Chapter 8 – The Runaway
They arrived at the large plantation. Walters had the coachman drop him off at the front of the house. The coach continued on to the carriage house while Williams stopped his cart in front of the main house. After a minute, Walters returned to their cart, but before Williams could say anything, a slave greeted Walters.
“Mister Walters, thank goodness you’ve arrived,” the man said in a thick Southern accent. “We’ve got a problem, sir.”
Walters looked displeased. “What’s wrong, Tyrone?” he demanded.
Tyrone hesitated, and then answered, “Do you remember the new woman you brought here the other week, sir, the one who couldn’t stop crying and wouldn’t work?”
“I remember her,” Walters answered with hesitation, “what’s happened to her?”
“She’s gone, sir?”
“Gone?”
“Yes, sir, she’s run away.”
“What! How! Are you responsible for this, Tyrone?” exploded Walters
“N-no, sir,” answered Tyrone haltingly, “It wasn’t on my shift. She snuck off about three hours ago, on Neol’s shift.”
“I want to talk to Neol as soon as possible, Tyrone, and I want you to organize search parties to find her as quickly as possible. She can’t have gone far in three hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Tyrone answered, and ran off to gather the required men to scour the surrounding countryside.
Walters shook his head and walked over to Williams and company, who were still seated in the cart. Williams was just finishing an explanation to Alejandro of what had happened.
“She will not be easy to find,” Alejandro warned, and Williams translated the remark for Roderick and Walters. He functioned as a translator throughout the conversation.
“Why not?” Walters asked.
“She knows how to escape and avoid being caught,” Alejandro replied, clearly attempting to say as little as possible.
“What is she,” probed Walters intensely, “military? She didn’t seem to be of that sort of person to me.”
“No, she is not a member of the military,” Alejandro answered. “She is the daughter of one of Cuba’s top diplomats and a former spy.”
Monday, August 15, 2005
Friday, August 12, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. VIII
About twenty minutes later, Walters and his lawyer emerged. Walters seemed to be in a much better mood, a small smile on his face.
Williams saw his chance. Standing up, he approached Walters and introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you, Colonel,” Walters replied. “What do you want?”
He certainly is to the point, Williams thought. “I am looking for a woman, the wife of this man here,” he said, pointing to Alejandro. “We think that you may have bought her last week at Mr. Johnson’s market. If she is indeed in your service, we’d like to see if there’s some way we could buy her from you.”
Walters looked at Williams for a moment before saying, “This woman you seek, is she American?”
Williams shook his head, “She is Cuban.”
Walters nodded. “Then I know who you’re talking about. I bought three people last week, all of them women, but there was one I bought, a tall, slender, darker-skinned woman in her early thirties, who has done nothing but cry in the past week. You’re welcome to come back with me to my estate to make sure that she is the right one. Then, we can discuss a suitable financial arrangement.” His eyes lit up greedily when he said the final three words.
Williams suddenly had the feeling that it was going to be far more expensive to rescue Maria than it had been to rescue Alejandro. “Very well,” he answered, “we’ll follow you back to your estate. We’ll have to walk back to the market to get my cart, though. Where should we meet?”
“Back here. My coach is right outside, and I will wait for you.”
Williams agreed, and he, Roderick, and Alejandro all headed back to the market to pick up the cart. Within twenty minutes, they had returned back to the town hall. Walters and his coach waited there. Without a word, he climbed inside. The driver cracked the whip over the two horses that pulled it, and the coach sprang forward. Williams followed in the cart, wondering how far they would have to go and whether they would be able to come to any sort of good agreement to a man who had so far shown himself selfish. The ride to Walters’ estate took twenty minutes. No one spoke on the way.
Williams saw his chance. Standing up, he approached Walters and introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you, Colonel,” Walters replied. “What do you want?”
He certainly is to the point, Williams thought. “I am looking for a woman, the wife of this man here,” he said, pointing to Alejandro. “We think that you may have bought her last week at Mr. Johnson’s market. If she is indeed in your service, we’d like to see if there’s some way we could buy her from you.”
Walters looked at Williams for a moment before saying, “This woman you seek, is she American?”
Williams shook his head, “She is Cuban.”
Walters nodded. “Then I know who you’re talking about. I bought three people last week, all of them women, but there was one I bought, a tall, slender, darker-skinned woman in her early thirties, who has done nothing but cry in the past week. You’re welcome to come back with me to my estate to make sure that she is the right one. Then, we can discuss a suitable financial arrangement.” His eyes lit up greedily when he said the final three words.
Williams suddenly had the feeling that it was going to be far more expensive to rescue Maria than it had been to rescue Alejandro. “Very well,” he answered, “we’ll follow you back to your estate. We’ll have to walk back to the market to get my cart, though. Where should we meet?”
“Back here. My coach is right outside, and I will wait for you.”
Williams agreed, and he, Roderick, and Alejandro all headed back to the market to pick up the cart. Within twenty minutes, they had returned back to the town hall. Walters and his coach waited there. Without a word, he climbed inside. The driver cracked the whip over the two horses that pulled it, and the coach sprang forward. Williams followed in the cart, wondering how far they would have to go and whether they would be able to come to any sort of good agreement to a man who had so far shown himself selfish. The ride to Walters’ estate took twenty minutes. No one spoke on the way.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Rambling: Flirting, Saudi Style
I ran across an interesting (and unusual) article from the AP about the dating culture of Saudi Arabia. The full text of it can be found here. This strange story is proof that you can't make up stuff like this.
This story is about flirting in the gender-segregated Saudi society. Strick Islamic law forbids the interaction of women with men who are unknown to them. To get around these restrictions, the violation of which could result in arrest by the religious police, singles use Bluetooth-enabled phones and computers to communicate with the opposite sex. Bluetooth is a standard that allows cell phones and other electronic devices to communicate with each other directly, instead of having to connect to the Internet or a phone network first. Because of how segregated Saudi society is, using Bluetooth to interact with unknown members of the opposite sex is attractive to technology-savy Saudis. And I'm guessing that it's much more efficient than the older, lower-tech way of flirting (and I'm not making this up): "throwing phone numbers at women through car windows". Go figure. :-)
This story is about flirting in the gender-segregated Saudi society. Strick Islamic law forbids the interaction of women with men who are unknown to them. To get around these restrictions, the violation of which could result in arrest by the religious police, singles use Bluetooth-enabled phones and computers to communicate with the opposite sex. Bluetooth is a standard that allows cell phones and other electronic devices to communicate with each other directly, instead of having to connect to the Internet or a phone network first. Because of how segregated Saudi society is, using Bluetooth to interact with unknown members of the opposite sex is attractive to technology-savy Saudis. And I'm guessing that it's much more efficient than the older, lower-tech way of flirting (and I'm not making this up): "throwing phone numbers at women through car windows". Go figure. :-)
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. VII
“ ‘His office is just down the hall,’ Creedy replied. He must have pointed out the direction to Walters. I didn’t hear him say any more. Instantly, I heard the pounding of heavy footsteps approaching my door. The pounding on the floor became a pounding on my door. Walters must have knocked with a closed fist.
“I welcomed him in, had him sit down, and asked him what I could do for him. He proceeded to tell me the same story that you have just told me, although his description of the situation was much more colorful than yours, Bill. The man certainly can curse like a sailor when he wants to.
“Anyway, his basic complaint was that he hadn’t gotten the value he’d been promised out of the slave he’d bought. He wanted his money back and a new slave on top of that. I told that he could file a civil suit if he wished, but that I couldn’t do anything unless he or his lawyer filled out the necessary paperwork.
“ ‘Fine,’ he replied, ‘I’ll go get my lawyer and be back here within the hour.’ With that, he abruptly stood up and left without saying another word.
“So, Bill,” McDaniel concluded, “you may not have seen him heading off towards home. He may simply have been headed to his lawyer’s office and not back home.” He paused before continuing, “But, if you wanted to talk with him, you’re welcome to wait around here until he comes back.”
“We’ll wait, then, Paul,” Williams replied.
“That’s fine,” McDaniel said, “just sit outside my door. If Walters doesn’t talk to you on his way in to filing the papers, I’ll make sure that he does on his way out.”
Williams thanked the judge, and moved out to the hall along with Alejandro and Roderick. As they waited, Williams explained the entire situation to Alejandro. Just as Williams finished, the large form of Walters appeared from around the corner of the hallway.
Walters strode purposefully forward, moving quickly. A thin, pale man followed him, apparently his lawyer. The thin man looked nervous and sickly, as if he feared the sun and emerged only from his lair at night. He held a small briefcase in one hand.
Williams looked right at Walters, hoping to make eye contact and get a word with him before he went in to see McDaniel. Walters’ was so focused on his current mission, though, that he did not even notice the three men who sat on a bench just outside of the judge’s office. He knew why he had come, and he wasn’t interested in anyone or anything else until he had accomplished his task. He pounded on the door with two firm strikes of his closed right fist, visibly shaking the door as he did so.
“Come in!” McDaniel called from the other side of the door. Walters entered, and held the door open just long enough for his attorney to slip through before allowing it to close.
None of the three men who waited outside could overhear the conversation happening inside McDaniel’s chamber. The ride to and from his lawyer’s office had apparently allowed Walters to regain some control over his emotions, and while he still seemed angry, it was now contained just underneath the surface.
“I welcomed him in, had him sit down, and asked him what I could do for him. He proceeded to tell me the same story that you have just told me, although his description of the situation was much more colorful than yours, Bill. The man certainly can curse like a sailor when he wants to.
“Anyway, his basic complaint was that he hadn’t gotten the value he’d been promised out of the slave he’d bought. He wanted his money back and a new slave on top of that. I told that he could file a civil suit if he wished, but that I couldn’t do anything unless he or his lawyer filled out the necessary paperwork.
“ ‘Fine,’ he replied, ‘I’ll go get my lawyer and be back here within the hour.’ With that, he abruptly stood up and left without saying another word.
“So, Bill,” McDaniel concluded, “you may not have seen him heading off towards home. He may simply have been headed to his lawyer’s office and not back home.” He paused before continuing, “But, if you wanted to talk with him, you’re welcome to wait around here until he comes back.”
“We’ll wait, then, Paul,” Williams replied.
“That’s fine,” McDaniel said, “just sit outside my door. If Walters doesn’t talk to you on his way in to filing the papers, I’ll make sure that he does on his way out.”
Williams thanked the judge, and moved out to the hall along with Alejandro and Roderick. As they waited, Williams explained the entire situation to Alejandro. Just as Williams finished, the large form of Walters appeared from around the corner of the hallway.
Walters strode purposefully forward, moving quickly. A thin, pale man followed him, apparently his lawyer. The thin man looked nervous and sickly, as if he feared the sun and emerged only from his lair at night. He held a small briefcase in one hand.
Williams looked right at Walters, hoping to make eye contact and get a word with him before he went in to see McDaniel. Walters’ was so focused on his current mission, though, that he did not even notice the three men who sat on a bench just outside of the judge’s office. He knew why he had come, and he wasn’t interested in anyone or anything else until he had accomplished his task. He pounded on the door with two firm strikes of his closed right fist, visibly shaking the door as he did so.
“Come in!” McDaniel called from the other side of the door. Walters entered, and held the door open just long enough for his attorney to slip through before allowing it to close.
None of the three men who waited outside could overhear the conversation happening inside McDaniel’s chamber. The ride to and from his lawyer’s office had apparently allowed Walters to regain some control over his emotions, and while he still seemed angry, it was now contained just underneath the surface.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. VI
They stood there for a minute in silence. Alejandro was the first to speak. “I am guessing that he did not help us,” he said in Spanish.
Williams smiled at Alejandro’s understatement. “No,” Williams replied, “I’m afraid not.”
