Flossie's Revenge

by Lubrican

Chapters : Foreword | 1-2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8 | 9-10 | 11-12 | 13-14 | 15-16 | 17-18 | 19-20 | 21-22
23-24 | 25-26 | 27-28 | 29-30 | 31-32 | 33-34 | 35-36 | 37-38 | 39-40 | 41-42 | 43-44

Chapter 39

During the next six months, Nathan decided that, rather than go back to Catfish Hollow, he would just mail money. This time he only sent two hundred dollars to each family, and opened a pass book account at a local bank for each of the three remaining members of the group. Each account got three hundred and seventy-one dollars deposited in it, the share from the sale of the fifty coins they'd brought back. In the letters he sent with the money, he told each of his friends what their pass book account was, and the name of the bank it was at. He also told them he wasn't going to convert any more coins unless someone got in a bind and had to have the money quickly. The money was safe where it was, and he didn't want to appear in Catfish Hollow again until it was time to go get Hilda Mae.

Bernadette loved being a mother, though it was hard at first. She'd never been around babies, except for her nephew, who acted completely different from her own daughter. Whenever Bernadette was around her, little Juliet hated to go to sleep, and got cranky quite often because of it. She wanted to play, and jerk excitedly and sing to her mother. But, whenever Curtis Lee picked Juliet up, the girl melted into relaxation and cooed at her father before closing her eyes and going to sleep. It was almost like magic. He could put her down for a nap any time he chose.

Bernadette's fears that she would respond to the baby nursing, like she responded to Curtis Lee nursing, proved to be unfounded, though, when she could mount him again, she invariably dribbled breast milk all over his chest and face while she rode him to happy orgasms. He got very good at anticipating the onset of her orgasm, and sucked at her nipples to make it even better.

During the shooting contest between Moses and the department armorer, the man told him about the records he had seen at the Truman Library that referenced the sale of seven Whitworth rifles to a suspected Southern sympathizer in 1864. On a Saturday shortly after, Moses and Bernadette, posing as two students from a local university, sat down with ten boxes of records, marked "late war" in the basement of the Harry S. Truman Presidential Library. The curator explained that, when records were being transferred from the White House to the Library, it had been assumed that these boxes pertained to late WW II. It was only after they had been in Kansas City for ten years, that a volunteer opened the boxes and found out they were Civil War records instead.

Then, the Federal bureaucracy being what it is, it had been so difficult to arrange to send them back, that the Truman Library had simply kept them and made them available for scholarly review. It was in these records that the armorer had found a report that seven rifles had been sold to Benjamin Stubbs. Now, Moses and Bernadette were trying to find anything else that pertained to Benjamin Stubbs, or the rifles they had found.

On the third day of sifting through documents that included provisions lists, hostler's reports and an amazing amount of other minutia that made the day-to-day operations in war time possible, the name Stubbs finally came up again. It was in a copy of a letter from the Governor of Missouri, dated the 4th of March, 1865, thanking one Ralph Turner for his patriotic assistance in bringing about the capture and successful prosecution of "the traitor, Stubbs". Other than that, there was nothing.

The search moved to judicial files. Based on the letter from the Governor, the search was centered in Jefferson City. It took weeks just to get permission to get access to those, and it was finally accomplished only with the assistance of the curator of the Truman Presidential Library, who connected the request for access to the letter that had been found. Then three more weeks went by while State employees determined that the records in question had been forwarded to the State Historical Society in 1934. That group was only too happy to comply with a request from the Truman Library and dug through musty wooden crates in a sub-basement to locate records from a hundred years past.

The record of trial, such as it was, turned out to be ten pages of handwritten notes, tied with string that fell apart when the knot was pulled at. The indictment accused Benjamin A. Stubbs, a merchant residing in Fairview, Missouri, of rendering aid and comfort to the enemies of the United States Of America. There were two witnesses for the prosecution. One was a Union officer who testified that information had been found that rifles had been sold to Stubbs by a British arms merchant. The other was a witness identified only as Ralph E. Turner, and one piece of evidence. That evidence was a much folded letter, dated February 16th, 1865, that read as follows:

Dear Sir,

In view of the dismal course of our cause of late, I have procured seven weapons of the finest quality. Their intended use is to bring about the demise of the Northern leadership, and turn the course of this glorious rebellion. This is the same rifle that was used to execute General Sedgwick, on the ninth of May, 1864 at the Spotsylvania Courthouse, where he was taken from twelve hundred yards and struck in the head.

I propose that sharpshooters of the highest caliber be selected, to cross into the North under cover of false credentials, and situate themselves such that, on a day to be chosen, they may be in a position to execute the misguided President of the Northern States, as well as his top five commanders, wherever they may be on that day.

I have also amassed a sum of gold to bolster the spirit of the men chosen for this mission. They will be heavily sought after when their mission is complete, and must be assured that both they, and their families will be well taken care of. Both the weapons and the gold are in the hands of a trusted man, who has pledged to make them available on short notice when needed.

I await with great anticipation your response to this correspondence.

I will not sign this letter, nor should you in your response, as there is the possibility that, in crossing lines, they may be taken and read by those unfriendly to us.

The transcript of the trial, only two pages long, indicated that Turner had identified Stubbs as the author of the letter. No mention was made as to how the letter had come into the possession of the government, or why Turner was thought to know who had written it. The defense accorded to Stubbs was short. He stated that he knew of no rifles, or gold, and was the victim of some nefarious plot constructed by intolerant business competitors. He pointed out that no assanations had taken place, and no rifles had been presented as evidence against him.

The sentence of the judge took only a fraction of one page, and was an order to take the prisoner outside the courthouse and execute him summarily by firing squad.

With certified copies of the bill of sale, from "Bond, Freed & Co", found in the Truman Library Archives, and the court documents, the seven Whitworth rifles and five telescopic sights found by the children were put up for auction. A private collector purchased everything for $47,500.00 dollars. The seller's name was kept confidential by the auction company.

