JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Forty-Seven
August 20, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa
The three adult Calverts piled into the car,
driving off so fast that they left a cloud of dust in their wake. Ruth watched
them go, cradling Peter against her shoulder while Jane clung to the skirt of
her robe. Worried, she watched until the headlights of the car had disappeared.
It was true that she didn’t like Sam—more
because he had taken an interest in Nadia than for any other reason—but she
didn’t truly wish him harm, though she knew that Rose would never believe that.
She had tried to warn him away, but she hadn’t truly believed that the
men she had overheard talking would really do anything. After all, Nadia was
John Calvert’s daughter and Rose Calvert’s stepdaughter, and the amount of
power they wielded in Cedar Rapids was considerable.
But fools abounded in any place, and the men
who had attacked Sam and Nadia had gone too far. Even if they succeeded in
their goal of lynching Sam, they were finished in this town. They might be able
to hide their identities—except for James Saunders—but they would never be able
to openly be members of the Klan again. John and Rose would use their
considerable influence—and money, since Dawson Films was a financial success
even in the midst of the depression—to make sure that they couldn’t do such a
thing again. They might be able to operate in secret, but it was a small town,
and if they were ever discovered, it could make their lives very difficult.
Ruth went back into the house, nudging Jane
along when she balked. She didn’t wish harm to come to Sam, but she wasn’t
terribly concerned for him, either. If something happened to him, Nadia would
get over it eventually—but she did worry about what the night might bring to
her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter. They were well-known, powerful, and
well-liked in town, but desperate men sometimes did desperate things, and she
feared for the safety of her family.
*****
The Calverts rushed through the night,
looking out the windows for any sign of the men they were pursuing. The car
bounced and jolted over the unpaved road outside of town, sending them bouncing
from their seats more than once and forcing them to hold on tight.
Nadia clung to the window frame with one
hand, her other hand wrapped tightly around the handle of a kitchen knife. She
had wanted to carry a gun like her parents, but her father had flatly refused,
telling her that a gun in inexperienced hands was too dangerous.
It was true that she had never fired a gun,
not even at a target, but it didn’t seem to be so difficult. She had seen it
done in the moving pictures, including some that Rose had been in. It appeared
simple and straightforward—just point and shoot—but neither her father nor her
stepmother would back down. She had finally grabbed a kitchen knife, not at all
sure that she would have the courage to use it of she had to, but determined to
defend her love.
Nadia had finally realized just how deep her
feelings for Sam ran when he had been taken away. She didn’t know if he
returned her feelings, but she would do whatever it took to defend him—even if
it got her sent to prison or killed. She shuddered at the thought, but remained
resolved.
As they neared the place that they thought
Sam might be, they saw the light of torches burning in the distance, and were
slowed by a group of men heading determinedly up the road, armed with
everything from shotguns to pitchforks.
As the car jolted to a stop and the Calverts
climbed out, Nadia recognized one of the men as an old boyfriend of hers from
high school with whom she had remained friends over the years. He had roundly
approved of her relationship with Sam, even greeting them in a friendly manner
when others had held back.
"Jake!" she called, the knife still
clutched at her side as she rushed toward him.
"Nadia! What are you doing out here?
It’s dangerous! Don’t you know what’s happening?"
"That’s why we’re here." Nadia
glanced over her shoulder as John and Rose hurried after her, their faces grim.
"Why are you out here?"
"We saw them come past—they had to stop
because one of them blew a tire, and then I recognized Sam when he got away
from them for a minute. I couldn’t just sit back and let things happen, so I
rounded up a few of the boys and came after them."
"I don’t like niggers," one of the
men with him added, "but I like the Klan even less. They don’t like
anybody who’s not them."
Nadia recognized the man vaguely. He was new
in town, but she’d seen him around on occasion. He was hard to miss with his
heavy accent—and immigrants were another group that the Klan frequently went
after.
