Trouble in July by Erskine Caldwell

Author:Erskine Caldwell [Caldwell, Erskine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-1707-8
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media LLC
Published: 2011-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter VIII

SHEP BARLOW, HIS eyes bloodshot from loss of sleep, got back home at noon that day. He had been away, alone, since the evening before. His blue-black beard, which was already three days old when he left, was a mat of bristly stubble. Shep was a wiry little five-foot man, and his insignificant-looking stature made his face seem awesome in contrast.

The six or eight men standing under the umbrella tree in the front yard spoke to him cautiously as he went past. Everyone else had left, most of them to search for the Negro, some to eat dinner. The crowd had become restless and angry at the delay caused by Shep’s failure to come back within a reasonable length of time. He had told them not to do anything until he came back, and the men had expected him to be there by sunrise. A large party had gone to Oconee Swamp, while a smaller group had gone in the opposite direction towards Earnshaw Ridge. Those who remained at the house were disgusted with the dilatory methods still being used eighteen hours after the word had spread over the county.

Shep had hoped to find Sonny single-handed. He wanted to be the one to catch him, because he wished to have the satisfaction of tying a rope around the Negro boy’s neck and dragging him behind his car through the country before turning him over to the crowd. But during all that time he had not found a trace of Sonny.

The men under the tree watched Shep cross the yard. One or two of them spoke to him, but he did not even turn his head to reply. They knew by his behavior that he had not found Sonny, and that he was dangerously out of sorts.

After stomping up the front steps and across the porch, Shep threw his hat on the floor in the hall and walked into the dining-room.

He stopped abruptly at the door. A strange man sat at the table eating dinner with Katy. Shep was surprised to find a stranger there, although the longer he stared, the more certain he became that he had seen the man before. The stranger had a long white beard that reached almost to the top button on his trousers. His shirt-front was completely covered by the bushy hair. The old man raised a spoonful of blackeyed peas in his shaking hand, but before putting it into his mouth he parted the beard carefully around his lips.

“Who’s that?” Shep demanded, coming slowly into the room and taking a long close look at him. “Who’s he, Katy?”

“It’s Grandpa Harris, Papa,” she said. “You haven’t forgotten him, have you?”

“I thought I told him to stay away from here,” his eyes on no one in particular.

Shep went to his chair at the head of the table, his eyes blazing.

“Where’d he come from?” he asked. He stood behind his chair for several moments before sitting down. “What does he want?”

The old man put down his spoon and looked up at Shep over the rim of his glasses.

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