The news of this completely unexpected increase in wealth sent shock waves through the group of friends. It was hard to believe that the rifles had been worth far more than the glittering gold each of them had held in their hands. Quite suddenly, though no one outside the group knew it, Johnnie Sue, Luthor and Jesse, with their combined assets of $35,500, were arguably, as a team, among the wealthiest of the population of Catfish Hollow.

And, in a city where a very nice home could be purchased for below fifteen thousand dollars, a whole new range of options suddenly became available to Nathan, Curtis Lee, and their wives.

Having the resources to buy a home, and finding someone who will sell a home to a mixed race couple in 1965 in Kansas City, were two different things. There were the beginnings of exclusive suburbs being developed in Johnson County, on the Kansas side of the city, but those developments were closed to all but the wealthiest blacks. "Suburban flight" was not yet a named concept, in those days, but it was happening. Oddly, the greatest population of blacks was on the Missouri side, even though segregation was more entrenched in that State. It was still illegal for mixed marriages there, though, so Missouri was not an option for either couple. Had they waited four more years, that law would be stuck down by the same court that had so electrified the country in 1954, though it had a few different members.

As a result, the easier course of action was to purchase rural property, and have a home built. Plans were complicated by the need to accommodate both existing families, and the expansions to them that were anticipated - both Flossie and Bernadette wanted more children - as well as the anticipated arrival of at least two more families. Moses still intended to marry Hilda Mae, and letters exchanged between Bernadette and Johnnie Sue made it clear she still couldn't make up her mind which of her blood brothers she would marry, and intended to bring them both North.

That meant either a very large house, or a series of smaller ones. And, while they had the resources to build whatever they wanted, there were still building codes and laws to deal with, as they applied to "developments". The solution, arrived at over a period of six months, was to buy a farm, which would allow them much greater flexibility in terms of erecting "buildings". It was named "Whitworth Farms", in honor of the rifle that financed it.

The spring of 1964 was tumultuous in Catfish Hollow. Hilda Mae and Johnnie Sue were both scheduled to graduate from "High School". Marian's chat with Wilamina Thorpe, Johnnie Sue's mother, about her suspicions that Johnnie Sue might be engaging in "exploratory sexual activity", was taken to heart, primarily because Wilamina knew that she, herself, was extremely hot-blooded, and had no trouble believing that her Tomboy daughter, who had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, was hot blooded as well. Johnnie Sue's lifelong friendship with Luthor Cripps had been assumed to lead to such things eventually, but that assumption was challenged by the fact that the Hawthorn boy hung around with them all the time. No one anticipated that Johnnie Sue would be so hot-blooded as to take on two boys, one of them colored. Not a woman to take chances, though, Wilamina chose to put her daughter on birth control pills.

They worked. In fact, they worked remarkably well, considering that Johnnie Sue and her two men were not kept apart, like the Wilson girls had been kept apart from the men who plundered their sex. Johnnie Sue, in fact, was probably getting more dick than any other three women in town combined. She was literally soaked in semen, as often as she could arrange it, both inside, and out. There were dark stains on the boards of the tree house platforms that would take years to bleach out ... stains created by sperm dripping out from between Johnnie Sue's gleefully spread legs.

Now, a month before graduation, as Johnnie Sue lay with her blood brothers, still more spunk filling her pussy, she was mildly unhappy. She was unhappy because she wanted to go North, and get into college there. She had the resources to do that now, in a bank account in her name. At the same time, she was leaving her fountaining pricks, and would not have access to Luthor's for a whole year. Jesse wouldn't be able to come North for two years, and she didn't know how she was going to be able to stand it.

Her solution was remarkably simple, and fit entirely within the complex social bonds that the blood brothers had formed, and which were so completely different than most other social bonds in the rest of the world. She sat up, her now full and soft breasts jiggling.

"We have a problem," she said.

Both boys, sated for the moment, lay nakedly and looked at her.

"I'm leaving in a month, and you two are staying here," she said.

She got sad looks in return.

"Luthor will be able to come North in a year, and we can have a baby then," she said. "But that won't be fair to Jesse, because he can't come for a whole 'nother year."

The boys looked at each other, interest in their eyes. Up to now, all the talk had been about how not to have babies. The pill had been a huge emotional release for all of them.

"We can't really do much about that," pointed out Luthor, whose prick was reviving at the thought of making a baby with Johnnie Sue, even if it was a whole year away.

"Yes, we can," said Johnnie Sue, stretching. "Jesse can get me pregnant before I leave."

"That's goofy," said Luthor. "You'll have the baby all alone."

"No I won't. Bernie and Hildy and Miss Flossie will be there," she said.

It was that easy. Luthor didn't complain that he didn't get to make the first baby. Jesse accepted that his blood brother wanted to have his baby. Johnnie Sue stopped taking her pills, and, over the next month, she let Jesse spurt inside of her, while Luthor took care of giving her the sperm baths she loves so much on the outside.

At home, there was a little more argument about Johnnie Sue's plans.

"I'm going to college," she announced one night.

The argument for her to stay was more mechanical than emotional. Both her parents knew it was in her best interest to get out of Catfish Hollow. Her promise to help them with expenses took the bite out of losing a working hand. All the parents now knew that something had been found, and sold, that put their children in much better circumstances than they'd ever hoped for. And hope goes a long way toward a parent letting go of a child when the time comes.

Johnnie Sue boarded the bus in Flaerty, just as those had before her, in July. She would have gone sooner, but had to wait to make sure she missed a period before she left.

Seventy-two hours later, she was ensconced in a spare bedroom in the farmhouse in Wyandotte County.

The trip North for Hilda Mae was not so easily accomplished, though it started off sounding the same.

"I want to go to college," said Hilda Mae, one night at supper, a month before she was due to graduate.

Her mother looked at her steadily. Her father snorted.

"Damn waste of time," said Harvey.

"What am I supposed to do?" asked Hilda Mae, her blond hair tossing. "Sit around here and grow old?" Her tone was surly.

"You watch your mouth, girl," said Harvey heavily. "Just because your sister ran off doesn't mean I'll stand for that from you."

