“Did Jasper sell?” I asked.
My visitor shook his head. “No, not then. He did later, but I’m getting ahead of the story. Jasper almost had another stroke when he found out Vidalia went begging, but she and Franklin didn’t listen. They and the little ones needed the food, and the little ones needed warm clothing. So at first they thanked Rachel. After that initial visit, she didn’t come again, but she did send her maid, a slave from her family’s plantation in Louisiana, over a few times with more food.” He grimaced. “This is the part of the story I don’t get, but my great-aunt said she had it straight from Franklin, her daddy, that Rachel Long’s maid was a conjure woman.”
“A lot of people in those days believed in voodoo,” I said, “and they often associated it with Louisiana.”
Jasper nodded. “I know that, but I still find it hard to believe myself. The strange thing was, when the maid started visiting, the children and Vidalia all turned sickly. They weren’t strong to begin with because of malnourishment, although the food from the Longs helped. The little ones all died within the space of a week.”
“Wasn’t a doctor called? Couldn’t anything be done for them?”
“The only good doctor in town had gone to serve as an army doctor,” Jasper said. “All they had left were a couple of midwives who knew about herbal medicines. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the children.”
“You said the mother died of a broken heart. When did Vidalia succumb?” I asked.
“Several months later, in the winter. Jasper died the next spring, leaving Franklin on his own. In the meantime, while Jasper was out of his mind with grief over the little ones dying, Andrew Long came in and talked him into selling the land for far less than it was worth. Franklin was out in the fields when it happened, and Vidalia was on the verge of dying herself. Neither one of them knew what was going on.”
“In your great-aunt’s mind, then, Andrew Long cheated her grandfather and father out of land.”
“That’s about it,” Jasper said. “Aunt Caroline believed, like her daddy did, that Rachel Long had her maid poison the children to drive Jasper crazy. All so Andrew could get his hands on a hundred acres.”
What an appalling story, I thought. Could any of it be true? I could believe that Rachel’s father-in-law was an opportunist and decided to get what he wanted when Jasper was at a weak point. But to believe that Rachel, through her maid, poisoned those little children to help her father-in-law cheat Jasper Singletary? That sounded far-fetched, at best. The death rate for children—particularly for children who didn’t have enough of the right food to eat—was high during that time. They probably died of natural causes.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jasper said. “Children died routinely back then. Starvation, acts of war, you name it; the civilian death rate skyrocketed while the war raged on. But the war hadn’t yet reached Athena when these children died.”
“If I remember correctly, the Union Army finally came to Athena in November 1862,” I said.
“That’s correct,” Jasper replied. “That was a year after the children died. And Vidalia. She lasted less than half a year after burying her babies.”
“One tragedy after another,” I said. That sounded weak to me, but I couldn’t figure out what to say to the man about the sad deaths of his family members more than a hundred years ago.
“That’s the luck of the Singletarys.” His tone held a bitter edge. “That’s the way it’s been ever since, but I’m aiming to change all that. I am going to win this election and prove that I have what it takes. Beck Long and his hallowed family name aren’t going to stand in my way.”
Again, I didn’t know quite how to respond to that. I hadn’t decided yet on my choice in the election, and I didn’t want to get into a discussion of it right now. I waited a moment to see whether he would continue. When he didn’t, I said, “Given all you’ve told me, I would say you’re hoping Rachel Long’s diary will contain some proof of these allegations.”
“Yes,” Singletary replied. “There may be some clue in there to tell us what really happened.”
“If there is any kind of proof in the diaries that Rachel Long and her maid were responsible for those deaths, what will you do?”
The hopeful politician narrowed his eyes. “Blacken the Long name so that they finally pay for their sins.” He smiled broadly. “And put myself in office.”
TWENTY-THREE
I could read nothing but malice into Jasper Singletary’s words. If it were indeed true that Rachel Long and her maid were somehow responsible for the deaths of Singletary’s family members, I could understand his wanting to have the truth known.
The rancor he felt toward the Longs—that was harder to understand. Had the Singletarys made the Longs the scapegoats for every misfortune they suffered since the Civil War? For that to be true, I reckoned, the Longs would have to have been actively persecuting the Singletary clan for more than a hundred and fifty years.
Or had the bitterness of that one terrible winter eaten into the Singletary family’s collective soul and kept the hatred alive all this time?
That sounded melodramatic, but bitterness corroded. I was curious to find out what other incidents could have kept the feud fresh one generation after another. Another talk with Miss Eulalie was in order, and I might consult the Ducote sisters as well. If those three ladies couldn’t answer my questions, I doubted anyone could.
While I woolgathered, Jasper Singletary stared at me, his impatience obvious.
“I understand that you want to know the truth,” I said, “but have you considered the possibility that the diaries may contain no proof whatsoever that these allegations are valid?”
“Yes, I have thought about it,” Singletary replied. “If the proof I need isn’t in the diaries, I’ll keep looking. One way or another I will prove that the Long family harbored a murderer, no matter how long ago it was.”
“How dare you say such a thing.”
Neither Singletary nor I was aware that the mayor stood in the doorway. She had obviously heard the young man’s words. Her eyes glinted with anger as she advanced into the room. To my surprise, she wasn’t alone. The tall figure of her son loomed behind her.
Singletary got to his feet and regarded Mrs. Long coolly. “I dare say it, Your Honor, because according to my family, it’s the truth. Only, the Long family has been able to cover it up all these years.” He shrugged. “Maybe now the truth will come to light.”
Beck Long stepped past his mother, who for once seemed at a loss for words. “Listen here, Singletary, I know you’re desperate because your campaign is going nowhere. Unless you want to have your behind hauled off to jail for libel, you’d better stop spouting crap like that.”
Singletary laughed harshly. “Your family really did waste money by sending you to law school.”
Long’s face reddened. He turned to his mother. “What is he talking about?”
Mrs. Long’s expression was enigmatic as she regarded her son. “The events he’s talking about must have taken place well over a century ago, so anyone he’s accusing of the crime has been dead a long time. You can’t libel the dead, so he can accuse Rachel Long or anyone else from her time of being a murderer.”
“Oh, yeah, that,” Beck Long said. “Well, he’s still trying to ruin our family name. That ought to count for something.”
Singletary turned to me. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Harris. I look forward to hearing from you.” He turned back to nod at the mayor and her son. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I have meetings to get to.” He strode out of the room.