Henry Taylor Millard
Chapter 1
The nightmare was the same. It was always the same. The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway and then, the creaking of the opening door. Relief that it was just a dream, this time. The fear was not real, but the shame was real and never-ending.
January 1980
Travis State University
The full beer keg did not move on the pickup floorboard as college senior Campbell “Cam” Dawson steered his way through the small college town of Autry, Texas, delivering the primary libation for the evening’s party.
Just a typical Friday night at the Gold River Apartments, mostly occupied by students. It was a common occurrence on weekends for someone living in the aging apartments to host a keg party, and this warm
January night was no exception, especially to celebrate the first week of Spring semester classes.
Just a typical Friday night at the Gold River Apartments, mostly occupied by students. It was a common occurrence on weekends for someone living in the aging apartments to host a keg party, and this warm
January night was no exception, especially to celebrate the first week of Spring semester classes.
Two girls in apartment 202 pooled their money to pay Cam twenty-two dollars for the sixteen gallons of beer, ready for a fun time. Cam knew one of the girls in 202, but he really looked forward to seeing Anastasia Barlos, called A.B., who lived in 203. He had a crush on her, and it was no secret to anyone who knew them both. He could be charming and confident until he saw her, when inwardly he became a gushing puppy. Anastasia was what Cam thought the ideal woman should be—brunette, brown eyes, long legs, with a perfect figure. She was all those things, but her face, with that tender, vulnerable look, was almost fragile, like a fine hand-painted porcelain doll, was her most alluring feature. When she walked into a room, every girl wanted to be her, and every man wanted to be with her.
From a middle-class family in Dallas, Anastasia was one of ten thousand students attending the state college.
A cost of six hundred dollars a semester for tuition created the opportunity for students to work their way through school. She was employed at the university, filling in as a department aid or in the student center in various positions. Most students at the state university in central Texas did some sort of job— waiters, bartenders, farm and ranch labor, retail or whatever they could find. Cam was the rep for a local beer distributor and was responsible for delivering the product, then retrieving the empty kegs and hand pumps the next day. He was paid to go to parties.
“Hey, Mary Jane.” Cam spotted Anastasia’s roommate standing in her doorway, as he rolled the keg along the balcony walkway.
“What’s shaking, C?” It was her personal greeting to him.
“Ain’t nothing shaking but the leaves on the tree, babio,” he answered the same way each time, matching her smile.
“She’s still at work. I know what you would ask next, just getting it out of the way. Oh, just so you know, she’s still dating John, but I don’t like him,” Mary Jane said, encouraging and teasing him at the same time.
“Well, as long as she’s happy, I’m happy,” Cam said, deflecting the comment.
“Don’t give up, Cam. But if you do, I’m not a bad second place,” Mary Jane turned to her side and stuck out her chest and laughed. “Come back after you set up the keg for Martha.”
Cam resumed his job and rolled the keg to room 202. The door opened to the sounds of giggling from the two young women.
“The beer man is here!” Martha announced with excitement.
“Do you have any ice or a large can for the keg?” he asked out of habit, knowing the girls may not have thought about those things.
“Uh, no. Do you have ice or something to put the thingy in?”
“Sure. I can get that for you. Just be three more dollars. I have cups too if you need,” Cam offered, sticking out his hand.
“No problem. Here’s twenty-five bucks, and thanks so much!”
Cam turned to leave with the dolly. As he walked past, Mary Jane called out to him. “Cam, where you going?”
“I just need to get some ice and a trash can. I’ll be right back.”
“A.B. needs a ride from work. Can you get her for me, please?” Mary Jane asked, knowing full well the answer yes was coming.
“Of course. Where do I go?”
“She said in front of the fountain.”
“No worries, and thanks for this, Mary Jane,” he said, knowing she had cleverly arranged this little bit of time alone with Anastasia for him.
Cam was mocked by his friends, and Anastasia was teased just as much about Cam’s obvious crush on her.
Here comes your boyfriend, A.B., pals would say in a mocking tone, anytime he was around. She found the whole thing kind of sweet, never joining her friends, when making fun of the kind boy. Cam’s friends were worse with him. Like you have a chance with her! She could have any guy on campus, good luck, if he ever mentioned her name.
