In the old days, robbers were found everywhere. Both in Alabama and in other states.
People tell countless different stories about these desperate people, who feared neither God, nor the devil, nor the law, nor the sheriff.
For example, about Steve Renfro, who himself was once a sheriff, and then became a robber. He was declared an outlaw, and he went to the city of Livingston riding a white horse. Long hair flutters in the wind, the silver spurs on his boots shine. Other people's locks and bolts obeyed him, like tame animals.
Or about Rube Barrow, the Lone Wolf, the patron saint of the poor, who knew no fear.
And finally, about Black Bill, who became a celebrity in the South in much the same way as the famous outlaw Little Bill in the North. Only he was responsible for good deeds; more than once he helped his friends, rescuing them from trouble.
Negro Bill was black as ebony and strong as Samson from the ancient biblical tales.
One day Bill dared to argue with the law, and he had to flee. Since then, the dark forest has become his home. In the darkness of the forest, he learned shamanism and witchcraft. Now he knew how to turn into any forest animal, and neither the sheriff, nor his assistants, no one could catch him. Each new sheriff swore that he would catch Black Bill, but his promises floated away like the waters of the Alabama River.
But Ed McMillan was elected guardian of the law, and he also vowed that he would capture Black Bill.
“Bill worked for me distilling turpentine,” Sheriff Ed told his brothers. - I already know all his habits and habits. I won't be me if I don't catch him and put him in front of the law.
- Watch out, Ed! - his brothers warned him. “Bill is the most desperate robber Alabama has ever known.” Watch out for him, Ed!
But was it possible to stop Ed if he was up to something? He had enough courage for an entire army. Fear would hide in the bushes if Ed went out onto the road.
Black Bill was told these words by the sheriff while he was sitting in his forest hut with his friends.
-Did you hear, Bill? Ed McMillan started chasing you. He has a steady hand and a true eye. He is strong and tough. It would be better for you to hide for a while or go to Florida.
- Ed McMillan can't catch me! No one can catch me. If I turn into a sheep or a dog, no one will catch me. But I love Ed. I worked for him
distilling turpentine, he's a nice fellow. It would be better if he didn’t chase me, otherwise I’ll have to take the gun. I'll write him a letter.
And Bill took out a piece of paper, a pencil stub, and wrote in block letters:
DON'T LOOK FOR ME, MISTER ED. WITH LOVE BILL.
“Take him my letter quickly,” Bill said to his friends, “before he goes looking for me.”
Sheriff Ed McMillan received Bill's letter and read it aloud to his siblings. They listened silently, then said:
“Ed, wouldn’t it be better to leave Bill alone?”
“I was elected sheriff,” Ed said, “and I have to uphold the law.” I'll catch Bill! As I said, I will do so. Iskambi County is already tired of his tricks.
One day the sheriff was told that Black Bill had been seen near Bluff Spring.
“The hour has struck,” said Ed.
And, taking two assistants, he went to catch the robber Bill.
They made their way through the forest, walking carefully, looking around and listening, with a hard drive at the ready.
On the way they met an old black man. Sheriff Ed stopped him.
— Ты, черномазый, — сказал он, — где Черный Билл? Answer me, or you'll go to jail!
The black man was silent for a long time, and the whites spoke for a long time. In the end they aimed their muzzles at him, and the black man, stuttering with fear, muttered:
“He’s there... as you pass Bluff Spring, in an empty hut near the fork in the road.”
The sheriff and two deputies followed the trail. Winchester in hand, no one says a word. A hut flashed through the trees. Hiding behind thick tree trunks, they crept up to the hut from different directions.
And suddenly they were called out loudly:
——Who's coming?
Instead of an answer, a shot rang out. But the bullet did not find the target. Then Sheriff Ed stepped out from behind the green cover and raised his hard drive again.
A return shot rang out. The sheriff fell on the leaves. His assistants fired a volley at the hut, but to no avail. The hut is already empty. A bushy-tailed red fox jumped out.
The deputies rushed to the dying sheriff, they didn’t even look at the fox.
But in vain! The red fox was Black Bill. It was not in vain that he learned to conjure and so he turned into a cunning beast and left the hunters.
Sheriff Ed McMillan was given a lavish funeral. The sheriff's deputies and his siblings swore revenge on Black Bill. They raised up all the white men in Iskambi County against him.
And the hunt for the sorcerer and the robber began.
Some time after the sheriff's funeral, Black Bill went into old Tidmore's store, which was on the road to the town of Atmore.
The white “hunters” stalked behind him, hiding behind the trees like evil spirits.
The owner himself was sitting behind the counter. A loaded hard drive lay nearby. As soon as Black Bill turned his back to him, a shot rang out! Then the second one! Third...
Black Bill lay on the floor, bleeding. Before he could turn into a fox or a wolf this time! He didn't have enough strength or time.
This is what white people say about Black Bill. And black Alabamans grin and say that everything was completely different.
They say that Black Bill still wanders somewhere between Bay Mynott, Flomeyton and Bluff Spring, only when in the guise of a sheep, and when in a dog, sometimes as a boar, and sometimes as a rabbit, and makes fun of the white people's tales.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru