7 Crows a Secret

7 Crows, a secret

A novel by

Decatur Clary

Smashwords 2nd edition

Copyright 2021 by R.A. Olmstead, publisher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

All characters in this book are figments of the author’s imagination and bear no relation to anyone with the same name or names. Any resemblance to anyone known or unknown to the author, living or dead, are purely coincidental and accidental. Some family names have been used strictly as an homage to ancestors; they weren’t really like that. The locations are fictional, even if they share the name of real locations.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review at the retailer you purchased it from.

Your support feeds the dream. Thank you, we appreciate you.

This work would have been impossible without the assistance of my editor, graphic artist and harshest critic, my wife Laura.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 : Beginning by looking back

Chapter 2 : Amanda

Chapter 3 : The Tornado

Chapter 4 : Julie’s Trunk

Chapter 5 : The Agreement

Chapter 6 : The Letters

Chapter 7 : Past Prologue

Chapter 8 : The Second Dupree

Chapter 9 : A Stormy Beginning

Chapter 10 : Mrs. Dupree

Peach’s Story

Chapter 11 : The Calling

Chapter 12 : Visiting Charleston

Chapter 13 : The Failing

Chapter 14 : Tobias

Chapter 15 : The Big Cabin

Chapter 16 : The Incident

Chapter 17 : The Bridegroom

Chapter 18 : Death and Life

Chapter 19 : MacGinty’s Feed and Grain

Chapter 20 : Everett’s End

Chapter 21 : Coming of Age

Chapter 22 : Dupree

Chapter 23 : Peter’s End and Dupree’s Beginning

Chapter 24 : Dupree’s End

Chapter 25 :After the Storm

Chapter 26 : Jenny’s Farewell

Chapter 27 : Goodnight

About Decatur Clary

More novels by Decatur Clary

Chapter One

Beginning by looking back

1933 - Fowler Farm, West Florida

It started in an empty room.

The late summer’s sunlight streamed in through bleary windows to fall on the bare pinewood floor in trapezoids of light. The only furniture remaining was an old pine wardrobe, shoved up against the wall, and an iron-frame bed with a cotton-tick mattress. Out from under the bed peeked a chipped and rusted enamelware chamber pot.

The air in the room hung motionless, hot and stale. The only sound was the throbbing drone of the insects outside. The room seemed to be waiting, anticipating with bated breath, for the next chapter of its story to begin.

The doorknob turned, and David Corbeau Fowler opened the door to his past.

The breeze from the opening door swept across the floor, raising dust motes into the air where they floated in the sunbeams. David looked around his childhood bedroom and thought to himself: how small it has become!

David was taking a final inventory of the vacant rooms when he opened the door to his old room. He didn’t expect to find anything there, but when he saw the old chamber pot, he couldn’t help but smile. ‘Trusty Rusty’ had saved him from many a midnight dash to the outhouse. He walked over to the bed and nudged the chamber pot with the toe of his shoe.

David had a familiar feeling of doing this before, a long time ago, many times. He followed the feeling back to its root memory of moving the chamber pot out of the way to recover - .

David knelt to the floor and looked under the bed, but only the dust of yesterday’s memories remained. His flash of disappointment disappeared when he remembered standing on a chair alongside the wardrobe.

Since there were no chairs handy, David stepped up on the bed, balancing carefully as he stood tall, and stretched his neck, to see in back of the top of the wardrobe. Surprised and delighted, he saw his suitcase still there.

Excited now, David jumped down and dragged the bed over to the wardrobe. Standing on the bed and stretching out his arms, he dragged the dusty cardboard suitcase out from its hidden place, stirring up the dust as it moved.

David sat down on the bed and set the suitcase down beside him. His heart was racing as he dusted the top with his handkerchief,. He fumbled with the stiff leather straps, snapping one of them off in his hand when he tugged on it. He opened the latches and took a deep breath before opening the case.

Everything was exactly as he remembered leaving it; undisturbed over all these years, a time capsule from his youth.

David remembered his sadness when he had to reduce his youthful treasure trove until it fit into one suitcase, and scary feeling of finality as he shut the lid and fastened the straps. He had stood on a chair, back then, to slide it to the back on top of the wardrobe, out of sight and out of his mind, mostly, until now.

He had left for the Army the next day, to begin his new life. The suitcase remained were he left it, gathering dust while waiting for him to return.

Most of the contents were trash, valuable only for the memories they evoked.

His collections of interesting rocks, clay potsherds and even one genuine Indian arrowhead, chipped from rose-colored quartz, were all carefully separated into small boxes and packed in cotton. His favorite, longest lasting, baseball was there, and a small stack of baseball cards. He thumbed through the cards, smiling at the old familiar faces, and wondering why he ever thought they would be worth saving.

Secured under a strap inside the lid of the suitcase was a large envelope, exactly as he had left it. He stopped when he saw it and remembered what was inside. He slipped it from under the strap and closed the lid.

Across the top of the envelope his immature hand had written ‘7 Crows’.

He unwound the string that held the flap down and shook the contents out, on top of the suitcase.

A notebook, covered in brown cloth, a black feather and a twenty-dollar Confederate bill fell out of the envelope, on to the suitcase. David picked up the feather and the money to examine them more closely, but he could not remember the significance of either. He laid them back down on the suitcase, and picked up the notebook. He carefully pulled open the cover to reveal the first page.

The memories came flooding back, as fresh as ever for their long absence. David felt like it was only yesterday when he wrote the poem on the front page.

‘One crow brings Sorrow,

Two crows make mirth.

Three crows mean a wedding,

Four crows tell a birth.

Five crows bring silver,

Six crows bring gold.

But Seven crows means a secret,

That never shall be told.’

He had underlined the last two lines with red crayon.

Taped to the next page was a yellowed newspaper clipping from the Pensacola Journal, dated May 18, 1909, page 4, column 3. The small headline read:

‘Ridgeview hangs murderer’.

