't stay on at Molly's forever, and he didn't know what he was going to do. There didn't seem to be anywhere to turn. Molly sensed that he was depressed and tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, Kane," she told him one rainy morning, as he stood looking out the window, "you'll get your memory back someday. And you're gonna feel better once this old rain has stopped and that old sun comes out. I've never seen such a rainy spring in all my life. This weather shore can get a body down. They say that the Mohawk River is just about to run over its banks; I ain't seen that happen in forty years."
     Josh came in from school each day soaking wet. Even though Molly put his raincoat on him every morning, he was drenched when he came home. By Thursday, the rain had stopped and the sun came out. Josh ran out into the yard, on his way to school, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Thank you, Lord, for making the sun shine. Now I don't have to play inside at recess."
     Soon, all the Tennessee countryside was alive with new growth. Almost overnight, trees gave forth their greenery and blossoms appeared everywhere. Molly said the peach and apple blossoms were the most beautiful she had ever seen. As Kane breathed in the fragrant air and looked at the pink and white blossoms, he agreed with her; yet, the beauty of the spring only made his heart ache all the more.
     One Monday afternoon, Josh came running home from school. "Grandma! Kane!" he shouted, running through the door. He excitedly told them about a trip the school was taking. He said the school had rented a bus and on Friday, they would be taking the school children to Nashville. He said the teacher's brother owned a restaurant and would be giving them free food. And that a group of Black actors were putting on a play. "They're from Detroit and this will be the only chance I'll have to see a play," Josh said. "I can go, can't I? Please, Grandma. And you can come, too, Grandma, as a chaperon."
     Molly laughed at the excited boy and said she would be delighted to go on a trip to a big city with her handsome grandson.
     Suddenly, Josh became quiet and looked shyly at Kane and said, "I'm a wishing you could come, too, Kane, but they said we could only bring one other person."
     Kane assured Josh that it was all right, that he thought it was great that Josh could take his grandmother to Nashville.
     Josh could hardly wait until Friday. He was up before daybreak on Friday morning. He and Molly dressed in their Sunday best. Kane stood in the doorway and watched them get into Molly's old truck and drive away to meet the bus for Nashville.
     Kane worked in the shine room until noon, filling quart Mason jars with whiskey. After he ate lunch, he stood at the open window for awhile; only a slight breeze stirred the worn, white curtains. He felt that he could no longer stand being inside and went out the back door into the sunshine. He made his way across the meadow and into the green shelter of the woods. The forest was cool and peaceful; yellow sunlight filtered through the leaves on the trees, and the songs of many different birds filled the air. Two small blue birds sang in a tree a few feet from him, flying away when he came closer. A red squirrel scurried along a rotted log, hesitating for an instant when it saw Kane, then quickly ran up a tree, disappearing among the leaf covered limbs.
     Following a well-worn path, Kane continued deeper into the forest. He figured that some animal, most likely a deer, had made the path. After awhile he came to a hillside covered with small pine trees. Instinctively, he walked to the north side of the hill. He knew, even before he got there, that he would find a cave, it was as though he had stood on this very spot many times before. He knew that behind the dense grouping of pines there would be an opening into the hillside. He pushed aside the small trees and there it was, a hole in the hillside, just like he knew it would be. He felt afraid, knowing that he wouldn't have seen the opening to the cave if some unseen power hadn't revealed it to him. Part of his mind was screaming, Run! Run from this place! But a bigger part said stay, stay and see what lies within. Even though fear was making him weak, he squeezed through the opening, feeling drawn to go inside as if something more powerful than his own will was pulling him forward.
     He found himself in a huge underground room: Beams of sunlight streamed through a large hole in the top of the cave. A small stream of water gently poured over rocks at one side of the room, before sinking into a crevice. A pack rat eyed Kane for an instant before disappearing into a hole.
     Kane felt that he knew this cave. But how could this be? He had never even been in these woods before. He didn't like the smell the cave had, and the air seemed heavy, and he didn't know if it was the air or his fear that was making it difficult for him to breathe. All of his senses seemed to be screaming at him to go, to get away from this place, but something more powerful seemed to be holding him there. He gasped as his eyes fell on a large rock that formed part of the wall at the east end of the cave; there etched into the rock, in giant, uneven letters, was the word KANE.
     Kane's heart pounded wildly against his ribs as he slowly went to the rock and ran his fingers over the letters. He thought someone scratching with a sharp rock had probably made them. A tremor swept over his body as he realized that he was probably in what had once been the home of the legendary Kane. His eyes fell on what looked to be the remains of a crudely made bow leaning against a rock, a few handmade arrows lay nearby.
     Kane sucked in his breath and he thought his heart was going to explode, it was pounding so wildly, as he looked at what was on the other side of the rock; there in a sitting position, leaning against the rock, was the skeletal remains of a human. Kane thought, as he stared at the bones, that he had found what was left of the Kane of old. And again he felt that all his being was screaming at him to go! to leave this place, yet he seemed powerless to turn away.
     Suddenly the skeleton began to move. Kane watched in horror as the bones began to take on flesh. He screamed and tried to run from the cave, but a force that he could not see sent him reeling against the wall, and he sank down into a sitting position in the dirt. He found, to his horror, that he could not utter a sound nor move a finger. It was as though he was made of stone, but he could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
     He didn't want to look towards the skeleton, but his eyes would not leave it. It was as though he had no will of his own. The skeleton was now in the form of a complete human, dressed in ragged, old, brown clothes. It turned and stared at Kane. And Kane thought that what he was looking at was more terrifying than anything he had been through since he had begun his nightmarish journey, inside the body of this man called Kane. As he looked at the figure standing before him, Kane realized that it was like looking into a mirror------The same face that looked back at him each morning from the mirror on Molly's wall, above the washstand, now stared at him, only the eyes were difference. The eyes that had been reflected in the mirror had been the only visible thing left of what had once been Wade Holliday. Now, Kane was looking into eyes of fire.
     Kane wished he could die and be released from the terror that consumed him. Then his mind screamed, Maybe you are dead! Maybe this is hell! And he didn't know which would be worse: to be dead or to be alive.
     The tall muscular body in the ragged clothes, its feet bare and dusty, paced back and forth before Kane. The glaring red eyes locked with Kane's, and try as he would, he couldn't look away. He tried desperately to close his eyes, but he couldn't even blink. He felt that the creature's eyes were eating into his soul, and that he must be experiencing the very depths of hell. Finally, the figure stopped before him and leaned forward, its face within inches of Kane's. "You!" it screamed, its voice filling the cave with the most horrifying sound Kane had ever heard. "You!" it screamed again, "The creator of the "Great Lie"!"
     In his terror, Kane wondered what the creature was talking about. What could be the "Great Lie"?
     Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Kane found himself in another place. He was out of the cave and standing in bright sunlight, in knee high grass, on a hillside, the ragged figure by his side. The sky was the most brilliant blue that Kane had ever seen, and the grass and trees were a rich green.
     Kane could not move nor speak. All he could do was stand there and look. As he looked across the grassy field, a group of brown-skinned people walked through tall grass, several yards to his right. He found himself counting their naked bodies: seven men and seven women. The men appeared to be about five feet tall, the women a few inches shorter. They didn't look Kane's way as they walked by, and he didn't think they would have seen him nor old Kane had they looked. "This was the beginning!" the man with the blazing eyes said, his voice sounding as angry as it had back at the cave, but not as loud. "This was the beginning, hundreds of thousands of years before the "Great Lie"!"
     Kane's mind was screaming, Wake up! Wake up! This is yet another nightmare, or if it's the LSD causing a bad trip, it is worst that anything he'd read or heard about or could ever have imagined.
     The angry voice raged on, "The Creator placed these!" he said pointing to the fourteen people, "his greatest creation, here, in this valley. The Creator gave these people the most basic things they would need to survive: He gave them the ability to think and to learn. He gave them emotions, though at first, very basic; true love and hate came slowly." The voice continued as the group of people walked on, vanishing before Kane's eyes. "These fourteen humans multiplied. And after many years, some of them ventured off into other parts of the world. As time passed, the humans in the parts of the world where the sun didn't shine so hot no longer needed their dark skins and over hundreds of thousands of years in that environment, that had a gentler sun, their skins gradually faded. And the lighter-skinned humans had their kingdoms. And the humans that ventured into the place that had the scorching sun developed a much darker skin to protect them from that sun. These dark-skinned humans also had their kingdoms. About this time!" Old Kane said, his voice rising, his eyes glowing a deeper red, "humans were developing a conscious, and it was because of the conscious, that the light-skinned humans developed the "Great Lie"!"
