~ The Preacher ~

by

Robert James Allison

"Yes, sir, I’m pretty busy. Crime doesn’t take a vacation you know."

The old man looked at Todd with admiration in his eyes and said, "I still can’t believe I gots a nephew that’s a policeman. When I was your age, I never even dreamed of no black man getting to be a policeman. Them was white jobs, us black folk did the jobs the white folk didn’t want to do."

Todd had heard this speech many times before and though he appreciated his uncle’s admiration, he had other things on his mind this day. This wasn’t a social call and he responded, "Times have changed, Uncle."

"Don’t I knows it," the old man now said. "Why I remember when I had to beg to go to grade school and you got all the way through college. Got yourself a fine job and..."

"Uncle Burrell," Todd cut him off gently and continued, "it’s about college. I came to talk about college and some other things. Okay?"

The old man stopped and stared carefully at his nephew’s face and asked, "Sure, son, what’s a bothering you?"

Todd smiled and said, "You always could read my mind."

"It comes from rais’n a young’n. You get to know them so much you almost become them. You raise ‘em up to do what you couldn’t do and along the way you become part of them and they part of you. Ain’t no magic to it, son, it’s just natural. It’s just family. Some families is closer than others. We was always close, you an’ me, we had to be to survive them days."

Gently leading his uncle back to the topic he was interested in, Todd asked, "Uncle Burrell, you remember when I started college..."

Burrell cut him off and said with a smile, "You bet I do. It was the proudest day of mine and Ginney’s life, that day was. Except for maybe when you graduated."

"Yes, but what I mean is… do you remember how I had the money for college?"

"Sure, I told ya it was from the fund. I told you about the fund. Don’t know where it came from, it was just there. Different places from time to time, but always there, just when you needed it. It was the answer to my prayers for you to do better than me and better than your folks, God bless their souls."

"Sure, I remember you telling me, but I want to know if you remember how much money was left each time for the fund."

"How much?" the old man questioned and wrinkled his brow in thought before continuing, "Wasn’t no reason to really add it up. I just puts it in the bank whenever it came. I never used a dime of it for’n myself. It was for you, from God. I don’t know how much, but it was always enough. When you needed school clothes it was there, when you needed books and a car for high school, it was there, just like for college, it was always there."

"Yes, but do you know how much was left each time?" Todd asked pointedly.

"Lands sakes no! I just puts it in the bank. I didn’t count it, the bank took care of that. It was more’n I ever seen."

Boring in, like his uncle was a witness to a crime, Todd continued, "Was it a hundred, two hundred, four hundred and how often was it left?"

The old man was beside himself. His memory was not what it used to be and besides he really never had counted it. It wasn’t his money so why count it. It was for Todd, let the bank count it. He did sort of remember when it was left though and answered, "I seems to remember it was almost always there after Communion on Sunday."

Todd thought about that for a minute, realizing that his uncle tracked time differently than most people, hill folk had their own ways of tracking time. Finally, he said, "Communion was always on the first Sunday of the month."

Smiling, the old man responded, "Yep, still is. First Sunday of every month, only have Communion oncet a month at our church. You know that, you still come, but not like you used to," the old man ended, in a gentle scolding tone.

Todd let that roll off and asked, "Was the money there every first Sunday or just some?"

"Every Sunday."

"When did it start? What year?"

The old man was deep in thought and finally answered, "I can’t say for sure, couple years after you come to us I reckon."

"Was it summer time?" Todd persisted.

Clearly trying to remember the old man responded, "Not so’s you’d know it. I mean it was warming, but not blistering hot yet. Not real summer yet I’d say.

"I remember the first time I come upon it. Like I say it was warm and we had just come home from church, so I heads for the well over yonder," he said pointing toward his right to where the same well still stood and was still in use. Then he continued, "I decided to get me a cool drink, best water in the county that there well, still is, I..."

Todd didn’t want to be rude, but his uncle liked to reminisce and he needed him to stay on track for a while. "Please, Uncle Burrell, tell me about the money."

The old man got his hackles up, he didn’t like being interrupted when he was reminiscing. "What’s so all fired important about that money? It got you through school all right and God knows I couldn’t have done it without that money. That’s why He sent it. What’s eat’n you, boy?"