He drove his pickup back to the campus, where he found Anastasia waiting on the sidewalk across from the large fountain, in the center of a four-way intersection. Dressed in gray slacks and a brilliant white sweater, A.B.’s wavy brown hair reached her shoulders, her part falling seductively halfway across her face. Cam pulled up, the passenger side window down.
“Hey, A.B. Mary Jane sent me to pick you up. I was delivering a keg for the party, and she asked me. By the way, you look nice,” Cam said, speaking a bit too rapidly as he leaned toward the window.
“Thanks,” she responded, always feeling uncomfortable with compliments.
“Nice weather for the party tonight. Should be a crowd, with Martha knowing half the campus and Mary Jane the other,” Cam said, making small talk.
“Oh, yes. That’s right,” she replied, wishing she had more ability to talk to Cam. She liked him but was dating John and was not sure the proper rules in this situation. It was not like she was engaged to John. She felt no real connection, but the relationship just seemed what everyone else wanted.
“When are you graduating?” he asked.
“This summer, if all goes according to plan. How about you?”
“Same for me, too, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to be an adult yet!” he joked.
“Me either!” she laughed too as he drove the opposite way from the apartments.
“I need to go to my grandmother’s—I call her Granzie—to get a trash can for the keg, ice, and cups. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure. How did she get that name, Granzie?”
“Actually, from me. Her name is Zoe Harper, and she wanted to be called Granny Z, but my toddler speech came up with Granzie, and she liked that even better.”
“That’s cute. Are you from Autry?” she turned and asked.
“No. I grew up in Travis City. It’s about thirty miles east of here. Small town, not like the big city of Autry with thirty-five thousand people!” he said, sarcastically.
“I like small towns better than big cities. I wasn’t sure I would when I came here to school, but it seems warmer,” she responded gazing at the homes.
His pickup turned down a neighborhood street, passing beautiful, well-kept homes built in the nineteen twenties and thirties, based on the architectural styles. The street dead ended in a driveway with a sign, posting Private Road. As Cam drove, Anastasia observed the crepe myrtle trees lining the asphalt drive, with no home yet in sight. The home finally appeared, guarded by large, soldier-like oaks, such a stately place. The Craftsman-style home had a raised porch and was painted tan with rust and muted green trim with balanced tapered columns. Wicker furniture filled the expansive front porch. indicating a place of gathering. She pictured friends sipping iced tea or lemonade from fine glassware on a summer day.
Cam drove around the home to the rear, where the detached three-car garage with an apartment above, matched the style of the home.
“Come meet Granzie. Now, I gotta warn you, she can be a bit, eccentric,” Cam said as he opened his door.
“Oh no, Cam. I’m not sure I really need to meet her. Please, I can just stay in the truck,” Anastasia stated with a slight panic.
“Don’t be silly, come and just say hi. I promise, we won’t stay. I have to get things for the party and get back anyway,” he encouraged her.
“Okay. But really, just a minute.”
“Of course,” he assured her.
The back door opened to a landing and a woman appearing to be in her seventies stepped out, wearing a worn sweatshirt with paint stains and ill-fitting blue jeans.
“Hi, Little. Who’s your pretty friend?”
“Hi, Granzie, this is Anastasia. I just need to get stuff for a party and then we need to go. Sorry we can’t stay,” Cam stated quickly, for Anastasia’s comfort.
“Well, come on in and then, I guess, get on out!”
The two young people quickly ascended the back porch steps and entered the kitchen. Glancing around, Anastasia noticed the stylish interior with beautiful décor, along with stacks of brown legal folders scattered across a large dining table.
“Sorry for the mess. Well not really, since I don’t exactly care about the mess or I would do something about it,”
Granzie chuckled. “Come in and sit in the parlor while Cam gets his stuff. I need to get to know you better if you’re looking to marry my grandson.”
“Please, Granzie. Try not to embarrass her, or me. She’s just a friend from school,” Cam pleaded, knowing that at least one awkward moment was unlikely.