"You didn't answer my question, Daddy," said Hilda Mae, trying to be patient. "What, exactly, am I supposed to do in Catfish Hollow?"

"Work at the bank," he said shortly.

"What about a family?" asked Hilda Mae, losing her patience. "Did it ever occur to you I might like to have my own family some day?"

"You're too young," said Harvey, putting down his fork. "And when the time comes, I'll find a man for you. Now this conversations is done!" he thundered. "I only have one child left, and I'll be damned if she's going to scurry off to who knows where, doing who knows what. You're going to stay right here, where I can keep an eye on you!"

Only her mother's warning look, and a kick under the table, kept Hilda Mae silent. Hilda Mae was acutely aware that she would not be eighteen until the following August.

Whitworth Farms was a farm only in the sense that it was lately planted in corn, which had been cut and found to be of poor quality, due to a three year drought in Eastern Kansas. That was, in fact, why the thirty-five acres was sold. The seven thousand dollar selling price would keep the original owner going for another two years, if all went well.

There was a well on the place, with a broken down windmill, that had, in times past, brought up water for stock. Electric poles went along the road that flanked the property, and a lagoon would handle the needs of the families that would be living there. There was a poorly managed wind break along two of the property lines, and the houses were planned to go back in that corner, a quarter mile from the main road. The first house built was a sprawling ranch-type building, which was, technically, a duplex, since each of the three bedroom structures shared a common wall between the master bedrooms. When finished, it would be in a short-legged "U" shape, with a central courtyard and garden area between the legs. There was no garage, but a single story barn was built to contain any farm equipment they might procure. Cars could be parked in there in case of inclement weather. Otherwise, they'd just be left outside. There was room left for the construction of a mirror image to the first two houses which, when it was finished, would give the final configuration of an "( )" with a twenty foot break between them at the top and bottom.

Johnnie Sue, her belly now swelling nicely, and Bernadette, spent a lot of time at the site, supervising the construction. The men doing the work tried to ignore them, but soon found that these beautiful women, with those tantalizing Southern accents, had steel inside them and would show teeth too, if something wasn't done correctly. The fact that the taller brunette walked around openly with a black baby on her hip caused some comment between the men. That both women seemed to be awfully friendly with several men who lived on the farm, just added to the scandalized chatter between the construction workers. It was only when those same men appeared in Police uniforms, with guns strapped on, that it was decided that these crazy people would be kept happy, so the crew could get done and go on to other jobs.

Marian pleaded with Hilda Mae to give her time to talk to Harvey. Marian's intent was to get him to agree that Hilda Mae could go to college. If she could get him to agree to that, it would get Hilda Mae out of the house, and she could then do what she wished.

When, on graduation day, Harvey informed his wife that Hilda Mae would, the next day, be expected to start working in the Bank, where she could be properly trained in an acceptable job for a woman, and announced that he had invited Milton Harburger, the forty year old owner of the hardware store to begin courting her, Marian knew things weren't going to work out.

She waited for Hilda Mae outside the school house, where the graduation ceremony had just taken place. She had the car, and suggested that Hilda Mae get in.

"Were are we going?" asked her daughter.

"Just for a ride," said Marian. "We need to have another talk."

She made sure she was driving along in excess of thirty miles an hour, on a country road, before she told Hildy what her father had said. That was so Hilda Mae couldn't just jump out of the car and run.

It took another five minutes to get her to calm down enough to listen to her plan.

"Your father has a conference in Atlanta in July," said Marian. "He'll be gone for three days. All you have to do is behave yourself until then, and you'll be free to leave."

"You mean it, Mamma?" Hilda Mae's voice went from tragic to hopeful in one breath.

"There's something I haven't showed you yet," said Marian. She stopped the car and dug into her pocketbook. She pulled out a picture that had come in the mail recently. It was of Bernadette, holding a very black looking child in her arms, looking at the baby with obvious love on her face. "I got it last week. Look at her. She's just three weeks old, and she's so cute I can't stand it."

Hilda Mae stared at the picture.

"That's Bernie's baby?!" she squeaked. "Ohhh look how black it is ... did you say she?"

"Marian nodded. "Her name is Juliet."

"Why didn't you tell me?" squealed Hilda Mae.

"I’d have thought that would be obvious," said Marian dryly. "You are infatuated with a man who would have you holding a baby just like that one."

"I'm not infatuated, Mamma," said Hilda Mae, staring at the picture. "I love him."

"Well, whatever ... I didn't want to put more ideas into your mind. At least you're not pregnant already. This baby was born too soon."

Hilda Mae continued to stare at the photograph. "So, what you're telling me is that if I play good girl until July, and do what Daddy wants, I can go up there with your blessing?"

Marian bit her lip and realized there was a tear running down her cheek. Hilda Mae's voice was so earnest, there was no doubt that this was what she really wanted, whether she knew what she was getting into or not.

"Yes," she said softly.

"What about Daddy?" asked Hilda Mae, looking up finally. "He'll have a cow."

"Yes he will," agreed her mother. "I'll have to lie to him again."

"How will I get there?"

"I have some ideas on that too. We have friends here that your father doesn't know about." Marian sighed. She'd have to see if Mable Finshaw was willing to make another underground railroad run. She'd show her the pictures. That might help.

"Those are your Grandbabies?" asked Mable, real questioning in her voice.

Marian sighed. "They are, and now my daughter wants to give us another one."

Mable looked sideways at this strange white woman, whose strange white son kept sending them money that was making life so much more steady.

"I might need to go up to Flaerty to get some material to make a dress out of," said Mable.

"I'd like to see it when it's done," said Marian.

On the 8th of July, when Harvey got home from his conference, he found himself with no children, and a wife who was roaring drunk. The dishes hadn't been done in days, and Marian had slept in her clothes. There were three empty whisky bottles lying around in various places in the kitchen, and a fourth that had two splashes left in it. He had no way of knowing that three and a half of those bottles had been emptied down the drain the day after Marian got the call from Hilda Mae saying she was safe in Kansas City. Marian was, in fact, drunk on her ass. She blubbered that Hilda Mae had been gone since the day he left.