     In a flash of light, Kane found himself standing on the sandy shore of a huge body of water. He was still unable to move, and old Kane was by his side. Kane could see an enormous wooden ship out in the sea; men in knee breeches were climbing down rope ladders, getting into a small rowboat, and were now rowing towards the shore. Kane saw more men, like the ones in the rowboat, coming out of the woods behind the beach; they are dragging a large black man, who is bound with rope. The men in the boat row to the shore, as the men on shore carry the bound man to the water. The man in the ropes thrashes about and is screaming, "No! No!" Kane realizes that the man is speaking in a language that he has never heard before, yet, he is able to understand him as well as he understands the English speaking captors. One of the men holds a gun in his hand; it looked to Kane like one he had seen in a pirate movie. The man strikes the bound man on the head with the gun, and he falls limp into the boat. The man with the gun laughs and says, "We'll be getting a pretty piece of gold for this one, aye lads?"
     Next, Kane finds himself inside the ship. Lanterns hang on the walls, emitting dim light. The stench of human excrement is almost overpowering. Naked black-skinned men, women, and a few children are in cage-like structures. There are two rows of the cages, one atop the other, along each wall of the ship. There is no room to stand, and the people are in a crouched position. Excrement from the top cages drips through the board flooring onto the captives in the lower cages. Flies are thick in the foul air. Many of the prisoners have a glazed look on their faces and stare straight ahead; a few utter low, desperate moans, and some are cursing their captors.
     Kane had never heard the language and wondered how he is able to understand every word. His mind is screaming, wake up! Wake up! and be released from the unbearable misery and pain that is before your eyes.
     Some of the people are dying from injuries they suffered when they were captured. Kane notices one young male captive; he appears to be badly injured. He rests his head against the wooden bars of his cage, blood trickles from the corner of his mouth and there is pain in his eyes. "He's the son of the chief of the tribe that most of these people were taken from," old Kane said. "And that young woman in the cage across from him was his mate."
     The young man speaks to the young woman, his voice coming in gasps, "I could not save you, my mate. I could not save you from these beasts from another world. Gone are our dreams for our kingdom; never again will we run in the sand by the sea."
     Tears roll down the face of the young woman and she asks, "Is this a dream, my mate, and when I wake, I'll be in our hut awaiting your return from the hunt? Say it is a dream, my mate, so I can awaken and feel the fresh air warm against my face and feel the sun smiling on my skin."
     "No, my mate," the man says sadly, "this is no dream, and I must leave you soon. I can feel my spirit struggling to free itself from this broken body. Soon, it will fly above this place and these evil beings. It cries to be free, to go to that place where the air is cool and sweet, and body and spirit is forever free of pain. As I leave you, I am saddened that you must stay here, my mate. I do not know the ways of the Gods, I only know that I must go, and you must stay. Perhaps it is because you carry my seed in your belly that you are to remain." Blood gushes from his mouth, and his voice is barely a whisper as he reaches out his hand through the bars of his cage towards the young woman. "Good-bye, my mate. I hear the Gods calling," he whispers, then his body goes limp.
     The young woman reaches as far as she can through the bars of her cage, but she can not touch the outstretched hand. A wail of despair comes from deep within her as she bangs her head against the cage.
     Soon, the captain of the ship enters with several crewmembers. He holds his nose at the stench, as he surveys his captives, and curses when he sees that the young captive is dead, and says that he is losing money. He orders the crewmen to remove the dead bodies.
     One crewmen, a young fair-haired man of about eighteen, looks in horror at the people in the cages. "Sir," he said, to the captain, "could we give them enough space so that they can lie down? Look, Sir, look at their faces. What do you reckon they're thinking?"
     "My, boy," the captain says, "these are animals. They do not think. The only difference in them and any other animal is that they walk on two legs."
     Old Kane looks at Kane. "Part of the "Great Lie"," he said. "The captain has to convince himself that the caged people are animals, without souls, otherwise, he wouldn't be able to carry out his mission."
     The young crewman takes one more look at the people in the cages, then runs, retching, towards the deck of the ship. "That seed that was growing in that young woman was my grandmother," Old Kane said, his eyes glaring at Kane. "Many years later, she was to have a great impact on the lives of many of my people."
     In an instant, Kane is standing on the ship's deck. The crewmen are carrying the dead bodies to the edge of the deck. "Throw 'em to the sharks," the captain barks, then turns on his heels and goes to his cabin. Two crewmen toss the body of the young man into the sea. Kane watches as it sinks out of sight and wishes that he didn't have to.
     Next, Kane finds himself, along side old Kane, in a storage room aboard the ship. Huddled on a sack of grain in the corner is the young crewman. He is curled up cradling his knees in his arms; his whole body is shaking. "Ran away to sea, to see the world," old Kane said. "He was raised up in a gentle family, where human dignity was respected. Nothing in his life prepared him for what he has seen aboard this ship, but in time, he, too, will embrace the "Great Lie"."
     The image of the young crewman slowly fades, and Kane finds himself on a wooden sidewalk, in a small town. Hogs and chickens roam freely in the dirt streets. Men walk by, some are dressed like the Pilgrims in his grade school text books; others are dressed in rich looking, colorful clothes of about the same time period. The skies are gray, and now and then a snowflake falls slowly to the ground. The buildings are mostly log structures. Men gather around a large wooden block in the middle of the street. On the block stands a black man dressed only in ragged knee breeches. Next to the man are two half-naked young black women; their eyes look fearful at the men crowding around the block. A man with a whip motions for the people on the block to drop their heads, and the three on the block look to the ground.
     Kane watches as the men examine the trio; they feel the man's muscles and run their hands over the young women's bodies; their eyes and teeth are examined. Just when Kane thinks he can not bear to see anymore, the younger of the women is no longer black, and to Kane's horror, she is his own mother standing there on the block, looking just as he remembers her, before she got sick. Now her eyes are sad, so very sad. He wants to scream and run to her, but he is powerless to move or to speak. The vision slowly fades and he is again looking at the young black woman. He had thought when he first found himself inside the body of this man call Kane, that the nightmare could not be worse, but he now realizes he was wrong.
     After the people on the block have been fully examined, the auction begins. A bearded man buys the two women in a long gray coat. A fancy dressed man in knee breeches and a bright blue coat purchases the man. Kane stares at the silver buckles on the man's shoes and thinks that he might be a southern plantation owner.
     Next on the block is a woman with two children: a boy of about seven and a girl of about ten. First the children are sold. The woman wails and tries to hold onto them, as they are torn from her arms. The children are screaming, "Mama, Mama!", and their faces are filled with fear as they are carried away.
     Just when Kane thinks he can no longer stand seeing anymore of the Black people's pain, he finds himself on a plantation. There are many large trees growing around a beautiful white mansion. Frail-looking white women, in colorful long dresses, walk across a lush green lawn. Standing next to Kane, as always, is old Kane. Kane can see beyond the mansion a group of slave cabins, and soon finds himself with old Kane, next to the cabins.
     A black woman, naked to the waist, is tied to a whipping post. A large white man, who Kane thinks is the plantation overseer, is standing over her with a whip in his hand. A black man on his knees is pleading with the man with the whip, "Please, mister bossman," the black man begs, "let me take the whoppin fur my missus."
     The white man looks at the black man and laughs, "You git back to work, or you'll git twice as many licks as I'm about to give your woman."
     Kane wondered what the woman had done to deserve a whipping. Old Kane spoke, "She ran with her own child; she ran with her baby when the plantation owner's wife began to beat the child because it wouldn't stop crying."
     The woman, who was tied to the whipping post, looked over her shoulder at her husband and said with a trembling voice, "Go on back to the fields, Tobias, no use you taking a beating, too. It isn't gonna do me any good, you doing that. So go. Go on back to work." The man with the whip told her to shut her mouth or he was going to give her five extra lashes.
     Tobias looked helplessly at the woman, hung his head and slowly got to his feet and started walking back towards the field, where several Black people were picking cotton and putting it in long sacks dragging along behind them.
     "You wait!" The man with the whip ordered Tobias. "I want you to see this," he said, raising his whip high in the air bringing it down hard against the woman's bare back. The woman screamed as the leather cut into her flesh, and blood began to trickle down her back. The man with the whip brought it down again and again against her back.
     Kane didn't want to stand there and watch the misery that was before his eyes, but he had no choice. "This was the way things were on the plantation," old Kane said.
     The woman passed out and slumped to her knees, her tied hands holding her upper body against the post. The man with the whip proceeded to give her the remaining lashes that she had been sentenced to. Suddenly, Tobias ran at the overseer, grabbing the whip out of his hand and with clinched fist hit him between the eyes, knocking him flat on the ground.
