Note: Just a very brief note to one thank all of you and two to let you know that there is no sex is this chapter. Happy New Year to all of you and may it be prosperous!!!
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As the train pulled away, Isadora got another look at Saul. She looked over at Noah and took note of the thoughtful look on his face. Part of her wanted to know what he was thinking, but part of her didn't want to know. She turned her thoughts toward home and seeing her family and wondered if Noah had family to spend the holidays with.
"Mr. Jackson?" she called softly.
"Yes?"
"Do you have plans for the holidays?" Isadora asked.
"No, I'm here on business." Noah replied.
"Would you like to come over to our house? There'll be plenty of food and mama says that there's always room for one more." Isadora said.
Noah didn't immediately respond. His plan was to meet with Whitman and a few others and then spend a quiet week at the hotel. He had thought about taking Whitman up on his offer to stay at his house, but a week with Whitman's wife glaring at him and hearing her snide comments was a little too much to bear. He knew that at some point, he would say something that would cause an argument and that he would tell Mrs. Whitman just what he thought of her.
"I think that I would enjoy that." He finally said with a smile. "I would also like to contribute to the meal." He added.
"There's no need for you to do that." Isadora replied. "Mama always makes enough to feed an army."
"Nevertheless, I insist." Noah replied.
A few minutes later, Isadora took one of the law journals out of her valise and began to read it. It was one that she had read before, but she didn't mind. She reread the notes that she had made in the corner and then the circled phrases that she hadn't really understood when she first read the journal. She noted with pride that she now understood each and every phrase and term.
Ever since she started school, she hovered between being a defense attorney and a prosecutor. The problem was that her people needed both. She wondered if it was possible to do both. If she saw Mr. Whitman, she would ask him about it.
She looked over at Noah Jackson. He was still very much an enigma to her. She had a ton of questions about him, but didn't ask. She knew that if she did, he would demand to know something about her. She turned her attention back to the Journal and began to read it. She missed the look that Noah Jackson gave her through the slits of his mostly closed eyes.
She reminded him so much of her...
'Her' was his daughter Evangeline who had been taken from him way to soon. If she had lived, she would have been Isadora's age... maybe a little older. She had that same natural curiosity about her and like Isadora, was very intelligent.
Noah felt the pang in his heart that he felt every time he thought about her and his wife Angela. Both of them were gone leaving him alone and with nothing except for his work. He pushed the feelings aside and thought about the young white man who had no qualms about doing menial labor. He recalled the day when Saul had gone to the defense of a fellow worker. He had a feeling about him then, as he did now. To this point, he had never helped a white person and wondered why.
Clearly the boy was no racist. He attended a black church, lived with a black family and did a job that was primarily held by blacks. There was one other thing. Noah noticed the way in which the boy looked at Isadora. It wasn't an outright look of interest, but the interest was there. He also wondered what they boy's story was. How he came to be in California and what his plans were. When he and Isadora got back, it was time to pay Brother Joshua and his wife a visit.
***
Saul helped one more family with their luggage before it was time for his shift to end. He was tired, hungry and wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. He checked on Harry to make sure that he was doing alright and headed toward home.
"Hey! Wait up!" Harry called after him.
Saul waited for the small, wiry black man to reach him.
"What way are you walking home?" He asked when he reached Saul.
"The way I always go home." Saul replied. "Why?"
"Don't go that way." Harry whispered looking around. "The new guy is planning to jump you."
"How do you know?" Saul asked.
"I have my ways." Harry replied.
Saul looked at Harry and grinned.
"Saul... you gonna go home your normal way ain't ya?"
"Thanks for the heads up, I'll see you tomorrow." Saul said and walked away.
"Wait a minute!" Harry called out. "What are you doin'? Didn't you hear me?"
"I heard you fine." Saul replied. "I'm not changing the way that I go home because of one idiot. The other thing is this, they'll know that you told me and they'll come after you."
"They?" Harry asked.
"Yes they." Saul replied. "I heard them talking about it today."
Harry was quiet for several seconds before he spoke again.
"I'm coming with you." He said. "I don't live but two blocks over from you and don' tell me that I don' hafta. I already knows that. Can I ask you sumthin?"
"Sure." Saul replied.
"Why don' ya just go another way home?"
Saul thought about his answer for a moment before answering.
"My father used to tell me that the one thing that a man doesn't do is to run away from trouble. He used to say that unless you face it head on, it keeps coming back. He's right about that." Saul said. "If I don't face these guys now, they'll just keep coming back. At some point, they'll catch me and we'll be at the same place. But Harry, go home; this isn't your fight."