He finished the bottle in one, long gulp. Then he took his wife to the bedroom and punished her for letting his little girl get away.

It was good she was drunk, because this time he blackened her eyes. He wanted to leave teeth marks on her breasts, like he knew he had had with that nigger whore who he held responsible for putting notions in his children's heads, and making them all run away from home. But he knew she'd seen those teeth marks, and while she'd stay home until her face healed, he didn't want her staring at her own mauled breasts and remembering. He settled for listening to her scream as he forced his prick into her anus for the first time in their lives, taking her like an animal, and doing to her what he couldn't do to that nigger whore.

Irony sometimes has a dismal sense of humor.

While Harvey was punishing Marian, the daughters he was punishing her for, were flat on their backs, with a stiff prick firmly in place in their pussies. They were in separate rooms, but the conversation was remarkably similar.

Hilda Mae was urging Moses on, teasing him. It was the first time they had been together in over a year, and she had a wager with Bernadette that Moses could make her pregnant before Curtis Lee could do the same thing to her sister.

"Are you going to make my lily white belly stretch and swell with your little black baby?" she moaned. "I quit taking my pills a month ago."

Moses, stronger than she knew, wasn't rough or hasty in the slightest. He was happily stroking her with long, slow movements, relishing the feel of her hot flesh around him after so long.

"I'm going to give you twins," he panted.

"You can't," she teased. "We're not married. You shouldn't even be doing this."

"I asked you to marry me the day you got here," he panted. "As I recall, you said you'd think about it. Meanwhile, I'm about to give you twins," he grunted.

"Maybe I should make you pull it out, so I can swallow all that dangerous sperm," she gasped.

He stopped suddenly, and looked down at her, fire in his eyes. "You want me to stop? Cause if you want me to stop I'll stop right now!" He started to pull it out of her slowly.

Her eyes widened as she finally saw that he had the strength to do just that. Her hands flashed to his hips and her fingernails dug in.

"Yes, I'll marry you. I've been waiting to marry you for two years, and if you take it out right now I swear I'll scream bloody murder!"

In a flash he was pounding her, shaking her, the larger, softer breasts he hadn't seen until today jiggling on her chest. She laughed with the pleasure of knowing she had him.

"Now you can give me twins," she cooed.

She had to wait until next time for her own orgasm, but didn't mind a bit.

In the other room, Bernadette was lovingly sucking her husband's long, narrow prick, and talking to it.

"You're going to make me all fat again, aren't you?" She kissed the tip and flicked her tongue into the slit. "You're going to poke way up inside me and squirt another beautiful little girl in my belly, aren't you?"

"Not if you keep doing that," panted Curtis Lee. He had put on weight, eating better and getting more exercise than he'd had in the past. One of the side effects, at least according to Bernadette, was that it made his semen taste sweeter. She had slurped at his penis a number of times, using that as her half-hearted birth control measure, until she was ready to get pregnant again. Now, after the talk she'd had with her sister, she was ready.

"Then I'll stop doing that," she said, giving the tip a last warm-lipped kiss.

She got into what had become one of her favorite positions, on her knees and elbows, her ass high in the air, and her knees spread a foot and a half apart. She sagged her stomach, knowing that it would present her pussy like a fat, juicy split peach between her buttocks. She felt Curtis Lee's hands on her hips, and sighed as he fed her his long, black stick. She liked it this way, because he didn't go quite as deeply into her. Like her mother, she liked a little pain now and then, and that was when she lay on her back and spread her legs for him, or climbed up and sat on top of him. But this way, when she felt him swell and begin to shoot inside her, all she had to do was reach between her legs and flick her clit seven or eight times, and she came at exactly the same time, which she loved being able to do.

Curtis Lee leaned onto her back, jutting his loins forward, and felt for her breasts with his hands. His hands squeezed in time with the spurts of his hot semen into her womb, and he felt her shudder under him as she moaned.

Chapter 40

No one called Marian for two months, to let things cool down. By then, Hilda Mae was both married and pregnant, and Bernadette was pregnant again. Now the bet had to be settled by who gave birth first. Nathan wrote a letter each month, like he usually did, but didn't say anything about his sisters in it.

During those two months, the mirror image of the original house was started. One end would be for Hilda Mae and Moses to live in, and the other end was for Johnnie Sue and her two blood brothers. Bernadette began research to see if the land they now owned could be used to grow some cash crop, such as strawberries, or whether it should be planted in fruit trees as a working orchard that might begin producing in four or five years. Loans had been used, to some extent, in the building of the farm, to preserve the cash reserves in the bank, and to establish credit.

In October of that year, Flossie informed Nathan that, if she got pregnant in the next month or two, the baby would be born during the summer, when she was on break from teaching. Nathan was always ready to make love with the woman who had stolen his heart, and worked hard to fill her with life.

The men all had to work on New Year's Eve, 1965, so the "family" celebration was rescheduled for Valentine's day of that year. It was still cold, but the men put together a charcoal grill outside, and brought piles of hamburgers, steaks and hot dogs inside, where the women had prepared all the other fixings. Nathan's camera used two rolls of film to document the happy gathering.

They had a real cookout in May, when the weather warmed up. There was a new member of the family at this gathering, in the form of Jeremiah Thorpe, who was born in February. Johnnie Sue simply told the doctor that she didn't know who the father was, enduring his chiding look. That frown got deeper when the baby's head crowned, and it became obvious that it was a mixed race baby. Johnnie Sue ignored all the stares, and cuddled her little boy, counting his toes and examining him like all new mothers did. When she got him home, Luthor held him like he was his own.

At the Spring party, more pictures were taken and, when they got back, Bernadette decided it was time to send her mother more pictures. Both she and Hilda Mae knew that Marian often pulled out the two pictures she had, and stared at them for long minutes. Now, they could provide her with more.