     Kane had seen the look of disbelief on the overseer's face as the black man had charged towards him. Two white men, who were watching the proceedings, came to the aid of the overseer and pulled Tobias off him.
     Soon, Tobias was stripped to the waist and had taken his wife's place at the whipping post. The enraged overseer swung the whip high above his head and brought it down as hard as he could against Tobias's back. Soon the slave's back was a mass of bloody, hide less muscles. Finally one of the men grabbed the overseer's arm. "You'd better stop! or else you're gonna kill Mister Barnett's' prize slave!"
     The overseer angrily jerked away from the man, but he stopped swinging the whip. He stood over Tobias. Through clenched teeth he said, "Don't you ever try laying a hand on me again, or next time I'll chop your hands off! Prized slave or no prized slave, it won't make a difference, you'll just be a dumb nigger without hands! Do you hear me, boy?"
     Tobias looked with pained eyes at the overseer. "Yes, boss man, I hear you," he said just above a whisper.
     The overseer turned on his heels and walked rapidly away, the bloody whip dangling from his hand. More slaves came and untied Tobias and helped him and the woman into one of the cabins.
     Kane found himself, with old Kane, inside the cabin. Black women were gently washing and dressing the wounds of Tobias and his wife. "I told you, Tobias," the woman said tearfully, as she looked at her husband, "I told you to go on back to the fields. What you done ain't helping anything. I still got the whopping and you got a worse one. Why didn't you just go on back to the fields?"
      Tobias looked over at his wife and clinching his teeth against the pain said, "We gotta find a way to git away from this place, Cassy. I can't stand it any longer, to see them beat you, and they have already started on the baby. I just can't bear any more. I just can't!
     "But what can we do, Tobias? Where can we go? We's been on this place all our lives, same as your daddy and mama and my mama, before they sold her away. I thinks about her a lot, Tobias," the woman said, tears streaming down her face. "I been a wishing I could see her just one more time. She was always a telling me to be a good slave and do everything the master said. She done everything the master said and he still sold her away. She was always a telling me to smile, but Tobias, I couldn't smile anymore when the missus started in a beating my baby." Cassy was now sobbing, her body shaking. The woman who was treating her wounds tried to comfort her. And Kane felt a lump in his throat and wondered how it was that he couldn't move or speak, but could feel such an ache in his heart.
     Next, Kane finds himself inside the mansion. A plump slave, in a white dress, is serving tea and tiny cakes to a group of ladies in fancy, long dresses. "Jed just bought me two new girls," a red headed woman, in a blue dress, brags to a stern-faced woman, who Kane thinks is the mistress of the plantation.
     "Well, good luck with them," the stern-faced woman said. "My overseer had to beat one of my girls today, and he had a lot of trouble with her man, tried to stop the beating. My overseer whipped him good for interfering, but I don't know, yet, what we're going to do with them. I never like to keep them once they cause trouble, seems like there's no end to it. Guess we'd better sell them off, first chance we get. Seems like the slaves just ain't what they were in the old days; slaves nowadays just don't appreciate what all we do for them. Nobody can say that we don't treat our slaves well; we feed them plenty and they have good shelter and are tended to when they're sick, but they just don't appreciate it." She shook her head as she looked at the other woman; took a bite out of her tiny cake and a sip of tea before continuing, "Now in my daddy's day, slaves were different back then. They were happy and so appreciative of what was done for them."
     "Another part of the "Great Lie"," old Kane said.
     The air is filled with gunfire, and Kane finds himself on a battlefield. Old Kane sees the fear in his eyes and tells him that the bullets that are whizzing about them can not hurt them. Kane sees a soldier, a Black soldier, in a World War 2, American Army uniform. The soldier is screaming and running towards a German soldier, who is holding a small American flag in his hands. The German soldier strikes a flame under the flag and laughs as it starts to burn. In an instant, the American soldier's life flashes before Kane's eyes: He sees the soldier joining up for the service, and his parents proudly standing by. He sees the young man having to wait in a Colored waiting room to get his physical. He sees him eating in the Colored dining room at an army fort. And he sees him sleeping in an all Colored barracks, not allowed to stay in the large white- only barracks. He sees the young man standing in the doorway of his barracks looking bewildered towards the White barracks. Kane, now, sees the young man running towards the German soldier; when he reaches the German, he tears the American Flag from his hands, smothers the flames, and holds it to his heart. The German takes his gun and shoots the young American soldier through the heart. As the soldier lay dying, Kane wonders why the man gave up his life for one tattered flag. Old Kane looked at him and said, "The soldier gave his life not for the flag, but for the dream that the flag stands for. It's the dream of what America is supposed to be that the soldier is holding.''
     Suddenly, Kane finds himself at a fairground, next to a carousel. A Black boy, about Josh's age, is standing nearby watching the carousel as it goes around and around. When it stops, the little boy, his eyes shining with excitement, goes up to the man with the tickets, and says, "I wanna ride that gray horse, the one with the red harness."
     The man laughs, "Ain't no nigger a gonna ride my carousel. Now git on away from here!" The shine fades from the little boy's eyes. As Kane watches him walk away, he can feel the boy's pain.
     Next, Kane is standing next to a group of white men, in shirtsleeves, watching a horseshoe contest. "You know, Frank," one of them said, "we've got these instigators from out of state coming in here trying to stir up our Colored, and I guess we're gonna have to send 'em packing."
     "Yes, sir," the other one replied. "If the law won't run 'em out of town, guess we'll have to do it ourselves. Our Coloreds down here in Jackson County why they don't want no outsiders coming in here and interfering in Jackson County's business. We got happy Coloreds here. You know that and I know that, and the Coloreds know that. I told that man that was in town yesterday, nosing around, that our Colored folks knowed their place and stayed in it. I told him if these outsiders knowed what was good fur 'em, they'd stay out of Jackson County. You've got six Coloreds a working fur you and you treat 'em right. You give 'em a place to live, rent free, and you pay 'em some."
     The other man nodded and said, "You treat your Coloreds just as good as I treat mine. I let mine farm my crops and live on my place, and they can continue to do so, so long as they don't step out of their place. Now, I ask you, Carl, what more could a Colored person want?"
     "More of the "Great Lie"," old Kane said.
     A flash of light and Kane was back in the cave. He found, to his great relief, that he could move. He looked around the cave wondering where old Kane was. Old Kane was gone, and the skeletal remains laid as he had first seen them, against the rock. Had it all been a dream? A bad trip? Had he dreamed all the things of the Great Lie? or had he really been there? He only knew that he wanted out of this place. Suddenly the cave was filled with cries of despair. Frantically, Kane looked about the room, trying to see where the cries were coming from. It seemed that the despair of a million, lonely, tormented souls filled the underground room, crying for freedom, justice, and human dignity.
     Kane felt that he was going to suffocate, the despair was so heavy in the air. He felt his breath being squeezed out of him, by an unseen force. He thought his pounding heart was going to burst as fear consumed his being. From somewhere, he got the power to move his feet, and he fled from the cave. He ran terror stricken through the woods and stumbled into the meadow, falling onto the grass and fearfully looked over his shoulder into the woods behind him, fearing he was going to see old Kane coming for him. But it all seemed as it had when he had first entered the forest; the birds were singing and the sunlight was bright on the green leaves of the trees. He lay there in the cool grass of the meadow, his body trembling, his heart pounding in his ears. He lay there as his labored breathing slowed. Looking up at the clear blue Tennessee sky, he asked the question that he had asked countless times in the past few months, "Why me, God?"
     The sun was sinking low in the west, when Kane finally got up from the meadow and made his way back to the house. He didn't fix himself any supper, he knew he couldn't eat anything, anyway. He knew that it would be late before Molly and Josh returned, and he was glad, he didn't want to see them.
     As the gray dusk of twilight fell on the old house, Kane sat there in the purple shadows. The feeling of loneliness was more than he thought he could bear; it would be heaven if he could just die and put an end to the misery that soaked into every fiber of his being. He sat there in the empty house and thought of ways to end his miserable life, to put an end to his torment. He thought of Molly's old shotgun that stood in the closet by the door. One flick of the trigger and it would all be over, no more having to deal with being a Black man called Kane; no more being afraid. And he wondered what death would be like; was there really a heaven, in which his mother waited? Or was this all there was, and when his life ended, would it be just total darkness and nothing more? He got up and started for the closet, but something held him back and he sat down. He didn't know what it was, but something held him back and gave him the courage to go on, to see what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter 19

     The gray shadows of the day's end were gathering over Southern Tennessee, as Kane made his way through the fields towards the old school building. He'd told Molly that he needed to get out of the house, to be alone. She'd said that she understood, but to be careful out there in the night. Josh was spending the night with his friend James and was to go with James and his father on a fishing trip the next morning.