David turned the page to the sunlight and squinted thorough his round glasses to make out the small print of the article. He read:

‘Last Saturday a colored man, known only as Dupree, was hung for murder in Ridgeview. The condemned was convicted of the murder of Edward Corbeau, a timber merchant from the Yellow River region. Dupree worked for the deceased and confessed to the murder, but claimed self-defense. He was convicted of murder in the first degree. Justice was administered at 3:00 Post Meridian last Saturday. The condemned man’s last words were unintelligible to the crowd.’

Not true, David thought. We heard them clearly. Dupree had meant them for the family of Edward Corbeau and for no one else.

The meaning of his words was a subject of Corbeau conversation for years after, any time the clan gathered. They considered and contested every possible meaning, whether they had heard them first hand, second or third.

David had been there and heard the words clearly. He still got sick feeling in his stomach when he recalled the events that followed immediately afterwards. He had stood next to Granny, and he had asked her about the meaning of his words, but, if she ever knew, she took the secret to the grave with her.

David stared out the window at the leafy elm tree that shaded the south side of the house. The tree looked the same as it had in his youth, but David had to look past many changes in himself to remember that day. Once recalled, the memory proved to be strong, losing little of its emotional impact to the passage of time. He wondered again at the how and why of it all, reliving the memory once again and wondering what it all meant.

When he was nine, it had been a dry spring with only enough rain to sustain the crops and not enough for them to prosper. If May is dry, the smart money bets on a long hot summer, with plenty of activity blowing up from the Gulf to the south. Dry springs, hot summers and hurricanes were normal weather patterns in the northwest corner of the Florida Panhandle, tucked up into Alabama’s armpit, and a constant subject of conversation whenever neighbors met. From earliest childhood, David had observed his father’s morning ritual of standing on the front porch, studying the clouds intently, wispy white against the orange sunrise, before shaking his head and spitting on the ground.

That’s all the water we’ll get today, he’d say with disgust.

When May is hot and dry it presages growing heat in June and July until the ground itself radiates heat in August. With the heat came regular afternoon thunderstorms billowing up from the Gulf of Mexico, massive thunderheads, that brought rain along with wind and lightning. Almost every afternoon an hour or two was spent sheltering from a thunderous deluge as it blew through, staying long enough to give the crops a good soaking. The survivors of the dry spring exploded with renewed growth, eager to achieve their full potential before fruiting. David’s favorite memories of growing up on the farm, besides Christmas, were of the summers when he was a kid, the days were long and the work hours were short.

One of his least favorite memories was of chopping wood. David hated chopping wood. It was the one chore that came to symbolize everything he didn’t like about living in the country. As a boy, it never ended. Every day David had to feed his nemesis; the big wood box that sat in the kitchen beside the four-burner range with an insatiable appetite for wood. It seemed to David that the stove consumed everything he put into the wood box as fast, or faster, than he could fill it. He understood that his family got two hot meals a day, as well as all the hot water the house had, in return, but supplying it with the wood and water was David’s responsibility; whenever resupply was required, no matter the time, the weather, or his inclinations. With two nearly worthless sisters coming up behind him, it appeared he was going to be stuck with the chore forever.

The one bright spot in the ritual was working in the woodlot with his father. Even though his father did not talk much, David understood his unspoken words. David liked watching him chop wood. He envied the knotted muscles in his father’s sinewy arms when he gripped the splitting maul, swinging it slowly back behind him before quickly bringing it up, over his head, and down, on top the upended log to split it with a satisfying ‘ker-thunk’. David admired the ease with which his father handled the maul and axe, and the economy of effort he used to produce the optimal result. However, David had no desire to practice enough to become that proficient; instead he dreamed of an oven heated by sunshine and a hot water pump right alongside the cold water one. Despite his silence on the subject, David believed his father hated chopping wood as much as he did.

It seemed like ever since he was old enough to stand David’s job had been to feed and stack the chopping block. Barefoot, dressed only in overalls, David balanced the stove length logs on end, on top of the flat top of the chopping block, for his father to split and then gathered the split wood, always being mindful of maul’s arc and staying clear of it. He had to stack the split logs so they would dry evenly before grabbing another log, setting. it on end and doing it all over and over again, endlessly.

Then one day, Sam stopped, with the maul half raised, and listened. David looked around, grateful for the break, but puzzled by the interruption of their routine. Then he heard the wagon coming.

Granny Campbell was always in a hurry. She drove her mule-drawn farm wagon into the yard as if she couldn’t wait to get where she was going, dragging a cloud of dust behind her. She was wearing a broad brimmed black hat and smoking a corncob pipe, with one of her brogans braced against the front gate of the wagon as she strained back against the reins.

Whoa, Ajax! Whoa, damn your eyes!

Sam reached out and grabbed the mule’s bridle. Ajax simmered down, but he was wild-eyed, breathing heavily and frothy mouthed.

Granny, what you doing that’s got old Ajax so agitated? Sam asked.

I whupped him. And I’ll do it again, if that lazy cuss dawdles so on me again. I got business and no time for mule foolishness, she said curtly.

And what’s got you in such a sweat?

Where’s Pearlie Anne? I don’t want to chew my cabbage twice.

Sam looked at David. Fetch your ma, boy.

David ran around the woodshed and up the porch, meeting his mother as she came out the kitchen door.

Ma, it’s Granny Campbell. She’s calling for you, David said breathlessly.

Behind round glasses, Pearlie Anne’s bright blue eyes met his and she nodded. She pushed past David and walked into the backyard with him trailing behind. She stood alongside her husband without greeting and waited.

Granny Campbell took the pipe from her mouth and spit.

They’re hanging Dupree in Ridgeview, two weeks, she said.

Pearlie Anne acknowledged this news with a silent nod.

You’re welcome to come, if you want. I’m gonna take the kids, Granny continued.

Not my babies, Granny, Sam said. They too young.

Won’t hurt ‘em. Granny spit again. He killed their great-grandpa. They should know what happens to murderers.

No, Pearlie Anne said with finality.

Granny eyed her daughter.