Anastasia stood frozen, speechless, from the brash woman’s comment but forced a smile.
“Come on, girl, follow me. I usually dress better than this. Been working in my flower beds,” the older lady motioned, while Cam left to go to the garage and retrieve the supplies.
“Where you from, Anastasia?”
“Dallas.”
“My brother lives up there off Mockingbird. You know the area?”
“Yes. Like near the airport, Love Field.” Anastasia confirmed.
“What’s your people do in Big D?” Granzie asked as they walked through the dining room into the expansive living room.
“My dad works for a heavy equipment company, and my mom just started as a salesclerk. She stayed home when my little brother and I were young. My little brother, Thad, is a sophomore at North Texas,” Anastasia felt like she was being interrogated.
“Do you like Cam?”
“Oh, yes, but I have a boyfriend. Cam was just giving me a ride. My brother and I share a car, but he has it right now,” she hoped that would be the end of feeling strip searched.
“Oh, honey, I figured you had a boyfriend, pretty girls always should. Just be nice to my Cam. I know he must really think highly of you, or you wouldn’t be here. He has brought very few young ladies into my home over the past four years, and you are by far the most beautiful. He lives over my garage. Listen to me, baby girl, I love that boy more than life itself. He’s my only grandchild. Maybe if God blesses you with a grandson one day, you will know how I feel. I know I’m being direct, and that I can be a bit overwhelming, but I’m old and can’t afford to waste time,” Granzie gave her a comforting smile.
The back door opened, and Cam called out, “Hey, A.B. We need to go. Granzie, stop the interrogation and say goodbye to the nice girl.”
Anastasia stood and shook the older lady’s hand, “It was very nice to meet you.”
“You too, honey. Come back when you can stay for more than three minutes.”
Cam and Anastasia walked through the back door, down the back steps to the parked truck. A.B. noticed the setting sun over an expansive sloping pasture and a large wooden barn fifty yards from the back garage. She paused for a moment to see the painted sky—the colors were unbelievably stunning.
“Is that your grandmother’s property too?” she pointed as Cam opened the passenger door for her.
“Yes, maybe a hundred acres.”
“And that barn is so cool,” she said as she sat in the truck.
“Yeah, the barn has been used for parties over the past couple of years. She sold the cattle after my grandpa
died. She likes a party, so she fixed up the old barn. I’ll show you another day, if you like.”
“Sure. I would like that,” she wished she had not intimated that she wanted to come back. However, it was the polite thing to say.
“Granzie, can be a little intense, but there is no one kinder or more generous.”
“Why did she call you Little?”
“Oh, that is what she would call me when I was younger, like little boy or little man which just got reduced to Little. I guess it does sound strange, but it’s normal to me. If she ever calls you Little, it means she loves you.”
Anastasia smiled uneasily at the intimate nature of the statement. She stole a look at Cam, seeing him differently now. Cam had sandy-blond hair and bright blue eyes, the color of a clear fall sky. He was not classically handsome but was cute in a sweet way. His quick wit and confidence elevated his attractiveness. Life seemed easy for him, through her eyes. He worked, but it was more fun than any other job on campus. She knew he made good grades, but he never seemed to study. He had friends but was not part of a fraternity. She now knew his family was wealthy, after seeing his grandmother’s home and property. Cam was a lucky young man.
“I have a couple more parties to set up tonight, but I’ll be back by eight. You know Tuck and Chuck that live on the other side of Martha?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“There may be a card game there tonight. Would you like to play?” he asked, facing ahead as he drove.
“No, I’m not really good at cards. I do remember a game they played one night at the KA house though. It seemed fun, whatever it was. It looked like they were just making it up as they played.”
Cam smiled broadly, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes, why?” she answered with a sudden irrational concern.
“The game they were playing is so much fun. It’s called Tegwar,” he grinned.
“What is Tegwar?”
“T.E.G.W.A.R. The Exciting Game Without Any Rules!” he laughed.
“So, I was right. You just make it up as you play?”
“Yes, it’s all about confusing the people watching and making the other players laugh. We make up crazy names for the cards played. It’s so much fun,” Cam happily exposed the secret game to her.