     Kane knew that tonight was the night for the monthly Klan meeting, and tonight's meeting would include the annual election of the Klan's officers. He didn't doubt that his father would again be elected Grand Dragon.
     A quarter moon hung high in the night sky. And as darkness deepened Kane cast a shadow on the lonely country road that led to the schoolhouse. Crickets sang in the weeds and small bushes along the roadside. And hundreds of fireflies, like miniature flashlights, flashed off and on in the darkness. A whippoorwill calling its melancholy cry only added to the loneliness that surrounded Kane. Even the distant sound of a dog barking sounded lonely, and Kane thought of Jupiter, was his old friend wondering where his master was tonight?
     As he neared the familiar building, Kane could see the yellow light of a lamp shining through a window at the front of the old school house. Old Man Piercy would be getting ready for the Klan meeting just about now, sitting up the chairs and preparing a table for the shine.
     Kane crept along the side of the school building. Looking in at the window, he saw the old man inside just finishing up his supper. Kane moved quickly along until he was at the back of the building. He wrapped his hands around the bottom rung of the aged ladder that was nailed to the outside of the building. The ladder had been there, on the back part of that building, for as long as Kane could recall. As a child he'd played on it. The ladder led to a loft, if he could get into the loft he'd be able to see down through the cracks in the ceiling and observe the meeting undetected from above. Silently he climbed the ladder and opened the small wooden window to the loft; its rusty hinges gave off a screeching sound. Kane held his breath, afraid that the old man might have heard and would come to investigate. But the old man's voice kept singing "Lady Blue Eyes" over and over again. Kane climbed through the window and crawled onto the rafters. On hands and knees, he made his way towards tiny slivers of light coming through the cracks in the ceiling, next to the stovepipe.
     Spider webs clung to his face as he crept along the rafters. He crawled along until he got to the stovepipe, then sat down on one of the rafters and firmly planted his feet on an opposite one. Through the cracks in the ceiling, Kane could see the room below; a bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. Soon the room beneath him would be filled with robed Klansmen. He made himself as comfortable as possible and waited.
      Soon, Old Man Piercy came out of the back room and began unfolding chairs which had been stacked against the wall, setting them in rows of eight. Kane watched every move the old man made. At one end of the room sat a long table on which lay many items of Klan paraphernalia. At one end of the table sat the famous brown jug, filled, no doubt, with Molly's shine. Kane smiled----- All those years, that old man hadn't produced a single drop of shine. The old man often bragged about his whiskey. Kane knew the old man was a liar and his life would be worthless if the Klan ever found him out.
     Old Man Piercy put on his Klansman's robe, continued to sing softly below, and the lonely night bird called to its mate outside, and Kane waited.
     Soon, there was the sound of a car coming to a halt outside. Piercy stopped his singing and went to the door. Kane recognized Fred Grady, a tall, slender Klansman, from over in the Belton area. "Howdy, Fred," the old man said.
     "How's it going, Piercy? Got that shine ready for us tonight?" Fred asked grinning. Soon the room below was filled with robed men, and the air was heavy with men's deep voices.
     Kane felt a tug at his heart as his father entered the room, his green robe standing out among the white of the others.
     At first, the men just stood around talking and laughing and from time to time taking sips from the shine jug. Kane stretched his legs and rubbed a cramp that was forming in his right leg. Finally, his father took his place at the small table at the front of the room and brought the meeting to order. There was the ordinary talk about dues, and plans to attend the regional meeting over in Danville. Suddenly the door flung open, and Buster Hazlewood burst in, his face flushing red, his eyes glassy, and a half smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Now, Buster Hazlewood was a drunken bum who had been trying to join the Klan ever since Kane could remember. Once, Buster stalked a Klan member for three days and trailed him to the secret meeting place and tried to join the Klan, but none of the members would allow him in, and told him if he ever told about the secret meeting place that he'd find himself wishing that he'd never seen the light of day. As far as Kane knew Buster had never told. Big Bob had said that there was no way in God's world that trash would ever be a Klan member.
     "I know something that's gonna make you Klan people mighty mad!" Buster said, his voice high pitched with excitement. Kane felt a sinking, sick feeling, and he knew deep in his gut that he wasn't going to want to hear what Buster had to say.
     "You'd better have a damn good reason for busting in here and interrupting our meeting, Buster Hazlewood!" Big Bob snapped.
     Buster's eyes glittered all the more, and he stuttered as the words flew out of his mouth: "It's, it's a--a--a-- a about that old nigggg, nigger woman that lives out on Brier Road!" Kane gripped the rafters for support and sucked in his breath as a dark fear swept over him.
     "That shine," Buster said, his mouth turning up in a grin as he looked around the room at the Klansmen, their eyes all fixed on him. "That shine that you all been a drinking all this time." The stutter was gone from his voice now, and he almost laughed as he continued. "You all think that Piercy made ever last drop of that shine. Don't you?"
     The Klansmen's eyes that had been glued on Buster now turned to the old man standing nervously in the corner. Kane felt pity for the old man as he looked at his face. He thought he was witnessing the ending of the old man's world. Buster, perhaps feeling important for the first time in his life, continued as all eyes were once again on his face. "I know how you all always bragged about your Klan shine, and all the drinking you all done, and how you never did let me join up with the Klan and all."
     "Come on, Buster! Damn it! If you got something to say, spit it out!" Big Bob barked.
     "Yeah, say what you gotta say or git!" another Klansman demanded.
     Buster, grinning all the while, paced back and forth in front of the Klansmen. "Well," he said, "I ain't gonna hold none of that against you people. You not letting me join this here Klan. No sir, I ain't. I'm aiming to tell what I seen with my own two eyes."
     "Well, tell! tell! Goddamn it!" Big Bob shouted, taking a step towards Buster. And Kane thought if Buster didn't tell soon that he'd be feeling Big Bob's hands around his throat.
     Buster looked frightened and took a step backwards. "All right," he said, holding up his hands, his voice high pitched again, "I'm a telling, Big Bob! I'm a telling! I seen Old Man Piercy going to that old nigger woman's house!" All eyes turned to the old man standing in the corner.          "I seen him a carrying out sacks of stuff," Buster continued. "And I seen him a carrying in sacks of stuff! And I says to myself. I says, Buster, what do you reckon that old man's up to? So I followed him, I did. And when he went in her house, I peeked in at the window just to see what he's up to."
     "You're a filthy liar, Buster Hazlewood!" shouted Old Man Piercy. And Kane could see the fear in his eyes. "I never done no such! Ain't nobody here gonna believe your filthy lies! So, pack up your lying mouth and get out of my home!" The old man's face was filled with anger and fear. He clinched his fists and started towards Buster.
     Big Bob stepped in front of the old man and prevented him from getting at Buster. "We'll hear him out, Piercy," Big Bob said, his voice cold, his eyes hard as he looked at the old man. "Get on with it, Buster," he snapped, turning back to Buster. Piercy retreated to the corner of the room.
     "I seen him, Piercy there," Buster said, pointing a finger at the old man. "I seen him through the window. He gives that old nigger woman money fer the shine that she makes in her back room. She shore got one fine still. I knowed that Piercy got his shine from someplace else, besides his own still. I've been a looking fer his still fer years and years, and all I ever found was a few rusty pipes. Yes, sir, I knowed he was a gitting it from someplace else, but I shore didn't reckon it was a coming from that old nigger woman, not until I took me a look in her window. And that Ku Klux Klan is where you all been a getting your shine all this time," he said, throwing back his head and began laughing a high, screeching laugh.
     Kane wondered why Buster, being the drunk that he was, hadn't tried to blackmail Molly? Perhaps Buster figured he could get more out of the information by going to the Klan, or maybe he liked knowing something the Klan didn't.
     "Where'd Piercy go!" someone yelled. Everyone turned to the corner where the old man had been standing. Some of the men ran into the back room searching for him.
     "The back door's open, Big Bob!" a Klansman yelled from the back room.
     "Some of you men get on out there and find him!" Big Bob yelled.
     Kane hadn't seen the old man go, but he sympathized with him, he knew well the feeling of the hunted.
     Buster grabbed Big Bob's arm. The crazy laughter was gone now, and just a half smile played at the corners of his lips. He tilted his head to one side and looked up at Big Bob. "Now, what you gonna give me fer that bit of information, Mister Bob?" he asked.