All right, just David then, Granny allowed. I’m taking Snowy, R.A. and Bill, too. If they see where sin leads, maybe it’ll scare the devil right out of ‘em.

Will you stop for coffee? Pearlie Anne asked.

No, not now, child, thank you kindly, Granny answered, releasing the brake. I got to get to your sisters and be back home in time for milking.

Pearlie Anne nodded. Sam released the bridle and Granny slapped Ajax’s rump with the reins.

Don’t whip him, Granny. You know it makes him crazy, Sam called out to her.

Reckon I know how to handle a lazy mule, Sam. Good whipping, ever once in a while, reminds them who’s boss, Granny hollered back as she circled the wagon around and headed for the road.

Sam looked at Pearlie Anne, who looked at David. David looked up at his mother apprehensively.

I reckon you’ll be going to Ridgeview with Granny, she said. She looked at her husband. Though I don’t see no sense to it. She turned and walked back into the house.

Sam watched her walk across the yard and go into the house.

Once she was safely inside, Sam shook his head and spoke softly to David.

Son, if you only remember one thing I ever tell you, remember this: Never piss off a Scotswoman. They never forgive and they never forget. Your old Granny didn’t give a hoot in hell for her old man when he was alive, but she’ll damn sure see his murderer hang for it.

Daddy, why’d Old Dupree kill Granddaddy? David asked. He know’d him all his life.

Sam shook his head and tugged at one end of his drooping black mustache.

Don’t know why. Dupree never said what they were fighting about. Maybe, it was because he’d known him all his life and he figured that was long enough.

Sam moved back into position and swung the maul overhead, splitting the log with a loud ‘ker-thunk!’. David sighed, and thought about what his father had said as he resumed his interminable chore.

After supper, Sam sat on his bench in the front yard, chewing tobacco as he split cedar logs into shakes with a mallet and froe. While carefully stepping around the tobacco juice spit, David gathered, stacked and bound the shakes into bundles with green grapevine. They worked at this while Pearlie Anne and the girls cleaned up the kitchen.

When they finished, Pearlie Anne brought her sewing basket, and David’s sisters brought their dolls, out onto the front porch. Sam put his tools aside and scraped the chew out of his mouth. He and David gathered the bundles and carried them to the barn, where David handed them up to Sam as he stood on a ladder and stored them in the rafters. They then joined the rest of the family on the front porch; Sam in a rocking chair next to Pearlie Anne while David played with his sisters on the porch.

As the daylight faded, night birds, chirpers and peepers began their evening chorus. When it grew too dark for Pearlie to see, she put her needlework aside and leaned back in her chair. She sat silently in the thickening darkness, rocking slowly and letting the night settle over her as it did the land.

Sam rocked and smoked his pipe, staring sightlessly over the fields as he planned his next day’s work. Gradually the children came under the spell of the quiet heartthrob of the night noises, until Corrine, the youngest, stretched out on the still-warm pine boards of the porch and effortlessly slipped into slumber.

Pearlie Anne’s mother instinct noticed immediately.

Sam, she said quietly.

Sam knocked the ashes out of his pipe against the heel of his hand before rising. He bent over and lifted Corrine, who settled onto his shoulder without fully awakening. Vauda got up sleepily, took her father’s hand and yawned.

‘Night, Mama. ‘Night, Davy’, she managed.

‘Night, Sissy. Sleep tight, David said.

I’ll be up in a minute to hear your prayers, Pearlie Anne said, watching Sam carry his sleeping cargo inside. David got up off the porch and sat in his father’s rocker beside his mother.

Mama, why’d Dupree kill Granddaddy? he asked straight off.

I don’t know, son. Pearlie answered without looking at him, leaning back in the rocking chair with her eyes half closed. No one knows, except Dupree, and he ain’t talking about it.

David sat back and rocked in silence for a few moments.

Why ain’t you going to the hanging?

Pearlie Anne opened her eyes and looked at him before replying.

I got work to do, she said.

Sam returned with a lit barn lantern. He hung on a nail beside the door as Pearlie Anne went in to hear prayers.

David hopped to his mother’s rocker and Sam resumed rocking in his own. Once he had settled in, David resumed his questioning.

Pa, how come you ain’t going to the hanging?

Sam blew his pipe clear, tapped it against the heel of his hand, and refilled it before answering.

He weren’t my granddaddy, he said. And I seen hangings before. It ain’t something that pleasures me any. ‘Sides, I got work to do.

Why do you think Dupree killed Granddaddy?

Sam struck a kitchen match on the underside of his chair and lit his pipe. He sucked on it until it drew to his satisfaction before speaking.

Your Granddaddy was a hard man. Dupree worked for him for a long time. I reckon one day, he just had enough. It ain’t right, but it happens.

David leaned back in the rocking chair and rocked as he considered the unsatisfactory answer.

After a few moments of silent rocking, Sam tried again.

Edward Corbeau was a rough old cob. After the second Mrs. Corbeau died, he stayed on in the Big House all by his self. Dupree lived in the Big Cabin on the other side of the hill, by his self. Near as anyone knows, Dupree lived there all his life, working for Mr. Edward and his daddy before him. A lot of things happened over them years only Edward and Dupree know about. Dupree might not even be able to point to any one thing as the reason. He don’t deny doing it, he just won’t talk about why he done it. Nobody’ll ever know what happened, unless he changes his mind before they hang him. After that, it’ll be too late for sure.

Sam pulled a deep draw on his pipe, and they rocked in silence. David thought about what his father had said, and wondered if he would learn any answers at the hanging.

The day of the hanging dawned dark.

It was pitch black when David’s mother woke him up. The moon was down and the stars twinkled brightly in the black sky when he made his morning water off the back porch. Dressed in his Sunday go-to-meeting clothes, but barefoot, he yawned and shivered in the early morning chill. He quickly finished his business and hurried back inside. In the kitchen Pearlie Anne, still wearing her wrapper, was preparing breakfast and packing food in a split oak basket.