“What are we going to do, now?” Alejandro asked.
“Let’s try our luck downstairs. Maybe someone down there knows what’s going on,” Williams responded. He started to head back to the stairs, and translated the brief conversation for Roderick as they made their way down.
Upon arriving at the first floor, Williams headed straight for the office of Judge McDaniel. The door was shut, and Williams knocked, hoping that his friend might know something about Terrance Walters or his whereabouts.
“Come in,” McDaniel’s voice called from the other side of the door.
The three of them entered. Judge McDaniel looked up from his paperwork as they entered and smiled in greeting. “Bill, good to see you! What brings you to this part of town so early in the day?”
Williams quickly summarized the situation for his friend. “We know that he lives somewhere east of here because we saw him take the east road out of town,” he concluded. “We also know that he came in here right after leaving the market. We were hoping that maybe you had seen him or heard him.”
McDaniel motioned for them to be seated. “I think I’ve met the man you’re looking for,” he said; “he was in here about twenty minutes ago. It all started when I heard a man angrily storm into the building. I’m guessing that he went straight for the police department, since a minute or so later, I heard him arguing with Officer Creedy.
“ ‘You are sure that you can’t help me, Officer Creedy?’ the man, whom I later realized was Walters asked. He sounded frustrated.
“ ‘No, sir,’ Creedy replied, ‘I can’t. There’s no law against what he’s done, and while it’s not right, I can’t do anything to help you.’
“ ‘Surely there must be something,’ Walters argued. ‘Disorderly conduct, fraud, negligence, something…’
“ ‘Well, if there is, I’m not aware of it. You might want to take that up with Judge McDaniel. He’s our resident expert on the law around here.’
“ ‘Very well,’ Walters said, ‘I will. I’m disappointed that you can’t help me, Officer. Do you realize how much I could “help” the police department?’
“Creedy didn’t take the bait for the bribe. ‘The best help you can give the department, Mr. Walters,’ he said firmly, ‘is to obey the law. That will make our job a little bit easier.’
“ ‘You won’t help me, then?’ Walters queried.
“ ‘It’s not that I won’t sir,’ Creedy responded; ‘it’s that I can’t. My job deals with people who have broken the law. Mr. Johnson hasn’t broken any laws, at least as far as I can see. Like I said, your best bet is to talk to Judge McDaniel. He’d know if there’s anything you can do.’
“ ‘Very well,’ Walters said. ‘Where do I find this Judge McDaniel?’
Williams smiled at Alejandro’s understatement. “No,” Williams replied, “I’m afraid not.”
“What are we going to do, now?” Alejandro asked.
“Let’s try our luck downstairs. Maybe someone down there knows what’s going on,” Williams responded. He started to head back to the stairs, and translated the brief conversation for Roderick as they made their way down.
Upon arriving at the first floor, Williams headed straight for the office of Judge McDaniel. The door was shut, and Williams knocked, hoping that his friend might know something about Terrance Walters or his whereabouts.
“Come in,” McDaniel’s voice called from the other side of the door.
The three of them entered. Judge McDaniel looked up from his paperwork as they entered and smiled in greeting. “Bill, good to see you! What brings you to this part of town so early in the day?”
Williams quickly summarized the situation for his friend. “We know that he lives somewhere east of here because we saw him take the east road out of town,” he concluded. “We also know that he came in here right after leaving the market. We were hoping that maybe you had seen him or heard him.”
McDaniel motioned for them to be seated. “I think I’ve met the man you’re looking for,” he said; “he was in here about twenty minutes ago. It all started when I heard a man angrily storm into the building. I’m guessing that he went straight for the police department, since a minute or so later, I heard him arguing with Officer Creedy.
“ ‘You are sure that you can’t help me, Officer Creedy?’ the man, whom I later realized was Walters asked. He sounded frustrated.
“ ‘No, sir,’ Creedy replied, ‘I can’t. There’s no law against what he’s done, and while it’s not right, I can’t do anything to help you.’
“ ‘Surely there must be something,’ Walters argued. ‘Disorderly conduct, fraud, negligence, something…’
“ ‘Well, if there is, I’m not aware of it. You might want to take that up with Judge McDaniel. He’s our resident expert on the law around here.’
“ ‘Very well,’ Walters said, ‘I will. I’m disappointed that you can’t help me, Officer. Do you realize how much I could “help” the police department?’
“Creedy didn’t take the bait for the bribe. ‘The best help you can give the department, Mr. Walters,’ he said firmly, ‘is to obey the law. That will make our job a little bit easier.’
“ ‘You won’t help me, then?’ Walters queried.
“ ‘It’s not that I won’t sir,’ Creedy responded; ‘it’s that I can’t. My job deals with people who have broken the law. Mr. Johnson hasn’t broken any laws, at least as far as I can see. Like I said, your best bet is to talk to Judge McDaniel. He’d know if there’s anything you can do.’
“ ‘Very well,’ Walters said. ‘Where do I find this Judge McDaniel?’
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. V
“What’s the hurry?” the clerk asked, intrigued, his gruff manner yielding slightly to a sarcastic playfulness. This was the first time in two weeks anyone had wandered into his office. He had a lot of grumpiness he wanted to get out. “Does he owe you money?”
“No,” Roderick answered, hesitating slightly, unsure of how much he ought to say, “but he may be able to help us locate this man’s wife.” He motioned to Alejandro.
“The man you’re after ran off with this man’s wife?” the clerk exclaimed, clearly enjoying being as difficult as he could.
“Look, sir,” Williams said, “we’re trying to be reasonable here. We want to find this man and talk with him about someone he purchased at Johnson’s market last week. We think he will want to talk with us about the matter.”
“This man’s wife bought someone that ran off with the man you seek?” the clerk said, deliberately misunderstanding.
“No.” Williams said with frustration. “We’re looking for the address of a Mr. Terrance Walters. Now, will you help us or not?”
The clerk looked Williams in the eye. “I’m not going to do anything to help anyone, Mister. My job is to take care of the records and release them only to those who need them. I can’t just hand out information willy-nilly. That would be irresponsible.”
“But surely you can help us.” Williams exclaimed. “We’re talking about reuniting a man with his wife! Is that not worth it?”
The clerk shrugged. “Worth it? Maybe. What do I care if some man can’t find his wife? Maybe he’s better off without her if he let her get sold into slavery, I mean, servitude.” He said the last word with a sarcastic propriety.
Williams was glad that Alejandro did not know enough English to understand that last comment. “The whole family was sold into slavery,” Williams explained, “and I was able to rescue this man. Now, we’re trying to find the rest of this family, and we’re convinced that Mr. Walters is the one who bought his wife.”
“Well, rescuing slaves,” the clerk retorted, “aren’t you special? Tell you what, Mister, the next time you feel like doing your ‘good deed of the day’, pick someone who knows where he can find his wife. That’ll keep you from hassling me and keeping from getting my work done. Now get out of here before I call the police.”
“But,” Williams began.
“Go!” the clerk yelled, standing up from behind his desk.
Williams and Roderick quickly scrambled out, Roderick grabbed Alejandro as they exited, just as the clerk stomped over to the door melodramatically and slammed it firmly shut.
“No,” Roderick answered, hesitating slightly, unsure of how much he ought to say, “but he may be able to help us locate this man’s wife.” He motioned to Alejandro.
“The man you’re after ran off with this man’s wife?” the clerk exclaimed, clearly enjoying being as difficult as he could.
“Look, sir,” Williams said, “we’re trying to be reasonable here. We want to find this man and talk with him about someone he purchased at Johnson’s market last week. We think he will want to talk with us about the matter.”
“This man’s wife bought someone that ran off with the man you seek?” the clerk said, deliberately misunderstanding.
“No.” Williams said with frustration. “We’re looking for the address of a Mr. Terrance Walters. Now, will you help us or not?”
The clerk looked Williams in the eye. “I’m not going to do anything to help anyone, Mister. My job is to take care of the records and release them only to those who need them. I can’t just hand out information willy-nilly. That would be irresponsible.”
“But surely you can help us.” Williams exclaimed. “We’re talking about reuniting a man with his wife! Is that not worth it?”
The clerk shrugged. “Worth it? Maybe. What do I care if some man can’t find his wife? Maybe he’s better off without her if he let her get sold into slavery, I mean, servitude.” He said the last word with a sarcastic propriety.
Williams was glad that Alejandro did not know enough English to understand that last comment. “The whole family was sold into slavery,” Williams explained, “and I was able to rescue this man. Now, we’re trying to find the rest of this family, and we’re convinced that Mr. Walters is the one who bought his wife.”
“Well, rescuing slaves,” the clerk retorted, “aren’t you special? Tell you what, Mister, the next time you feel like doing your ‘good deed of the day’, pick someone who knows where he can find his wife. That’ll keep you from hassling me and keeping from getting my work done. Now get out of here before I call the police.”
“But,” Williams began.
“Go!” the clerk yelled, standing up from behind his desk.
Williams and Roderick quickly scrambled out, Roderick grabbed Alejandro as they exited, just as the clerk stomped over to the door melodramatically and slammed it firmly shut.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. IV
They walked on to the Municipal Building. Entering through the main door, they walked up to the third floor. In the back corner of the floor sat the land office, a small room that was packed to near capacity with piles of paper. Its sole occupant was a clerk who maintained the records of who owned what within the town and the nearby region.
The clerk, a bored, spectacled old man, glanced in their direction as they entered. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked in a brusque manner, not looking up from his work.
“Yes, sir,” Williams replied, “at least I hope so. We’re looking for information regarding Mr. Terrance Williams. We were wondering if you might know where we might find him.”
The clerk looked up from the paperwork in front of him. “Do I look like a tour guide?” he asked testily. “I don’t give directions.”
“We aren’t looking for directions,” Williams countered. “We simply wish to locate him. We have an important matter to discuss with him.”
“If the matter is so important,” the clerk responded, “why didn’t he tell you how to get to his estate?”
“He doesn’t realize that we’re seeking him,” Williams answered, “and we tried twice to catch up with him. Both times, he moved too quickly for us.”
“Well,” the clerk said, “you should learn to move a little more quickly yourself. If he’s not interested in telling you how to locate him, I’m not terribly interested in helping you, either.”
“Please, sir,” Roderick broke in, “it’s imperative that you help us. We must find this man and find him soon.”
The clerk, a bored, spectacled old man, glanced in their direction as they entered. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked in a brusque manner, not looking up from his work.
“Yes, sir,” Williams replied, “at least I hope so. We’re looking for information regarding Mr. Terrance Williams. We were wondering if you might know where we might find him.”
The clerk looked up from the paperwork in front of him. “Do I look like a tour guide?” he asked testily. “I don’t give directions.”
“We aren’t looking for directions,” Williams countered. “We simply wish to locate him. We have an important matter to discuss with him.”
“If the matter is so important,” the clerk responded, “why didn’t he tell you how to get to his estate?”
“He doesn’t realize that we’re seeking him,” Williams answered, “and we tried twice to catch up with him. Both times, he moved too quickly for us.”
“Well,” the clerk said, “you should learn to move a little more quickly yourself. If he’s not interested in telling you how to locate him, I’m not terribly interested in helping you, either.”
“Please, sir,” Roderick broke in, “it’s imperative that you help us. We must find this man and find him soon.”
Monday, August 01, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. III
Roderick and Alejandro caught up with Williams a few moments later. They had taken a less direct route and had avoided the unpleasantness that Williams had endured.
“I didn’t catch up to him,” Williams informed them sadly, translating the remark in Spanish when it was clear Alejandro did not understand.
“So, what do we do now?” Alejandro asked in Spanish.