     Big Bob, his face red with anger, the veins of his neck bulging, shook off the man's hand. Kane knew Big Bob was feeling tremendous hate for the dirty, little man that stood before him. And yet, his father must also be feeling gratitude for his exposing of Piercy. And Kane thought that Big Bob was hating Buster even more for that.
     Big Bob reached into his pocket, pulled out a crisp, green bill and handed it to Buster.
     "Thank you, Mister Bob," Buster said. "Anything else I can do fur the Klan, you just let me know."
     "Get out, Buster! Get out of my sight! Big Bob said. The little man tucked the money into his pocket and backed out the door, the silly grin still on his face.
     One of the Klansmen rushed in from outside, "Piercy's gone, big Bob! Just vanished! No telling where he went. He knows the woods better than anybody! Want me and some of the other to try to trail him?"
      "No. Don't bother with the son-of-bitch just yet," Big Bob said, then slowly looked around the room at the other Klansmen. "There'll be hell to pay!" he said, his voice like steel.
     Kane pressed his face closer to the cracks in the ceiling. The voices of the men below became louder and angrier as they realized they had been had all these years, by a little old woman, who, by race, was their hated enemy. The Klansmen no longer drank from the shine jug. It was as though the whiskey that had been part of their pride was now poison.
     Big Bob had been silent for the past few minutes, pacing back and forth in the room below. Kane could see the veins on the side of his neck throbbing as they did when Big Bob had reached his boiling point. Suddenly, Big Bob raced across the room to the table that held the shine jug. In a frenzy, he grabbed the jug and sent it crashing against the wall. And the shine jug, that had held Klan shine since Old Justin's days, was now a dozen broken pieces of brown pottery scattered about the room. The smell of whiskey was strong in the air as the shine soaked into the wooden floor. Total silence now filled the room below, as all the Klansmen stared at their leader. The wildness was gone from Big Bob's eyes, and when he finally spoke, his voice was calm and filled with a cold, calculating hate.
     A feeling of paralyzing fear gripped Kane's throat as he listened to what his father was saying. But the fear was not for him; it was for Molly.
     "What we gotta do is go over there and burn that damn old nigger out! Just burn her house to the ground!" Big Bob said. And Kane trembled at the hate in his father's voice.
     "Let's string her up!" someone shouted, and a cheer broke out from the other Klansmen.
     Oh, God! I have to get out of here and help Molly, Kane thought in desperation. Silently, he backed along the rafters until he came to the window. He lowered himself onto the ladder and quickly made his way to the ground. A sick feeling came over him as he realized that just a few short months before, he would have been one of the hate filled men inside that old school building, and that he, too, would have been ready and rearing to go burn out Molly, or maybe worse.
     The angry, hate-filled voices of the Klansmen grew fainter as Kane raced towards the open field. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the headlights of the cars as the men drove, single file, out of the lane and sped up the road towards Molly's.
     Tears of frustration burned Kane's eyes as he ran on, stumbling, at times, over unseen rocks that lay in the meadow. A stabbing pain pulled at his insides. He knew that the Klansmen would reach Molly before he could get to her. He knew that it was useless, yet, he knew that he had to try. So he raced on through the night, with one thought in mind to try to save the woman who was his friend. On through the darkness, Kane ran. Suddenly he fell, crashing to the dew-damp grass of the meadow. He lay there panting, gasping for breath. The only sound in the meadow was his labored breathing. "If there is a God!" he cried to the star-filled heavens. "If you are real, please look out for Molly!" Then he saw it! And his pounding heart quickened. A few yards to his right was the star! It was glowing just as it had that other time, only now more brightly because of the darkness. It seemed to be beckoning to him. Kane felt if he could just touch the star that he would once again be Wade Holliday. He stumbled to his feet, and began to panic as he realized that the star was moving away from him. In one wild moment, he started running after the star, and then he thought of Molly. He hesitated for an instant, watching the star going farther away; then sobbing, he turned and began running as fast as he could towards his friend's house. When he reached a wooden fence that surrounded the meadow, he looked back. The star blinked once and disappeared into the darkness. Kane didn't look back again as he raced on through the night. As he got closer to Molly's house, the fear in his heart intensified. A faint glow was coming from the direction of her house. At first the light was just a dim glow, then grew brighter, as flames and sparks shot into the blackened sky.
     Kane could hear yelling, but couldn't make out what was being said. As he ran up the lane, he saw a group of white robed figures standing in the yard, their robes taking on a pinkish tone in the light from the burning house. He paused at the edge of the yard, gasping for breath. Looking past the open door of the house, to his horror, he saw Molly inside with a hammer in her hand; she was using the claw end to try and take out the stained glass window frame; behind her the shine room raged with flames.
     "Molly! Molly!", Kane screamed, dashing across the yard and onto the porch.
     "My God, Big Bob! it's Wade!" someone yelled.
     In an instant, he was beside Molly. She had managed to pull the nails out of the window frame and was pulling the window into her arms. Kane could see into the shine room; flames had eaten away one end of the room and were lapping at his bed. He feared that the still would blow up at any second. He grabbed Molly's shoulders and shook her. "Get out of here, Molly!" he shouted, panic rising in his voice.
     Molly looked at him with rage burning in her eyes. "You low-life cowards!" she spat at him.
     Kane was confused by the look in Molly's eyes; it was as if she didn't even know him. In an instant, he swooped her into his arms, with her still clinging to the windowpane, and ran with her out onto the porch. He could hear the Klansmen screaming, "Wade! Wade! Get the hell out of there! That still is gonna blow!"
     Just then, a loud boom, and the force of the blast sent him and Molly and the stained glass sailing out into the yard. Molly was torn from his arms. Kane was knocked out. And when he came to, the Klansmen huddled over him, and he was being cradled in strong arms. He blinked and looked up into his father's face. Big Bob's face filled with wonder as he exclaimed, "Wade! Glory to God! My boy, you're back!"
     Kane's mind reeled in confusion. "Molly! Molly!" he babbled, sitting up. Pieces of the burning house were scattered all about the yard. He looked wildly around the wreckage in Molly's yard. "Molly! Molly!" he screamed as he saw a small figure lying under a smoldering piece of wood. He sprang to his feet, pushing Big Bob aside, and in terror ran to her and desperately tried to dig her out from under the debris. He managed to pull her out, cradled her in his arms and wiped at her face. Her white hair was now blackened and blood ran from a gash in her forehead. "Molly! Molly! Please be alive! Please don't leave me!" he sobbed.
     Big Bob was pulling at his arms. "Wade, get out of here! What's the matter with you, son? Let go of the old nigger woman! Don't touch her, son. Come on, I'll take you home."
     "I've gotta help her, Daddy! I've gotta get her to a doctor!" Wade screamed at Big Bob. He stood on wobbly legs, holding Molly's limp body in his arms and tried to get his cloudy mind to clear, to think of what to do. He had to get Molly to a hospital! He had to! He stared at the Klansmen, they seemed to be fading before his eyes, and he thought he saw Goldie, an old neighbor lady of Molly's, standing fearfully in the shadows. He felt his knees buckle, and it seemed that he was sinking into a thick, gray fog. He tried desperately to hold on. He felt that he had to hang on, or there would be no hope for Molly. But the gray fog was stronger and became darker and darker until there was nothing but blackness.

Chapter 20

     Wade woke to sunlight streaming through the window. He lay still for a moment feeling the sun's warmth on his face. His eyes traveled around the familiar room. And the realization that he, at last, was home hit him. Can it be? he thought. Glory to God, is the nightmare over! Am I really home at last? He held his bands out before his face. And when he saw the whiteness, he sobbed in relief that he was back in the body of Wade Holliday. He touched his lips and ran his fingers across the bridge of nose. He winced in pain as he touched a nasty bruise on his left temple. Jumping out of bed he ran to the mirror and stared long and hard into the blue eyes looking back at him. He wanted to run, to jump, and to shout that the nightmare was at last over. Then the memories came rushing into his brain, and he could see Josh, with his questioning brown eyes that seemed to be burning into his soul. And a small voice asked, "Do you know the why, Kane? Please tell me the why."
     And he thought of Molly. Please, God, he prayed. Please let her be all right.
     He sat on his bed and dropped his head into his hands. He felt terrible guilt that he was glad to be white again.---White meant not having to be afraid; not being constantly aware of the color of one's skin; not having to fight for basic rights. White meant freedom, and he wished with all his heart that      it didn't have to be that way. It seemed he could hear Josh asking, "Do you know the why of it all, Kane?"
     Wade raised his head at the knock at the door, and his aunt stuck her head in. "Wade, honey how're you doing this morning?" she said, grinning. "I've been checking on you all night, and you hadn't moved since your daddy brought you home." She came over to the bed, sat down beside Wade and hugged him. "I can't tell you what a relief it is to have you home, safe and sound. We were worried sick, you know. Where in the world have you been?"