Sit and eat, she said without looking at him. Your father’ll be in soon. He got up early and did your chores.

David was impressed by the historic magnitude of a day that his father did his chores for him. He piled a stack of hoecakes on his plate and added a handful of thick sliced bacon. Pearlie Anne slid a couple of fried eggs on top of the pile and David poured cane syrup over the entire plate. He pitched into the sticky mess with delight, washing down scarcely chewed mouthfuls with gulps of sweet milk.

He was still eating when he heard his father stamping his boots clean on the back porch and swinging open the screen door.

Morning, boy, he said as he hung his broad-brimmed black hat on a peg by the door.

Morning, Pa.

Don’t talk with your mouth full, Pearlie Anne admonished automatically.

Sam pulled out the chair next to David and sat down heavily. Pearlie Anne set a mug down in front of him and filled it with steaming black coffee. Sam poured in cane syrup and stirred, blowing on it before slurping a sip. With a sigh and a smack of his lips, he put the cup down, and wiped his long mustache with his fingers in a spreading motion before he spoke.

Now, son, you be a help to your granny with that mule. Don’t have a smart mouth, listen and learn. Nobody ever got in trouble for something he didn’t say.

Sam took another sip of coffee. David tried to appear attentive while continuing to eat.

This man here, he did a bad thing, and the law says he got to die for it. It ain’t going to be pretty. If it was up to me, I’d let it bide. But your granny’s hell bent on having justice and on having you young’uns witnessing for the family, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Sam pulled his pipe from his shirt pocket and examined its contents and put it back before continuing.

We can’t let a trip to town go to waste, so your Ma’s got a list of things you’re to get from the store. Tell Mr. Senterfitt who you are and he’ll take care of the billing.

Pearlie placed a plateful of food in front of her husband and stood beside him, waiting. Sam picked up a knife and fork and was starting to cut into his food when she gave his a nudge with the back of her hand. Sam stopped and looked up at his wife before remembering.

Oh! He rummaged in his shirt pocket and retrieved a small coin. Here’s a dime for you to spend on yourself.

David stopped eating, his eyes widening as he accepted the unexpected windfall.

Pearlie Anne returned to the kitchen sink and Sam picked up his knife and fork again, holding them over his food while he finished.

You stick with your kin, and don’t let them city boys bullyrag or cheat you. Remember your raising and you’ll be fine.

David stared at the dime in his hand, then up at his father. He had never before had so much cash money in his life. He swallowed and nodded before quickly securing his treasure, knotting it inside his handkerchief and shoving the handkerchief deep in his pants pocket.

Pearlie Anne set the basket of food on the table. David looked at it and knew he would not go hungry today. David looked up at his normally reticent mother. Her blue eyes glistened behind her round glasses, and her voice had a slight hitch in it.

Now, you be a good boy now, you hear? You finished?

Yes ma’m, David said.

Give me a kiss, then. Get your shoes on and go wait on the porch, she said. I’ll be out when I’m dressed, if she ain’t here yet.

David gave her a peck on the cheek and quickly cleared his dishes from the table, licking the last of the cane syrup from the plate and stuffing the rest of the bacon into his cheeks to chew as a cud. He needed both hands to carry the basket out to the front porch, but he was starting to get excited and scarcely noticed the load.

The sky had only just started to lighten in the east; the night sounds were quieting, but the morning birds had not yet woken up. The resulting lull was ominous, a pregnant pause before the launching of a new day, filled with new adventures. David sat on the top step of the porch and watched it all begin.

Sam brought his coffee out to the porch and sat on the steps beside David. Neither one spoke as they breathed deeply of the fresh morning air and enjoyed the last cool of the night.

Nice, said Sam.

Yes sir, agreed David.

They heard the jingle of the harness before they saw the wagon. Granny Campbell guided Ajax into the front yard and reined him to a halt.

Morning, Sam, Davy, she greeted them. Where’s Pearlie Anne?

Right here, Mama. Just getting dressed. Pearlie Anne stepped out onto the porch, tying an apron around her waist.

Good morning to you too, then. Y’all ready to go? Got your list?

Yes ma’am, Sam answered. You pick up the others yet?

Bill and R.A. slept over last night. They bedded down in the wagon and ain’t woke up yet. We’re going to pick up Snowy now, and get on the road. Climb on up here, boy, and let’s get going. Daylight’s wasting.

David climbed up into the driver’s box with Granny while Sam put the basket of food into the wagon behind the seat.

Bye, son. Remember what I told you.

Bye, Pa. Bye, Ma. I’ll see y’all tonight.

Granny popped the reins across Ajax’s back and told him to ‘Get up’, the wagon jerked and they were off. David didn’t want to, but couldn’t resist looking back. He was relieved to see his parents still watching him and had not turned away yet. He waved and was glad when they waved back. He turned to face the road, happy knowing that, no matter what else happened today, tonight he would be back home with his family.

The first part of the trip into Ridgeview, before Bill and R.A. woke up and resumed their endless bickering, when it was just David and Granny with Snowy in between them, became a favorite memory of David’s.

Snowy was David’s favorite cousin, even though she was a girl and nearly a year older. She had been born February 13, 1899, during the worst of a great blizzard, and she was different from other girls. She’d do anything a boy would do except skinny-dip and David respected her for that. Skinny-dipping with girls was an experience of near mythical proportions among the boys, but they also acknowledged that any girl who participated in such an activity would have to be morally deficient. Since no one actually knew of any girls who had ever even been rumored of engaging in such behavior, their collective lust and moral outrage remained equally imaginary.

Once, one of the bolder boys suggested a coed skinny-dipping party to Snowy. She laughed and declined. Instead, she promised to slap the ever-loving snot out of the boy if he ever suggested such a thing to her again. David was proud of his cousin, and he was glad he didn’t have to fight the boy who was bigger and older than him, and also a distant relation.

Snowy and Aunt Doris were waiting on the front porch when Granny reined Ajax to a halt in front of them.

Morning, Ma, Davy, Aunt Doris said as she handed David a basket.

