2

Tony and Angie failed to notice the fog beginning to lift. The growing flames and smoke prevented them from noticing the improved visibility, and they were busy moving the unconscious Black man between the cross they had set ablaze and the front porch of Dorothy Swallow's childhood home. Soon the flames would consume the unfortunate man, eliminating the only witness to their crime. They wanted him dead, the victim of Ku Klux Klan violence. That's why they had enlisted the services of "Old Tom" in the first place. The old drunk was the only person they felt secure in using to build an authentic KKK cross. Tony and Angie certainly didn't know how. They thought the whole idea of sheets, hoods, and burning crosses was stupid, but Leon said the Blacks were afraid of this shit, and he wanted it to look like the Klan had burned the woman's house. It was their idea to throw in a dead body for shock effect. His death would provide proof of the Klan's intention to stop the Swallow woman from interfering with the gaming business.

Tony had purchased the materials for the cross in Baton Rouge and Natchez over the last two days. He obtained the list from "Old Tom" by providing cheap bourbon to the old, ex-Angola inmate. Tom had been more than willing to give the two men any help they needed in exchange for two hundred dollars and all the whiskey he could drink. He didn't even object to having to stay with them for the last two days. He was too drunk most of the time to realize they didn't want him talking to anyone. Tom enjoyed supervising the construction of the cross when he learned it was going to be burned in front of Dorothy Swallow's house. She was no friend of his. Years ago, he sought her protection from the white sheriff down in St. Francisville, who wanted him for armed robbery. She had turned him over instead, claiming his actions were detrimental to the Black movement. He still didn't know what the hell detrimental meant, only that her refusal resulted in him being carried over the state line to West Feliciana Parish and eventually to Angola. He had despised Dorothy for the last twenty years, dreaming of revenge.

Tom was meticulous in his construction of the eight-foot cross, knowing the design from watching the KKK build and fire them as a boy. He was scared to death of the Klan, but as children, he and his friends had been fascinated by the mean men in white sheets marching around, giving speeches. They were always drunk and had some woman they would use after the ceremony, but they were funny to watch. He designed and built an exact replica, down to the proper depth of the hole, which he dug. "Old Tom" knew this cross would light up the sky, proclaiming justice to Dorothy Mae Swallow.

The fire, with its violent heat and intense, bright light reached "Old Tom" in time for him to realize he'd been used again before he died, wondering who was crueler, whites or Blacks.

Tony and Angie finished policing the area and ran to their stolen pickup. They threw the leftover fuel and wood into the back, covering it with a Confederate flag before flattening one of the tires. They fled the scene in a rented car, driving away content in the knowledge of a job well done. The Thompsons, a Black couple from down the road, watched them speed away as the flames consumed the old homestead. They stayed hidden in the trees, wondering why the Klan was back in business.

#

"The only thing delaying completion is the right of way on the east bank of the river," Rob Messina stated confidently to the occupants of the conference table. "This was your responsibility, Leon. We're going to have to delay the start of construction, increasing our expenses. Our creditors are anxious. What's going on with the Swallow woman?" he asked Leon specifically.

"She doesn't want to sell, Rob. She claims to own the forty acres we need, and she's demanding it be used as a center for Black studies, honoring her family name. Ms. Swallow refuses to sell it to a bunch of white gamblers. She was a harmless loudmouth, with no proof of ownership until this old man Ferguson got involved. We don't know what his motivation is."

Rob replied, "Don't you think you should find out what he wants? It might be a simple matter of mathematics involving a retirement plan for the old man. How old is this Ferguson character?"

"He's got to be eighty if he's a day," answered Russell Nettles, local attorney for the gaming interest. "Sam Ferguson is more than some old man who wants money, Rob. He's the grandfather of the man Burt Stein is sending to solve the problem. That's why I asked Leon to call you."

"If he were some old windbag, I would have tried to pay him off, then arranged a heart attack if all else failed," added Leon.

"You don't do anything until I tell you, "replied Rob. "I'll talk to the grandson Monday and see where this is headed. We want it straightened out next week with no problems for anyone, do you understand? What about that preacher? Can he be of any help to us? God knows we paid him enough to learn the old man's name. Are you telling me he doesn't know why some white man is helping an old Black woman screw up our business deal? What the hell do you know, Leon?"

"The reverend told us Sam Ferguson is an old KKK member, so none of this makes sense," Leon answered.

Russell Nettles jumped in, "Ferguson is old, almost blind. He doesn't get around much anymore, and not that many people see him. He isn't political, or at least never has been. He exists on a small retirement from one of the oil companies and Social Security. Money seems to have no meaning to him, and his kids are long grown. Reverend Williams thinks this is a return for some favor the Swallow woman did for Ferguson, but that makes no sense. He was a hard-core segregationist, and she was the local civil rights leader. They have to hate each other. I don't understand him at all."

Leon sat steaming inside. He knew of no way to get the old man out of the way except to use intimidation or violence, methods the consigliere emphatically vetoed at least for now. Roberto Messina ended the meeting demanding patience, with no further action taken through the weekend. He announced he would meet with Matt Ferguson on Monday and requested the group reassemble Tuesday night for another strategy meeting. He wanted to keep things calm for the time being, even as he wondered if Leon might not be right this time. Old people could be difficult. Often, they didn't respond to the normal inducements of power, money, or fear. Rob hoped this was not going to develop into a real problem.

#

Sheriff Brown hated questioning Sam. The old man was as stubborn as a mule and distrusted anyone in government. Still, the sheriff needed some questions answered. He laughed as he reminded himself to call Ferguson, Mr. Sam, if he expected this conversation to go anywhere. He might be the first Black sheriff in Wilkinson County, and this might be the nineties, but Mississippi was still the South, and Mr. Sam was an old southerner.

"Mr. Sam, I know you didn't burn Ms. Swallow's house, but somebody did, and you seem to know a lot about Dorothy Mae lately. Do you know anyone mad enough to try and kill her?" Sheriff Brown inquired.

Sam hesitated before answering, "Only every white person in Wilkinson County, Sheriff. Hell, you wouldn't have been allowed to put that badge on before she started all of her demonstrating back in the sixties. Now we've got Black lawmen, Black aldermen, and even a Black doctor. You've got a lot to thank her for, but us whites lost money and power. And we can lay most of the blame at her feet. Why should I care if her house burned? She and I've been enemies for years, but I sure as hell didn't set the fire. You know that, Isaac."

"Of course, I know that, Mr. Sam. I don't think it was any of the local white folks for that matter, and neither do you. The old men are too old, and the young ones don't remember all the stuff Dorothy Swallow did. Besides, you've been talking up for her." Sheriff Brown continued, "What I can't figure is why you want to help her? Her fire has to have something to do with the riverboat gambling project. You stood with her at the town meeting when she tried to get the town to back her. She had nothing to stand on until you claimed you could prove her family owned the land she wants. Why did you do that, sir? And more importantly, who did you hurt in the process, Mr. Sam?"

"Isaac, I knew your ma and your grandma. You aren't some outsider trying to get rich at our expense. I don't like Dorothy Swallow and probably never will, but she isn't all bad. It doesn't matter. Those gamblers are trying to cheat her out of what's rightly hers and that ain't right. Even a...