     "I'm not sure where I was, Aunt Sophia," Wade said, and decided not to try and tell her about Kane, afraid she would think that he had lost his mind. "Aunt Sophia, have you heard anything about Molly? Do you know if she's alive?" Wade asked, hoping she would say that Molly was all right.
     His aunt looked at him, sighed and shook her head. "Wade, I heard that the old woman is alive. She's in the hospital; that's all I know. Your daddy is awful upset. He said you just about got yourself killed over that old woman. I don't know what's going on here, but everything is in an uproar. Old man Piercy's dead. They think he lost his footing, found his body at the bottom of a cliff. The sheriff is out there now, talking to your daddy. They're trying to figure out what has happened with all that has gone on since you disappeared."
     Wade felt sorrow that the old man was dead and wondered if it had really been an accident; hoping with all his heart that Big Bob hadn't had anything to do with it.
     "You get a shower and come on down to the kitchen, and I'll fix you something to eat before you have a talk with your daddy," his aunt said, standing up and patting him lightly on the shoulder. "I'll say again, Wade, I sure am thankful that you're home safe," she said and left the room.
     Molly in the hospital, Wade thought as he turned on the shower. Someone had gotten help for her. He remembered seeing the neighbor standing in Molly's yard, and thought that the old friend had gone for help. Please, God let her be all right. She's got to be all right, he silently prayed.
     The gentle spraying of the hot water was soothing to his skin. He was soaping over his arm, when he stopped, dead still, and stared with wonderment, there etched ever so faintly, but unmistakably, was the word, "KANE".
     Wade dressed and walked to the window of his room. Below in the garden, his father and Sheriff Thompson were sitting at the white wrought iron table, talking. Were they talking about him? Did either one of them care what really had happened to Old man Piercy? His heart lifted a bit, when he saw Jupiter run across the lawn.
     As Wade went down the stairs, he fondly touched the banister, remembering when he'd been a child and had slid down instead of taking the stairs, and how his mother had scolded him.
     Aunt Sophia was in the kitchen. "Sit down, Wade," she said. Wade sat at the table and his aunt brought over a plate filled with sausages, eggs, grits, and a cup of steaming coffee, and set them before him. "You look much better," she said, smiling. "You eat, and I'll go tell your daddy that you're up."
     Wade watched her go out the back door and wished that she'd waited. He didn't want to face Big Bob just yet. He was finishing up the second cup of his aunt's strong, black coffee, when Big Bob came through the door. As their eyes met, Wade felt that he was looking at a stranger. There was no warmth in the older man's eyes. He felt ill at ease, a new feeling as far as his father was concerned.
     "I see that you're up and about," Big Bob said. Wade nodded. Big Bob sat down at the table, across from Wade. For a long moment, he idly fingered the Blue Willow sugar bowl sitting on the table, not speaking or looking at Wade. Finally he raised his eyes and looked at Wade, "Wade, there's a lot of questions that I have to know the answers to."
     "Daddy, I," Wade began, then stopped. He didn't know what to say to his father; he didn't have the words to help him to explain.
     "I thought you were dead! Do you know what that done to me, boy!" Big Bob said, his voice breaking. "Why didn't you let me know that you were alive, where you were!"
     Wade swallowed hard, wishing that he could somehow find the words that would make his father understand what was in his heart. "I couldn't, Daddy," Wade said, his mind whirling faster and faster. Should he tell his father about the star and Kane? Something told him no, that his father would never believe such a story and think him insane. He didn't even know if he believed it, himself.
     "Wade, you're going to tell me where you've been and how you know that old nigger woman!" Big Bob demanded.
     Wade cringed at the word: A word he'd used all his life, without a second thought. Now it was a hateful, ugly word, a word that had been used to hurt some of the people he loved and because of their hurt, his own heart was aching. "She's my friend, Daddy," Wade said just above a whisper, his heart aching as he thought of Molly hurt in the hospital, her home burned to the ground.
     "Friend!" Big Bob shouted. "Are you insane, boy?" Big Bob's face flushed red with raging anger, "How dare a son of mine call a nigger friend!"
     "But, Daddy, you don't understand. You just don't know," Wade began, then stopped helplessly.
     "God! Help me!" Big Bob gasped, in disbelief. "That a son of mine, lost all these months, and now that you're back, you're a nigger lover!"
     "Daddy," Wade said, "why? Why do you have to hate them so?"
     Big Bob slammed his fist down hard on the table. The Blue Willow sugar bowl lid flew off the sugar bowl and spun around and around, like a top on the table, before smashing to pieces on the floor. Big Bob continued to yell, "The niggers, they're the enemy, boy! You know that! Them and the low lives who are out to destroy us! And you shamed me last night when you went to the aid of that old nigger woman! You shamed me bad! You shamed me before my friends!"
     "Daddy," Wade began again, "these months that I've been gone, I can't explain where I've been, and I don't know for sure even if I know where I was. But I know that I've learned something; the Black people, Daddy, they're just people, good and bad. They're us, Daddy, you and me. I just wish you could understand. I wish you could see."
     Big Bob jumped to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor. Clinched the sides of the table, his face distorted and red with anger, he brought his face down until he was just inches from Wade's. "What's got into you brain, boy raving on like this! Have you lost your mind! Are you on drugs!"
     "Maybe understanding, Daddy. Maybe understanding," Wade said, looking into his father's wild eyes. "I can't hate the black man any longer, Daddy. I've walked in his footsteps, I've felt his pain, and I've touched his soul. The hate's all gone, Daddy. All gone."
     Big Bob's face was white now, his lips colorless as he glared at Wade. His lips curled in anger as he spoke. "To think that I've lived to see the day that my son would turn against me! I'm sorry you've come back here, Wade! Better if you had been lost forever! Better for all of us! That would have been easier to bear than this!" Big Bob spat out the words, "You are no longer welcome in this house! Go! Go! And live with your nigger friends! I no longer have a son!"
     Wade, his heart breaking, his eyes stinging, stared at his father's back as Big Bob rapidly walked out of the kitchen. His father's footsteps echoed down the hallway, and then the sound of the library door slamming shut. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. It was as if the slamming of that door had shut a major part of his life away forever. For awhile, he stood in the kitchen. He had never felt so alone in his life. After a few minutes, he went up the stairs to his room, got his suitcase from the closet and began packing his clothes. He put his bankbook in his pocket and took the keys to his Thunderbird from the dresser, picked up his suitcase and walked to the door. He stopped and took one last look at the room that held so many memories. He could almost see, over there by the window, him and Robby Parker climbing in and out of that window, as they had done so many times when Robby had stayed the night. And the big green upholstered chair with the gold thread running through it. That chair, as all the other furniture in the room, had been like a part of him. The chair was where his father had held him when he had been about four and had been awakened by a thunderstorm. He'd been frightened and had cried out. On that stormy night, Big Bob had come into the room, taken him in his arms, and had sat down in the big chair. As his father's arms had held him tight, he had felt protected from the storm. "See the storm," Big Bob had said. "The lightening is God's flashlight. And the thunder is his footsteps as he walks through the clouds. No need to be afraid, son." And with his father's arms around him, he hadn't been afraid anymore. He walked through the door, softly closing it behind him and went down the stairs and out into the morning sunlight. He opened the garage door, and was relieved to find his Thunderbird still there. He threw his suitcase into the trunk. Just then Jupiter came running into the garage, jumped into his arms, and licked his master's face. Wade hugged the old dog. "I'm gonna miss you, old fellow," he said, giving the old dog one last pat on the head, before gently pushing him aside. He blinked back a tear as he climbed into his car. Jupiter whined and wagged his tail and with sad brown eyes, looked at Wade. It was as if the old dog sensed that this was perhaps good-bye for the last time.
     Wade backed the car out of the garage and drove down the lane, stopping just as he was about to turn onto the highway. He got out of the car and leaned against it as he looked down the tree-shaded drive at his home. Jupiter was still standing by the garage; his red coat shining like new-polished copper in the sunlight. A face appeared in one of the upstairs bedroom windows. In an instant it was gone. As he looked at the house that had been his home, hot tears stung his eyes. Visions of past days flashed across his mind. As he looked at the velvet green of the well-kept lawn, he could see himself as a very young boy riding high on his father's shoulders. And another time when he had been six years old, just starting school. He'd been afraid to go that first day, and Big Bob had taken his hand and said, 'not to worry, son. Daddy will go with you', and he hadn't felt afraid anymore with his small hand held securely in Big Bob's as they had walked to school that first day. Funny, he thought, that he should remember all that. And he could see the sweater that he had worn: A wine colored one that his mother had knitted. God, he thought, that was such a long time ago. He looked, once more, at the old mansion, thinking that perhaps he was seeing it for the last time. "Good-bye, Daddy," he whispered. "I love you. I just wish you could understand what is truth. And Daddy, real men; they cry." He got back into his car and drove onto the highway and away from the father and home that he loved, away from the security he had known. He hadn't decided what he was going to do yet, nor did he know where he was going, he only knew that he would be leaving Groversville, and that he had to go over to Scottsburg, to the hospital, and see Molly before he left.

