Claude Eldridge
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This work of fiction is has its beginning in the state of
Mississippi. Sam Warden, the principal character, is the precocious only child
of wealthy parents. His mother is fiercely protective of her son. At an early
age Sam has a sexual experience with an older female relative causing his parents
grave concern. His mother forbids, no, demands that he not associate with the
"white trash" that lives in the same county. His love affair with
one of the forbidden girls leads to her pregnancy and tragic accidental death.
Another young man, the girls betrothed, is charged with her murder and is sentenced
to hang. Sam knows the man is innocent. It is reported the condemned man commits
suicide in his jail cell. Sam's crime is his silence. His guilt is overwhelming.
He thought the suicide would end the whole situation. But he is wrong. He is
haunted all his life. His life appeared to be perfect. Everything he tried to
do was successful, he performed many noble deeds, but character flaws still
were evident. An adulterous affair led to a birth that he hid for awhile. The
child, a boy, was adopted. And many years later it was his efforts to find his
biological parents that led to the truth about Sam's secret and the truth about
the "suicide" but it was too late for Sam.
The author is a retired Boeing executive. He studied creative
writing at Wichita State University. He and his wife have traveled extensively.
He has written many journals recording the events of the traveling experience.
He has written two other unpublished books and is the editor of a church newsletter.
He is a native of Mississippi, which is the location of this work. He and his
wife are avid golfers and gardeners. They have two children and three grandchildren.
Their home is in Wichita, Kansas.
Young Sam Warden stood staring through the drug store window
at the gallows being erected by the jailhouse wall. He counted the thirteen
steps and the pain in his belly became more intense.
There were two people in the world who knew the condemned man
was innocent: the young man inside the jail awaiting his fate and Sam Warden.
Tomorrow, Sam promised himself, he would go to his father, Judge Henry Warden,
and make a clean breast of his knowledge. He had made that promise for the past
three months. Months while the trial had dragged to its inevitable conclusion.
The convicted killer was Woodrow “Woody” Baker,
a grade school dropout, an overall clad redneck from the red clay, back wood
hills of Warden County Mississippi. The Mississippi court had convicted him
of murdering his sixteen-year-old pregnant girl friend.
According to Sam's mother, Angela, all the people associated
with Woodrow Baker were "White trash". And Sam had been drilled by
his mother not to associate with the likes of "Those hillbilly rednecks."
Sam had disobeyed his snobbish mother's admonitions, but he
dreaded her ire and that was the primary cause for his reluctance. That and
his natural fear of the consequences of his acts, had sealed his lips.
As he stared sightless across the street, his bosom buddy,
Thomas Jefferson "Tump" Johnson came into the store. "Sammy,
whatcha doin' boy?’ he called in his gravelly loud voice.
Sam turned to face Tump, "Nothing, just loafing."
he replied.
"Hey, they 'bout got that sucker finished," Tump
said, motioning at the gallows.
"Yeah," Sam replied. Tump's exuberance had become
Increasingly annoying as the time had slipped by.
"Ya' know Sammy they tell me that big rope has got thirteen
wraps in the knot they slip under a man's ear. But 'ah hell it don't break his
neck, he just chokes to death."
Tump kept up an endless dialog about the up coming hanging
and the more he talked the more intense Sam's pain became. Finally, without
a word he turned and walked from the store.
Tomorrow, he promised himself he would go to his father and
make a clean breast of the whole affair. This time he would not fail. Just believing
that he would gave him a great sense of relief. The pain in his gut eased a
little and that night he slept through the night, the first time since he had
become involved in the incident.
He was awakened by his father's loud angry voice. He caught
snatches of conversation, "--hanged,-- in his cell."
Angela: " Suicide?" Judge Warden: "Made to look
that I--- he was lynched." Sam slipped out of bed and went to the door
of the living room. His father was standing with his hands on his hips facing
Angela, who was sipping coffee, very calmly, the newspaper spread out before
her.
"Why are you so upset?" she queried. "He's a
condemned killer, what difference does it make if he decided he couldn't face
the music? And what makes you think it was otherwise?" "He's just
a dumb nobody."
Sam's head was spinning. He groped for the doorjamb to steady
his swaying body. Angela saw him and jumped to her feet.
Tj had sworn off drinking, but he remembered this man from
the days he and Joe had hunted with him. Drinking was a ritual, refusing would
be an affront. He took the jug and held it to his mouth and felt the warmth
of the aged whiskey as he swallowed. When he was finished, Jake took the jug
and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth and said, "I hate like hell to
drink alone. Hate it but I do it. Where you been Tj? I ain't seen you in a long
time. What brings you to this neck of the woods? It ain't huntin' season."
"I got something I want to discuss with you," Tj
replied, thinking rapidly about how to go about his mission.
"Here have another drink Tj. I got something I want to
discuss with you. I been watching T.V. and theys showing that shuttle launch.
What do you think of that shit?"
Tj was careful about his answer. He believed the shuttle missions
were a great accomplishment, but he detected a tone in the older man's voice.
"Ah hell, Jake, I never did like to fly."
"Have another drink," Jake passed the jug to Tj and
as he drank Jake said, "I think that whole thing is a crock of shit. It's
government bull. Everybody knows the world is flat and them bastards just flying
around in circles trying to confuse the tax payers." He took the jug and
drank deeply.
Tj could feel the whiskey spreading from his belly up to his
brain. He wanted to have a clear head for the answers to his questions. "Jake,
let me ask you a question."
Jake was beginning to mellow." Shoot," he replied.
"What if I told you Woody didn't kill Camille Dotson?"
"Hell Tj, I allus knowed he didn't kill her."
"How did you know that, Jake?"
"He told me he didn't do it."
"And you believed him?"
"Hell yes, I believed him. He wouldn't lie to me. I'm
his brother."
"What if I told you it was an accident and that Woody
killed himself for nothing?"
Jake rolled his cud of tobacco around in his cheek and spat
a stream of juice at a crawling bug. The bug rolled over and scampered away.
He squinted at Tj and his jaw hardened. "What if I told you Woody didn't
kill hisself?"
A surprised Tj asked, "Who did kill him?"
"Nobody, he ain't dead."
Tj thought the whiskey was affecting his hearing. "What
did you say?"
"You gettin' hard a hearing boy, I said he ain't dead.
He come to see me a couple months ago."
A shock ran through Tj. "But Jake, the body, the grave,
the tombstone. I don't understand."
Jake passed the jug and said, "Have another drink Tj.
I'll tell you something that only a few people know. The only reason I tell
you is cause you married one of our girls and yore kids are kin f'oks."
Tj now felt like he needed a drink. His head was spinning and
he wasn't sure it was Jake's statements or the whiskey. He took a drink from
the jug and passed it back to Jake. He knew he was no drinking match for big
Jake and he wanted to hear the story with, at least, some memory left.
Jake took a long drink. His Adam's apple bobbing up and down
as he swallowed. The jug was beginning to show signs of being empty. He reached
inside the open door and brought out a full one. "Plenty more where that
come from," he notified Tj.
"Tell me, who is in the grave Jake. People saw the body
of Woody. Judge Warner and a lot of other people."
"They saw a body, but not Woody. All of us knowed Woody
wouldn't kill that girl. We knew he didn't knock her up.