Morning, daughter. Climb on up here, Snowy. Let’s get gone, Granny said.

Snowy kissed her mother’s cheek and climbed into the wagon.

David offered his hand as Snowy stepped over Granny, to the middle of the bench seat. Snowy took it and rewarded him with a brilliant smile.

Morning, Davy-boy, she said.

Will be soon, I reckon. David smiled back as she sat down. Still mighty dark to be morning yet.

It’ll be light soon enough, and we need to be a lot closer to town if we’re gonna make it on time. Granny said, lightly popping Ajax on the rump with the reins again. Yaw, mule!

They rode along in silence for awhile, as seem proper in the quiet time between night and day. As the sky lightened, the last of the stars faded away and the morning birds woke up, one by one filling the air with their songs to greet the new day. R.A. woke up, surprised to find them underway.

Where we at? he asked, yawning and gaping.

‘Tween here and there, Granny answered. And making good time.

R.A. considered before announcing, I got to pee.

So? Granny said. Do it off the end of the wagon.

But, there’s a girl here! R.A. protested.

Snowy laughed as Granny turned around and gave R.A. a look as though he had just said the dumbest thing she had ever heard in her life.

She’s your cousin, for mercies sake! Do you think she wants to see anything you got? Granny asked in disbelief.

Go on, R.A., I won’t turn around, Snowy promised while David’s ears burned red from embarrassment.

R.A. moved to the back of the wagon and braced his knees against the tailgate. Snowy and David studied the undulations of Ajax’s hindquarters and tried to stifle their giggles when the sound of water spattering in the dirt came from behind them.

Hey, look at me Bill! I’m pissin’ off the wagon!

Bill stirred from his nest of quilts.

Huh? Wha’? Hey, me too! He jumped up quickly to join his brother in leaving their marks on the trail.

When Bill and R.A. finished the contest, if not the bickering, they opened their parcel of food and started arguing about breakfast. Nobody paid them any mind, in fact they hardly minded themselves, but quarreled more from habit than any particular point of contention.

The sun was rising rapidly, changing from orange to yellow as it cleared the top of the trees, and they were settling into the rhythm of the road. Ajax maintained a comfortable pace that kept Granny satisfied, without wearing himself out. The creak of the wagon, the squeak of the harness and the chiming of the trace chains made melodious music that moved with them, steadily down the red clay road. The sun warmed, the sounds mesmerized and the conversation lagged. David drifted along in his own thoughts for a while, until he returned to where they had ended last night.

Granny, why you think Dupree killed Granddaddy? David asked.

Granny gave him an appraising look.

Don’t know, Granny said. He never said.

Mama said he worked for Great-Granddaddy all his life, Snowy offered.

Is that true? How long you know Dupree, Granny? David asked.

Granny bit down on her pipe and David was afraid he had pushed too far. But she sighed and took the pipe out of her mouth.

Long time. All my life, I guess. Since I come here after the War, she said.

Ain’t you got no idea why he did it? Snowy pressed too far.

No, I said, Granny snapped. "He never said. I asked him. He couldn’t, or he wouldn’t, tell me what happened. Now quit pestering me about it! He did it, he said he did it, and now he’s got the Law to answer to. ‘Thou shall not kill’, says in the Bible, and the Law comes from the Lord."

David and Snowy held an uncomfortable silence, but R.A. and Bill were not listening to Granny and started arguing over the last apple.

Granny whirled around and snapped at the unsuspecting culprits. Split it, dern your hides, and hush up!

Bill and R.A. shrank back and each tried to give the other the apple, so it ended with neither one eating it.

Body can’t hear herself think, Granny grumbled. She hucked up the mule, just for spite, before lapsing into silence.

David and Snowy figured it was best to hold their peace until Granny finished her thought. Granny cleaned, repacked and lit her pipe before she spoke again, though her words seemed directed to no one in particular.

Dupree was a woods baby, she said. Back then, unwanted, or inconvenient, babies were just left in the woods to fend for themselves. Sometimes they were lucky enough to be found by kindhearted folk who’d take them in.

Grandpa Edward? Snowy asked.

Granny laughed without humor.

No, no one ever accused Daddy of having a kind heart. Just the opposite. No, it was his daddy, Granddaddy Everett, and his mother, my great-grandmother, but mostly it was Uncle Peter and Julie. She paused to recollect before deciding. It was mostly Julie.

Granny sank into reflection for a time, until Snowy couldn’t stand it any longer and tried to gently bring her back on point.

Who was Julie? I don’t recall Mama ever talking about her.

Granny shook her head and straightened up.

She’s your Granddaddy Edward’s sister. She run off with a Yankee carpetbagger after the War, went out West and ain’t been heard from since.

Why? What happened? Snowy said. Why’d she go west?

I told you, she married a Yankee. Granny shot her a look. They might tolerate that kind of behavior in big cities like Pensacola or Mobile, but Daddy lost everything he had, fighting for the Cause. He’d shot any damned Yankee that come out to the house.

David and Snowy considered this before agreeing that would’ve been the most likely outcome, based on their own memories of Great-Grandpa Edward.

She just took off one day, Granny continued, didn’t even take her trunk. She was the closest thing to a mama I ever had. My own ma died in ’64, when I was born. Daddy was away with the Army and couldn’t get home. After the War, everything was gone. Most of the boys died in the war, the slaves were gone, no one would work in the rice fields, and Daddy lost all the land to taxes. After that, he brought me here, we had nowhere else to go. Aunt Julie raised me, until Daddy remarried. Then one day, she was gone. I guess she figured it was her last chance to get a man, and some young’uns of her own, before she got too old. I understand now, but I sure did miss her when she left.

How old were you then, Granny? David asked.

Four or five, she said shortly. Too old to be crying like a little baby, just because somebody left.

David thought of his four-year old sister Corrine and the fit she’d pitch if their mother went away. He didn’t think she’d be too old.