On a sunny day in April, 1965, Banker Harvey Wilson entered the post office in Catfish Hollow with a bundle of mail. Normally, an employee would have delivered it, but the man normally assigned that task was home sick. Harvey was in the same acid mood he'd been in for months. He had fallen back into his old habit of arranging things so that he could foreclose on property, and then sell it. Because he demanded collateral far in excess of what would cover the loan, he could let it go for less, ensuring a quick sale, and his books looked good. People in town shot him dark looks, but he didn't care.

"Mr. Wilson," called out the postal clerk as he was about to leave. "Got a package here for your wife, sent to General Delivery. You want to take it to her?"

Harvey stalked over to the counter and took the flat package. He glanced at the return address, and his blood went cold. It was from Nathan, the son he was trying to figure out how to formally disown. There was no lawyer in Catfish Hollow, and he hadn't had time to contact one elsewhere.

He took the package out on the sidewalk, and tore it open, despite the fact that it was addressed only to his wife. Peering inside, he saw photographs, and a letter. He pulled the letter out first, and glanced at it. His eyes widened as his suspicions were confirmed.

"We're all fine," the letter read. "Bernie and Hildy are happy and working on an orchard on the property we bought. The extra house just got finished, and Johnnie Sue and Luthor are moving into that one, along with Hildy. The pictures will show you the rest. We miss you and wish you could be here to see it all." It was signed, simply, "Nathan"

Harvey upended the package, and photographs spilled into his hands. He heart was already thumping in his chest, and the first photograph made his eyes bulge. It was of his son, standing behind the nigger whore teacher, his arms around her, and his hands resting on a belly that was rounder than it should be. In her arms was a mulatto baby. All three were grinning.

"That fucking bitch!" Harvey gasped. "She stole my boy!"

With shaking hands, he fumbled to another picture. This one had Bernadette in it, standing sideways. The camera had caught a man Harvey recognized as the Waggoner boy, handing a decidedly nigger baby to his daughter. Bernadette's belly was at least seven months swollen.

Harvey felt pain in his left arm, and his lungs struggled for air as he dropped that picture to reveal Hilda Mae, also standing sideways, her belly even more grotesquely swollen a she leaned forward to kiss a nigger in a Police uniform who looked shockingly like the Finshaw boy. Behind them, and to one side was the Thorpe girl, who Harvey had lusted over a number of times before she went off to college. She had a breast bared, and a mulatto baby was fastened to the tip of that breast. Her mouth was open as if she were talking to someone who was hidden behind Hilda Mae in the picture.

Harvey's vision tightened, until his baby daughter, with her spun-gold hair, was all he could see at the end of a long tunnel. Her belly looked ready to split open. Somehow he knew the thing stretching her precious belly so much was ... black.

That picture seemed to fall to the ground of its own volition, exposing another one of Nathan and the nigger whore. They were in the same embrace, his hands on her pregnant belly, but this time that mulatto half-breed was reaching his arms up, toward Nathan. The last thing Harvey Wilson saw, before his heart literally burst, was his son's pale smiling face, cheek to cheek with the slim black one Harvey hated more than anything else in the world.

People came to help, but it was too late. Harvey was dead when he hit the sidewalk. The doctor was called, but his examination took less than a minute. He stood and shook his head as the crowed edged back from the dead body.

No one had anything to cover the body with, or they'd have just left it there until the hearse could get there from Madison. The constable arrived, and got the doctor's report. Then he picked up the photographs, and glanced at them.

"He was just standing there, looking at those pictures and talking to nobody," said Jasper Reynolds, "when he just dropped like a bag of cement!"

Others began to edge closer, to see what the man had been looking at when he died, but the constable held them against his chest. He picked up the rest, and the letter, stuffing them all back into the large brown envelope they had come in. Things were bad enough. Now was not the time for folks to get upset.

Once he had everything picked up, he drafted four men to carry the body back to the bank, and told another to wait and direct the men from the funeral home there when they arrived. He stopped in his tiny office, to examine the photographs and letter more closely. He was beginning to understand why the man had savaged that teacher woman, and it was clear what had killed him. He frowned, thinking, as he usually did, how this might affect the town. The town was foremost in his thinking. He'd been around long enough to know that there were some with dark skin who were worth a whole sight more than some with lighter skin, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that things kept going along like they should. It was enough that they mixed in that new school. He didn't need anybody to know they mixed like this when they left that school. He had known that the Wilson children had left town, and he knew how the last one, the blonde in the pictures, had gone, hiding in the back of a pickup. He hadn't done anything. They were all of age, and kids ran away from home all the time.

No, these pictures must not be seen by those in town.

Marian opened the door to find the constable, hat in hand, looking downcast and uncomfortable.

"Yes?" she said, worried already. What had Harvey done now?

The constable's eyes widened as he took in the faded bruises around her eyes. He couldn't keep his eyes from straying to her arms, where there were more bruises, old now, and fading as well. His eyes went naturally to her breasts, which were still fine under the dress. He wondered if there were teeth marks there, too, like the ones he had seen the man leave before. His eyes rose to find her staring at him. She knew where he had been looking.

Never a man to mince words, he said "I'm sorry for looking, Ma'am, but I saw the bruises."

Marian held herself upright, by force of habit. "They're healing nicely, thank you."

"I'm afraid I've got some unhappy news," he said. He held out the envelope.

Marian looked at it, and felt dread immediately. She winced as she drew a deep breath. Her ribs still hurt. "This has been opened," she said.

"Your husband opened it. Apparently, whatever is inside there made him so unhappy that he seems to have had a heart attack. There wasn't much anyone could do, I'm afraid."

Marian, the consummate Southern matriarch, stiffened her knees as they began to give way. "Will you come in please?" she said stiffly.

"Just for a moment, Ma'am," said the constable. He had more information to impart. Then he'd leave the woman to her misery ... if there was going to be any misery.

While she upended the package onto the table, spilling the pictures out, he told her where the body was, and that the funeral home had already been called. Unless she had other plans, they would take care of everything. She would need to contact them within the next few days to make any final decisions. He wrote the phone number on a pad he took from his pocket, with a stub of pencil he took from another pocket.