There was a cheer from the torch lit area
ahead, followed by what sounded like a grandiose speech echoing through the
still night air. It was impossible to make out precisely what was being said,
but the group on the road turned as one and headed in the direction of the
lights.
John grabbed Nadia’s arm, trying to keep her
from following. "This is turning into a mob!"
"It already was a mob!" Nadia
argued, breaking free of his grip and running after the others. John turned to
Rose, but she was already following Nadia, her hand on the gun tucked into her
pocket. Unable to restrain either his wife or his daughter, John followed them,
the rifle with its deadly bayonet at his side.
They reached them small clearing surrounded
by trees just as one of the Klan members tossed the end of a rope over a high
branch and secured it, the other end looped around Sam’s neck in a noose.
"No!" Nadia cried, rushing forward
at the sight of him balancing precariously on the edge of a stump, ready to
fall with a single push.
All of the white-robed figures turned to
stare at her. Some had noticed the mob approaching and had slipped into the
shadows, but most had been more concerned with the entertainment at hand and
had paid no attention to the sounds of footsteps and voices approaching, some
supposing that it was members of their own group and others not expecting
anyone to investigate the source of the lights.
"Nadia!" Sam called, his voice
hoarse against the already tight noose. "Get away from here! They’ll hurt
you!"
"I don’t care! I’m not going to let them
hang you! You haven’t done anything wrong!"
Several of the robed men murmured angrily at
this assertion, but stopped when they saw the size of the group backing Nadia
up—and the fact that they were armed. Few of the Klansmen were armed tonight,
and most were more comfortable fighting with people who weren’t in a position
to defend themselves—or identify them.
John and Rose pushed their way to the front
of the group, sending most of the Klansmen backing away at the sight of their
guns—and especially at the sight of the bayonet on John’s rifle. The man
standing beside Sam, ready to push him from the stump, did not back down.
John looked from one hooded face to the next,
wondering which one was his soon-to-be past foreman. "Saunders!" he
shouted, hoping to draw him out.
The man standing beside Sam flinched,
startled. John turned towards him, aiming his rifle at the man. It had been
years since he had used it, but he still knew how to aim. As he did so, he saw
that the man’s hand was bandaged—perhaps from being bitten.
"That’s him, Dad!" Nadia affirmed,
remembering which hand she’d bitten.
"Saunders, let him go." John’s
voice brooked no argument.
The hooded man wasn’t willing to listen,
though. "I’m not Saunders," he told him, but his voice cracked
nervously on the name.
"You’re fired," John told him, the
rifle never wavering. "And that’s not all you’re going to be if you don’t
let him go now."
"You’ll go to the electric chair if you
shoot me," he blustered, showing more bravado than he felt.
"You attacked my daughter. There’s not a
court in this state that will convict me for defending her." John wasn’t
sure about that, but he did know that juries were sympathetic to such
circumstances.
"You wouldn’t dare." Saunders had
given up trying to hide who he was. "You don’t have the guts. You let your
workers unionize and do what they want—"
"I used this all through the war,"
John interrupted him. "And my business practices have nothing do to with
what’s happening now."
"I’ll let him go—if you keep me
on."
"I’ve been tempted to fire you more than
once. You just gave me the perfect excuse. There’s plenty of others who would
be glad to take your place."
Saunders moved a little closer to Sam, ready
to kick his feet out from under him. "And what about my wife and
kids?"
"Your wife’s welcome to work for either
of us—if there’s an opening. You should have thought of that before you did
this."
"You’re morally bankrupt! Letting your
slut of a daughter run around with a nigger—"
John’s finger tightened on the trigger, but
Rose placed a calming hand on his arm. "Don’t do it!" she whispered.
"Not unless he threatens you. He’s a son of a bitch—but you don’t need to
go to prison over him."
Saunders opened his mouth to say something
else, but at that moment an ominous groaning and cracking noise came from the
tree above him, followed by Sam tumbling to the ground and a smaller figure
plunging from the tree.