“We have his name,” Williams replied, “so maybe we can go to the Municipal Building and look up his name in the local land records. Perhaps we can find his address.”
“If he is looking for slaves, then he probably lives on a farm, though,” Alejandro said. “Will he be in those records?”
“I don’t know, but we have to try.” Williams answered. “It’s the only option we have. Follow me.” He started walking towards the Municipal Building. As he did so, he explained his idea to Roderick.
An idea occurred to Williams. “Was the man you saw the one who bought your wife or the one who bought your daughter?” he asked Alejandro.
“It was the one who bought my wife,” Alejandro responded. He turned his downward and strolled forward, thinking.
They walked in silence over to the Municipal Building, all of them discouraged. As they neared their destination, they heard the clopping of horse hooves and the rattling of the stagecoach wheels. It was rapidly approaching them; its occupant clearly was in a hurry.
As the coach sped past them, they all recognized the man riding inside of it. It was Walters! Apparently he had just left the Municipal Building after conducting some sort of business there. Where he was going now was a mystery, but the road he was on led to the east, an area with few farms. Alejandro tried to run after the cart to stop it, but Walters’ errand appeared to be very pressing. No one could have caught the coach at its present speed.
“If only we had driven over the building instead of walking!” Williams exclaimed in frustration. “We might have been able to follow him.”
“We still might find record of him in the land office,” Roderick reminded Williams, “and even if we don’t, someone in the Municipal Building might be able to tell us more about him. He seems to have just come from there.
“I didn’t catch up to him,” Williams informed them sadly, translating the remark in Spanish when it was clear Alejandro did not understand.
“So, what do we do now?” Alejandro asked in Spanish.
“We have his name,” Williams replied, “so maybe we can go to the Municipal Building and look up his name in the local land records. Perhaps we can find his address.”
“If he is looking for slaves, then he probably lives on a farm, though,” Alejandro said. “Will he be in those records?”
“I don’t know, but we have to try.” Williams answered. “It’s the only option we have. Follow me.” He started walking towards the Municipal Building. As he did so, he explained his idea to Roderick.
An idea occurred to Williams. “Was the man you saw the one who bought your wife or the one who bought your daughter?” he asked Alejandro.
“It was the one who bought my wife,” Alejandro responded. He turned his downward and strolled forward, thinking.
They walked in silence over to the Municipal Building, all of them discouraged. As they neared their destination, they heard the clopping of horse hooves and the rattling of the stagecoach wheels. It was rapidly approaching them; its occupant clearly was in a hurry.
As the coach sped past them, they all recognized the man riding inside of it. It was Walters! Apparently he had just left the Municipal Building after conducting some sort of business there. Where he was going now was a mystery, but the road he was on led to the east, an area with few farms. Alejandro tried to run after the cart to stop it, but Walters’ errand appeared to be very pressing. No one could have caught the coach at its present speed.
“If only we had driven over the building instead of walking!” Williams exclaimed in frustration. “We might have been able to follow him.”
“We still might find record of him in the land office,” Roderick reminded Williams, “and even if we don’t, someone in the Municipal Building might be able to tell us more about him. He seems to have just come from there.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. II
As they moved through the crowd, it became menacingly thicker, so much so that several times they nearly had to shove men out of the way in order to make any progress. Every stop brought them closer to the front, and no one wanted to give up his prime spot. Even as they advanced, though, they could see no sign of the man they sought.
Suddenly, Alejandro stopped. They had reached the front of the crowd. A rope running around the entire platform kept the throng back several feet from it. Nowhere could they see their quarry.
“He must have gone another direction,” Roderick said, stating the obvious.
Williams turned to Alejandro. “Are you sure you saw him?” he asked.
“Yes,” Alejandro answered emphatically, “I recognized the face, and he should be here somewhere. We need to keep looking, and I am sure that we will see him.”
They started to turn around to continue to search the crowd when a great commotion arose from off to their left at the base of the platform. Two voices shouted in anger. Looking back towards the source of the disturbance, Alejandro cried out, “It is him!”
“Where?” Williams asked.
“There,” Alejandro said, pointing towards the two men who stood inside the rope barrier, arguing vociferously. “He is the one arguing with Mr. Johnson.”
“Let’s get closer,” Williams said in Spanish, motioning for Roderick to follow.
They ducked underneath the ropes and started to make their way towards the argument, moving slowly to avoid drawing attention to themselves. As they approached, they could hear the contents of the discussion.
The man they sought was speaking. “No refund!” he bellowed. “Mr. Johnson, this is absolutely unacceptable! I purchased the work, not the person, and she has not done a minute’s work since the day I took her back to my farm. All she does is cry. I demand a refund!”
“I do not give refunds, Mr. Walters,” Johnson answered angrily. “That has been my policy, and it’s clearly set forth in the contract. Now, I would be glad to give you a 10% discount on your next purchase if you would like.”
“Ten percent!” Walters exclaimed. “Do you take me for some rube like the idiots you trick into selling themselves into slavery?”
“Servitude,” Johnson interrupted, “indentured servitude.”
“Whatever. The point is that I will accept nothing less than a full refund.”
“And I’ve already told you that it’s strictly against my policy to issue refunds.”
Walters frowned. “You will not make an exception?” he asked rhetorically. “Very well! I’ll leave for now, but I will be back. You’ll regret the day that you crossed Terrance Walters!” He stormed back off into the crowd.
Williams moved quickly to follow him, trying to catch up. The crowd, however, did not appreciate having two men both try to force their way against the grain. Williams had not made far before a large, stupid-looking man decided that he had endured enough shoving for the moment.
Instead of yielding to Williams' attempts to push his way through, the man grabbed Williams’ arms and tried to throw him back the way he came. The military training of Williams kicked in instantly, and he quickly switched his weight to allow the man’s own throw to carry him on forward past Williams. The man stumbled ahead, banging into several people ahead of him, who were displeased at the encounter, to say the least.
The entire incident took a few seconds, but those few seconds cost Williams a great deal of distance. By the time he made his way to the back edge of the crowd, Walters had already reached his carriage and was rattling away at great speed.
Suddenly, Alejandro stopped. They had reached the front of the crowd. A rope running around the entire platform kept the throng back several feet from it. Nowhere could they see their quarry.
“He must have gone another direction,” Roderick said, stating the obvious.
Williams turned to Alejandro. “Are you sure you saw him?” he asked.
“Yes,” Alejandro answered emphatically, “I recognized the face, and he should be here somewhere. We need to keep looking, and I am sure that we will see him.”
They started to turn around to continue to search the crowd when a great commotion arose from off to their left at the base of the platform. Two voices shouted in anger. Looking back towards the source of the disturbance, Alejandro cried out, “It is him!”
“Where?” Williams asked.
“There,” Alejandro said, pointing towards the two men who stood inside the rope barrier, arguing vociferously. “He is the one arguing with Mr. Johnson.”
“Let’s get closer,” Williams said in Spanish, motioning for Roderick to follow.
They ducked underneath the ropes and started to make their way towards the argument, moving slowly to avoid drawing attention to themselves. As they approached, they could hear the contents of the discussion.
The man they sought was speaking. “No refund!” he bellowed. “Mr. Johnson, this is absolutely unacceptable! I purchased the work, not the person, and she has not done a minute’s work since the day I took her back to my farm. All she does is cry. I demand a refund!”
“I do not give refunds, Mr. Walters,” Johnson answered angrily. “That has been my policy, and it’s clearly set forth in the contract. Now, I would be glad to give you a 10% discount on your next purchase if you would like.”
“Ten percent!” Walters exclaimed. “Do you take me for some rube like the idiots you trick into selling themselves into slavery?”
“Servitude,” Johnson interrupted, “indentured servitude.”
“Whatever. The point is that I will accept nothing less than a full refund.”
“And I’ve already told you that it’s strictly against my policy to issue refunds.”
Walters frowned. “You will not make an exception?” he asked rhetorically. “Very well! I’ll leave for now, but I will be back. You’ll regret the day that you crossed Terrance Walters!” He stormed back off into the crowd.
Williams moved quickly to follow him, trying to catch up. The crowd, however, did not appreciate having two men both try to force their way against the grain. Williams had not made far before a large, stupid-looking man decided that he had endured enough shoving for the moment.
Instead of yielding to Williams' attempts to push his way through, the man grabbed Williams’ arms and tried to throw him back the way he came. The military training of Williams kicked in instantly, and he quickly switched his weight to allow the man’s own throw to carry him on forward past Williams. The man stumbled ahead, banging into several people ahead of him, who were displeased at the encounter, to say the least.
The entire incident took a few seconds, but those few seconds cost Williams a great deal of distance. By the time he made his way to the back edge of the crowd, Walters had already reached his carriage and was rattling away at great speed.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 7, pt. I
Chapter 7 – The Trip to Market
Market day came. Colonel Williams, Roderick, and Alejandro all boarded the cart for the ride into town. All the arrangements for Jayson’s arrival had been made. José had been instructed to let Jayson know where they were should he arrive before they returned.
One the ride into town, they worked out the details of their plan. The three of them would try to stay together in the crowd. Alejandro would look for a familiar face, and once he spotted one of the men, Williams and Roderick would approach the man. Despite the low probability of success, all three were confident that they would find one of the two men whom they sought.
They arrived at the slave market about an hour before the auction was to begin. Even at that early hour, the market already bustled with activity. Men from all over the region had come, even more than usual. The cacophony of the various voices all talking—and yelling—at one another as they packed into the courtyard assaulted Williams’ senses. The closest analogy to what he was seeing now was the battlefield in the midst of battle. The organized chaos of the crowd presented a formidable obstacle to their plan.
As they slowly advanced into the crowd, they found it difficult to keep together. Every man there fought to maintain his position; no one wanted to give enough room for one person to get through, much less three. Position mattered at these auctions, for the closer to the front and to the middle a bidder was, the more likely it was that a bid would be recognized.
In the midst of the loud noise, Williams shouted to the others, “If we get split apart, keep an eye on each other. If you lose the other two, head back to the main entrance.”
Roderick nodded, but Alejandro, who only knew a week’s worth of English, did not understand. Williams had to repeat the instructions in Spanish. They continued forward slowly, pushing between people as Alejandro glanced at the faces.
Suddenly, he exclaimed, “¡Allá está el hombre!” He pointed in a direction off to their left and a little ahead of them. The man was also fighting his way forward through the crowd.
“Where? Which one?” Williams asked in Spanish.
“The one headed towards the front,” Alejandro replied. “Wait! I have lost him.”
The man had walked behind a group of taller men who had been reticent to break up their clique. He was now out of sight of Alejandro, and only Alejandro had managed a good look at the man’s face.
“Did you see which way he went?” Williams asked.
“Yes, I think so. This way,” Alejandro replied. He led them to the left of their previous course, pushing his way as best he could through the wall of humanity.
Market day came. Colonel Williams, Roderick, and Alejandro all boarded the cart for the ride into town. All the arrangements for Jayson’s arrival had been made. José had been instructed to let Jayson know where they were should he arrive before they returned.
One the ride into town, they worked out the details of their plan. The three of them would try to stay together in the crowd. Alejandro would look for a familiar face, and once he spotted one of the men, Williams and Roderick would approach the man. Despite the low probability of success, all three were confident that they would find one of the two men whom they sought.
They arrived at the slave market about an hour before the auction was to begin. Even at that early hour, the market already bustled with activity. Men from all over the region had come, even more than usual. The cacophony of the various voices all talking—and yelling—at one another as they packed into the courtyard assaulted Williams’ senses. The closest analogy to what he was seeing now was the battlefield in the midst of battle. The organized chaos of the crowd presented a formidable obstacle to their plan.
