Well, all but CaptainWendt and myself. We both knew Wendt had killed him. I glanced across theaisle to where the policeman sat in his dress uniform, h...ad bowed, lookinggenuinely sad. But then why wouldn't he? In a small village like thiswhere everyone knew everyone else he would have known him since Franz wasa boy, watched him grow into the young man he became, the young man he hadkilled in order to save Mark Benton and me from the tender mercies of theGestapo.Wendt hated the Nazis enough to. That's another story.Henry needed workers ... not skilled workers but people who would work, and living a sharecroppers life in the south was unending work for next to nothing. White trash ... not a nice term ... but they were in the same boat as the 'liberated' blacks. Not even second class citizens. A pretty girl seldom made it out of high school. She was on her back working for some hick country lawman ... or his inbred nephew, and daddy had better not say anything about it.Advertisements. More

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