Lonely Crusade by Chester B. Himes Read Free Book Online

Lee.
    “Oh! Then you’re with the union?” Lee was genuinely surprised; he did not know they had another Negro organizer employed.
    “I been here organizing on this shop since the start. I’m the one what told them to get you.”
    Lee doubted this, and now he became suspicious. “I didn’t see you around today.”
    “I do all my work underground,” Luther said.
    “Then you’re not with the union?” Lee persisted.
    “Sure I’m with ‘em,” Luther contended. “I works right along with ‘em. That’s how come I had ‘em send for you. I need a buddy to help me.”
    “What I mean is, you’re not on the union payroll?”
    “I gets paid, all right. You can bet on that. Luther always gets paid. I just don’t get paid like you. My work is more on the political side.”
    So that was how it was, Lee Gordon thought. The Communists used to slide up to you on the street. Now they picked you up in a big automobile. That was prosperity for you.
    “I see,” Lee commented dryly and said no more.
    For a time the sun shone dazzlingly, but when they came into the one-storied, car-tracked monotony that was Los Angeles proper, the sky clouded and the day grayed.
    “What you think about Joe?” Luther finally broke the silence.
    “About him how?”
    “Is he straight?”
    “He seems straight enough to me.”
    “You know what I mean, man, is his thinking right?”
    “His thinking seems all right to me.”
    Seeing that Lee was not to be drawn out, Luther changed his tactics. “Say, how much the union pay you, man?”
    “Forty-two, fifty,” Lee replied truthfully.
    “Joe Ptak gets ninety,” Luther said.
    “Yes, but he works for the union. I work for the council.”
    “You’ll get more,” Luther promised. “Just stick with me.”
    “You can let me out anywhere on Western,” Lee said.
    “Aw, man, I’ll take you home.”
    “Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” Lee declined. “I don’t want to take you out of your way.”
    “It ain’t no trouble, man,” Luther persisted. “Gas ain’t hard to git and time is all I got.”
    It began to rain again. “Well, okay,” Lee finally accepted. “I live on 39th Place off of Western. I’ll show you the house.”
    To anyone but a Communist he would have felt a gratefulness. He was physically exhausted and emotionally depleted, and a ride home in the rain was a godsend. But he had such an antipathy for Communists he suspected a hidden motive in anything one did for him. However, he maintained a surface cordiality. When they arrived his “Thanks, old man” contained a genuine warmth.
    But Luther was not to be dismissed. “I’ll come in for a minute,” he said getting out behind Lee.
    Fury at this unmitigated gall scalded Lee. Only an unprincipled Communist would presuppose a ride in the rain to ensure an invitation to come in, he thought. Now he would have to introduce him to Ruth. It would put him in the position of doing the thing he had objected so bitterly to her doing. But he saw no decent way he could avoid it.
    “Sure, come on in,” he invited, keeping his voice controlled.
    The house was cold and empty for Ruth had not come home.
    Lee’s first emotion was a sense of relief at having escaped a scene over bringing Luther home. Then he suddenly felt a letdown.
    “Where’s your old lady?” Luther asked, strolling about the house. “She at work?”
    Lee did not reply.
    Luther wandered into the kitchen. “She didn’t leave you nothing to eat, man,” he called.
    Lee sat in a chair with bowed head, waiting for him to finish his inspection. His nerves were raw and edged. He could only stand so much of Luther, he knew.
    Returning to the living-room, Luther said cheerfully: “Now you got to eat in some hash joint.”
    “My wife’ll be home in a minute,” Lee replied defensively.
    “Come on home and eat with me,” Luther invited. “My old lady beats up a good scoff.”
    “Some other day,” Lee said, then added: “Thanks, anyway.”
    “You’re