As they slowly advanced into the crowd, they found it difficult to keep together. Every man there fought to maintain his position; no one wanted to give enough room for one person to get through, much less three. Position mattered at these auctions, for the closer to the front and to the middle a bidder was, the more likely it was that a bid would be recognized.
In the midst of the loud noise, Williams shouted to the others, “If we get split apart, keep an eye on each other. If you lose the other two, head back to the main entrance.”
Roderick nodded, but Alejandro, who only knew a week’s worth of English, did not understand. Williams had to repeat the instructions in Spanish. They continued forward slowly, pushing between people as Alejandro glanced at the faces.
Suddenly, he exclaimed, “¡Allá está el hombre!” He pointed in a direction off to their left and a little ahead of them. The man was also fighting his way forward through the crowd.
“Where? Which one?” Williams asked in Spanish.
“The one headed towards the front,” Alejandro replied. “Wait! I have lost him.”
The man had walked behind a group of taller men who had been reticent to break up their clique. He was now out of sight of Alejandro, and only Alejandro had managed a good look at the man’s face.
“Did you see which way he went?” Williams asked.
“Yes, I think so. This way,” Alejandro replied. He led them to the left of their previous course, pushing his way as best he could through the wall of humanity.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 6, pt. V
The next day, Williams went to Andrews’ plantation to see if he could buy Pedro from Andrews. The meeting went similarly to the one involving Alejandro. Williams bought Pedro from Andrews for a relatively small amount and took him back to Providence.
As Williams entered the house, Roderick met him, bearing a letter addressed in a firm hand. It read:
Colonel Bill Williams
Providence Estate, Georgia
The return address was familiar to Williams; the letter came from his son, Jayson Williams, a lawyer in Atlanta.
Williams opened the envelope excitedly. He heard from Jayson about once every other month, and each letter consoled him a little because in Jayson he saw—and heard—pieces of Keren. Each letter was a pleasant reminder of her.
He read the letter:
Dear Dad,
I hope that this letter finds you well. I wanted to let you know that Daria and I plan on being down in your area next week, on the twenty-first. We plan on stopping by to see you, if you will be around.
Business is going well. I am seeing my practice flourish greatly. I also have exciting news of another sort, but I want to tell you that in person.
Until the twenty-first, then.
Jayson
P.S. If the twenty-first will not work, please reply immediately.
Williams looked at Roderick. “It appears that Jayson will be here next week on the twenty-first.”
“Yes, sir,” Roderick replied calmly. “I’ll prepare to welcome him while you’re in town.”
“In town?” Williams asked, confused. “Why would I be in town?”
“Because the twenty-first is the next market day,” Roderick answered.
Williams’ eyes lit up with realization. “You’re right! But I want you to come with us, Roderick, so you couldn’t welcome him. Perhaps it would be better if I told Jayson to come another day. Unless…” he paused for a moment, deep in thought. “Unless we have José welcome him. Jayson may be able to help us,” he concluded.
“Do you want me to make the necessary preparations, sir?”
“Yes, see to it that everything is in order,” Williams said. He walked quickly back to his office.
As Williams entered the house, Roderick met him, bearing a letter addressed in a firm hand. It read:
Colonel Bill Williams
Providence Estate, Georgia
The return address was familiar to Williams; the letter came from his son, Jayson Williams, a lawyer in Atlanta.
Williams opened the envelope excitedly. He heard from Jayson about once every other month, and each letter consoled him a little because in Jayson he saw—and heard—pieces of Keren. Each letter was a pleasant reminder of her.
He read the letter:
Dear Dad,
I hope that this letter finds you well. I wanted to let you know that Daria and I plan on being down in your area next week, on the twenty-first. We plan on stopping by to see you, if you will be around.
Business is going well. I am seeing my practice flourish greatly. I also have exciting news of another sort, but I want to tell you that in person.
Until the twenty-first, then.
Jayson
P.S. If the twenty-first will not work, please reply immediately.
Williams looked at Roderick. “It appears that Jayson will be here next week on the twenty-first.”
“Yes, sir,” Roderick replied calmly. “I’ll prepare to welcome him while you’re in town.”
“In town?” Williams asked, confused. “Why would I be in town?”
“Because the twenty-first is the next market day,” Roderick answered.
Williams’ eyes lit up with realization. “You’re right! But I want you to come with us, Roderick, so you couldn’t welcome him. Perhaps it would be better if I told Jayson to come another day. Unless…” he paused for a moment, deep in thought. “Unless we have José welcome him. Jayson may be able to help us,” he concluded.
“Do you want me to make the necessary preparations, sir?”
“Yes, see to it that everything is in order,” Williams said. He walked quickly back to his office.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 6, pt. IV
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Two days later, Colonel Williams sat in his office, reading another of the books that lined his walls. It was about ten in the morning. Slowly, he became aware of a commotion going on outside. Loud voices shouted angrily, alternatively in English and Spanish.
“Tell him that he’d better get back here fast, José!” an angry voice yelled.
“No quiero,” an equally angry voice – not José’s – shouted.
“What’d he say?” the first voice asked. “You know I can’t understand that mumbo jumbo.”
“He said that he does not want to go,” José answered.
Williams by this point had put his book down and was walking to the front door.
“Oh, he’s going to want to go somewhere in a minute, alright,” the first voice said. Williams heard the sound of a gun cocking. “He’s going to want to come with me.”
Williams sped up and arrived at the front of the mansion in time to hear José say, “He is not going anywhere until you talk with Colonel Williams. He is in charge here, and he decides who stays and who goes, even trespassers.”
Williams arrived at the scene of the confrontation. John Fulton, Andrews’ foreman, stood about five feet from both José and a dark tan man, who cowered behind José. Fulton’s gun pointed at José menacingly.
“I am in charge here,” Williams said authoritatively, picking up on José’s thought, “and I want to know what’s going on here, Fulton.”
“Well, Colonel Williams,” Fulton replied in his thick, Southern drawl, not lowering his gun, “this servant of yours is harboring one of Mr. Andrews’ field servants. He ran away about an hour ago, and I’ve just now tracked him down here. I’ve got to get him back to our own fields as quick as possible.”
“Why did he run away?” Williams asked.
“Dunno. Don’t care. I just know that he’s a part of my team, and I need him to work the fields. Now, let me take him and get home before I lose any more time.”
Williams frowned. There was not much that he could do. Under the law, a runaway slave had to be returned to his master. “Will you let me talk with him a minute, Fulton?” he asked.
“No, Colonel,” Fulton answered, “I won’t. The last time I let you do that, I lost myself a worker.”
“Just give me a minute to calm him down and explain what’s going on.”
“Alright, Colonel, but nothing funny this time. I’ve got to keep some of my crew together.”
Williams nodded and addressed the fugitive. “What is your name and why are you here?” he asked in Spanish.
The slave’s face lit up in surprise at Williams speaking to him in his native language. “I am Pedro Garcia,” he replied, “and I am here because I heard how you rescued a man named Alejandro from slavery to Señor Andrews. I want out of slavery as well, just like you did with Alejandro.”
“Pedro, why are you running away? Why not finish out your servitude with Mr. Andrews?” Williams asked.
“Because he is a cruel man,” Pedro replied. “I have already worked five years for him to pay off my debt, as we had originally agreed. But every time I try to leave, he claims that I also owe him for room and board while I worked for him. I am just as much in debt now as I was when I started being a slave.”
“That’s how Mr. Andrews is,” Williams said sadly. “What would you do if you now longer were a slave to him?”
“I do not know,” Pedro responded, “except that I would start over and avoid the mistakes I made that got me into debt in the first place. All I know is that being trapped under the cruel will of Mr. Andrews is more than I can bear. Please say that you will help me!”
Williams paused to think. He did not have enough money to buy every malcontent slave who happened his way. If the news spread that he was buying unhappy slaves, he was pretty sure that every slave in the region would be pounding on his gates. Remember, a voice inside him said, you don’t have enough money to buy everyone. Don’t set a precedent now. You’ll only wind up in trouble.
That thought was quickly countered by another. But the chance to redeem even one more is worth it, it argued. And so what if every slave in the entire state of Georgia comes here? Maybe you can’t buy them all, but you can at least rescue some and make their lives better. What else could you do with all of your wealth? You don’t need a bigger house or better stuff. These people are in greater need.
It’s not worth it, the first argument retorted, and it’s just plain crazy! You have to have some money to live on, and you have to pay all of your employees. What good is going to do them if you bankrupt yourself rescuing everyone else?
You won’t go bankrupt, countered the second voice. In the past week, your investments alone have already covered the cost of paying for Alejandro. You can easily afford to rescue at least one more. Remember, you can’t help everyone, but you at least should help those whom Providence has put in your path.
Before the internal debate could continue any farther, Williams stifled it. He had argued with himself on enough occasions to know that this sort of thinking would not help him solve the task at hand. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it immediately. He looked at the very impatient Fulton, who looked like he could already feel the whip on his back from not meeting his quota for the second time in two weeks.
“Fulton, would you please tell Mr. Andrews that I will be coming by tomorrow to discuss the matter of Pedro?” he said.
“Not again, Colonel,” Fulton said. He started to raise his gun again. “If you plan on keeping him here, there’s going to be trouble.”
“Put the gun down,” Williams responded. “You can take Pedro with you right now. I will come by tomorrow to see if Mr. Andrews and I can reach an agreement that will allow Pedro to come under my authority.”
“Fine, Colonel, I’ll let Mr. Andrews know that you’re going to come by tomorrow. Now, can I take this man and get back to my fields before I lose any more time?”
Williams smiled at the one-track mind of Fulton. “Yes, Fulton, go ahead, take him.”
Pedro, who understood enough English well enough, even if he did not speak it well, realized that he had to return with Fulton at this point. Stepping out from behind José, he walked slowly back towards the front gate, a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. Fulton followed him, coaxing him to walk faster.
After the two had disappeared through the gate, José spoke up. “Interesting, Colonel, most interesting. Do you think that you will be able to buy this man from Mr. Andrews as you bought Alejandro?”
“I’m not sure,” Williams answered, “but I know that I have to try. I have the resources; I might as well use them.”
José agreed. They talked for a few minutes about the state of the crops and the workers. Then, José headed off to the fields, and Williams went back to the house.
“Tell him that he’d better get back here fast, José!” an angry voice yelled.
“No quiero,” an equally angry voice – not José’s – shouted.
“What’d he say?” the first voice asked. “You know I can’t understand that mumbo jumbo.”
“He said that he does not want to go,” José answered.
Williams by this point had put his book down and was walking to the front door.
“Oh, he’s going to want to go somewhere in a minute, alright,” the first voice said. Williams heard the sound of a gun cocking. “He’s going to want to come with me.”
Williams sped up and arrived at the front of the mansion in time to hear José say, “He is not going anywhere until you talk with Colonel Williams. He is in charge here, and he decides who stays and who goes, even trespassers.”
Williams arrived at the scene of the confrontation. John Fulton, Andrews’ foreman, stood about five feet from both José and a dark tan man, who cowered behind José. Fulton’s gun pointed at José menacingly.
“I am in charge here,” Williams said authoritatively, picking up on José’s thought, “and I want to know what’s going on here, Fulton.”
“Well, Colonel Williams,” Fulton replied in his thick, Southern drawl, not lowering his gun, “this servant of yours is harboring one of Mr. Andrews’ field servants. He ran away about an hour ago, and I’ve just now tracked him down here. I’ve got to get him back to our own fields as quick as possible.”
“Why did he run away?” Williams asked.
“Dunno. Don’t care. I just know that he’s a part of my team, and I need him to work the fields. Now, let me take him and get home before I lose any more time.”
Williams frowned. There was not much that he could do. Under the law, a runaway slave had to be returned to his master. “Will you let me talk with him a minute, Fulton?” he asked.
