Salvation of Miss Lucretia by Ted M. Dunagan

Author:Ted M. Dunagan [Dunagan, Ted M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Salvation of Miss Lucretia, Ted Dunagan, friendship, Segregation, voodoo, young adult fiction, YA fiction, race relations, Alabama
ISBN: 9781603062558
Publisher: NewSouth Inc.
Published: 2014-04-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The Visitor

Sometimes when everything is real peaceful and you feel safe and warm, a dark cloud suddenly blows up, and thunder starts booming and lightning commences to flash, then a stinging rain begins to pelt you.

That’s the feeling it reminded me of when we were roused from our short-lived sleep by the barking of the dogs and flashing lights in the dark.

Poudlum sat up, and said, “What you ’spose got into the dogs. Must be a bobcat prowling around out there.”

“Bobcats don’t carry a lantern,” I answered.

“Huh?”

“I saw a light flashing around out there that appeared to me to be coming from some kind of lantern.”

About that time it flashed again, and a loud voice from outside, called out, “Somebody better call off dese dogs!”

“Miss Lucretia! Are you awake?” Poudlum asked.

“I is,” she replied. “Who wouldn’t be wid dogs a-barking, lights a-flashing and folks a-yelling in de middle of de night?”

“You got any idea who’s out there?”

“I ’spect it be my nephew. Told y’all he was due anytime. One of y’all go to de door and calm de dogs down while I light de lamp.”

Poudlum got up, opened the door, and I heard him shush the dogs. Soon as the barking stopped, I heard the scraping sound of the head of a wooden match as Miss Lucretia struck it, lifted the globe and touched the flame to the wick of the lamp, whereupon a dim light flooded the room.

Then she walked to the cabin door, pulled Poudlum aside, and called out, “Everything all right, you can come on in now.”

Poudlum retreated to our pallet and dropped down to his knees next to me. I heard Old Bill growl real low, and then I heard the same voice say, “I don’t like dogs, and if one of ’em makes a move, I’m gonna spread him out wid dis scatter gun I got.”

I immediately became alarmed and got up on one knee, but Miss Lucretia waved me back down, and called out to our visitor, “Dem ain’t nothing but squirrel dogs, Nephew. Don’t pay no mind to ’em and come on in de house.”

He came in laden with a backpack, bundles and packages, and a two-gallon can, smelling of kerosene. But what really caught my attention was the sawed-off double-barrel shotgun he carried.

He hadn’t seen us yet as he began unloading his packages and stacking them on the table. He was a big man, well over six feet tall, and what really struck me was that he was the blackest man I had ever seen, absolutely as black as a hunk of coal, and he had a jagged scar about two inches long on his left cheek that was white as a chicken egg.

He exhaled a deep breath before he said, “Hey, Auntie, I shore hope you ’preciate me tromping through dese dense woods to bring you all dis stuff. It’s a wonder I didn’t get mauled by a panther or bit by a big snake getting here. Where’d you get dem dogs?”

“I does ’preciate yo’ efforts, Nephew.

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