"Who else saw these pictures?" she asked, her voice steady.

"No one, Ma'am. I scooped them all up and put them back in the envelope. Didn't figure it was anybody else's business."

"Thank you," she said, her voice dull. "I have no manners," she said, lifting her head. "May I offer you a cool drink?"

"Thank you, no, Ma'am," he said, standing. "I hate to say this, Ma'am, but it would probably be a pretty good idea if your children didn't come back for the funeral. At least not if you're going to plant him here, and they'd bring all their ... family."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," said Marian. "I don't expect them to ever set foot in this town again."

"I s'pose that's for the best," said the man, uncomfortable now. "If you need anything, I want you to ask. I'll help if I can."

"Thank you, sir," said the woman. "Now, I'm sure you have other business that needs doing. I won't keep you any longer."

Marian stood, naked, in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Three days had passed, during which she had mourned. She had driven over to the funeral home in Madison and gone through the process of identifying his body, which had already been embalmed. She had stood there, looking at him lying there so peacefully. It didn't look like her husband, to her. There was a cemetery in Madison, and there was room in it. It was cheaper not to have him taken back to Catfish Hollow, so she bought a plot there and returned the next day to see the coffin lowered into the ground.

Now she stared at herself, noting the bluish bruises left on her upper torso. She had bled from his rectal assault for two days, lying in bed, hoping she wouldn't have to call the doctor. That had slowly resolved itself. Harvey had been solicitous toward her, but she hadn't believed he really cared. The only thing he had left alone had been her breasts, which sagged slightly in the mirror. She was thirty-nine years old, and a widow. She looked critically at her form. There was a bit too much flesh on her thighs, and her waist was thicker than she wished. The bruises would fade and disappear. She tried to think of someone other than Harvey, looking at her like this, but couldn't. She couldn't even imagine Phillip, who was happily married somewhere, no doubt, being here to see her.

She shrugged on a robe just as she heard a knock at the front door. She ignored her indelicate appearance, and belted the robe around her, going to look through the glass in the front door, between the curtains. She recognized a woman from the bank, and opened the door.

"I hate to bother you," said the woman, looking horribly uncomfortable. "The new bank manager opened Mr. Wil ... he opened the safe deposit box, and thought you might need these papers." She thrust an accordion file towards Marian, who took it. The woman fled.

His will was in the packet, and two insurance policies, one for the house, and one for the car. There were also their marriage documents, and birth certificates, and there were two life insurance policies. She sat down and began sorting it all out.

On the fifteenth of May, 1965, Nathan and Johnnie Sue were standing in the bus station when Luthor stepped off the bus, looking around curiously. He had grown two inches, and Nathan almost didn't recognize him. Johnnie Sue did, though, and she ran all the way across the station to throw herself in his arms.

She had almost finished kissing him when Nathan strolled up, grinning.

Luthor grinned when she was done, but then his face went sober as he looked at Nathan.

"Sorry about your Daddy," he said.

"What?" asked Nathan. "What did he do now?"

Luthor looked stricken. "You didn't know? Nobody told you?"

"Told me what, Luthor?" asked Nathan, frowning.

"Shit, shit, shit," chanted Luthor, looking everywhere except at Nathan.

"What is it Luthor?" asked Johnnie Sue, her ebullience gone.

"He ... he had a heart attack ... right in front of the post office," said Luthor softly. "Nobody told you?" He sounded incredulous.

"Heart attack," said Nathan dully. "Where is he? Is he in a hospital somewhere?"

"He's ... he's ... ooooo shit, shit shit!" Luthor took a breath and straightened his shoulders. "He's dead, Nathan."

Nathan ignored the happy throng waiting for Luthor, and pushed past them, heading for the phone. Flossie recognized the anguish on his face and followed him. He was already dialing when she got to him.

"Mamma?" his voice broke. "Mamma, why didn't you call?!"

Johnnie Sue, in her typical take-charge fashion, took Bernadette and Hilda Mae aside, pulling them toward the house, where she had seen Nathan go. Luthor could tell the men what was going on. She stopped them at the door of the room where Nathan's voice could be heard on the phone, and broke the news to them. Their reaction was not what she expected. Their eyes got red and wet, but they didn't break down, like she knew she would have if this news had been delivered to her.

Instead, Bernadette walked to Nathan and put her arms around him. Hilda Mae was right behind her. He tried to push them away, but they held on. Bernadette gripped the phone and took it away from him, surprised she could get it so easily.

"Mamma?" she said into the phone. "Are you all right?"

"Bernie?" came a wet sounding voice. "Is that you baby?"

"Mamma we'll come right down there," said Bernadette firmly.

"No!" shouted her mother, so loudly that she had to take the phone away from her ear. "You'll do no such thing. He's already in the ground. You stay right where you are!"

"But Mamma, what about you?" moaned Bernadette.

"I'm all right," said Marian urgently into the phone. "You can't come back here."

"Why not, Mamma?" whined Bernadette. "I want to see you!"

"People know, dear. They know about you and Curtis Lee. You'd be treated very badly if you came here. You have to stay there. All of you have to stay there!"

"But Mamma ..."

"No buts, young lady," came her mother's forceful voice. "Now put Nathan back on the line!"

There was a tussle for the phone as she tried to hand it back to Nathan. Hilda Mae wanted it too. She kicked Bernadette in the leg when she wouldn't let go, and wrestled the phone to her ear by pure force.

"Mamma!" she yelled into the phone, then softened her voice when no one tried to take the phone away from her. Bernadette was rubbing her leg, and Nathan was just standing there. "I'm sorry, Mamma, I didn't mean to kill him," she sobbed.

"You didn't kill anybody!" came Marian's strong voice. "He had a heart attack, that's all."

"I want to come see you," cried Hilda Mae.

"Listen to me!" shouted her mother. "No one is coming here. That is very important for you to understand. Tell me you understand that!""