“No, Colonel,” Fulton answered, “I won’t. The last time I let you do that, I lost myself a worker.”
“Just give me a minute to calm him down and explain what’s going on.”
“Alright, Colonel, but nothing funny this time. I’ve got to keep some of my crew together.”
Williams nodded and addressed the fugitive. “What is your name and why are you here?” he asked in Spanish.
The slave’s face lit up in surprise at Williams speaking to him in his native language. “I am Pedro Garcia,” he replied, “and I am here because I heard how you rescued a man named Alejandro from slavery to Señor Andrews. I want out of slavery as well, just like you did with Alejandro.”
“Pedro, why are you running away? Why not finish out your servitude with Mr. Andrews?” Williams asked.
“Because he is a cruel man,” Pedro replied. “I have already worked five years for him to pay off my debt, as we had originally agreed. But every time I try to leave, he claims that I also owe him for room and board while I worked for him. I am just as much in debt now as I was when I started being a slave.”
“That’s how Mr. Andrews is,” Williams said sadly. “What would you do if you now longer were a slave to him?”
“I do not know,” Pedro responded, “except that I would start over and avoid the mistakes I made that got me into debt in the first place. All I know is that being trapped under the cruel will of Mr. Andrews is more than I can bear. Please say that you will help me!”
Williams paused to think. He did not have enough money to buy every malcontent slave who happened his way. If the news spread that he was buying unhappy slaves, he was pretty sure that every slave in the region would be pounding on his gates. Remember, a voice inside him said, you don’t have enough money to buy everyone. Don’t set a precedent now. You’ll only wind up in trouble.
That thought was quickly countered by another. But the chance to redeem even one more is worth it, it argued. And so what if every slave in the entire state of Georgia comes here? Maybe you can’t buy them all, but you can at least rescue some and make their lives better. What else could you do with all of your wealth? You don’t need a bigger house or better stuff. These people are in greater need.
It’s not worth it, the first argument retorted, and it’s just plain crazy! You have to have some money to live on, and you have to pay all of your employees. What good is going to do them if you bankrupt yourself rescuing everyone else?
You won’t go bankrupt, countered the second voice. In the past week, your investments alone have already covered the cost of paying for Alejandro. You can easily afford to rescue at least one more. Remember, you can’t help everyone, but you at least should help those whom Providence has put in your path.
Before the internal debate could continue any farther, Williams stifled it. He had argued with himself on enough occasions to know that this sort of thinking would not help him solve the task at hand. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it immediately. He looked at the very impatient Fulton, who looked like he could already feel the whip on his back from not meeting his quota for the second time in two weeks.
“Fulton, would you please tell Mr. Andrews that I will be coming by tomorrow to discuss the matter of Pedro?” he said.
“Not again, Colonel,” Fulton said. He started to raise his gun again. “If you plan on keeping him here, there’s going to be trouble.”
“Put the gun down,” Williams responded. “You can take Pedro with you right now. I will come by tomorrow to see if Mr. Andrews and I can reach an agreement that will allow Pedro to come under my authority.”
“Fine, Colonel, I’ll let Mr. Andrews know that you’re going to come by tomorrow. Now, can I take this man and get back to my fields before I lose any more time?”
Williams smiled at the one-track mind of Fulton. “Yes, Fulton, go ahead, take him.”
Pedro, who understood enough English well enough, even if he did not speak it well, realized that he had to return with Fulton at this point. Stepping out from behind José, he walked slowly back towards the front gate, a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. Fulton followed him, coaxing him to walk faster.
After the two had disappeared through the gate, José spoke up. “Interesting, Colonel, most interesting. Do you think that you will be able to buy this man from Mr. Andrews as you bought Alejandro?”
“I’m not sure,” Williams answered, “but I know that I have to try. I have the resources; I might as well use them.”
José agreed. They talked for a few minutes about the state of the crops and the workers. Then, José headed off to the fields, and Williams went back to the house.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 6, pt. III
After the lunch dishes had been cleared and Alejandro and José had gone off to begin English lessons, Williams and Roderick sat the table, talking. Roderick had yet to hear the full story of what had happened in town.
After Williams had finished the story, Roderick asked, “Given his past roaming, sir, are you sure that it was wise to let him roam around the estate this morning?”
“I think so,” Williams said. “He seemed to have learned his lesson after that incident yesterday, based on our conversation during the ride back from town. I don’t think he’ll try anything that foolish again, not when he knows that there’s a plan to find his family.”
“Then what is the plan, exactly, sir?”
“You, Alejandro, and I will head to the market on the next market day. Alejandro thinks he can recognize the men who bought his family. Once he’s spotted one or both, we’ll try to talk with them and see if we can arrange to bring Maria and Emilia here.”
“How do we know that they’ll be at the market?”
Williams frowned slightly. “We don’t, but it’s the only option we have, really.”
“I guess so, sir,” Roderick agreed after some thought, “but it is a long shot.”
“No longer than the one we faced when we had to rescue your son,” Williams countered, smiling.
“Yes, sir,” Roderick answered, smiling in his reserved manner.
“I still remember when Keren and I rescued you from slavery. You were in just as desperate a position as Alejandro.”
“Yes, but at least I did already speak English,” Roderick said jokingly.
Williams chuckled in agreement.
After Williams had finished the story, Roderick asked, “Given his past roaming, sir, are you sure that it was wise to let him roam around the estate this morning?”
“I think so,” Williams said. “He seemed to have learned his lesson after that incident yesterday, based on our conversation during the ride back from town. I don’t think he’ll try anything that foolish again, not when he knows that there’s a plan to find his family.”
“Then what is the plan, exactly, sir?”
“You, Alejandro, and I will head to the market on the next market day. Alejandro thinks he can recognize the men who bought his family. Once he’s spotted one or both, we’ll try to talk with them and see if we can arrange to bring Maria and Emilia here.”
“How do we know that they’ll be at the market?”
Williams frowned slightly. “We don’t, but it’s the only option we have, really.”
“I guess so, sir,” Roderick agreed after some thought, “but it is a long shot.”
“No longer than the one we faced when we had to rescue your son,” Williams countered, smiling.
“Yes, sir,” Roderick answered, smiling in his reserved manner.
“I still remember when Keren and I rescued you from slavery. You were in just as desperate a position as Alejandro.”
“Yes, but at least I did already speak English,” Roderick said jokingly.
Williams chuckled in agreement.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 6, pt. II
His primary activity that morning was reconciling accounts and balancing books, a necessary business that he had always disliked. Before her death, Keren had taken care of the books, handling all those details that seemed too dry for his action-oriented military mind. For the first two months after Keren’s death, his son had come back from his law practice in Atlanta to help run the estate. Then, though, he had to return to his business, and Williams was left to himself to do the work of two people.
At first, he had spent twice as long as necessary on the task, his work slowed by his own unwillingness to accept that he had to do this. It was unfair, he protested to God, that he should be left with a double share of the work, that he had to work alone on a job that required two. The only answer he ever thought he had heard was a verse out of the Bible, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
After that, he slowly let go of his resentment at having to do the work, but if you asked whether he enjoyed it, he would say no. Yet, he thought, doing the books had one advantage: it reminded him of Keren. How he missed her! Twenty-five years of marriage had flown by, full of pain and joy, mostly joy. Now, all that remained of those wonderful years was the ledger. When he worked on it, he re-lived those days, and she did not seem to be gone. It was the closest this side of eternity he would ever come to being with her again. Maybe he enjoyed doing the books more than he thought.
Today was a longer task than usual because of all his activities over the past few days. Between the money spent for Alejandro and the time taken to head into town for three consecutive days, he had much work to do. As a result, he had worked on the task for nearly two hours when a knock at the door interrupted him.
“Beginning your pardon, sir,” Roderick said, sticking the upper half of his body through the partially-opened door, “but Alejandro is looking for you, sir.”
“Show him here, Roderick,” Williams replied. “I could use the break.”
Roderick nodded and left. A few minutes later, Alejandro pushed open the office door and entered.
“Alejandro,” Williams asked in Spanish, “what can I do for you?”
“Señor,” Alejandro answered, “I am greatly in your debt for all you have done for me. I want to know if there is anything I can do to help you.”
Williams smiled. “Please, sit, Alejandro,” he said. After the Cuban sat, Williams continued, “Right now, you are my guest; you do not have to do anything for me. My workers already tend to the fields, and I have people who help here in the house. I don’t need anything.”
Alejandro’s face fell. The prospect of days of doing nothing until the next market day discouraged him.
Williams had not finished his thought, however. “I don’t need anything,” he repeated, “but there is something I would like you to do. There is another worker here who speaks both Spanish and English. I want you to start learning English from him. The more English that you can learn, the easier it will be for you to start a new life in this country with Maria and Emilia.”
“Oh, thank you, Señor Williams!” Alejandro exclaimed happily. “I would be gald to do this. When can I start?”
“This afternoon,” Williams said. “I’ll talk with José at lunch and prepare everything.”
“¡Qué bueno!” Alejandror exclaimed. “Thank you so much. You do not know how great a blessing this is!”
“You’re welcome, Alejandro. Study well!”
“I will, Señor.” Alejandro paused. “Is there anything I can do until lunch?”
“You’re free to walk around the estate until then, but make sure that you don’t leave my property.”
“Okay,” Alejandro responded, “I will. See you at lunch.” He stood up and walked out, a bounce in his step.
Williams returned to his work, finishing about twenty minutes before lunch. He arose from his desk and spent the remaining time reading through some of the old books which lined the wall of his office.
At first, he had spent twice as long as necessary on the task, his work slowed by his own unwillingness to accept that he had to do this. It was unfair, he protested to God, that he should be left with a double share of the work, that he had to work alone on a job that required two. The only answer he ever thought he had heard was a verse out of the Bible, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
After that, he slowly let go of his resentment at having to do the work, but if you asked whether he enjoyed it, he would say no. Yet, he thought, doing the books had one advantage: it reminded him of Keren. How he missed her! Twenty-five years of marriage had flown by, full of pain and joy, mostly joy. Now, all that remained of those wonderful years was the ledger. When he worked on it, he re-lived those days, and she did not seem to be gone. It was the closest this side of eternity he would ever come to being with her again. Maybe he enjoyed doing the books more than he thought.
Today was a longer task than usual because of all his activities over the past few days. Between the money spent for Alejandro and the time taken to head into town for three consecutive days, he had much work to do. As a result, he had worked on the task for nearly two hours when a knock at the door interrupted him.
“Beginning your pardon, sir,” Roderick said, sticking the upper half of his body through the partially-opened door, “but Alejandro is looking for you, sir.”
“Show him here, Roderick,” Williams replied. “I could use the break.”
Roderick nodded and left. A few minutes later, Alejandro pushed open the office door and entered.
“Alejandro,” Williams asked in Spanish, “what can I do for you?”
“Señor,” Alejandro answered, “I am greatly in your debt for all you have done for me. I want to know if there is anything I can do to help you.”
Williams smiled. “Please, sit, Alejandro,” he said. After the Cuban sat, Williams continued, “Right now, you are my guest; you do not have to do anything for me. My workers already tend to the fields, and I have people who help here in the house. I don’t need anything.”
Alejandro’s face fell. The prospect of days of doing nothing until the next market day discouraged him.
Williams had not finished his thought, however. “I don’t need anything,” he repeated, “but there is something I would like you to do. There is another worker here who speaks both Spanish and English. I want you to start learning English from him. The more English that you can learn, the easier it will be for you to start a new life in this country with Maria and Emilia.”
“Oh, thank you, Señor Williams!” Alejandro exclaimed happily. “I would be gald to do this. When can I start?”
