A Summer Storm
by
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The Brownells lived about five miles outside of town. Their house was set back a couple of hundred feet from the road. The first hundred feet of the winding driveway was lined with pines on both sides. It was an ideal setting for anyone who had mischief on his mind. We turned off our lights and pulled into the driveway and parked at a spot where our vehicles could not be seen from the road or the house.
I forgot to bring along some gloves, and the gasoline-soaked rags stung my hand where I’d scratched it the day before. The Brownells lived in an old two story farmhouse. A faint light came out of an upstairs bedroom, and I assumed it was a nightlight for one of the children.
The only other light came from the television set in the living room. We were only fifty feet away and standing in an open field in full moonlight. If Brownell had looked out the window, he could have seen us easily.
Weasel had a spade, and Arley used it to dig a small hole to set the cross in. Clayton and I held it upright while Arley filled in the dirt and tamped it down. The cross was standing at an angle, but no one else was objecting. I certainly wasn’t about to.
“Well light it,” Clayton said to Weasel as the three of us stepped back.
“I have a better idea,” Weasel said. “Let’s fire up his car.”
I got so sick I was ready to vomit. This wasn’t some spur of the moment idea on Weasel’s part. It had been the plan all along. Lure Arley and me there with the notion that we were going to burn a cross and then torch Brownell’s car, bringing along Clayton Spratt to make sure we had to go along.
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About the Book
In 1964, most of the major cities in the South are experiencing civil unrest, but the rural county where John Campbell lives remains peaceful. He wants it to remain that way. If he doesn’t, he will be drawn into the center of the turmoil, for he is the chief deputy sheriff and a member of the Ku Klux Klan.
Brownell will not be intimidated. He organizes a voter registration drive and stages sit-ins at the local restaurant.
The leader of the local Klan orders a cross burning on Brownell’s property, and
A few days later, a young black girl is kidnapped, raped and murdered. Is the Klan behind the killing, or is it the work of a lone rapist?
He has spent his life avoiding blacks, but the investigation forces him to deal with them on a personal level. The friendship he forms with the victim’s father makes him ashamed of his past and fills him with a determination to see that this time justice is done.
About the Author
D. E. Schilling was born in