In short order, Laforge was tied painfully tight to one of the barn’s heavy wooden posts There were three of them. An older one with a shotgun and two men in their teens or twenties. A father and his sons, obviously. From their ragged clothing, not well-off either.
At first, they had assumed that their uninvited guest was just a tramp, worth only being given a good horsewhipping and then chased off the farm. Then they found his weapon. Tramps didn't carry revolvers. Jean quickly found himself stripped to his underwear. Then they found the money concealed in a pouch under his shirt. Tramps also did not to their knowledge carry silver either , and here there was almost fifteen dollars!
They moved a few yards away and discussed the problem. Jean could hear them well enough to recognize the direction their talk was taking them. Plainly they took him for a thief or a highwayman. His wounded hand seemed to bear that out. The younger pair was urging their father to make a direct and violent solution to their problem.
“Hell, Pappy, that’s fifteen whole dollars, and them’s almost new shoes. I want them shoes no matter whut.. Me and Flem can plant him in a hole down by the woodlot and nobody the wiser. Fifteen dollars is more than Mr. Howard let us keep in cash money the last six months. Flem nodded vigorously in agreement with his brother.
“Pappy” spit on the ground, scratched his beard and thought. Plainly the idea was tempting. For a sharecropper fifteen dollars represented many, many hours of toil in the fields, and the money might buy a better plough, or enough young pigs to stave off hunger this winter…..
He reached his decision, stuffing the money into a tobacco pouch that he hung from a cord around his neck. And nodded to his sons
“I’ll git the shovels, you boys drag him down by the big pine by the creek.”
Laforge was shortly thereafter tied hand and foot and half-carried away from the barn. He could see a big tree perhaps six hundred feet away. Struggling was useless and the two young men laughed at his pleas for mercy. Even if he somehow broke free of them, Jean knew he could never outrun them in the open fields. Doubtless, he thought, the old man would not waste valuable gunpowder on him. If he was lucky, he thought, they might be kind enough to kill him with the shovels first, rather than merely burying him alive.
The old man showed up with the shovels.. The boys began to dig while Laforge lay where they had dropped him, face downwards, sobbing into the dirt.
After a while, he gradually became aware that the sounds of digging and the coarse laughter of the sharecroppers had stopped and that an unfamiliar voice was there, a commanding voice that was asking questions.
“What are you boys up to? Who is this man? What’s he done to you?”
Eventually, Jean was brought to a sitting position .and he saw a well-dressed man of middle age, mounted and staring down at him. His three captors stood there looking at the ground and looking very nervous.
“State your name, boy, and be quick about it.”
No point in lying.
“I’m called Laforge, sir. I fell asleep in that barn over yonder, and these men took my money and were fixing to kill me when you came up. Are you Mr. Howard?”
“I am , and this is one of my farms. Have you any proof of your story?”
The older one has my fifteen dollars in a pouch around his neck.”
An hour later, Laforge found himself in the bed of a wagon, closely being watched by one of Howard’s overseers while Howard himself drove the rig back towards his house some miles away. Next to him on the seat was one of the handbills that were all over Memphis. Howard had a good idea who this filthy vagabond might be, and he meant to find out for sure.