“This afternoon,” Williams said. “I’ll talk with José at lunch and prepare everything.”
“¡Qué bueno!” Alejandror exclaimed. “Thank you so much. You do not know how great a blessing this is!”
“You’re welcome, Alejandro. Study well!”
“I will, Señor.” Alejandro paused. “Is there anything I can do until lunch?”
“You’re free to walk around the estate until then, but make sure that you don’t leave my property.”
“Okay,” Alejandro responded, “I will. See you at lunch.” He stood up and walked out, a bounce in his step.
Williams returned to his work, finishing about twenty minutes before lunch. He arose from his desk and spent the remaining time reading through some of the old books which lined the wall of his office.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 6, pt. I
Chapter 6 – The Wait
He was at the market again. Colonel Williams found himself alone in the middle of the empty market, standing underneath a threatening sky. If he strained his ears, he could hear the faint scribbling of a pen and the soft rustle of money as Johnson tallied his day’s receipts. Williams stared at the empty platform on which so many people had sold their lives in the hope of freedom, only to find a slavery worse than they had already known.
Presently, Johnson emerged from his lair, whistling softly to himself, a bank bag under one arm and a revolver strapped to his side.
“Colonel Williams,” he said, “I’m surprised to see you here. Is there something I can do for you?”
Williams looked over to Johnson. As he did, his eyes saw the gun strapped to Johnson’s side. The scene abruptly changed. Williams now stood in a noisy crowd of people. Up on the platform stood the same young man Williams had seen in court during the day.
“Look out, Bill, he’s got a gun!” Keren’s voice screamed.
He heard the shot and felt himself being knocked to the ground. The shock of his collision with the ground awakened him. Once again, he was in his room at Providence.
The first rays of sunlight were shyly peeking over the horizon and into Williams’ bedroom. They cast a pale, yellow glow throughout the room, shining brightest on a portrait of Keren that was painted only a few months before her death. In the distance, Williams could hear the wind faintly rustling through the trees and the birds breaking forth in joyful song to welcome the dawn. The world was awake, and, ready or not, it was time for him to be, too.
He did not want to get up, not at first. The dream had driven his thoughts back again to the incident at the market, and he at first forgot that the even was long past. Slowly, however, the memory faded into the dull shadows of the past. With a silent prayer for help, he arose and began his day.
He was at the market again. Colonel Williams found himself alone in the middle of the empty market, standing underneath a threatening sky. If he strained his ears, he could hear the faint scribbling of a pen and the soft rustle of money as Johnson tallied his day’s receipts. Williams stared at the empty platform on which so many people had sold their lives in the hope of freedom, only to find a slavery worse than they had already known.
Presently, Johnson emerged from his lair, whistling softly to himself, a bank bag under one arm and a revolver strapped to his side.
“Colonel Williams,” he said, “I’m surprised to see you here. Is there something I can do for you?”
Williams looked over to Johnson. As he did, his eyes saw the gun strapped to Johnson’s side. The scene abruptly changed. Williams now stood in a noisy crowd of people. Up on the platform stood the same young man Williams had seen in court during the day.
“Look out, Bill, he’s got a gun!” Keren’s voice screamed.
He heard the shot and felt himself being knocked to the ground. The shock of his collision with the ground awakened him. Once again, he was in his room at Providence.
The first rays of sunlight were shyly peeking over the horizon and into Williams’ bedroom. They cast a pale, yellow glow throughout the room, shining brightest on a portrait of Keren that was painted only a few months before her death. In the distance, Williams could hear the wind faintly rustling through the trees and the birds breaking forth in joyful song to welcome the dawn. The world was awake, and, ready or not, it was time for him to be, too.
He did not want to get up, not at first. The dream had driven his thoughts back again to the incident at the market, and he at first forgot that the even was long past. Slowly, however, the memory faded into the dull shadows of the past. With a silent prayer for help, he arose and began his day.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 5, pt. III
“What’s going on, Alejandro?” Williams demanded.
“Please, Señor Williams, do not let them arrest me,” Alejandro replied, not answering Williams’ question.
Before Williams could find out more, Johnson burst into the building, huffing. “There, there, officer, there is the man who I saw climbing out of my office window. Arrest him!”
Right after Johnson arrived Officer Creedy, the primary patrolman in the city. “Are you sure, Mr. Johnson?” he asked. Johnson had a history of wild accusations against individuals he did not like.
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Johnson answered angrily. “I had just left for when lunch when I realized that I forgot something. When I got back to my office, I saw his head disappearing around the corner of the alley.” He gestured violently at Alejandro as he spoke.
“You said you saw the back of his head?” Creed asked. “You didn’t see his face? Or anything else identifiable?”
Johnson stared at Creedy as if Creedy had just asked him what color the sky was. “No, just the back of his head,” Johnson said, “but I’m sure that it was him. He was in my office earlier today with Colonel Williams looking for information on his wife and daughter. Naturally, I told them that such information was held…”
“In the strictest confidence,” Creedy interrupted. He had heard the speech too many times before. “So, you think that this man broke into your office to try to steal your files?”
“Yes, yes,” Johnson said, not sure if the policeman was pedantic or not, “that’s what I’m saying. Now, will you do your duty and arrest him?”
Creedy shook his head. “Hang on Mr. Johnson, let me talk to him first.”
Williams spoke up, “He won’t understand you, Office Creedy. He doesn’t speak English, only Spanish. He’s one of my servants.”
“Only Spanish, you say, Colonel?” Creedy echoed. He turned to Mr. Johnson and asked, “Mr. Johnson, why would a man who couldn’t your files break into your office?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care, Officer Creedy. I just want him arrested!” Johnson replied.
Creedy shook his head again. “I need something more definite to arrest a man for doing something that it doesn’t make sense for him to do. Now, are you sure that someone was in your office?”
“Of course I am! The window was open, and I always close it before I leave! Quit questioning me and arrest the man!”
“But was anything disturbed inside?” Creedy asked.
“Well,” Johnson answered hesitantly, “I don’t think so. I didn’t see anything that looked as if it had been bothered. Just the open window and the back of that man’s head disappearing around the corner.”
“Mr. Johnson,” Creedy began, using his “I’ve heard enough” tone.
“What? You’re not going to arrest him!” Johnson demanded.
“There’s no evidence that your office was broken into, Mr. Johnson, and even if it was, there is no evidence that it was this man who you saw. I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything.”
Johnson exploded into a tirade of profanity. “I can’t believe,” he added. “You disappoint me greatly, Officer Creedy.” With that, he stormed out of the building, muttering to himself.
Creedy shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry about that, Colonel. Mr. Johnson’s sort of the daily entertainment around the police department. Yesterday, he claimed a man purposefully sent his dog after him. It turned out that the dog was a stray who happened to come from that man’s direction. He’s notorious for his false reports.”
“It’s all right, Officer,” Williams replied. It’s not the first run-in I’ve had with Mr. Johnson.”
“Just wish that people like him could be run out of town,” Creedy said, shaking his head yet again as he walked back to his office.
Williams turned to Alejandro. “Now, Alejandro,” he said, “tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well,” Alejandro began slowly, “I was not quite sure what to do. I wanted to find out more information on Maria and Emilia, and when the judge said that he could not help us, I thought that my only chance was to try to see the records myself. So, I went to the slave market. I saw Mr. Johnson leave the market, and I tried to the front gate, but it was locked. I went around to the back, and I found the window to his office unlocked. I pushed it open and began to climb in. But before I could get through the window, I heard a key unlocking the front gate. I quickly jumped back to the street and ran back here. I did not realize that I had been seen. I am very sorry, Señor Williams, but I had to try something.”
“That was a very foolish thing to do, Alejandro,” Williams said. “You easily could have been charged with a crime if you had entered that office, and you should be glad that Officer Creedy did not believe Mr. Johnson’s report.”
“I know,” Alejandro replied, “but what else could I do?”
“You could have waited until I finished what I was doing. Then, we could have come up with some legal plan that would have allowed us to track down your family. Promise me that you won’t try anything that foolish again.”
“Okay,” Alejandro replied, “I promise.”
“Now, there may be a way,” Williams said thoughtfully. “Do you think you could recognize the face of the men who bought Maria and Emilia?”
“Yes, I think I could, but what good would that do?” Alejandro asked.
“If we come back on the next market day,” Williams answered, “we might be able to spot of the men who bought them. If we can talk with them, perhaps we can work out an arrangement to buy them just as I bought you from Mr. Andrews.”
Alejandro’s face lit up. “I like it! I should have waited for you. That is a great idea.”
Williams smiled. “Let’s go home, then, and come back on the next market day,” he said.
He and Alejandro walked back to his cart and rode back to Providence.
“Please, Señor Williams, do not let them arrest me,” Alejandro replied, not answering Williams’ question.
Before Williams could find out more, Johnson burst into the building, huffing. “There, there, officer, there is the man who I saw climbing out of my office window. Arrest him!”
Right after Johnson arrived Officer Creedy, the primary patrolman in the city. “Are you sure, Mr. Johnson?” he asked. Johnson had a history of wild accusations against individuals he did not like.
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Johnson answered angrily. “I had just left for when lunch when I realized that I forgot something. When I got back to my office, I saw his head disappearing around the corner of the alley.” He gestured violently at Alejandro as he spoke.
“You said you saw the back of his head?” Creed asked. “You didn’t see his face? Or anything else identifiable?”
Johnson stared at Creedy as if Creedy had just asked him what color the sky was. “No, just the back of his head,” Johnson said, “but I’m sure that it was him. He was in my office earlier today with Colonel Williams looking for information on his wife and daughter. Naturally, I told them that such information was held…”
“In the strictest confidence,” Creedy interrupted. He had heard the speech too many times before. “So, you think that this man broke into your office to try to steal your files?”
“Yes, yes,” Johnson said, not sure if the policeman was pedantic or not, “that’s what I’m saying. Now, will you do your duty and arrest him?”
Creedy shook his head. “Hang on Mr. Johnson, let me talk to him first.”
Williams spoke up, “He won’t understand you, Office Creedy. He doesn’t speak English, only Spanish. He’s one of my servants.”
“Only Spanish, you say, Colonel?” Creedy echoed. He turned to Mr. Johnson and asked, “Mr. Johnson, why would a man who couldn’t your files break into your office?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care, Officer Creedy. I just want him arrested!” Johnson replied.
Creedy shook his head again. “I need something more definite to arrest a man for doing something that it doesn’t make sense for him to do. Now, are you sure that someone was in your office?”
“Of course I am! The window was open, and I always close it before I leave! Quit questioning me and arrest the man!”
“But was anything disturbed inside?” Creedy asked.
“Well,” Johnson answered hesitantly, “I don’t think so. I didn’t see anything that looked as if it had been bothered. Just the open window and the back of that man’s head disappearing around the corner.”
“Mr. Johnson,” Creedy began, using his “I’ve heard enough” tone.
“What? You’re not going to arrest him!” Johnson demanded.
“There’s no evidence that your office was broken into, Mr. Johnson, and even if it was, there is no evidence that it was this man who you saw. I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything.”
Johnson exploded into a tirade of profanity. “I can’t believe,” he added. “You disappoint me greatly, Officer Creedy.” With that, he stormed out of the building, muttering to himself.
Creedy shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry about that, Colonel. Mr. Johnson’s sort of the daily entertainment around the police department. Yesterday, he claimed a man purposefully sent his dog after him. It turned out that the dog was a stray who happened to come from that man’s direction. He’s notorious for his false reports.”
“It’s all right, Officer,” Williams replied. It’s not the first run-in I’ve had with Mr. Johnson.”
“Just wish that people like him could be run out of town,” Creedy said, shaking his head yet again as he walked back to his office.
