Mankillers

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

Buck arrived at the Grayson house soon after seven the following morning. He’d gone first to Jeffcoat’s to make sure the arrangements Gus had earlier made were being followed precisely. The fastidious undertaker confirmed the hearse and gravediggers had departed before sunrise and would get to the plantation in time to prepare the gravesite before the others arrived. The memorial service was scheduled for shortly after noon.

Miriam had seen to it that the breakfast room sideboard was fully laden with victuals: eggs, pan-seared chicken livers, what Buck learned was kippered herring, biscuits, grits, and red-eye gravy, as well as honey and several varieties of jams and jellies.

“You won’t find any butter for your biscuits or cream for your coffee, I’m afraid,” Gus explained to Buck and Rexford who’d arrived earlier. “We don’t mix dairy and meat.” He winked. “At home.”

Fish for breakfast had never been on Buck’s menu before. He was surprised, however, to discover that the salted, dried fish that had been marinated overnight, was delicious.

At eight o’clock the men escorted the ladies out to the waiting vehicles. Gus rode with his wife and Ruth Greenwald in the open landau with a driver. Sarah was in the second with Janey and Job. Gibbeon took the reins. Rexford followed on his feisty young stallion, Scamp, while Buck rode ahead on Gypsy.

The autumn air was cool and refreshing, the sunshine at odds with the mission of the small caravan that trekked east through gently rolling hills and sandy flatlands. The four-hour trip was uneventful and free of the swarms of insects that had plagued Buck’s earlier visit. At last the main road came to the brick columned gate of Jasmine. The carriages turned down the avenue of sprawling old live-oak trees. About halfway to the acre on which the plantation house had stood, Sarah asked Gibbeon to stop the carriage.

Buck’s spine stiffened. Had she seen something that alarmed her?

“I want to take in the view,” she explained. “Buck, this place is lovely.”

“I wish you could have seen it as it once was. To me now it appears desolate.”

“Take another look around. These trees are regal. The fields beg for cultivation.”

“The house is nothing but ashes, charred stone and brick.”

“It can be rebuilt,” she told him, and he thought he heard a plea that it might be.

“It’ll never be the same.”

“I thought you didn’t like it the way it was.”

He stared at her. That certainly wasn’t the response he’d expected. “We better move on. The others are waiting.”

She smiled. “Yes, sir. Let us move on.”

The lead carriage had stopped in the circular driveway in front of what little was left of the looming mansion. Gibbeon pulled up behind it. Buck helped Sarah to the gravel path, while Rexford took Job so that Janey could climb down on her own. They joined the older people.

“What a terrible shame,” Miriam muttered. “What a terrible tragedy. I remember—”

“Miriam,” Gus cautioned, “let it go.”

She sniffled into a lace handkerchief. “I know. No one has a monopoly on regret. But still.”

The rhythmic sound of hoof beats and the crunching of iron tires on gravel, had everyone turning to gaze at the new arrival.

The lone occupant of the four-wheeler was a large red-bearded man wearing a black suit with a clerical collar. He alighted from the buggy with amazing agility for his size and approached the group.

“It’s been so many years, Buck,” he said, extending his hand. “I had hoped our reunion might be under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Thank you for coming, Reverend Christian. Please allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Grayson—”

“The banker. I know you by reputation, sir, though I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting you in person. You’ve been very generous to our community.” He turned to Miriam. “Mrs. Grayson, it’s indeed good to see you again. It would seem our work is done.”

She took his hand warmly. “Only the circumstances, Reverend. Our work is never done.”

Listening to them, Buck realized they’d toiled together in the Underground Railroad. With a smile and a shake of his head, he introduced Sarah and her mother.

Next came Janey and Job.

The minister smiled fondly. “Job doesn’t remember me, but I remember him. Emma brought him to me to be baptized. I’m afraid he didn’t particularly enjoy the experience. Cried through the whole thing, as I recall. Hello, young man.”

Janey urged him to greet the clergyman, which he did shyly, then looked to the chinaberry tree in front of Emma’s cabin. Buck followed his gaze, waiting for the four-year-old to say something. It was unclear if he understood what was going on, though Miriam had explained it to him in the most gentle and sympathetic terms.

“Shall we get started?” Reverend Christian said.

#

Randolph was both frustrated and excited. The trip to Columbia, a city he’d never liked, had been odious and uncomfortable in the horse cars of the trains he’d managed to bribe his way onto. But it was better than his walk home only to find his wife wasn’t there. The bitch.

No matter. She’d soon regret making a cuckold of him. And her mother would regret having him sent off to that stinking battlefield in Virginia.

The capital city looked even worse than he remembered it, now that most of it had been burned to the ground by that Yankee cracker Sherman. No matter. Randolph didn’t plan to be here long. A few years ago he would’ve challenged Doctor Elijah Buchanan Thomson to a duel, but the soldier’s life had taught him a few tricks gentlemen didn’t usually employ, and he was the man to use them. If he had his way he’d hang Thomson from a tree, the coward’s death, but there were other, equally effective ways to send a man to hell.

He’d pondered on the train how he was going to find this Dr. Thomson that Sarah chose to degrade herself with. Then it came to him. How do you find a doctor? By asking another doctor. It was at the office of the third physician that he finally struck gold.

“Buck Thomson?” the rotund sawbones had said. “I’m not familiar with him personally, but I do know he’s good friends with Gus Grayson the banker. I’m sure he’ll be able to put you in touch with him.”

The Grayson house was impressive and not difficult to find. A black butler answered the door.

“Doctor Thomson? He ain’t here, sir. They’s all gone to a funeral. Expects ‘em back later today. May I ask who’s calling and give him your name?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’d like to surprise him.”

#

The small party of mourners migrated to the site under the massive chinaberry tree. The gravediggers had suspended Emma’s plain pine casket on poles over the hole they’d finished excavating only minutes before. Jeffcoat’s men moved away and stood by the hearse as Reverend Christian positioned himself at the head of the coffin. He opened his prayer book and was about to begin the service when faces appeared along the sides of the dilapidated cabins.

Miriam followed his gaze, then called out to them. “Y’all come on up and stand with us. We’re all Emma’s friends. Everyone’s welcome to say goodbye to her. She would’ve wanted it that way.”