Chapter 12

Sunday, June 27, 8:08 p.m.

George Wallace's trailer had its own entrance from the access road, but it was located quite close to the Hemphill doublewide from which Sam had just departed. Wallace, elderly, gray and extremely thin, was standing at the door waiting for him when Sam got out of his car.

"'Evenin', Sheriff," the black man said. 'Saw you over to Artis' place. 'Figured you'd be by here next."

"You know why I'm here?"

"Yup. 'Nothin in the paper yet, I understand, but I heard about them findin' that white woman, over to the swamp, there."

"I'm Chief Deputy Sheriff Sam Wicks. What can you tell me about it, Mr. Wallace?"

"You kin jus' call me 'Governor, ' Deputy. I 'preciate the respect and all -- it's a lot better'n the old times. But everybody 'round here calls me Governor

... you know -- Governor Wallace? It ain't that funny, I guess, but I'm used to it now. And it amuses me some, to this day."

Sam smiled. "I'm wondering if you saw anything out there on Saturday, Mr... Governor."

"Well, you kin see that a body can't see much from here -- you can barely even see the entranceway to that there dirt road. But I was out there on the road Saturday afternoon, and I did see a man."

"When was this?"

"Well, now. It was some after dinner time -- after noontime I mean... lunch time. I was over to the road with my dogs, lookin' to go 'cross the way, there, t'other side of County Line, maybe tree us some 'coons. -- No gun, y' understand, Deputy... jis' practice fer the dogs."

Sam knew, vaguely, that hunting season was past, but that it was commonplace for 'coon hunters to run their dogs throughout the year.

The old man continued without prompting. "I saw this white fella 'longside the road, not very far in, but stuck there, in the mud. 'Looked like he'd tried to turn that car around, 'head back this way, but he'd got them back tires into it, pretty bad. He's out there spinnin' around, and then he got out and I see'd he'd been out, before that, 'cause his shoes was a mess! 'Looked like he got two muddy stumps, down where his feet ought to be."

"What'd you do?"

"Well, I ain't strong, Deputy. But I could see, that white man didn't have the first idea, how to get that car out. I went over t' him, told him I thought I could steer him out'a there, if he wanted to push."

"Tell me what he looked like... Governor."

"Well, he was a white fella. 'Kinda slight. Older'n you, Deputy. 'Bout as tall as you. He was dressed regular, but he didn't look like no local man."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know, exactly. He was different, y'know? He was kinda shaky-like, and actin' uncomfortable. I jus' thought it was because of the car trouble, y'know? He was muddy and messed up and flustrated-like. So I didn't think much about it. He was glad enough to get my help, though. 'Seemed to understand, I was too frail to be doin' the pushin', and he was ready to listen, 'bout how I thought we ought'a go 'bout, gettin' him out a' there.

"I showed him how to push from over t' the side of the car, and I put on the gas easy-like, 'got him out of there, right straight. 'Tried to give me $10! I told him, no, I wouldn't take no money for jus' helpin' a man."