Williams turned to Alejandro. “Now, Alejandro,” he said, “tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well,” Alejandro began slowly, “I was not quite sure what to do. I wanted to find out more information on Maria and Emilia, and when the judge said that he could not help us, I thought that my only chance was to try to see the records myself. So, I went to the slave market. I saw Mr. Johnson leave the market, and I tried to the front gate, but it was locked. I went around to the back, and I found the window to his office unlocked. I pushed it open and began to climb in. But before I could get through the window, I heard a key unlocking the front gate. I quickly jumped back to the street and ran back here. I did not realize that I had been seen. I am very sorry, Señor Williams, but I had to try something.”
“That was a very foolish thing to do, Alejandro,” Williams said. “You easily could have been charged with a crime if you had entered that office, and you should be glad that Officer Creedy did not believe Mr. Johnson’s report.”
“I know,” Alejandro replied, “but what else could I do?”
“You could have waited until I finished what I was doing. Then, we could have come up with some legal plan that would have allowed us to track down your family. Promise me that you won’t try anything that foolish again.”
“Okay,” Alejandro replied, “I promise.”
“Now, there may be a way,” Williams said thoughtfully. “Do you think you could recognize the face of the men who bought Maria and Emilia?”
“Yes, I think I could, but what good would that do?” Alejandro asked.
“If we come back on the next market day,” Williams answered, “we might be able to spot of the men who bought them. If we can talk with them, perhaps we can work out an arrangement to buy them just as I bought you from Mr. Andrews.”
Alejandro’s face lit up. “I like it! I should have waited for you. That is a great idea.”
Williams smiled. “Let’s go home, then, and come back on the next market day,” he said.
He and Alejandro walked back to his cart and rode back to Providence.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 5, pt. II
Meanwhile, Colonel Williams sat in court listening to the proceedings. As the bailiff led in the convicted slave, Williams felt an odd mixture of pain and pity. Here before him stood the man who had caused him such great anguish. Four months ago, Williams had seen this man on the platform, wrestling with a security guard for control of a gun. Now, that man stood passively, clad in the drab clothes of an inmate. This man had wounded Williams deeply. Seeing the man again filled Williams’ heart with pain almost unbearable.
Yet even as the pain welled up, Williams felt an unexpected pity for the man. No doubt he had never meant for things to come to this. He had simply wanted to live a good life, to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Overreaching his meager means, he wound up in great debt, which had led him to the fateful choice that had now brought him here. This man held no ill-will towards Colonel Williams, and he probably never meant to hurt anyone. He only wanted to get out of his terrible situation.
As he walked in, shoulders slumped, eyes dull, he looked little like the desperate, angry young man that Williams remembered from the market. This man’s battles were over, and all that was left for him was life in prison or death. No hope glimmered in his eyes.
Judge McDaniel entered, everyone rose. With a motion, McDaniel asked everyone to sit. After both judge and audience settled into the seats, the district attorney began his opening speech, launching into a litany of the man’s crimes and the state’s recommendation for the death sentence.
Colonel Williams, though, heard nothing of the prosecutor’s speech. His mind had wandered involuntarily back to the terrible day at the market. From the moment of the man’s arrival up until the firing of the shot, the entire scene replayed itself in his head. He could not go farther, though. His mind simply would not allow him to think about the results of that one gunshot. Tears welled up in Williams’ eyes, and with great effort, he stopped them. He needed to stay in control emotionally.
The district attorney finished, and the defense attorney rose. He spoke at great length of the convict’s history and of his remorse for all of his poor choices. He concluded by pleading for mercy.
McDaniel sat in thought for a moment. Then, he spoke. “The convict will arise. Porter Blythe, you have already been found guilty, and for your actions the law specifies either life in prison or death by hanging. In light of your remorse for your actions, I sentence you to life in prison.” He slammed the gavel down to adjourn the hearing.
Colonel Williams rose from his seat, feeling no relief at the sentencing of Blythe. No punishment could undo what had happened. He exited the courtroom.
Just as he exited, he ran into Alejandro walking back in, looking flushed, as if he had just been running.
Yet even as the pain welled up, Williams felt an unexpected pity for the man. No doubt he had never meant for things to come to this. He had simply wanted to live a good life, to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Overreaching his meager means, he wound up in great debt, which had led him to the fateful choice that had now brought him here. This man held no ill-will towards Colonel Williams, and he probably never meant to hurt anyone. He only wanted to get out of his terrible situation.
As he walked in, shoulders slumped, eyes dull, he looked little like the desperate, angry young man that Williams remembered from the market. This man’s battles were over, and all that was left for him was life in prison or death. No hope glimmered in his eyes.
Judge McDaniel entered, everyone rose. With a motion, McDaniel asked everyone to sit. After both judge and audience settled into the seats, the district attorney began his opening speech, launching into a litany of the man’s crimes and the state’s recommendation for the death sentence.
Colonel Williams, though, heard nothing of the prosecutor’s speech. His mind had wandered involuntarily back to the terrible day at the market. From the moment of the man’s arrival up until the firing of the shot, the entire scene replayed itself in his head. He could not go farther, though. His mind simply would not allow him to think about the results of that one gunshot. Tears welled up in Williams’ eyes, and with great effort, he stopped them. He needed to stay in control emotionally.
The district attorney finished, and the defense attorney rose. He spoke at great length of the convict’s history and of his remorse for all of his poor choices. He concluded by pleading for mercy.
McDaniel sat in thought for a moment. Then, he spoke. “The convict will arise. Porter Blythe, you have already been found guilty, and for your actions the law specifies either life in prison or death by hanging. In light of your remorse for your actions, I sentence you to life in prison.” He slammed the gavel down to adjourn the hearing.
Colonel Williams rose from his seat, feeling no relief at the sentencing of Blythe. No punishment could undo what had happened. He exited the courtroom.
Just as he exited, he ran into Alejandro walking back in, looking flushed, as if he had just been running.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 5, pt. I
Chapter 5 – Alejandro’s Adventure
Alejandro’s heart raced as he headed back to the center of town. As he walked, an internal debate warred within him. He knew the danger of the action he took. If someone caught him, then nothing Colonel Williams could do would save him. Still, he had to try! He could not leave Maria and Emilia out there, not when he was so close to finding them. Who knew how their owners might be treating them? That thought spurred him onward; he walked faster.
What was he going to do, though? He could not simply walk in and demand to see the files. And even if he did, he could not read English, so how would he know when he had the right ones? And what would he do once he found the right ones? His partially-formed plan was sounding less and less hopeful with each passing moment.
Maybe he should turn around. Maybe it would be better to wait. Colonel Williams was a resourceful man, he reminded himself, and he might come up with a good plan. Yet they had been so close! Just inches away from them had been the very information they needed, their path to it blocked by a recalcitrant villain. To Alejandro, that man had the only key that would open the door to seeing his loved ones again. He had to see those files! It was a risk, but he had to find a way to do so without Johnson catching him.
How? He racked his mind to try to find a plan, but nothing came to mind. He could wait all day outside of the market, and Johnson might never leave. A horrible thought occurred to Alejandro – What if he lived there? Besides, his mind argued, Colonel Williams would not be that long at the courthouse and would come looking for him when Williams found the judge’s office empty. What were the odds that he would have a chance to get in?
Suddenly, Alejandro found himself approaching the market. He had thought so long that he had walked back to the slave market without realizing it. He now had one last chance to turn around. He did not take it. Approaching the front of the market with caution, Alejandro heard the town clock strike noon.
As the echoes of the twelfth stroke faded away, Alejandro heard footsteps walking across the inside of the market. Alejandro quickly hid himself in the space between the buildings. Just as he managed to hide himself, Johnson emerged from the market. Pulling the main gate shut and locking it with a strong iron chain and pad lock, he slid the key into his pocket and sauntered down the street.
Alejandro had his chance. He tried the gates, but they were securely fastened. Roaming through the alley to the back of the building, he noticed three sets of windows set in the back wall. Perhaps one of them was unlocked.
He tried the first one, but it was shut tightly. Moving to the second, pushed tentatively on it, and it moved slightly. It was unlocked! He pushed it the rest of the way open. He could clearly see the inside of Johnson’s office. This is exactly what he had hoped for. He began to climb in the window.
Alejandro’s heart raced as he headed back to the center of town. As he walked, an internal debate warred within him. He knew the danger of the action he took. If someone caught him, then nothing Colonel Williams could do would save him. Still, he had to try! He could not leave Maria and Emilia out there, not when he was so close to finding them. Who knew how their owners might be treating them? That thought spurred him onward; he walked faster.
What was he going to do, though? He could not simply walk in and demand to see the files. And even if he did, he could not read English, so how would he know when he had the right ones? And what would he do once he found the right ones? His partially-formed plan was sounding less and less hopeful with each passing moment.
Maybe he should turn around. Maybe it would be better to wait. Colonel Williams was a resourceful man, he reminded himself, and he might come up with a good plan. Yet they had been so close! Just inches away from them had been the very information they needed, their path to it blocked by a recalcitrant villain. To Alejandro, that man had the only key that would open the door to seeing his loved ones again. He had to see those files! It was a risk, but he had to find a way to do so without Johnson catching him.
How? He racked his mind to try to find a plan, but nothing came to mind. He could wait all day outside of the market, and Johnson might never leave. A horrible thought occurred to Alejandro – What if he lived there? Besides, his mind argued, Colonel Williams would not be that long at the courthouse and would come looking for him when Williams found the judge’s office empty. What were the odds that he would have a chance to get in?
Suddenly, Alejandro found himself approaching the market. He had thought so long that he had walked back to the slave market without realizing it. He now had one last chance to turn around. He did not take it. Approaching the front of the market with caution, Alejandro heard the town clock strike noon.
As the echoes of the twelfth stroke faded away, Alejandro heard footsteps walking across the inside of the market. Alejandro quickly hid himself in the space between the buildings. Just as he managed to hide himself, Johnson emerged from the market. Pulling the main gate shut and locking it with a strong iron chain and pad lock, he slid the key into his pocket and sauntered down the street.
Alejandro had his chance. He tried the gates, but they were securely fastened. Roaming through the alley to the back of the building, he noticed three sets of windows set in the back wall. Perhaps one of them was unlocked.
He tried the first one, but it was shut tightly. Moving to the second, pushed tentatively on it, and it moved slightly. It was unlocked! He pushed it the rest of the way open. He could clearly see the inside of Johnson’s office. This is exactly what he had hoped for. He began to climb in the window.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Rabmling: A Week's Delay
Apologies for not posting sooner, but I have been on a mission trip to the Mexican border town of Reynosa for the past week. It was good, and more about it later.
I will try to start posting frequently now, since I have quite a bit to write about between the mission trip and the story (which has progressed on paper in the past week).
I will try to start posting frequently now, since I have quite a bit to write about between the mission trip and the story (which has progressed on paper in the past week).
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 4
Chapter 4 – The Municipal Judge
The municipal building was on the eastern edge of town, and it took them about five minutes to arrive there. It stood a little back from the road, an unimpressive two-story building made of red brick. The building held not only the municipal court but also the mayor’s office, the police department, and the jail. A small barber shop rented space from the city in one corner of the first floor.
As the cart pulled up to the front of the building, Williams saw a familiar face walking up to the entrance. It was his friend, Judge Paul McDaniel. McDaniel had served as the town’s only judge for the past twenty years, turning down promotions in order to remain in his ancestral home on the edge of the town limits. His reputation for being fair yet strict gave him favor with most people throughout the surrounding region.
“Paul,” Williams called to the man.
“Bill!” McDaniel exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you in town again so soon. Weren’t you just here yesterday at Gurdy’s General Store?”
