She saw people turn around, look behind them.
Headlights.
“Run!” Ike yelled.
The crowd dispersed in a panic, people running away from the laundry in all directions.
Elsa grabbed Loreda’s hand and yanked her back toward the stinking toilets. No one else was going this way. They lurched into the shadows behind the building and hid there.
Men jumped out of the trucks, holding baseball bats, sticks of wood; one had a shotgun. They formed a line and began walking through the camp, backlit by their headlights, their footsteps muffled by the chug of their engines. They beat their weapons into the palms of their hands, a steady thump, thump, thump.
Elsa pressed a finger to her mouth and pulled Loreda along the fence line. When they finally made it back to the cabins, they ran for their own, slipped inside, locked the door behind them.
Elsa heard footsteps coming their way.
Light flashed through the cracks in the cabin; men moved past, accompanied by the sound of baseball bats hitting empty palms.
The sound came close—thump, thump, thump—and then faded away. In the distance, someone screamed.
“You see, Loreda?” Elsa whispered. “They’ll hurt the people who threaten their business.”
It was a long time before Loreda spoke, and when she did, her words were no comfort at all. “Sometimes you have to fight back, Mom.”
THIRTY-TWO
“Can we drive to relief this week, Ma?” Ant said at the end of another long, hot, demoralizing day picking cotton.
Elsa had to admit that the idea of walking to town and back after a day in the fields was hardly appealing.
But these were the kinds of decisions that came back to haunt a woman when winter came.
“Just this once. In fact, Ant, if you want to, you can stay in the camp and play with your friends if you’d like.”
“Really? That’d be swell.”
“I’ll stay and watch him,” Loreda said.
Elsa gave her daughter a pointed look. “You, I’m not letting out of my sight.”
They left Ant at the cabin and got into the truck.
“Can I practice driving? Grandpa said I should keep practicing,” Loreda said. “What if there’s an emergency?”
“An emergency that requires you to drive?”
“It’s possible.”
“Fine.”
Loreda got behind the wheel.
Elsa climbed into the passenger seat. Lord, but it was hot. Loreda started the engine.
“You remember how to work the pedals? Do it slowly, carefully. Find the—”
The truck lurched forward and died.
“Sorry,” Loreda said.