"Sorry, Uncle, but I just need to know about it. It’s important. Okay? Trust me, if what I think is right, then I’ll tell you all and maybe more. More than you ever dreamed of knowing, or maybe wanted to know."

The old man was mystified, but he could see how important this was to his nephew, the son he never had and always wanted, so he continued, "Well, like I was saying, I went to get me a cool drink and when I picked up the bucket to lower it into the well I seen this envelope a lying there on the edge of the well, right under the bucket. Luck was I didn’t knock it into the well. But anyway, I opens it up and, my word, I almost fainted when I seen that money.

"It was more money than I ever seen before in one place. Must a been a hundred dollars or more. I never counted it. I just dropped right then and there and thanked God for it. I’d been a stewing over how to make ends meet and get you a proper education. Well, there was a whole lot of money, maybe not enough, but enough to get you your school clothes.

"Next month after Communion I just naturally went over to look under that bucket again. I don’t know why, but I did and there it was. More money. Went on that way for some time till the weather got bad and started to rain’n a lot. Then there weren’t no money there and I was sad. Later in the day I went out to the barn to feed the horse and found an envelope in the feed bin. There was other places it was left, too, but mostly in the feed bin after that. I just don’t know how much though, boy. I’m sorry."

Todd nodded and said gently, "It stopped the month I graduated from college didn’t it?"

Burrell thought a minute and answered, "Yes, I never give it no thought before, but it did. I didn’t need no money after you graduated, not for you, so I never give it no thought. But no, I never found no money again after that."

Todd was thinking now and finally he said, "You said you put that money in the bank. Which bank?"

"Johnson City State Bank."

"It isn’t open any more is it? I mean some other bank bought it out and closed it didn’t they?"

The old man nodded his agreement and said, "Bout the time you got out of college. Yes. Why?"

"Well, I thought I could look at the old records and find out how much you deposited and when, since you don’t know."

The old man said haughtily, "Never said I didn’t know. Said I didn’t count it, let the bank count it."

"But, if you didn’t count it, how are you going to tell me the amounts?"

Smiling shrewdly, the old man responded, "Gots me the bank books, all five of ‘em. Yes siree, I ain’t stupid. I let the bank count it all right, but I had me a book showing what was in there so I’d know how much I had for you to use. The books, now, they’d show you how much was put in and how much was taken out; and when, right?"

Closing his mouth from his slacked jaw, Todd responded, "Why didn’t you just tell me you had the books?"

"You never asked. For a high-powered policeman you ain’t so good at ask’n the right questions," Burrell said amiably and winked.

Todd just nodded his agreement. There was nothing to say, his uncle had pretty much hit the nail on the head. Besides, his uncle was already halfway to the house, presumably to get the bankbooks.

When he returned, Burrell carefully took the books out of a small metal box as if he were afraid they would break. They were magical things to him and represented a power he had only dreamed of having. These books, or the money they had recorded over the years, held the power to educate a small black boy and make him into a man, a man ten times better than his parents--or uncle--for that matter.

Todd quickly scanned the books and from what he recalled of the green ledger his suspicions were confirmed. The green ledger for some unknown reason, recorded, to the dollar, on the exact dates, the money that was left for him via his uncle. Money his uncle had used to support him and educate him when his dead parents couldn’t. Merriman must have kept this ledger of the payments made. But why would Merriman leave money for him? And what of the other pages in the ledger? Was Merriman giving others money, too? If so, why and to whom?

It became clear to Todd now, that the numbers in the upper left-hand corner didn’t denote banks, but people. People who were paid money. But for what purpose and by whom? Merriman? He didn’t have that kind of money, did he?

"Uncle Burrell I need to borrow these books for a while, okay?"

The old man’s face took on a look of apprehension and he squirmed in his chair, as he grunted, "What for?"

"I need to compare them with another book I have and make some notes." Seeing his uncle’s look, he continued, "I’ll take good care of them, I promise. You’ll get them back in good shape."

"I don’t know... I... those is the fund books. I never let them go anywhere before. I don’t know what I’d do if they was lost."