ma’am and no. When Preston, Crawford, and I took over the Highlands County Bank, we agreed it’d take all three of us to issue a foreclosure. Your brother’s had to borrow a lot of funds, Miz. Edmonds, especially the past five years, and he’s yet to pay a penny back.”
“Oh, I begged him not to do that,” Grandmother lamented. “Jim’s so poor. Have you ever seen where they live?”
“Yes, I have. My father and I used to hunt back there when I was a boy. Preston agreed with him and signed the documents, pending my approval. But Olan has wanted that land for years. It’s got potential that Mr. Lorran’s been unable to develop. What’s worse, Olan obtained an eviction warrant and plans to threaten them with it. He’s armed, too. The warrant he obtained falsely, since I haven’t given my consent. Nor will.” He looked solemnly at my mother and grandmother and gulped his sherry down with a single swallow. Slowly, he let out a long sigh.
He had no more than released his anxiety, when Uncle Everett came in.
“Well, well! What a pleasure! What’s the honor, Marion?”
“Bad news. Crawford’s on his way to your Uncle Jim’s place, with eviction papers and a foreclosure order in hand. Can you go with me to stall him?”
“Go with you? Hell! I’ll lead the way.”
“Everett! Oh, Everett!” my grandmother implored. “There’ll be violence. You’ve been spoiling for a fight with that man for years. Can’t you leave it to the sheriff’s office? That’s his duty. Not yours!”
“Mama, Crawford is a deputy. He’s been deputized since I don’t know when. And that’s your brother up there! His land and our land, too! I’ll be damned if we need to give it to him. No sir. Come on, Marion. We’ll take Mama’s horses. How’s Olan traveling?”
“By car. He’ll never make it up the lane, will he?”
“Not this time of year.”
Everett leaned down and kissed Grandmother on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Mama. Marion and I know what to do. Do you have a pistol?” he asked the banker.
“I’d rather not answer. We just need to talk to him.”
“Not without a pistol,” Uncle Everett replied. “I’ve got one in the truck. Let’s head on.”
We followed them to the front door and watched them walk toward the barn. While my mother and grandmother returned to the living room, I waited in the hallway. I was afraid and excited, both at the same time. Just then I happened to glance up at the old Captain. He seemed to be staring at me with disapprobation and profound disgust. At that, I slipped on my coat and cap, scooted out the door and down the front steps, and hurried toward the barn. Any fear had dissipated, totally.
Uncle Everett and Mr. Chappels had already saddled the horses and were about to mount.
“Please, Uncle Everett. Let me go!”
The men swung into the saddles and goaded the horses forward.
“Close the barn door, Tommy,” Uncle Everett directed. “Run on back in the house. Your mama will skin you alive, if she catches you out here. Now run on.”
The horses trotted past the door and down the road. They were headed toward the lane that led back to the Knobs. I closed the big door and began running behind them. I climbed the gate that fenced off a stubble-littered cornfield and raced across it. They could see me running and trying to catch up with them. At the end of the field, another gate would open almost where they would turn. Suddenly, Uncle Everett stopped his horse and waited for me.
“Hell, boy! Get on!” he grinned, as I climbed that last gate and hopped down. He rode toward me, put his arm out for me to grab, and swung me up behind his saddle. “Hang on!” Then, off we galloped.
A light drizzle fell about us, but my uncle and Mr. Chappels paid it no attention and spurred their horses on at a quick trot. Soon we were climbing the muddy road toward my great-uncle’s farm. We had scarcely begun the ascent when we passed Crawford’s Packard. It had slid into a ditch. Thick brush and undergrowth were all that had prevented it from toppling down the slope. The men paused their horses; then pressed on. We could see Crawford’s footprints in the clay.
“Damn, but he’s determined,” grunted Mr. Chappels. “He’ll reach there before we do.”
Uncle Everett remained silent, as he leaned forward in the saddle. “It won’t matter, ’cause he’ll not get out of here without facing us. Hold tight, boy!” he glanced back at me, “It’s going to be slippery climbing for a while. OK?”
“Yes, sir!”
It took well over an hour to reach the hilltop that looked down across the Holston’s Middle Fork and Uncle Jim and Aunt Viola’s place. We could see the couple sitting on their porch, bundled in coats and shawls. They were in their rockers and stood up as we approached. Uncle Jim clutched a sheath of papers in his hands. His fingers shook badly. His eyes—almost obscured by his long white hair and day-old beard—glowed pale blue. Aunt Viola was crying.
“This ain’t right,” the old man whimpered. His hands were trembling and his lips quivered as he spoke. “Just one more tobacco crop. That’s all I needed, Everett,” he coughed, unable to suppress his disparagement, as he held the papers aloft.
“Nothin’s gonna happen to you!” assured Uncle Everett. “Where’s Crawford? Where’s the son-of-a-bitch hiding?”
Mr. Chappels inhaled a deep breath and drew his horse closer to ours. “Don’t’ be hasty, Everett. We’re not authorized to cause trouble.”
“Where is he?” my uncle repeated, as he fidgeted in the saddle, turning the horse this way and that.
Uncle Jim nodded toward the cabin. “Inside,” he motioned with his head.
“Marion, watch the boy,” Uncle Everett stated in a low but calm voice. He swung quietly out of the saddle and walked toward the steps.
Just then a large man in a dark suit, with red clay splattered on his trouser bottoms, appeared at the door. He pointed a rifle barrel at my uncle’s chest. “One step, Everett Edmonds, and you’ll regret it the rest of your life.” His voice was thin and quavering. The barrel waved unsteadily in his hands. “I’m warning you. This is legal and proper. Just back off and get on out of here. You aren’t the big important man you think you are.”
“Olan! Cut the rot!” Mr. Chappels interrupted. “Deputized or not, there’s nothing binding about that foreclosure. You’re nothing but a greedy ass. I denounce you. Once we’re back in town, I’ll have you arrested.”
“Well, well, Mr. High and Mighty, aren’t you one to talk! And just how did you accumulate your wealth?” Crawford sneered.
“Not your way. That’s for sure.”
Uncle Everett lunged for the gun barrel and yanked the rifle forcefully out of Crawford’s hands. He pulled Crawford out of the cabin and hit him hard with his right fist. Blood oozed from the man’s nose, as he reeled backward against the cabin.
Suddenly Crawford sprang for my uncle and, butting him with his head, knocked the wind out
