sundown

A rooster crowed and Wyatt Buckley rolled over in bed and pulled the covers up over his head. The fowl gave another call and Wyatt moaned slightly and rose to greet the day. He knew that today would not be much different than the day before, at least not in Silverton.

The tiny town in the panhandle of Texas had a population that barely numbered a thousand and not much happened around here that everyone didn’t know about in short order. He couldn’t wait to graduate from high school and head off to the excitement of the big city, wherever that might be.

Most of his friends were choosing between West Texas A&M University or Texas Tech in Lubbock. He was thinking more about the University of Texas in Austin or maybe heading off to attend Texas A&M in College Station. He had visited all four schools and found each one impressive in its own way.

Still there was something that he couldn’t put his finger on that made him question which one to choose. He was home staring out the window when it hit him. Everybody at each of those schools had reminded him of himself. They were mostly God fearing, hard working Texas kids and where most people would be comforted by being surrounded by like minded folks, Wyatt wanted something different. He wanted to experience something new.

At school he sat down in the library and rubbed his hands over a rather large book. It was a listing of all the colleges and universities in the country and it was in here that his future laid.

He tilted his head up, closed his eyes and after a momentary pause, he swiped his hand across the table and flipped the book open. He opened one eye, glanced down and took a deep breath. Now placing his left hand over his eyes he stabbed his finger down on the open page.

His parents thought he was crazy and his friends were confused when he told them he was going to go to Ohio and attend the University of Cincinnati. He waved off their concerns and loaded up his ten year old 1950 Ford pick-up truck and headed off to the Queen City of the West.

He threw himself into his studies in the fall of 1960. He enjoyed every experience that came his way and that included campus life and girls, girls and more girls. On weekends he often took his old truck and headed off in whatever direction struck his fancy. He drove through the small towns and the big cities taking everything in and loving every minute of it.

Late on a Saturday afternoon in October he decided on a whim that he wanted to see the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. He tossed a bologna sandwich in a brown paper bag and headed off for adventure. As he drove along through town after town he dreamt of driving around the famed brickyard in those fast race cars.

He spotted a man walking along the roadside with his thumb in the air and quickly pulled over. The man opened the door and hopped in, “Thank you sir.”

Wyatt laughed and stuck out his hand, “Shoot, don’t nobody call me sir. Wyatt Buckley.”

The man smiled, “Nice to meet you Wyatt, I’m Jerome Blackwell.”

They drove on for a mile or so in silence before his new passenger asked, “So where you headed?”

Wyatt grinned, “I’m fixing on seeing the racetrack in Indianapolis. How about you? Where are you headed?”

Jerome laughed, “Home to see my folks in Louisville.”

Wyatt nodded his head, “Well heck, I never been there neither. I suppose I could go to Indianapolis some other time.”

Jerome stared at this stranger, “You serious?”

Wyatt glanced over, “Serious as a rattlesnake bite on Sunday morning.”

Jerome shook his head and laughed.

As the light began to fade Wyatt noticed a change in demeanor in Jerome but said nothing and they drove on. The truck gave a small shudder, the engine quit and they coasted over to the side of the road. Wyatt said, “It’s alright, this old gal just wants some attention, probably the battery cable came loose is all.”

The two got out and Wyatt opened the hood as Jerome jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around nervously. After a couple of adjustments and repeated attempts at restarting failed, Wyatt muttered, “Looks like we may be stuck here for tonight, wherever here is.”

Jerome shook his head, “No thank you.” He turned around and stared off into the trees that lined the road, “I should’ve known better.”

Wyatt smiled, “What do you mean by that?”

Jerome shook his head again, “It’s fixing to get dark.”

Wyatt broke out in laughter, “What, are you scared of the dark?”

Jerome stared back defiantly, “This here is Greenhills.”

Wyatt raised up his hands, “So?”

Jerome sighed and spoke as if he was talking to a child, “This is a sundown town, I didn’t see no sign, but I know it is.”

Wyatt sounded confused, “A what?”

Jerome took a step forward and held out his arms with his palms up, “You see the color of my skin?”

Wyatt smiled uneasily, “Yeah, it’s black. So?”

Jerome sighed, “So, in sundown towns they say, don’t let the sun go down on your ass if you’re black.”

Wyatt shook his head, “I never heard that before.”

Jerome looked down at the ground, “Well you aint black, that’s for sure.”

Just then a church bell began ringing in the distance and Jerome muttered, “Shit.”

Wyatt scratched the side of his face, “Now what?”

Jerome pointed off into the distance, “That’s the signal.”

Wyatt’s shoulders slumped, “I do not understand any of this.”

Jerome looked up and down the road, “You just see, a sheriff gonna come down this road and if he sees me, well the shit gonna hit the fan. I’ll end up beaten or arrested or dead.”

Wyatt stuck his head back under the hood of his truck and resumed tinkering around with the wiring on the battery, “Get in and try to start it up.”

Jerome got in and turned the key and the engine roared to life. Wyatt raised his hands in triumph and slammed down the hood. As Wyatt walked around to get inside, a pair of headlights approached.

Jerome slid down onto the floor and pulled a small blanket over top of him as Wyatt asked, “Seriously.”

The car heading toward them slowed and a bright light was aimed at Wyatt, temporarily blinding him. The patrol car came to a stop across from them and the officer inside asked, “What you doing here son?”

Wyatt smiled, “Oh just had a little engine trouble but she’s fine now.”

The officer did not return the smile, “Then be on your way.”

Wyatt replied simply, “Yes sir.”

Wyatt pulled back onto the road and eyed the rearview mirror, “Crap.”

Jerome pulled back the blanket, “What?”

Wyatt tried to remain calm, “He turned around and now he’s following us.”

Jerome began mumbling, “Shit, shit, shit. If he stops us I’m dead and he aint gonna be too happy bout you either.”

Wyatt kept both hands tight on the steering wheel and tried to drive as straight and steady as he could while constantly eyeing the patrol car that stayed right on his rear bumper. They drove through the small town until the officer finally turned around at the town limits and Wyatt relaxed, “He turned around, you can get up now.”

The two young men rode along in silence until they pulled into the driveway of a small house on the outskirts of Louisville. Wyatt was welcomed into the Blackwell home and stayed the night.

In the morning they enjoyed a big Sunday morning breakfast and then Wyatt said his goodbyes and headed back to Cincinnati a little more educated than when he had left the day before.

Robert James Carmack

June 2020