*****
Nadia was pushed back into the crowd as her
parents came forward, her father shoving her out of harm’s way. In the angry,
milling crowd, no one noticed as she slipped to the edge of the mob, the knife
still clutched in her hand.
It wasn’t going to work, she was sure. Her
father would never be able to threaten and cajole Saunders into giving up his
hard-won victim. Something had to be done directly.
Crouching down in the grass and bushes, Nadia
crept slowly towards the tree that Sam stood beneath, his eyes wide and
terrified as he waited to be pushed from the stump. Even with most of the Klan
members distracted, there was no way he could wiggle loose and slip away.
Almost lying on the ground, Nadia crept
forward, gasping as something swiftly crawled over her and into the darkness
beyond, then clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t afford to be caught and
stopped.
When she reached the back of the tree, she
stood slowly, pressing against it so as not to be seen. The trunk of the tree
was slender, but not so slender that she couldn’t hide behind it if she pressed
close. Looking at the branches above, she reached for one, wondering if she
could still climb. She and Mary had often climbed trees as children, but that
had been a long time ago, and she was no longer a young child.
But she had to try. Gripping the branch
firmly with one hand, she pulled herself up, trying to use the other hand as
well, even with the knife clutched in it. Clinging to the branch, she pulled
herself up amongst the limbs, glad for the foliage that hid her from sight.
After a moment, Nadia realized that trying to
climb would be much simpler without the knife in her hand. Copying something
she had read about, she put the knife blade in her teeth, then quickly switched
to the handle, afraid both of cutting herself and of dropping it.
She soon found that holding a knife in her
teeth was easier said than done. It slipped, knocking painfully against her
teeth, and soon grew slippery with saliva. Nevertheless, she clenched her teeth
around it and continued climbing, finally reaching the branch that the rope was
supported by.
It quickly became apparent that she could not
simply loosen the rope. It was tied tightly to another tree a few feet back—if
she’d been able to see it before, she could have untied it or cut it from the
ground, without the climb. But since she was there, she would do what she
could.
Peering through the branches at the people in
the clearing, Nadia took the handle of the knife from her teeth and wiped it on
her skirt, grimacing. Then, forgetting her discomfort, she began to saw at the
rope.
It was slow going. The rope was thick and
sturdy, not easy to cut through, but she persisted. Her fingers grew raw from
the activity, but soon she was nearly through it. Shifting her weight, she
began to cut through the last fraction of an inch of rope.
It was at that moment that the branch, which
had been groaning both from her weight and from the strain of the tightly
stretched rope, gave a final ominous groan and then broke. Sam tumbled forward
onto the ground as the damaged rope snapped, unbalanced by the sudden freedom.
Nadia toppled from the tree, not even having the time to scream as she fell.
Her fall was broken when she landed on
something solid but soft. Saunders grunted as she fell atop him, knocking him
to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.
Before he could move or recover his breath,
Nadia was on her feet, rushing to Sam. She had dropped the knife when she had
fallen, and had no idea where it was, so knelt down beside him, her nimble
fingers quickly loosening the noose and slipping it from around his neck.
Saunders had finally gotten to his feet.
"No!" he shouted, rushing toward Sam and Nadia. His hood had come off
again, leaving his face exposed.
He stopped abruptly as a bullet whined past
him, barely missing him before lodging in a tree trunk. Turning, he saw John
aiming for him, ready to fire again. The only thing that saved his life was
Rose’s hand on her husband’s arm, putting his aim off.
"I—I’ll have the law on you!" he
blustered, only to see Rose pull her gun from her pocket again, aiming it
straight at him.
"You’re not hurt," she told him
calmly, "although you’re very lucky. My husband would have killed or
seriously injured you a moment ago if I hadn’t stopped him."
Even in the flickering torchlight, they could
see Saunders’ face turning red with anger. "You can’t do this! Can’t you
see that I’m trying to protect all of you from people like him?"