Chapter 21

     Wade drove slowly past Heather's house. It didn't look like anyone was home. He thought fondly of the girl who was to have been his bride, wishing her love and happiness in whatever road of life she took.
     He stopped by the bank to withdraw his savings. Most of the people on the street stopped and stared as Wade walked into the bank. He guessed that word was out all over town, that Big Bob Holliday's son had returned, and had returned a nigger lover.
     Mr. Cook, the banker, just stared coolly at Wade and counted out his money. Wade tried to make conversation, but the little man made his replies as short as possible.
     As Wade drove through the streets of his hometown, he thought the town that he had once thought friendly was now cold and hard. He drove out to Molly's and found himself blinking back tears when he saw that all was left of the little gray house, that had been his haven for all those months, was a pile of ashes and a blackened chimney. Oh, Molly, I'm so sorry, so very sorry, he thought as he turned his car around and headed for the hospital.
     Wade asked the lady at the front desk if he could see Molly Tolbert. She eyed his coolly and said that the Colored patients could be found in the back wing. As he made his way towards the back of the small hospital, Wade thought that he would try every room until he found Molly. Most of the doors to the rooms were open and he looked inside as he walked down the hallway. Then he saw her. Molly was lying on a hospital bed. Her eyes were closed, and he thought she looked so frail lying there on the white sheets.
     Josh stood by the window, looking out and didn't see Wade at the door. Wade stood there for a moment then knocked lightly on the door. Josh turned from the window and stared in fear and disbelief at Wade. He stood staring for only a few seconds before he raced across the room to stand defiant before Wade. As he looked into the glaring eyes of the young boy, Wade was stunned and saddened to realize that Josh thought that he was protecting his grandmother from this white man. "I know you! You're a Klansman! You're Wade Holliday and you're supposed to be dead! And you burned my grandma's house to the ground!" Josh's voice quivered as his eyes filled with angry tears. "Now, you get away from here and leave my grandma alone!"
     Before Wade could move or say anything, Josh was screaming and hurled his small body at him. Josh kicked at Wade's legs and pounded him in the chest with his fists. Wade grabbed Josh and spun him around. pulling him tight against him, his arms around Josh's chest holding his arms to his sides.
     From her bed Molly yelled, "Stop! Josh stop that!"
     Josh started to bite into Wade's arm, stopping when he saw the word "KANE" embedded in his arm. "Holy Cow!" Josh said and stopped fighting. Wade let go of him and the boy looked at him in wonderment. "Where'd you get that mark on your arm? I know somebody who's got a mark just like that!"
     "Well, Josh," Wade said, "I got it from the same place that Kane got his."
     "Wow!" Josh said, his eyes opening even wider. "You know Kane, mister? Do you know where he's at? Is he all right?"
     Wade didn't answer for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he said, "Yes Josh. I knew him. He was a friend of mine."
     "Did the Klan get him?" Josh asked, his voice shaking.
     "No," Wade said. "He's safe and well."
     "Thank God for that," Josh said, letting out a sigh of relief. "How come he's a friend of yours, mister?" Josh asked, suspicion in his voice.
     "We went through some rough times together," Wade said. "Kane got his memory back, but he couldn't stay to say good-bye. He asked me to say good-bye to you, and your grandma for him. And he also said to tell you thanks for everything; that he'll always be grateful for all you did for him. You do understand, don't you, Josh, that he couldn't stay to say good-bye?"
     Josh's lower lip quivered as he looked into Wade's eyes. "I understand that he couldn't stay; that it wouldn't of been safe for him to stay, but I'm a wishing just the same that I could of seen him just one more time."
     "Josh," Molly called, "come over here to me. And you, young man, you come over here, also," she said to Wade.
     "Did you hear, Grandma!" Josh asked. "Did you hear? Kane's all right, got his memory back, too."
     "Yes I heard," Molly said and smiled at Josh.
     Wade stood by Molly's bed. "I'm truly sorry about your home," he said.
     "I'm sorry, too," Molly said, sadness in her eyes. "There was so many memories in that old house."
     "Lucky we got our memory books in our heads, and not in the house, Grandma," Josh said thoughtfully.
     Molly looked at Josh and smiled. "Right you are, Josh," she said. "Josh, this young man saved my life. He's the one I was telling you about. He carried me out of the fire."
     Josh looked shyly at Wade. "I'm sorry, mister, that I kicked and punched you. I thought you was a Klansman, that you was gonna hurt my grandma some more."
     "It's Ok, Josh," Wade said. "I understand."
     "I remember," Molly said, looking at Wade, "I remember the hooded Klansmen, and I remember thinking that I had to get my stained glass window out before the fire got to it."
     "Me and Kane, we made that window for you. Didn't we, Grandma?" Josh interrupted.
     Molly smiled at Josh, "Yes, you sure did," she said gently. "I remember just about having the window frame out when you," she stopped talking and smiled at Wade. "You was there helping me. You carried me outside just as the house exploded. The next thing I knowed I was here in the hospital. And when that doctor comes in here again, I'm getting out. He can say what he wants, but I'm a leaving." Wade smiled at the determined look on her face.
     Suddenly Basil appeared in the doorway, anger and suspicion on his face. "What's going on here!" he demanded.
     Molly raised her hand in Basil's direction, "It's Ok, son. He's the one that pulled me out of the fire."
     A look of relief crossed Basil's face. He came over to Molly's beside, took Wade's outstretched hand and shook it warmly. "I'm sorry," he said. "But with all that's happened, I guess I see Klan in every white man. Thanks for my mother." Then turning to Josh, he said, "Come out to the parking lot, I need your help with something." Looking at his mother added, "We'll be right back."
     After Basil and Josh left the room, Wade turned to Molly. "What are you going to do when you leave the hospital? Do you have a place to stay?
     "Well, me and Josh will stay for a few days with the pastor and his family. Then, when I'm better, we'll be going to Basil's for awhile and then I aim to come back to Groversville. The people in the church have promised to help me rebuild. Groversville is my home; has been all my life, except for the first year of my marriage. I may get burned out again, but I intend to die right where I was born. I realize that it will be in a different house, but it'll be on the very ground that my daddy left me."
     "I wish I could tell you how very sorry I am that all this happened to you," Wade said, looking past Molly to the bright blue sky beyond the window.
     "I know," Molly said softly. "And you, Kane. What is to become of you?"
     Wade froze. He didn't dare look at Molly as his heart almost stood still. She knows, he thought, somehow she knows! But how could she? After a long moment, he looked at Molly. He had been afraid of what he would see in her eyes, and was relieved to see the familiar kindness. "You know, Molly?"
     "Yes, Kane. I know," she said, smiling.
     "But how?"
     Molly gently touched Wade's hand, "For a season you was my son."
     Wade's eyes were misty as he bent and gently kissed the old woman on the forehead. "Thanks, Molly. Thanks for all you did for me. Thanks for being the truest friend I ever had. I must go away from Groversville. I don't know yet where I'm going, but I must go away. Good-bye Molly. Take care of yourself and of Josh."
      As Wade turned to leave, Molly said, "May God go with you, son. And may life smile kindly on you. I'll hold you always in my heart and you'll be forever in my prayers."
     Wade though that he was going to start bawling before he could get out of the room. Just then, Josh came into the room lugging a brown paper wrapped package. Basil, a few steps behind Josh, was grinning broadly.
     "Just you wait until you lay eyes on this, Grandma," Josh said, laying the package on her bed.
     "What in the world have you got here, Josh?" Molly asked.
     "Open it, Grandma!" Josh said, dancing from one foot to the other.
     Molly smiled and began tearing at the paper. "Oh my! Oh my!" she said, her eyes filling with tears when she saw what was inside.
     Wade could see that Molly was holding her stained glass window. "Not a crack in it, Grandma," Josh said. "It's just as good as when me and Kane made it for you."
     "Yes indeed, Josh. It's just as good as when you and Kane give it to me," Molly said, looking at Wade.