Dupree lived with Uncle Peter and Martha May, but he wasn’t one of theirs. Nobody ever talked about it, I just knew. Papa and Uncle Peter ran the business while Aunt Julie and Martha May were the ones giving orders on the farm. Us kids were the ones taking the orders. Dupree taught me my chores, so we spent a lot of time together at first. Then Daddy married the second Mrs. Corbeau, and she didn’t think it seemly a girl should be working in the fields. Julie left around then, but the second Mrs. Corbeau didn’t give a hoot in hell for the farm. I guess that’s why I like farming, because she hated it so much. She made Daddy build the Big House and we moved up there. Uncle Peter and Martha May moved into the Big Cabin and worked the farm. Whenever I could get away, I’d run over the hill to the cabin. Anyway, Dupree was at the head of the pack of young’uns and there was always something doing. Chores’re more fun when you got someone to do them with.

Granny smiled at the memory. She spit over the side of the wagon and her smile faded as she continued.

Then Uncle Peter got killed in a sawmill accident. Dupree had to step up and take on more of the business and him not but seventeen. He worked for Daddy until the day he murdered him, and never said a bad word to anyone about anything. Why’d he kill my daddy? Dupree won’t say, or can’t say. I doubt he even knows why. It’s just one of those things you get caught up in without thinking about.

Traffic thickened as they neared Ridgeview. First, a wagon appeared in front of them, but their pace was about the same and they never got closer. When David looked over his shoulder, he saw another mule pulling a wagon a way back. Houses appeared within sight of each other and then there were people walking the last couple of miles into town. David felt a rising excitement, as he always did; when he first spied the buildings built on top of the ridge.

The people crowding the street were in a festive mood. The stores that lined Main Street spilled merchandise out of their doors and onto the boardwalks that lined the dirt street. The shops and sidewalks were crowded with shoppers, who talked nervously and constantly watched the time. No one wanted to be late for the hanging.

Granny scarcely slowed down as she drove past the stores, heedless of the stares and pointing fingers that followed her. She turned on Back street and drove to the backside of the courthouse, where the deliveries were made and the gallows had been erected.

One deputy stood guard on a roped off area around the gallows and loudly directed people where and where not to park their wagons. He tipped his hat to Granny when she stopped the wagon in front of him.

’Morning, Miz Campbell.

Morning, Randall. You got me a spot saved?

Yes ma’m, nice shady spot by that fig tree, right up front.

That’s good, Granny said before giving the deputy a hard look. You keeping my business quiet?

Randall stiffened a little.

Ain’t nobody asked me nothing, and I ain’t seen no call to bring it up.

Granny nodded.

I knew I could trust a Senterfitt.

Randall gave her a curt nod.

Granny hucked up the mule, and parked the wagon on the shady side of a fig tree directly in front of the gallows. David could not keep his eyes off of the hangman’s noose dangling expectantly from the crossbar. Snowy kept her eyes down, but David saw her glance quickly at the rope before looking away again. R.A. and Bill stared openly and slack jawed. Granny set the handbrake on the wagon and climbed down without even looking at the gallows.

Davy, you take Ajax over to the livery stable. Tell Mr. Frawley who you are and he’s to put it on my bill. I want you to brush and water him, and give him a bait of oats. I don’t trust city boys with my mule.

By the time David returned, Granny and Snowy had laid out a picnic lunch in the shade of the fig tree while Bill and R.A. ran around, throwing green figs at each other. Granny made them stop fighting to eat. They all ate quickly, eager to get into town and see the sights.

Outside Senterfitt’s store a little red haired girl sat on a stool cuddling a doll and conversing freely with everyone who walked by. David’s memory may have been colored by subsequent events but he remembered clearly being impressed by the confidence and maturity of the small child, though he didn’t think about it in those terms at the time. Back then, he just thought she was spooky.

Good day, madam, she greeted Granny and the children tailing her. Welcome to Senterfitt’s Grand Emporium, Feed and Seed, she lisped.

Granny stopped and smiled at her.

With that hair, you got to be a Senterfitt. Which one are you?

I’m Amanda, ma’am, and I turn five in two weeks and three days, she said proudly. Daddy says I’m the onlyest one he trusts to watch the front of the store.

Is that because you got such sharp blue eyes? Granny asked.

Partly, ma’am. Mostly, I reckon it’s ‘cause I can howl like a banshee when somebody tries to steal something.

I’ll remember that, if I need to steal anything, Granny teased.

You’ll have better luck stealing from Murphy’s General store, ma’am, Amanda sniffed. Though his stock is inferior to ours.

Granny laughed and patted the little girl’s curls before leading her troop inside. David remembered the little girl catching him staring at her as he passed by. She flashed him a smile that sent a chill running down his spine and made his stomach flip. She was a most disturbing child.

Once inside, they made their way through the narrow aisles to the main counter in back. Here, in the center of the storm, Mr. Senterfitt took orders and gave directions to his wife and family on filling them while still waiting on customers. As the maelstrom of activity whirled around him, he remained steady and unflappable in everything except his recall of his children’s names.

You! Grind 4 pounds coffee. You! Six tins of sardines. Mrs. Senterfitt! Mrs. Campbell is here.

Mrs. Senterfitt breezed over to Granny.

Miz Campbell, how delightful to see you again.

Faring well, Amelia? Granny asked.

Well as can be expected, Mrs. Senterfitt said, laughing. It’ll be worse once the heat sets in.

When you due?

I hope well before Thanksgiving. I’ve got a lot of cooking to do.

Granny handed Mrs. Senterfitt her list.

Just a few things we need to fill out.

Mrs. Senterfitt scanned the list.

I don’t see any problem, we should have everything, at least we did this morning. It’s been a madhouse all day.

So I see. Granny indicated the children behind her. They got lists, too. Give Mrs. Senterfitt your list and tell her your name.

Bill and R.A. only had one list between them, but insisted that both names be attached to it.

You certainly have a beautiful crop of grandchildren, Miz Campbell, Mrs. Senterfitt said.