"Don't yell at me, Mamma," cried Hilda Mae. "I don't understand."

"Give the fucking phone to Nathan!" screamed Marian.

Hilda Mae almost dropped the phone, her crying cut off like she couldn't breathe. She had never, except through a bedroom door, heard her mother utter a single curse word. She held the phone out to Nathan.

"Nathan, you listen to me. None of you can come down here. That is extremely important! If need be I'll come up there. Now, I'm going to hang up, and I'll call you in an hour. You get control of things up there, Nathan, I'm depending on you. Tell me you heard what I just said!"

"I heard you, Mamma," said Nathan, some color coming to his cheeks. "Okay, in an hour."

He hung the phone up and turned to his sisters, who were looking at the phone with outraged eyes.

"Sit down," he said.

Flossie stood behind Nathan, her hands lightly on his shoulders. A baby started crying somewhere, and she left to take care of that, whoever's baby it was. Johnnie Sue joined her. They made sure that nobody bothered the siblings until the phone rang again.

In Catfish Hollow, Marian went to the wastebasket and reached in to pull out the photographs she had thrown away. She had looked at them as if she were Harvey, and knew in her heart that they were the reason for his heart attack. She had thrown them away for the same reason, unable to look at them without thinking of what his reaction would have been.

Hilda Mae's confession, though, had sobered her. Harvey had tried to ruin the lives of his children. He hadn't thought of it that way, of course, but the end result was the same. She couldn't let his death finish the job. She had been sure he was going to kill her in his rage when he found Hilda Mae gone. She had known he would be irate, but hadn't thought he'd maim her because of it. After the attack, though, she knew the depths to which he could sink. She remembered the grin of triumph on his face as he had beaten her. He had called her all the things that he would have called his daughters, had they been there. And she knew, as she was being beaten, that had they been there, he would be doing everything to them, that he was doing to her ... everything.

But they hadn't been there. They were where they were happy. That, too, was obvious in the photographs. That's why she recovered them from the trash. Now she could look at them and only see her children, smiling, happy, with beautiful children of their own, no matter what their color. She peered intently at Hilda Mae's face, smiling, relaxed, lips pursed for a gentle kiss. She looked gloriously pregnant, while most women at that stage looked haggard and drawn.

She glanced at the insurance policies. She was a wealthy woman in her own right, now. And she had nothing to stay in Catfish hollow for. Now she could go and see her grandbabies. And that might keep them from coming back. Who knew who else besides the constable had seen those pictures. Hadn't she heard there was a crowd around him when he died?

The bank could have the house. They'd only paid on it for three years, and the equity in it was little or nothing. She could walk away from it all if she wanted to. She looked around at her things. How much of it really mattered now that Harvey was gone? Furniture could be replaced. Clothing could be replaced. Dishes could be left right where they were. Whoever moved into the house could have it all.

No ... wait ... she'd have to pack up everything that belonged to her children. She couldn't leave that behind. They must have no reason to come here again. She looked at her watch. It was time to call. She picked up the phone and dialed. It was answered in the middle of the first ring.

"I'm coming up there for a visit," she said into the phone. "I'll call you when I have all the plans made."

She heard Nathan relay the information. She endured five more minutes of promising her daughters that she was really coming there, and trading professions of love for each other. Then she hung up and began to make a list of everything that would have to be done before she could leave.

There were more calls, of course. Hilda Mae and Bernadette ran up an atrocious long distance bill until their mother finally told them she couldn't get anything done if they kept calling every other day. Along the way, though, Marian got the directions on how to find the farm. She rushed things a little. Both of her daughters' due dates were the third week in June, and If Marian wanted anything in life, she wanted to be there when those babies were born.

The insurance company drug its heels, and sent endless paperwork to be filled out. She returned it all by registered mail, and that took an extra week because the Catfish Hollow post office had never sent anything that way, and didn't have the proper stamps. Then she had to get the station wagon looked over. The blacksmith took his time doing that, but finally pronounced the car fit for a trip of a thousand miles. While she might be wealthy when the insurance company finally released the funds, her bank account was getting alarmingly low. The new bank president assured her her debts would be covered until the insurance money came through. He actually apologized for being in place within four days of Harvey's death.

She wasn't planning on coming back. Part of her never wanted to see this dusty town again in her whole life. Another part of her, though, realized that great changes had occurred in her family here, and the atmosphere of Catfish Hollow would cling to them forever.

Finally she was packed and ready. She had only one more thing to do. She didn't know how it would turn out, but the more she thought about it, the more important she thought it was. She picked up her pocketbook, checked to make sure what she was looking for was inside, and walked out of the house. When she drove away, she didn't look in the rear view mirror.

Around three in the afternoon, on the 14th of June, 1965, Bernadette heard the crunch of tires on gravel. She was sitting on the ground in the garden, pulling weeds. She was so gravid that only sitting allowed her to do any work at all. She shaded her eyes, looking through the break in between the houses that led to the driveway ... and blinked. She yelled for her sister, who was sitting on a bench in the shade, napping. Her ankles had been swelling lately and she was having difficulty getting around.

"What?" called Hilda Mae. She didn't feel like getting up. She felt like she was carrying a twenty-five pound bowling ball around in her belly, and just knew she waddled like a duck when she walked. She loved Moses, and she knew she'd love this baby, but she sure wished it would hurry up and get tired of being carried around.

"That looks like our car coming up the drive."

"Nathan?" asked Hilda Mae.

"No!" said Bernadette, levering herself up to a kneeling position. From there she got a foot under her and struggled up. "Our car ... Mamma and Daddy's car!"

"The station wagon?" asked Hilda Mae, no longer drowsy. She leaned forward, in an attempt to stand up.

"I think it is!" squealed Bernadette. "I think it's Mamma!" she screamed.

Flossie stepped out of her house. She was big too, but she carried the child higher, and seemed less vexed by it.

"What's going on?" she called.

"I think Mamma's here!" shouted Bernadette, trying to run toward the driveway, but managing only a quick waddle.

