Me and Dr. Womack stood silently in front of what was left of the largest Fruit Farm in the state. I don’t know why he brought me here.
Dr. Womack had been me and my brother’s guardian since we were little. He always said he was keeping us safe from whatever evil liked to take little boys from around here. But, the things he taught us said differently.
I took my Green “Tractor Service” ball cap off and held it to my chest. Dr. Womack did the same with his Brimmed Leather hat. We were showing respect to what had become that boys final resting place.
The transient boy was last seen with Mr. Clabourne at the corner Diner. Nel; the waitress said she heard him offer the boy work. That wasn’t uncommon. He always tried to help a soul in need.
I don’t know why they decided to go hunt for the boy or who tipped them off. But, when that boy’s gruesomely assaulted body was found mangled amongst the trees, No one waited for an investigation.
A mob of angry town folks, screaming, hollering, carrying torches, burned Old Mr. Clabourne’s Apple Orchard to the ground.
Not long after, the Sherriff and his deputies went in there and drug that old man down his front entryway. He didn’t have the strength to fight, only beg for mercy. They said his head bounced off every step, making a thud and finally….his pleading stopped. If you ask anyone around here, they’ll tell you it never happened. The Coroner listed Mr. Clabourne’s death as a Natural Cause. He wouldn’t have gotten a fair trial anyways.
I believed they knew Clabourne didn’t murder that boy. I guess sometimes people just need a reason to be angry and someone to take it out on. Well…. This must’ve been one of those times.
I can still hear the change jingling in the old man’s pants pockets. He always gave me and my little brother money for a soda – Never did hurt us.
I flipped a quarter off my index finger and let it hit the ground, leaving it as acknowledgement that I believed him innocent.
The smoldering ash was too much for Dr. Womack. He put his handkerchief over his mouth and coughed. He looked down at me. “Son, this was a lesson in empathy.” He said as he sat a piece of Apple pie from the diner down by what was left of a tree stump. “Always care a little something about your victims.” We went back to the truck and never mentioned Clabourne or the kid again.
Leesa Writes 