"The hell it ain't!" Harry exclaimed. "It wasn't your fight when that man tried to say that I dropped his luggage on purpose was it?"
"No, but that was different." Saul replied.
"How so?" Harry demanded.
"You weren't going up against your own kind." Saul replied. "If you go with me, you will be."
"I'm still going with you." Harry insisted. "So let me get my pail and let's go."
Ten minutes later, they were headed toward Joshua's house. Their ears were straining to hear any sounds that were out of the ordinary. They were half way to the house when they heard the first voice. Seconds later, there was a second and then a third voice.
"Here they come." Harry whispered.
"Keep walking." Saul whispered back. "I don't want them to know that we heard them."
They had gone a few more steps when the first of the three men stepped out to their right.
"There'll be one up ahead." Saul murmured. "That makes four."
"We can take em'" Harry said. "I'm stronger than I look."
By this time, one man was behind them and they were flanked on either side. Moments later, Dewey Adams was standing in front of them blocking their way. Dewey looked at Harry first and then at Saul before he spoke.
"Well looky here. If it ain't the white boy and his nigger."
When neither Saul nor Harry said anything, Dewey asked Harry a direct question.
"What you doin' with this white boy? He ain't one of us."
"That be none of ya business." Harry replied. "Just let us be on our way."
Saul stood silent ready to move and then he realized something. The three that were with Dewey didn't want to be there. They had been either intimidated into the fight or they were having second thoughts. If he got rid of Dewey, the others would go away.
"Dewey." Saul called out. "It seems to me that the issue is between us and no one else. So why don't we let them go home and we settle this between the two of us."
"Saul!" Harry hissed. "Whatcha doin'? You see how big he is?"
Saul ignored him and taunted Dewey.
"Unless of course; you're afraid of a skinny white boy."
Dewey's eyes widened at Saul's taunt. He had heard about how Saul had gone to Harry's defense, but he hadn't believed that any more than he had believed that a white man was working amongst them. In his mind, Saul was taking a job that another black man needed.
"What do you say?" Saul asked. "Are we going to do this?"
"I'm going to kick your white ass." Dewey said.
"Probably; especially since you've got a good three inches on me and at least forty pounds." Saul said calmly. "But you aren't and won't be the last person white or black to kick my ass. I will promise you this though; I won't just stand here and let you do it. I'll do anything that I can to take your black ass down. Are you ready?"
Saul handed his lunch pail to Harry, took off his uniform jacket and rolled his sleeves up. He took the fighters stance and waited.
Dewey looked around to see where the others were. They were still standing where they had stopped. He knew that if he used them, the word would get around that he was too afraid to take the white boy on alone. But he couldn't walk away without looking like a coward either. He wasn't worried about getting into trouble for beating a white man. They were in the black part of town and no one would say or do anything to stop him except for Harry. Without warning, Dewey charged.
His face was contorted with anger and hatred at white people in general. Suddenly, he didn't care who saw him or if he went to jail or not. He didn't even care if he killed Saul. Saul now symbolized every white person who had taken from him. He became every white man that had called him a nigger and treated him as if he was no more than dirt.
As Saul waited for Dewey to make his decision, he watched him and remembered something that Jacob once told him.
"Every man has a 'tell'- a signal that lets you know that he's going to make a move. It's an unconscious thing meaning that they aren't aware that they're doing it. Look over there at that group of white men. You see the bald one?"
"I see him." Saul replied.
"He's going to start a fight with the man holding the cards." Jacob said.
"How do you know?" Saul asked intrigued.
"Look at the way his shoulders just tensed." Jacob said.
Moments later, a fight broke out and it was as Jacob had predicted. The bald headed man had initiated the fight.
"You're in a dangerous place boy." Jacob told him. "You need to know your surroundings and you have to watch people and learn their 'tells' it can save your life."
Saul kept his eyes glued on Dewey looking for a 'tell'. A moment later, he saw it. It was in his eyes. Something in them had changed. He was also acutely aware that the purpose of the fight had changed. It was no longer about a single white man taking a job; he had just become every white man. In that moment, Saul realized that he could die.
He braced himself for the charge that he knew was coming and whispered a prayer for help. Even though he knew that the hit was coming, Saul was still caught by surprise. He found himself on the ground, flat on his back and winded.
"That what you call fightin'?" Dewey sneered as he got ready for another charge.
