I glance at Othella. She nods almost imperceptibly, and I know she is okay for the moment.
“The only reason Othella is here is that she trusted me. So, Byron,” I turn to him, “are you sure this man is someone you can trust?”
“Nobody talks to me like that,” Schaefer interrupts gruffly.
“You’d better calm down, sir.” Byron’s tone is firm, and the man from Chicago flinches slightly. After a tense but brief silence, he adds, “So, what else do we need to discuss now that everyone has met?”
“We’re still on track,” Schaefer responds. “Our deal is working. A large shipment of Tynesdale goods will be lost at sea, and your father will lose his shirt. I’ll step in, save his business and reputation. Oust him, and you’ll take over.” He lights another cigarette. “That’ll open up the international trade for me, which doesn’t interest you. Our dealings will end. You’ll be the local good guy who brings the union to Tynesdale Estates. And I’ll have my hooks in so many different pies, I’ll end up happy as a lamb.”
There isn’t much more to say, and soon Othella and I are boarding the train back to the Cockpit. None of us was interestedin spending any social time with Schaefer. Besides, he and Byron had some final touches to make on sabotaging his father’s shipment.
“Did he threaten you?” I ask Othella, afraid of her answer.
“Yeah. But he’s going to double-cross Byron.”
“He said that.”
“He didn’t have to. I know the man that he is and will always be.”
‘Othella, I’m so sorry to get you involved. I didn’t know.”
“He knew I was here. It was just a matter of time before he found me, and I never would’ve wanted him to show up in Accompong.”
PART FOUR
THE COCKPIT: OCTOBER 1935
CHAPTER 38
ZINZI
Accompong, Maroon Village, Cockpit Country, Week Eight
My stomach feels uneasy and my head throbs. I need rest, but when I enter my mother’s home after the trip to Kingston, she is wide awake and eager to talk. “You are a woman of strength and conviction, ready to stand up for what you believe in,” my mother says, out of the blue. “What is happening in Kingston? Are you in trouble?”
“Momma, why are you up? You should be resting.”
“Don’t worry about me. The ancestors will watch over me.”
“Are you suggesting that they aren’t watching over me?”
“Mi don’t play around with words like you children from Kingston. But you’re the one who said it, not me.”
I collapse onto the mat next to her. “I’m very tired, Momma. We traveled from Kingston and back in one day. It was a long journey.”
She lifts her head to meet my gaze. “The spirit of the ancestors tells me you are worried about Byron.”
“I’m worried about Accompong, too, Momma.” I lift my arms over my head to stretch the tension from my back. “Hisfather and men like him are trying to use our community to strike out against the labor union movement.”
“Colonel Rowe knows that. The Koromantee war dances have begun. We’ve protected our freedom for centuries, and if you had more faith, you would worry less.”
“Sorry, Momma, but this is a dangerous situation. Sometimes, the ancestors aren’t the answer.”
“Blasphemy, as those churchgoers like to say. But that’s what it is. You speaking against the ancestors is more dangerous than your man friend’s father will ever be.”
“I’m too tired to argue. You may well be right.”
“Mi proud of you.”