Thank you, Amelia. These are all right, but I left the pretty ones at home.

They both laughed, leaving the children to wonder about what was so funny.

Granny turned to Mr. Senterfitt.

I assume everything be ready when I leave?

Mr. Senterfitt looked up to give her a pained smile.

Of course they will, Miz Campbell, Mrs. Senterfitt said. You know they will. You ought not tease Mr. Senterfitt so.

Granny laughed.

I know. I just can’t help it.

Granny released the children with a final caution.

Don’t y’all get in no trouble. But, don’t let anybody push you around either. You’re as good as anybody, so you stand your ground. Stick together and be back at the wagon in one hour.

R.A. and Bill lacked the funds for further expenditures, so they elected to explore the crowd outside. After careful consideration and consultation with Snowy, David decided that the two-for-a-penny peppermint sticks were the best value for his candy buying money, so he invested a nickel in them. He calculated that saving two for each of his sisters would be sufficient to make him a good brother and still leave six for himself. The remaining money provided him with a pleasant quarter hour agonizing over a suitable gift for his mother. Snowy discovered a box of lace handkerchiefs marked down to a penny apiece.

I can see why, Snowy said as she held one up on for examination. A good sneeze’ll blow right through this thing.

I don’t care, it’s pretty, David said. She can just take it to church with her.

Then get her a fan, Snowy suggested. It gets hot in church.

Can’t buy no better fan than a palmetto leaf, David said. She can weave one of those on the way to church. She can’t make nothing like that.

That’s true, Snowy agreed. You going to get five?

No, that’s crazy, David said. Nobody needs five handkerchiefs! Even if she has to blow her nose, she’s got all week to wash it before next Sunday.

What about your daddy? Snowy asked.

David laughed.

Can you imagine Pa trying to blow his nose on one of those things?

They both laughed aloud, drawing a quick glare from Mr. Senterfitt.

Subdued, David quickly picked out the prettiest of the lace handkerchiefs and chose a blue bandanna for his father. Snowy continued to shop while he paid for his purchases, and he used the last of his change to buy additional candy.

Amanda still held her post when they left.

Thank you for shopping at Senterfitt’s Grand Emporium, Feed and Seed, she said. Please come again, and tell your friends.

David looked at her and mumbled an unintelligible reply as he hastened past the strange little girl.

They stepped off the boardwalk and into the street, letting the crowd flow past them while they stopped to look around. David reached into the paper bag that held his candy and pulled out a piece.

Hey, I got you something. He held out his hand.

What is it? Snowy asked.

It’s called a jawbreaker, David explained, proud of his recently acquired knowledge. You supposed to suck on it. Mrs. Senterfitt said it changes colors when it gets smaller.

Snowy gave him an appreciative smile.

Thanks, she said as she took it. David felt a warm glow of generosity as he dug the other jawbreaker out of the bag and popped it into his own mouth.

Snowy giggled.

You look like an old squirrel with your cheek packed full of nuts.

David laughed.

Gimme yours and I’ll pretend I got the mumps, he said.

Snowy laughed but shook her head.

Good though, ain’t it? she said.

David nodded and popped his out of his mouth.

Look! You can see the next color poking through.

They spent the rest of their time wandering around town seeing the sights and pulling the jawbreakers out frequently to examine the changing colors, though neither could detect any change in the flavor.

They moved along with the crowd as it drifted towards the back of the courthouse, until they arrived at the edge along the rope barrier. They wormed their way through the crowd, up to the front where Granny and the cousins were waiting at the wagon. Snowy got into the wagon bed with Bill and R.A. while David took his place alongside Granny, with the wagon behind them and the gallows direct in front of them.

When the courthouse clock showed five minutes before three o’clock, Sheriff Wallace mounted the thirteen steps up to the gallows. Silently, he stood on the platform and stared down the crowd.

Sheriff Wallace had grown old in the job, with a white walrus mustache and a belly that strained the buttons of his vest. The star on his vest shone brightly and he commanded respect with his presence alone.

The crowd hushed and he began to speak.

Y’all know why we’re here today. It’s to see justice done. Taking a man’s life, any man’s life, ain’t to be entered into lightly. Dupree got as fair a trial as we could manage and twelve citizens of this county, in sober judgment, all agreed he’s guilty. There ain’t no rejoicing in that decision. It’s hard, but it is the Law. Now, I expect the same respect for the Law here, today, when we execute the sentence of the court. As far as I’m concerned, y’all are here today as witnesses for the court, and I expect the same behavior I expect when you’re in court. When we bring him out, I expect quiet, out of respect for the Law and for the man who’s about to die. After the hanging, well, it’d be in bad taste to rejoice at the death of a man, no matter how low he come. Jesus Christ said there’s worth in ever man, even a murdering nigra. So y’all keep that in mind and behave yourselves accordingly.

He turned and gestured to a deputy standing by the back door of the courthouse. The deputy stepped into the building.

The crowd pressed forward expectantly. From inside the courthouse voices called out, there was the clang of a metal door opening and the rattle of chains.

Both of the double doors in the back of the courthouse swung open and two guards, armed with rifles, led Dupree outside. Two more deputies with rifles followed him and then came a Negro preacher holding a Bible in front of him and praying aloud. Drifting behind them, like a dark shadow, came the state executioner, wearing a black suit, black tie, and gray gloves. He kept the brim of his black hat pulled down low over his face.

David was surprised by how much smaller Dupree looked. The last time David had seen him was on one of Granddaddy Edward’s Saturday rides at Granny’s farm. He remembered Dupree as a silent shadow that loomed larger than the object that cast it. Granddaddy Edward did all the talking, of course, and made free with criticism and instructions on how things ought to be done. Granny listened patiently and passively agreed, but David noticed she never followed his advice. The only time David ever heard Dupree speak was when Granny addressed him directly. His response had been polite and short.

Now, with chains on his hands and ankles, he seemed to have shrunk inside himself. He shuffled along with his eyes cast down to the ground in front of him. His curly hair and beard where cut short and mostly gray. His light brown skin had faded to a parchment pallor.