He pointed to Sam, who was on his feet now,
waiting nervously while Nadia tried to untie his hands. He was free of the
noose for now, but he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t be back in it shortly.
Saunders turned to the other Klan members,
then stopped short. The mob of men who had accompanied the Calverts had
dispersed amongst them, deterring any who might have had the idea of causing
trouble or finishing what they started. Several had already slipped away,
disappearing into the night. The others showed no sign of coming to Saunders’
aid.
"What are you, cowards?" he asked
angrily, staring at them as two more turned and ran, not willing to face the
angry, armed group.
"Yes!" Nadia answered, then shut
her mouth, not wanting to start more trouble. Saunders glared at her, then
looked at his rapidly shrinking group of allies.
"Go home." John’s voice was clear
and authoritative, the same voice that he used to manage his business and
intimidate competitors. "If I ever find out who you are, I’ll will make
your lives miserable. Is that understood?" He turned his gaze on his
ex-foreman. "Saunders, come to me tomorrow and I will pay you what I owe
you. I should dock you for what you’ve done, but like you said, you’ve got a
wife and kids. But if this should ever happen again, or anyone should harm my
daughter or Sam, I’ll remember that you attacked Nadia tonight—and I’ll make
sure that the authorities know it, too."
Saunders looked to his men once more. Then,
realizing that he had no choice, he turned and walked away, his body tense with
anger.
Then he yowled in pain. "God damn!"
He jumped back, tearing the thin shoe from his bleeding foot. He had found
Nadia’s knife, which had flown into a thick patch of grass and landed blade up,
just waiting for some unsuspecting person or animal to come along and step on
it.
No one paid him the slightest heed but Nadia,
who rushed toward him to retrieve the knife, then returned to Sam and began
sawing away at the rope with it. She had been unable to untie his hands.
Within minutes, most of the remaining Klan
members and the mob that had followed them were gone, leaving only the
Calverts, Sam, and Jake in the clearing.
John and Rose rushed over to Sam and Nadia.
Rose took the knife from Nadia, who was crying now and hacking at Sam’s bonds,
not succeeding in cutting anything but her boyfriend’s thumbs.
As Rose took the sobbing Nadia in her arms
and held her tight, John used the sharp blade of the bayonet to quickly slice
through the rope, freeing Sam. He turned, shaking and rubbing his hands to
restore circulation, then jumped back in alarm as he saw the bayonet.
John leaned the weapon against the stump,
watching as Nadia pulled away from Rose and rushed to Sam, throwing her arms
around him. John started go after her, but Rose stopped him, just shaking her
head.
Sam sank to the ground, shaking, as delayed
reaction set in. Nadia continued to cling to him.
"Don’t cry. Don’t cry," he
whispered to her. "Everything’s okay."
"I thought they were going to kill
you!" Nadia sobbed, ignoring the fact that her parents were standing just
a few feet away.
"They were. But I’m okay now, thanks to
you."
"And my parents. And Jake and his
friends." She looked around, but Jake had vanished, too, leaving them
alone in the clearing.
John started to move towards them again as
Nadia kissed Sam, the kiss quickly deepening as they forgot that they were
being watched. Once again, Rose stopped him, simply shaking her head. The two
needed to work things out for themselves.
"I love you," Nadia whispered when
the kiss broke. "I realized it when they took you away. I thought I would
never have the chance to tell you…" She sniffed, new tears springing to
her eyes.
"Don’t cry, Nadia," Sam told her,
pulling her closer. More aware than her that they were being watched, he
lowered his voice and whispered, "I love you, too."
Rose looked at John after hearing this
declaration, gauging his reaction. He didn’t look angry, just embarrassed at
having witnessed it.
Finally, Rose cleared her throat. "Sam,
Nadia…" she began, breaking the moment.
"Oh!" Nadia scrambled to her feet,
suddenly realizing that they had heard every word. Sam stood beside her, ready
to defend her if her parents disapproved.
But John only gestured to them, pointing in
the direction of the car. "Let’s go home."