     "They found it in one of the scrubs, Ma,"
     Basil said.
     "Thanks be to God," Molly
     "I must go," Wade said.
      Molly looked at Wade for a long moment then nodded. "Good-bye, son, and thanks again," she said.
     Wade walked out of the room and down the hallway. When he got to the end of the hall, he heard Josh calling to him. "Hey, mister, if you ever see Kane again, tell him I'll never forget him. Will you tell him that for me, mister?"
     "I'll tell him," Wade said, a lump in his throat. As he walked through the door he looked back and Josh was still standing there looking at him. He walked out of the hospital and into the bright midday sunshine, got into his car, and with tears burning his eyes, drove away.
     Wade didn't know where he was going. He only knew that he no longer belonged in Groversville. He had enough money from his savings account to sustain him for awhile, until he could find a job. He thought of law school and knew that college and law school were out of the question now. But maybe someday, he could find a way to return to school and become the lawyer that he had always dreamed of becoming. But wait, he thought. He didn't want to become the lawyer that his daddy had planned for him. He knew he could never become that. But someday, he visioned, he would realized his dream in part. But he knew he would be a lawyer who would be a world different from the one he would have been had he never known Kane.
     He hadn't been paying attention to what road he had taken and found that he was on the main highway out of Tennessee, and was headed towards Birmingham. Well now, Wade Holliday what lies down this stretch of asphalt? he asked himself.
     So, Wade Holliday left Groversville behind, and by sundown was driving through the streets of Birmingham, Alabama. Suddenly he knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do. He'd join the Freedom Fighters. He would do his best to help in whatever way he could, maybe in some small he could make a difference. He smiled as a thought crossed his mind: From a Klansman to a Freedom Fighter. Some transformation, Wade Holliday, he said to himself. How would a white man go about joining the Freedom Fighters? He couldn't go to Basil. Basil was in Groversville with Molly. The only other black person he knew in Birmingham was the young preacher. He knew the preacher lived next door to the church he had gone to that Sunday, and he drove there. As he stood on the porch and rang the doorbell, he looked next door to the church; he could see that one side had been damaged by fire. And he felt a sickening feeling that the Klan had been responsible.
     The preacher opened the door, and looked at Wade with suspicion. "May I help you?" he asked.
     Wade held out his hand, "My name is Wade Holliday and I'm here to see if you can use me as a Freedom Fighter. I'm willing to do what I can to help in your fight."
     The preacher took Wade's hand. "Come on in," he said. "We'll be glad to have your help. Lord knows we need all the help we can get."
     The preacher explained that the night before someone had thrown a firebomb into the church. "We were able to put the fire out before it totally destroyed the church, and thank God no one was injured, but we'll be months repairing the damage." The preacher looked into Wade's eyes and sighed, "I want you to understand clearly just what you are getting into before you make a commitment to our Cause. It's tough. People get hurt everyday. Perhaps you're here with the noble idea that you can save people from injustice. Let me warn you that a rough road lies ahead. Injustices have been with us for a long, long time, they die slow, if they ever do."
     "I understand the risks," Wade said. "Believe me, I didn't come here for a joy ride; I truly want to help in anyway I can."
     "Fair enough," the preacher said and asked Wade if he had a place to stay. Wade told him that he planned to stay at a hotel in town. "No need to do that," the preacher said. "You are more than welcome to stay here with me. I plan on sleeping light in case the bombers decide to come back. I've already sent my family to a safe place. So if you really want to join in the fight, come on in. No telling what you might have to fight around here."
     Wade stepped inside. He thought the preacher didn't quite trust him, and he didn't blame him one bit.
     The preacher fixed them some supper, and the two men talked on into the night. "You know," the preacher said, staring at Wade, "there is something familiar about you, I can't put my finger on it, but it's like I've met you before."
      "I'm from Groversville, Tennessee," Wade said, wondering if the preacher would think he was a mad man if he told him about Kane. He decided against it, and said, "I know Basil Tolbert and his mother Molly."
     "I heard about Molly's tragedy; Basil came to the church for prayer, after he had gotten the call to come home to Groversville." The preacher looked at Wade, and Wade felt that those two dark eyes were looking into his soul. "I understand that Groversville, Tennessee is swarming with Klansmen," the young preacher said, never taking his eyes off Wade's face.
     Wade met the other man's gaze. "That is very true. And I'm deeply sorry about it. All I can say is that I'll do all in my power to change the way things are."
     "Well, young man," the preacher said, "that's all any of us can do. Just do our best and pray, and maybe someday, if we keep the faith, God will see fit to end all this hell."
     The preacher gave Wade his son's room and told him to try and get some sleep. Wade offered to take a turn as watchman. But the preacher said no, that he wanted to sleep in a chair by the door, with his shotgun across his lap. Wade thought the preacher probably didn't trust him enough to let him take a turn as watchman, and he couldn't say that he blamed him. If he had been in the preacher's shoes, he knew he wouldn't have trusted a white stranger from deep in Klan country.
     Sleep didn't come to Wade for a long time that night. His heart went out to the man in the other room, who was keeping the night watch in fear that his home and maybe even his life might be destroyed. And Wade wondered how many times that scene had been played, and how many more times it would be played before it ended. And he felt sad at the thought that perhaps it would never end.
     The next morning when Wade woke, the preacher had fixed breakfast. Wade doubted that the man had slept any at all; he looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot.
     Later in the morning, men from the church came by and nailed boards over the windows in the church that were damaged from the firebomb. The preacher said there was to be a meeting in the church at ten o'clock, of a group of Freedom Fighters, who were going to a sit-in at Brock's restaurant.
     Wade walked over to the church with the preacher just before ten o'clock. Several cars were already in the parking lot. The preacher's brother, Sam, got out of a car and walked towards them. He was smiling and seemed none the worse from the ordeal of the sit-in of a few months earlier. Wade's heart skipped a beat when he saw Amanda and the professor drive up. He watched them get out of the car. They waved to the preacher and went on inside the church.
     The preacher introduced his brother to Wade. Wade didn't think that Sam was too impressed that a white man from Groversville was in their midst and was glad when they got inside the church, where about fifty people were gathered. Sam brought the meeting to order and reminded everyone of the danger they were going into. He told them to just do as they had been taught and God willing everything would go well. The preacher led them in a prayer. Wade had one thought in mind as the people lined up to be assigned the car they were to ride in to the sit-in: If there was anyway possible, he was going to be in the car Amanda was in.
     The preacher looked at Wade and smiled. "You want to ride with Amanda to the sit in?" he asked. Wade nodded and felt a bit embarrassed that his feelings had shown so clearly.
           The preacher called to Amanda and went over to her, telling Wade to follow. "Amanda," the preacher said, "we have a new recruit here. His name is Wade Holliday, and he promises to do his best to help with our Cause; he has requested that he ride in your car."
     Wade looked into the clear green eyes of the lovely young woman and knew that he had fallen hopelessly in love. He had suspected this to be the case on a cold, rainy night in an old farmhouse; now he knew it was without a doubt true. He held out his hand to her, but her eyes were cold, and she made no move to take his outstretched hand. She was looking at him in disbelief. She turned to the preacher. "I thought he looked familiar! Do you know who this is?" she asked. "He's from Groversville, Tennessee, the biggest Klan county in the whole state! Now, tell me! What is he doing here!"
     "I know all this," the preacher said. "He's here to help."
     "And you trust him!" Amanda asked, looking at the preacher in amazement.
     "Yes, Amanda I do," the preacher said. "I have a good feeling about him."
     "Are you sure he's not a spy?" she asked, turning back to Wade, looking into his eyes as if she would be able to see if a lie lay behind them.
     "Amanda," the preacher said. "I truly believe him. I honestly think he's here only to try to help us. Trust has to start somewhere, you know," he said, gently putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
     Amanda took her eyes from Wade and looked at the preacher. "I hope you're right. I pray to God that you're right," she said, and again turned her eyes on Wade. "Well, so, you think you want to be a Freedom Fighter? Do you? she asked, and suddenly a smile broke across her face as she tossed her car keys to Wade.
     For a moment, Wade's heart soared, he thought he would be driving Amanda to the sit-in.
     She called to a group of about eight teenage boys, "Follow this man," she said. "He'll drive you to the restaurant." She looked at Wade, and still smiling broadly, said, "You can take my station wagon, and I'll ride with Sam and the professor's group. The young people will show you the way to the restaurant." And with that, she turned and walked away.
     Wade's heart sank. He looked up to find the preacher looking at him in amusement. He looked after Amanda as she walked out of the room and promised himself that someday she would change her mind about him.

Table of Contents

Seeds of Light

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21