By the time we reached Kansas City I had begun to recover my usual happy spirits. My popularity was never greater. We took the entire upper floor of a small hotel in a residential street near the river, then went out to dine at an excellent restaurant specialising in local dishes. When we returned by cab, Mrs Mawgan was told she had a telegram at the desk. It was from Eddy Clarke in Atlanta. She read it carefully, since it appeared to be partly in code. Then she squared her shoulders, drawing a deep sigh. ‘Is it bad news?’ I asked. She tilted her head on one side and winked at me. ‘Well, it ain’t the greatest, Max.’ We went back upstairs to bed. In the morning, before we got up, she admitted Clarke’s telegram had disturbed her. Its content was gloomy but worse was the fact he felt any need to send it. If he wanted her back as an ally he was losing his battle against the Evans faction. She feared they might turn their next attack upon her. ‘It means he’s jittery,’ she said. ‘Once his spunk goes, it’s all over for him.’
I said we must return to Atlanta immediately, but she shook her head. ‘Stay out of it now and you stand a chance of helping him later. As far as Evans and company know you’re hired by the organisation, not by Eddy. They might be reluctant to keep you on the payroll, but they won’t think you’re a real threat.’
‘They must know we’re travelling together.’
‘If we’re asked, Eddy was furious when I ran off with you. Get it?’
I understood, but I felt miserable. It was a singularly petty deception, given that Clarke, my benefactor and her ex-lover, was threatened from all sides.
‘You should always remember. Max,’ she insisted, ‘the Klan is whoever has most power at the moment. If it’s Evans, then Evans has real muscle. All he has to do is holler “traitor” and you know damn’ well what would happen to us. Nobody’s going to put me on the spot if I can help it. We’ve both got too much to lose. Eddy will take his own chances. The very least would be the papers getting the blow up. They’d love to put me on the front page in nothing but my underwear. There’s a lot of laundry don’t need washing in Dow-Lee’s window. Max.’
If she was sure this was the only way to remain free and help Eddy Clarke should he need us, I accepted her arguments. Determinedly, we continued the tour but we were both in a nervous frame of mind. In Denver we had a mixed public reception and the local Klan people seemed awkward around us, but otherwise friendly. We cut short the rest of our Colorado tour, heading instead for the friendlier waters of Idaho and Oregon where I enjoyed my usual enormous audiences. Oregon always has a special place in my heart. No one could say she had any immediate race problem of her own, yet she remained thoroughly alert to all potential danger, boasting one of the highest Klan memberships in the country. From Eugene we were due to go on to Redding, California, but at the last moment heard the booking had been cancelled.
Mrs Mawgan became thoughtful after receiving the news. Later she made two or three telephone calls and sent a couple of wires. Eventually, in our bedroom, she was able to tell me our next engagement, ‘It’s in Walker, Nevada,’ she said. ‘The local Kleagle’s agreed to cover our expenses and arrange a hall. After that we’ve still got a couple of big ones in Fresno and Bakersfield.’ She was vaguer than usual. I asked what was wrong.
She admitted she was not sure. ‘It’s an instinct. Max. The smell of fish.’
‘Are we in danger?’
‘I wouldn’t pitch it that strong. But we’d better be ready to lie low after Fresno and see which way the wind blows. You can come with me to New York if you like.’
‘It would be pleasant to spend some time there. Thank you, Bessy.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ She grinned suddenly and kissed me. But her eyes were alert, like a deer at the waterhole.
Matters became immediately worse next morning as we checked out. I heard Mrs Mawgan at the cash desk shout, ‘What the hell do you mean, not certified? I’ve had my fill of this. Since when have I had to give a hotel a certified check? The room should have been paid for ahead of time. No I don’t have the damned cash. Get the manager. Call what’s his name, Mr Ainsfield. Here. I’ll give you the number. Our checks are always guaranteed locally. It’s in the contract.’
I put down my bag and went to where, red with anger, she trembled against the desk. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘The dumb bastards who organised your talk, colonel, have forgotten to pay the hotel or give them a letter of guarantee, that’s all.’
Usually the Klan was responsible, under various different names, for all our booking and travel details. This was the first time there had been a problem. I had always been impressed by the courtesy and efficiency of local chapters. Mr Ainsfield was reached at his store. He was the Kleagle responsible for organising my talk. I heard Mrs Mawgan say sweetly, as she continued to glare balefully at the embarrassed woman clerk two feet away, ‘Well, perhaps you would come over right away, Mr Ainsfield, and reassure them?’ She listened furiously to his reply. ‘No, Mr Ainsfield, we have a train to catch. How about right now? Don’t you think it would be a shame if we had to come there and found you hiding under a sheet, ha, ha.’
Her threat succeeded and Freddy Ainsfield arrived in a taxi ten minutes later. He apologised to us both and paid the clerk in cash, even tipping the porter who took our luggage to the same taxi. ‘We had no instructions,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what’s going on, Mrs Mawgan. Everybody’s confused. I heard Mr Clarke had his contract cancelled. Mr Evans is supposed to have accused him of immorality. Is that true? Are the Feds gunning for him? Is that a rumour, ma’am?’
‘We wouldn’t know, Mr Ainsfield,’ she said coldly. ‘We have no connection with the Klan, though of course we are frequently invited to speak by you fine people. You should get in touch with Atlanta.’
‘We’ve been trying. All lines are busy. Someone said Colonel Simmons was shot by Roman Catholics.’
‘It’s news to me, Mr Ainsfield.’ She ducked into the taxi and I followed, relieved to escape the embarrassment. I said I thought she handled it well. She shook her head. ‘That smell of fish is getting stronger. Max.’
We just had time to buy our tickets in the marble foyer. With our porter, a running mound of baggage, ahead of us, we barely made the platform. The train was a regular coach class with no Pullmans, but we were glad to be on our way. We should have to change at Reno. Panting, I leaned out of the window to catch my breath and saw one other passenger who had given himself even less margin than we. He came running through the steam to swing aboard the caboose as we pulled away from Eugene into her featureless suburbs. I sat back down again. Mrs Mawgan was sorting through some letters of invitation. Soon craggy forested hills appeared and rivers rushed through little gorges. Walker was on the edge of the desert. The barren State of Nevada had never previously invited me to speak. I suspected it was because people lived so far apart. A Kloncave must be a rarity, I thought. As she put her papers back into their case I asked Mrs Mawgan what she thought, ‘It’s just luck, I guess,’ she said. ‘They needed someone to speak in a couple of days and we were suddenly available. Don’t expect a lot from Walker, Max. We’ll be lucky to cover expenses on this one. If a hundred people pay fifty cents to see you it will be a miracle.’
Adjusting his dark brown suit, the man who had caught the train via the caboose sat down with a thump in the seat across the aisle from us. His long face looked unsmilingly at me as I passed a friendly word. ‘Just made it, eh?’ I said. ‘I saw your magnificent dash. Bravo!’