Johnnie Sue came outside too, to see what the ruckus was about. She was the only female present who wasn't pregnant, and the only one who could run to see who was coming up the drive. She got there just as Marian rolled to a stop in a cloud of dust.

She got out, and stretched, putting her hands in her back and leaning back.

"Lord have mercy," she moaned. "That was a long drive!"

"Mrs. Wilson!" squeaked Johnnie Sue. "You're here!"

"I am indeed, Johnnie Sue, and I bring the greetings of your parents."

There were screams and the singularly odd sight of two pregnant women, apparently racing each other, trying to be the first one to get to Marian.

"Well would you look at you two!" laughed their mother. "I remember walking like that. I can't tell you how glad it isn't me who looks like she swallowed a watermelon whole!"

There were shrieks and shouts. Luthor wasn't on duty today, and he came out of the house in his undershirt. He'd worked the graveyard shift, and had been sleeping. His hair was tousled, and he had a little dark-skinned person in his arms that was wiggling and fussing. Bernadette and Hilda Mae were practically jumping up and down, asking why she hadn't told them she was coming, and when did she leave, and how long did it take her and so on.

"I wanted to surprise you," said Marian. She turned to Johnnie Sue. "I brought something with me for you ... sort of a present from your parents, I think. It's under a blanket in the back seat."

She positioned herself to watch, as Johnnie Sue bounded to the car and pulled the back door open. She reached inside and pulled a blanket toward her. There was a sudden shout of "BOO!" and Johnnie Sue screamed. Then she screamed again and started dancing around in circles, screaming over and over again. Luthor stepped forward, a look of concern on his face.

Then Jesse climbed out of the car, laughing.

"Jesse?" Luthor breathed. "Is that really Jesse?"

Marian turned to him and said "It is, in fact, Jesse Hawthorn."

Luthor took off, holding the baby like a football, except that he supported the child's head while he ran. Marian looked up to see Johnnie Sue plastered against Jesse, kissing him long and hard. She almost smiled. She had looked closely at the little black baby sucking at Johnnie Sue's breast. Based on what she'd learned from Hilda Mae, and some parents she'd talked to, it almost had to be Jesse's, even though he was two years younger than she was.

She'd showed the picture to Adelaide, Jesse's mother first. The woman had stared at it and her brown skin had gotten a grayish tinge to it. Then Jesse had been called in. His mother handed him the picture and waited. His eyes got round, and he grinned. Then, realizing his mother was staring at him, he wiped the grin off his face.

"Is that your baby Johnnie Sue is suckling?" she asked her son.

He'd tried to deny it at first. Adelaide had then nodded wisely and suggested that, once Johnnie Sue got to Kansas City that she had met some nigger boy and it must be his baby. Jesse almost exploded.

There had been a lot of questions then, and Jesse had sweated his way through all of them, finally admitting that Johnnie Sue let him get her pregnant because she'd be gone so long before he could go up there and be a policeman. He didn't think it was a good idea to explain about Luthor, so he kept that part in.

"That's my grandson?" asked his mother, staring at the picture.

"Yess'm" said Jesse. "Ain’t he beautiful?" he sighed, looking over his mother's shoulder.

"Isn't he beautiful," Marian corrected him. "And I think you mean handsome." She looked at him staring at the picture. "You've never seen him before, have you?" asked Marian.

"She told me about him in a letter, but she wrote it like it was some other woman she was talking about, in case somebody else read the letter. She couldn't send any pictures, though."

"What's Wilamina going to do when I show her this picture?" asked Adelaide.

"She's prob'ly gonna have her husband lynch me," said Jesse, like he was talking about whether a cow was black or brown.

"As well she should," said his mother.

"But I'm gonna marry her, Mamma," he said, his voice pleading. "You can do that up North, there, and when I'm old enough I'm going up there to be a policeman and marry Johnnie Sue!"

"Where I grew up the marrying part came before the having babies part," sighed Adelaide.

Marian had part of what she came for. Now she went for the rest.

"I'm on my way up there today. I'm leaving from here, in fact. I just thought you might want to see your grandson."

"You're going to see them?" asked Jesse, his voice agonized. He was sixteen, and was beginning to look like a man, but his voice still sounded young.

"I am," said Marian. "I'd offer to take you for a visit, except that I don't think I'm coming back." When nobody picked up on the obvious, she almost groaned. "I am a little worried about one thing, though. When my husband died, he had these pictures with him, and they spilled on the ground. I don't know if anyone else saw them. I'd hate for Jesse to get into trouble. I mean I'm scandalized, of course," she said, sounding not scandalized at all. "But if the wrong people saw them, I guess there could be real trouble for Jesse here."

She hated doing this to the poor woman, but it was necessary. At least she hoped so. She was shocked when Adelaide looked up and she was crying.

"There's people in this town that would kill him if they knew." Her shoulders shook.

"I was thinking," said Marian, trying to ignore the crying woman in front of her. "You're a good student, Jesse. You studied hard last year - I know, I was there to see it - and it occurred to me that, if you went with me, you could finish school up there ..." She looked to see the hope register on both faces. "I know you would do all right in just about any school."

"But what'll we do?" asked his mother. "We need him here!"

"I have money, Mamma," said Jesse. "More than Nathan's been sending. I can send you some money to help out."

"Can you send enough to hire a man to take your place?" asked Adelaide, looking hopeless.

"I can send enough money to hire two men," he said calmly.

It only took ten minutes, and then Jesse was hurrying to his room to pick out the things there was room for in the station wagon. There wasn't a lot of room, but he could take some clothing, and maybe a few cherished personal items. Adelaide said she'd explain everything to her husband, and Marian gave her the picture.

She had taught Jesse the rules of the road on the trip North. He already knew the mechanics of driving, but didn't have a license. She let him practice between towns. After the first five hundred miles she felt secure enough to snatch a nap while he drove on through the night.

As she saw the obvious joy that Johnnie Sue greeted the young man with, Marian knew she had done a good thing, even if she wasn't sure it was the right thing.

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