“I was, but I’ve got an important matter that I’m working on. I could use your held on it, actually.”
McDaniel waved one of his large hands in a gesture of invitation. “Sure, Bill,” he said, “I’ll be glad to do what I can. Come on in to my office.”
Tying the horse up at a nearby post, Williams and Alejandro made their way to McDaniel’s office. By the time they had arrived, McDaniel had hung up his coat and hat and had sat down to review his caseload for the day.
“Now, what can I do for you, Bill?” he asked.
Williams launched into Alejandro’s entire story from the moment Alejandro had left Cuba until their recent encounter with Mr. Johnson at the slave market. “Other than trying to get us to bribe him, he wasn’t terribly helpful. He refused to allow us to see the records and told us he wouldn’t let us find anything out without a court order.”
“Johnson is a crooked man,” McDaniel said, “but he is crafty. He knows the law, its limitations, and how to work it to his advantage. Unfortunately, Bill, he’s right. He has no obligation to share his records with you, although a lot of men would’ve done so anyway without all the hassle.”
“Can you give us a court order to see those records?” Williams asked.
McDaniel shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The law is clear. Those who sell themselves into indentured servitude have no rights under the law, except in cases of owner abuse. That’s difficult to prove, too. So, there’s not much I can do. Unless you can convince Johnson to show you the information, you’ll have to try something else.”
Alejandro had been listening to the conversation with concern, understanding none of the words but understanding the tone of McDaniel perfectly. “Is there nothing he can do to help us?” he asked Williams in Spanish.
“No, there isn’t,” Williams replied.
“Surely there is something!” Alejandro exclaimed emotionally. “We cannot let Maria and Emilia stay out there. Do something, Señor, anything; I do not care, even if it means breaking the law. I want to see my wife and daughter again!”
“Calm down, Alejandro,” Williams said reassuringly. “There still might be something that we can do, but I need time to think.”
Alejandro said nothing more, but sat back in his chair, lost in a mixture of despair and thought.
McDaniel spoke in the subsequent silence. “Is he going to be okay, Bill?”
“I think so, Paul, but I’m not sure.”
“I can’t imagine the pain he’s going through.”
“No one can. Each person handles loss a little differently.” After a thoughtful pause, Williams added, “Are you sure you can’t help us?”
McDaniel’s face became melancholy. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said. “I’m not going to undermine the law as if I sit above it and can change it at a whim. That’s how society wound up in this mess in the first place. I’m sorry, Bill, but there’s nothing that I can do.”
“It’s okay, Paul,” Williams said, “I understand. We’ll just have to find some other way.” He rose from his chair. “Thanks for letting us take up some of your time.”
“Anytime, Bill, anytime,” McDaniel responded as Williams turned to leave; Alejandro followed, still pensive.
Suddenly, McDaniel shouted, “Bill, wait!”
Williams was almost out of the door. He spun around so quickly that he nearly collided with Alejandro, who was so lost in his own thoughts that he had not heard the judge’s shout. Side-stepped the mentally-absent Cuban, Williams re-entered the room.
“What is it? Have you thought of something?” he asked.
“No,” McDaniel replied, his voice a little tentative, “it’s something else – this.” He handed Williams the docket. “Look at the third item,” he added.
Williams quickly skimmed down to the third item on the list. As he read it, his face became pale and his hands clenched the paper so tight that his fingers nearly punched through it. “His sentencing is today?” he asked, his voice distant and pained.
“Yes,” McDaniel replied, “I thought you would want to know.”
“I want to speak at the hearing,” Williams said, his face starting to return to its normal color.
“Are you sure, Bill? It hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s been long enough,” Williams answered determinedly, “and I alone know exactly the amount of pain I’ve suffered because of that man’s actions. Besides, don’t I have a right to speak at the sentencing if I wish?”
“Under current law, yes, but are you up to it?”
Williams’ face became grim, a flicker of pain played across his face. “I…I don’t know. Maybe I’m not ready, yet. It’s been almost four months since that terrible day, and I’ve been trying to forget it for too long. I need to start facing reality.”
McDaniel thought for a second. “How about this,” he said. “You can come in and watch the proceedings. If you want to speak, just let the district attorney know before the sentencing is over.”
“Okay. What time does the hearing start?”
“Probably about 11:45, but it depends some on how fast the previous cases move.”
“I’ll be there,” Williams said, “if I can figure out what to do with Alejandro. I don’t want him to have to sit through a long proceeding that he won’t understand.”
“He could wait in here,” McDaniel said. “I bet we could find him a Spanish-language newspaper – or something like it – at the market.”
“That sounds good to me,” Williams said, “but let’s make sure that Alejandro is okay with it.”
He explained the situation to Alejandro, who agreed to wait in McDaniel’s office. “It will give me some time to think,” he said. “Maybe I can come up with a good idea for what we can do next.”
With that settled, McDaniel put on his judge’s robe and went to work. Williams and Alejandro left the municipal building and walked down the road to the general store. They searched for several minutes through the various isles, trying to find something that Alejandro could read. Finally, they stumbled across a two-day-old copy of a Cuban newspaper from Havana.
After purchasing the paper, they headed back to the municipal building. Upon arriving, Williams headed straight for the courtroom, while Alejandro started towards the judge’s office. Upon reaching the front door of the office, Alejandro stopped for several seconds, his face frowning in some great internal debate. Slowly, he turned and put the newspaper on a nearby bench. For a brief second, he stood there by the bench, an immobile statue of pensiveness. Then, he quickly started walking towards the front of the building, leaving through the main entrance.
The municipal building was on the eastern edge of town, and it took them about five minutes to arrive there. It stood a little back from the road, an unimpressive two-story building made of red brick. The building held not only the municipal court but also the mayor’s office, the police department, and the jail. A small barber shop rented space from the city in one corner of the first floor.
As the cart pulled up to the front of the building, Williams saw a familiar face walking up to the entrance. It was his friend, Judge Paul McDaniel. McDaniel had served as the town’s only judge for the past twenty years, turning down promotions in order to remain in his ancestral home on the edge of the town limits. His reputation for being fair yet strict gave him favor with most people throughout the surrounding region.
“Paul,” Williams called to the man.
“Bill!” McDaniel exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you in town again so soon. Weren’t you just here yesterday at Gurdy’s General Store?”
“I was, but I’ve got an important matter that I’m working on. I could use your held on it, actually.”
McDaniel waved one of his large hands in a gesture of invitation. “Sure, Bill,” he said, “I’ll be glad to do what I can. Come on in to my office.”
Tying the horse up at a nearby post, Williams and Alejandro made their way to McDaniel’s office. By the time they had arrived, McDaniel had hung up his coat and hat and had sat down to review his caseload for the day.
“Now, what can I do for you, Bill?” he asked.
Williams launched into Alejandro’s entire story from the moment Alejandro had left Cuba until their recent encounter with Mr. Johnson at the slave market. “Other than trying to get us to bribe him, he wasn’t terribly helpful. He refused to allow us to see the records and told us he wouldn’t let us find anything out without a court order.”
“Johnson is a crooked man,” McDaniel said, “but he is crafty. He knows the law, its limitations, and how to work it to his advantage. Unfortunately, Bill, he’s right. He has no obligation to share his records with you, although a lot of men would’ve done so anyway without all the hassle.”
“Can you give us a court order to see those records?” Williams asked.
McDaniel shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The law is clear. Those who sell themselves into indentured servitude have no rights under the law, except in cases of owner abuse. That’s difficult to prove, too. So, there’s not much I can do. Unless you can convince Johnson to show you the information, you’ll have to try something else.”
Alejandro had been listening to the conversation with concern, understanding none of the words but understanding the tone of McDaniel perfectly. “Is there nothing he can do to help us?” he asked Williams in Spanish.
“No, there isn’t,” Williams replied.
“Surely there is something!” Alejandro exclaimed emotionally. “We cannot let Maria and Emilia stay out there. Do something, Señor, anything; I do not care, even if it means breaking the law. I want to see my wife and daughter again!”
“Calm down, Alejandro,” Williams said reassuringly. “There still might be something that we can do, but I need time to think.”
Alejandro said nothing more, but sat back in his chair, lost in a mixture of despair and thought.
McDaniel spoke in the subsequent silence. “Is he going to be okay, Bill?”
“I think so, Paul, but I’m not sure.”
“I can’t imagine the pain he’s going through.”
“No one can. Each person handles loss a little differently.” After a thoughtful pause, Williams added, “Are you sure you can’t help us?”
McDaniel’s face became melancholy. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said. “I’m not going to undermine the law as if I sit above it and can change it at a whim. That’s how society wound up in this mess in the first place. I’m sorry, Bill, but there’s nothing that I can do.”
“It’s okay, Paul,” Williams said, “I understand. We’ll just have to find some other way.” He rose from his chair. “Thanks for letting us take up some of your time.”
“Anytime, Bill, anytime,” McDaniel responded as Williams turned to leave; Alejandro followed, still pensive.
Suddenly, McDaniel shouted, “Bill, wait!”
Williams was almost out of the door. He spun around so quickly that he nearly collided with Alejandro, who was so lost in his own thoughts that he had not heard the judge’s shout. Side-stepped the mentally-absent Cuban, Williams re-entered the room.
“What is it? Have you thought of something?” he asked.
“No,” McDaniel replied, his voice a little tentative, “it’s something else – this.” He handed Williams the docket. “Look at the third item,” he added.
Williams quickly skimmed down to the third item on the list. As he read it, his face became pale and his hands clenched the paper so tight that his fingers nearly punched through it. “His sentencing is today?” he asked, his voice distant and pained.
“Yes,” McDaniel replied, “I thought you would want to know.”
“I want to speak at the hearing,” Williams said, his face starting to return to its normal color.
“Are you sure, Bill? It hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s been long enough,” Williams answered determinedly, “and I alone know exactly the amount of pain I’ve suffered because of that man’s actions. Besides, don’t I have a right to speak at the sentencing if I wish?”
“Under current law, yes, but are you up to it?”
Williams’ face became grim, a flicker of pain played across his face. “I…I don’t know. Maybe I’m not ready, yet. It’s been almost four months since that terrible day, and I’ve been trying to forget it for too long. I need to start facing reality.”
McDaniel thought for a second. “How about this,” he said. “You can come in and watch the proceedings. If you want to speak, just let the district attorney know before the sentencing is over.”
“Okay. What time does the hearing start?”
“Probably about 11:45, but it depends some on how fast the previous cases move.”
“I’ll be there,” Williams said, “if I can figure out what to do with Alejandro. I don’t want him to have to sit through a long proceeding that he won’t understand.”
“He could wait in here,” McDaniel said. “I bet we could find him a Spanish-language newspaper – or something like it – at the market.”
“That sounds good to me,” Williams said, “but let’s make sure that Alejandro is okay with it.”
He explained the situation to Alejandro, who agreed to wait in McDaniel’s office. “It will give me some time to think,” he said. “Maybe I can come up with a good idea for what we can do next.”
With that settled, McDaniel put on his judge’s robe and went to work. Williams and Alejandro left the municipal building and walked down the road to the general store. They searched for several minutes through the various isles, trying to find something that Alejandro could read. Finally, they stumbled across a two-day-old copy of a Cuban newspaper from Havana.
After purchasing the paper, they headed back to the municipal building. Upon arriving, Williams headed straight for the courtroom, while Alejandro started towards the judge’s office. Upon reaching the front door of the office, Alejandro stopped for several seconds, his face frowning in some great internal debate. Slowly, he turned and put the newspaper on a nearby bench. For a brief second, he stood there by the bench, an immobile statue of pensiveness. Then, he quickly started walking towards the front of the building, leaving through the main entrance.
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