The first two guards stopped near the foot of the stairs and stepped aside. Dupree paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up the steps in front of him, before taking a deep breath and slowly ascending. One deputy followed him, and the preacher walked over to the side of the scaffold, keeping his eyes on Dupree as he continued to pray in a hushed voice. The hangman followed up the steps like the shadow of death, scarcely noticed until it was time for him to step forward.

At the top of the stairs the Sheriff took charge of the prisoner. He gripped Dupree’s arm and guided him to where he was to stand on the trapdoor. The Sheriff released him and he slumped, with no will of his own to move. Sheriff Wallace pulled a folded paper from his coat pocket. He cast a stern look to the preacher, who immediately converted to silent prayer.

Dupree lifted his head for the first time, and blinked as he looked out over the crowd. He had startlingly pale grey eyes. The depth of sadness in his eyes struck David. He looked to be the sorriest person David had ever seen.

Dupree looked around the crowd until he saw Granny and David standing beside the wagon. He gave a small, sickly smile. David was shocked and looked to see Granny’s reaction, but she was looking at Dupree. David saw her raise her chin and, when he looked back at Dupree, David saw him give a small nod, lift his head and stand up a little straighter. Dupree raised his eyes level to the horizon and stared off into the distance while the Sheriff read his death warrant.

You got anything you want to say before we carry out the sentence? Sherriff Wallace asked when he finished reading.

Dupree failed to respond. The sheriff touched his arm.

If there’s anything you want to say, now’s the time.

Dupree started to say something, but faltered and failed. Silently, he shook his head.

The Sheriff stepped back and nodded to the executioner. The hangman stepped behind Dupree and pulled a black bag from his pocket.

Dupree took a deep breath and was taking a last look at this world when his eyes fell on something beyond the crowd. A look of surprise and wonder came across his face.

Why, look’y there, he said in a low voice that only carried to the people closest to the gallows. Six crows come to collect my soul, ‘cause I’m the seventh crow. ‘Seven crows a secret, never to be told’. He smiled wryly, directly at Granny. I guess I’m the secret no one ever told.

Granny, David and anyone else who had heard him, turned to see what he was looking at.

Behind the crowd was a dead cedar tree with six large crows perched on the naked branches.

Granny, what -. David started.

Shush, Granny said as she resumed her vigil.

Dupree kept looking at Granny and Granny kept looking back.

The preacher prayed louder and faster.

The executioner slipped his black bag over Dupree’s head and then slid the noose around his neck, tightening and adjusting the knot under the left ear.

The executioner stepped back and pulled the lever that released the trapdoor.

Dupree fell.

At the end of the rope, he jerked to a stop with a bone crunching snap. David flinched and instinctively looked away, but forced himself to look back and witness Dupree’s final spasmodic movements. Time slowed down for David, even the wind died down. As he waited, David focused on the chains chiming a musical death knell, telling himself that when they stopped it would all be over. But when they finally did stop, it still wasn’t over. Dupree’s body slowly swung at the end of the taut rope.

Finally, a deputy set up a stepladder for the doctor to climb. He listened with his stethoscope to insure the Law had extracted the last heartbeat, before he could declare the Law satisfied.

David was transfixed, standing frozen, wanting to look away, but compelled to witness for his family, for his Great-grandfather Edward. He imagined the rope around his own neck, and what it would feel like, pulling tight. Instinctively, he did something he had not done in years, reaching out and taking his grandmother’s hand.

She grasped his hand desperately, and squeezed it hard. Surprised, David looked up and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. It was the first time David had ever seen her cry. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and wiped her eyes. She looked down at David.

It’s hard, Davy, she whispered hoarsely. I known him a long time. He wasn’t always a murderer. That’s what I want to remember.

David gradually became aware of the people around him and the sound of someone sobbing. He looked around and saw Snowy crying into her hands, her back turned to the gallows. R.A. and Bill were wide-eyed and pale-faced, staring silently ahead. David felt proud of his cousins for their resolve, excusing Snowy’s breakdown as normal for a girl. Satisfied the family had nothing to be ashamed of, David turned back around to witness until justice was declared fully served, still holding Granny’s hand.

After what seemed an eternity of silence, the doctor finally stepped down from the ladder, pronouncing Dupree dead with a curt nod to the Sheriff.

Back in the crowd, someone made a crude joke that elicited uncomfortable laughter, but for the most part, the crowd remained subdued. People murmured as they turned and drifted away.

And the world kept turning.

Granny pulled David’s hand, then dropped it.

Come on, she said, lifting the rope and stepping under. David followed behind her.

Granny walked directly towards the Sheriff, who was directing his men as they lowered the body into a rough pine casket under the watchful eyes of the hangman who was concerned they might damage his rope. The Sheriff saw Granny coming and cut short his final instructions to his deputy. He moved to intercept Granny.

Now, Miz Campbell, we don’t want no scenes, he cautioned her gently.

Granny stopped and drew herself up to her entire height of five foot nothing. She tilted her head back and stared frostily at the Sheriff.

Ain’t going to be no scene, Walter, unless you go making one. When can I claim the body?

The Sheriff’s mouth dropped open.

Claim his body? I can’t give you his body, Miz Campbell! Only his next of kin can claim it. What do you want it for anyway?

Granny rummaged in her coat pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers and her reading glasses. Putting on her glasses, she thumbed through the papers for the ones she wanted. She plucked them from the stack and handed them, one by one, to the Sheriff.

Here’s a letter from the deceased, witnessed by one of your deputies, asking me to take the body. Here’s a Power of Attorney made out by my lawyer and signed by the deceased, witnessed by another of your deputies. And here’s a court order from Judge Carter over in Eucheeanna vouching for the legality of the other two documents.

The Sheriff was flummoxed. He read the papers twice, took off his hat and scratched his head.

"Well, don’t that beat all. Miz Campbell, what you planning on doing with that body? I can’t allow nothing unseemly to happen, even if