himself back on the fence. “Sorry to hear about that; it happens to a lot of folks, you know.”
Andy glanced down toward the ground and rubbing his nose, continued nervously, “When they went through the ash and pulled what was left of ‘em out, somebody had cut his throat.”
John grabbed Andy’s hand. “You saying somebody murdered him?”
Andy nodded. “Killed ‘em dead.”
In disbelief, John replied, “That can’t happen ‘round here. You sure ‘bout what you’re saying?”
Andy slowly nodded.
“Anybody get the law to look into it? Could have been a case of a jealous husband looking for some justice. Happens you know,” John said.
Andy shook his head “There was a lot of hoss tracks ‘round the place. You see me ridin’ that mule? Us colored don’t have no hosses, and for the law, they sent some white folks out there. They just sat ‘round for a spell, smoking, drinking and after a while they rode off laughing.”
“Andy, tell me more about the man. Who was he?”
Andy muttered, “He was a northern colored who bought the Amos place when it went up for sale. Folks says that Mister Amos couldn’t pay no taxes, and folks says that Matthews works for the Freemen’s Bureau. The colored says that a crowd of white folks got ‘em.”
John bit his lip in disbelief. There was no way this could have happened in Newton County, he thought. There was some tension between the whites and Negroes down in the southern end of the county, especially in the Newton area, but murder, not a chance.
Climbing down, John said, “Come morning, I’m going down to Decatur and check on what happened. Gonna carry James with me. He still serves with the military. There’s got to be some kind of explanation.”
Mounting his mule, Andy looked down at his old friend. “Mist’ John, you best stay out of that bus’ness. There’s some things happ’ning that’s got the colored skairt. You just set yore mind on politick’n and we’ll see if’n we can take care of the rest.”
Watching Andy ride off, the words, “We’ll take care of the rest” stuck in John’s mind. Was the colored man really murdered by whites, and was Andy telling him everything he knew?
Early the next morning John stopped by his sister’s house and after speaking with James, the two rode the seven miles to Decatur to find the sheriff. As they inquired as to a burning of a house and a possible murder, the sheriff acknowledged the burning but blatantly dismissed the idea of a murder. He said that they found no evidence of rough play.
At the courthouse John ran into Professor Hendon who was trying to employ a surveyor to come out to check his property lines. While there the professor took John to the clerk’s office where he could sign the necessary papers to be a qualified candidate for the upcoming election, and upon signing, the clerk assured him that he had the county’s full support. John’s opposition would be a republican named Jack Templeton, a transport from Ohio who had been appointed by the post-war government. Templeton was a drunk and had a streak of jackass stubbornness. No one in the county, black or white, cared for him.
Hendon, his business concluded, decided to accompany John and James back to Little Rock. While they were making their way home, Hendon looked over to James and said, “You ever get tired of wearing that uniform around here?”
“Sometimes, I get tired of the looks folks give me,” James replied.
Following the war, James, interested in John’s sister, asked to be assigned to the east central part of the state and even though he knew that resentment would be a part of his job, he wanted to pursue his relationship with her. He also felt that he could help the people in their struggle to regain their rights.
Looking over to Hendon, he continued, “Won’t be long till I’ll be taking off the blue and I’ll just be a plain ole citizen.”
“Folks around Little Rock kinda like you. Not like those Yankees posted down in the southern end of the county. They’re going around looking for trouble, and the Negroes down there at Newton know they can get away with anything. There’s lots of trouble down there,” Hendon said.
“That’s what I understand,” James replied. “But if folks around Little Rock accept me, it’s because I try to treat them with respect. I don’t look at them as a conquered foe. I only see hardworking people trying to make a go with what they have.”
As the three reached the Wilson property, James took the road that led to his house and Hendon invited John over to his place where they could talk about the fall election. Upon reaching Hendon’s place, the professor found that his wife and children were down at neighbors, thus making for a quieter afternoon. Hendon added extra wood to the fire and reaching behind the woodbox, retrieved a bottle of whiskey. Pointing to a chair over near the fireplace, Hendon motioned for John to have a seat. With a loud pop, the cork flew up, hitting the ceiling and then bouncing over to where John was sitting.
“Kinda potent, isn’t it,” laughed Hendon filling a cup that always could be found at the end of the mantle. “Care for a shot?”
John shook his head.
After a deep swallow, Hendon licked his lips. “Best liquor in the county. Same recipe your Uncle Jake used. He shared it with me, and Timothy and I still turn it out.”
The two then sat there quietly watching the fire burn. Putting the cup down, Hendon said, “I’ve known you since the day you were born and I’ve done all in my power to teach you all I can. You’re by far the best student I’ve ever had the opportunity to teach.”
John reached down and with a quick motion picked up a log that had rolled off the burning stack and lobbed it back to the fire. “You always made learning fun and you made me seek for answers not written in the books. You made me the student that I was.”
Hendon reaching into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tobacco pouch and after packing his pipe, continued, “John, you have the making of a fine politician and knowing you the way I do, there is no limit to where you can go. Right now you will be representing us in the legislature, but, if I know you the way I think I do, you’ll be in Washington one of these days. I can just see you sitting in the Senate.”
John glanced over at Hendon whose eyes had become glassy from the corn whiskey. He knew the Professor respected and cared for him, but Hendon was always living in a dream world, always had plans to remake society.
“I think the bottle’s talking for you, ‘Fessor. I ain’t won the local election yet.”
Hendon smiled over at John. There’s no way you’re losing it. You got the popular support and if you shouldn’t, I got the power to put you in. From here on out you’ll speak at every engagement in the county. We’re gonna have you at every church meeting, wedding, barn-raising and when the county fair rolls around this summer, we’re gonna have you debating ever who the Republicans choose to run. Yes sir, Mister John Wilson, as you Mississippians say, ‘We’re gonna take names and kick asses.’ And, by the way, when you get to Washington, I hope you’ll carry me with you.”
“What about your wife and family,” laughed John.
Without stopping to think, he replied, “Why do you think I want to go with you? They’re about to drive me
