Page 123 of Meet Me on Greenwood

America’s Pastime—Lynching

My throat was dry when I woke. I was laying on something hard and makeshift. My gown had been cut away, replaced by a man’s undershirt and a bandage wrapped around my stomach.

Though bleary-eyed, I could just make out the figures before me. Bernie was consoling Rita in the corner, and lots of others I didn’t know were huddled nearby, all still in their formal wear. Stradford paced through the room, pulling the long cord of the phone along with him. He was screaming—something about bringing someone in to save them. I’d done this, I realized. I’d done this when I’d killed that man. It didn’t matter that it was self-defense, I had altered the timeline, and now the Tulsa Massacre was happening months earlier than it had in recorded history.

I continued to shift my eyes and did a double take when they landed Paul. He had a rifle in one hand and was leaned over talking to Houston. He looked concerned and lucid, conversing in a manner I’d only caught glimpses of in our time together.

"Houston," I whispered.

His body turned as he rushed to my side.

"Don’t try to talk," he said. "You were hurt, but I was able to remove the bullet and sew you shut. You are not in a state to move much. We are just waiting for reinforcements to come so we can get you to the hospital."

"Rita?" I asked.

He squeezed my hand. "She and Bernie are safe. They were able to get out and warn residents to arm themselves."

The memory of events at the ball came rushing back. "We were attacked," I gasped.

"Yes, but it is all right. Stradford is trying to call in the National Guard."

"Tell him no!" I gasped. "They won’t help."

Houston clenched my hand. "What do you mean, they won’t help? They have to."

I sat up as best I could. He let me lean against him. "Listen to me. I know what happens here," I whispered. "We need to get all of these people out and into the tunnels. How far is the closest opening?"

"There is a tunnel underneath the hotel,” he said as he stroked my gently, even now, careful to not disrupt the curls.

If I hadn’t come to know Houston Whitaker, I would have been shocked. Of course he’d been working on a system to get keep people like Susan and her family out of sight. I’d not even asked how they’d kept Freida hidden away. She was in the one place no one would think to look—a luxury hotel.

Thinking back, Stradford had basically told me as much, but it had gone over my head. The room he’d shown that hadn’t looked like much, but had clothes already in the wardrobe and a satchel of soap and hygienic supplies.

“Good,” I said, my breathing becoming more labored. "We need to make everyone go and hide. Everything in Greenwood is going to be destroyed."

"You can’t know…"

I clenched his hand tighter. "I do. You will think you are winning," I continued. "And you will be, but then there will be bombs. We must be cleared out before then."

Our eyes met and I could see his warring thoughts. What he thought he knew versus the revelation I’d shared.

"You have to go back," he said suddenly. "Back to your time."

I shook my head. "No, I’m staying with you."

He paused, seeming at a loss. "In the future, they must have better, more advanced medical treatments?"

I nodded. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He took the blanket and wrapped it around me before hoisting me up. I did my best not to grimace, but it didn’t work.

"Houston, what are you doing?"

He ignored me and whispered to Paul that he would return. Paul met my eyes and smiled. "You scared me, Gema. I only wish, I’d gotten my shot off on Sterling sooner. Maybe you wouldn’t be hurt."

"You saved Houston’s life," I said putting the pieces together. The last thing I had seen was the shot that took Gray out. Now I knew who’d done it.

He smiled with pride. "I’ve always been a good shot. Take care, Gema."