“I would love to try but will the boys care if I play?”
“Of course not, but I do think you would be the first girl to ever play.”
“How did you learn this game?” She was now enthralled at the chance to participate.
“I got it from a baseball movie, but we created our own rules. We were bored a couple of years ago, and it seemed a fun thing to try. I’m sure the fact that we all may have been inebriated helped, but it stuck, and now we usually play a few rounds at parties.”
“Okay. I will play, but you better not embarrass me. Promise?” she implored.
“No way I would do that, and I will let the other players secretly know you figured it out and want to play. This will be fun.”
“What do I do, like how do I play?”
“The cards will be randomly dealt—with no particular pattern. One player may get two facedown, the next three up. The funny part is to name the cards on the table. You will use a random adjective with a disconnected noun. For instance, he’s got a bouncing hippo working or watch out for the bathing bird dog. Also, we usually assign some sort of consistent things too. Hearts mean blood, diamonds money, clubs are bad guys, and spades are weapons. It’s just enough to engage the onlookers and make them think they have it figured out.”
“That sounds like a blast, and now I know why the players were laughing so hard, and why the observers were so confused! I’m in!” She laughed loudly as they pulled into the apartment parking lot.
“The most important advice I can give you is to be creative and supremely confident in your play. If someone says, You can’t play that! just say, Yes, I can, there’s a red four rising! or anything that comes to mind.” He laughed and she smiled back.
* * *
“Airman Grover!” the Staff Sergeant announced loudly as he entered the room.
“Yes, Staff Sergeant!” Tate Grover responded as he stood at attention.
“You just got cleared for honorable discharge in May after your four years are up. Congratulations Grover, if you stay on task until then, you will leave here with twenty college credits.” The Staff Sergeant was proud of his prize student. He too had grown up poor and black and knew what dedicated hard work could do for any man.
“Thank you, Staff Sargent.” Tate responded, wanting to say much more, but since others were around, he knew the sergeant would not want any praise.
Tate Grover graduated from Travis City High School in 1976. He was an excellent student, but not having funds for school, the Air Force promised him education through the GI Bill. He left his grandparents’ home, where he was raised, and headed to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio for basic training. He tested in the top one percent, which allowed him to be sent to Lowry Air Force base in Denver, for Air Intelligence Training.
When he was only five years of age, his parents took Tate to his maternal grandparents’ home, never planning to come back for him, yet they took his older sister with them. His grandparents lived in the Black part of town, known as The Bottoms, in Travis City, Texas, a small town of about six thousand folks. The schools were integrated in the late sixties, causing some issues, by both races. The Whites didn’t want to share their school, the Blacks did not want to leave their own school, but it was now the law.
Tate was intimidated to join his first class of white students in the sixth grade. He sat watching the other students for clues of how white people acted through the first hour, not knowing if there was some secret code. His greatest fear was confirmed when the bell rang and the teacher said, “Tate, I need to see you after class.”
Tate cautiously approached the teacher’s desk, wondering if he would be expelled on his first day.
“Young man. I have reviewed your records. You are smart. I want you to join the History Club, and I want you to run for a school office.” Mrs. Turner said with unexpected kind encouragement.
Tate stood stunned at what the nice lady said. He could only muster a weak, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now you and I are going to get along just fine. And Tate, if you ever need anything, or just need to talk, come to me. I can’t imagine how hard this may be for you, but I know your grandfather. He’s a good man. He and my husband, Carl, both work for the county. Now go on to your next class.”
Eleven-year-old Tate Grover turned away from Mrs. Turner’s desk, with a sense of happy surprise. He entered the hallway, trying to remember the location for his next class, when a blond-haired boy approached.
“You in trouble with Mrs. Turner?” The blond boy asked with concern.
“No, she just wanted me to do some extra stuff.” Tate was unsure how to respond but being honest seemed best.
“I’m Cam Dawson, by the way.”
“Tate Grover,” he shyly responded.
“My dad told me you were going to my school and told me to find you and say hello. He knows your grandaddy, Mr. Burns. You were easy to find, you know because, well you know why.” Cam grinned.
Tate realized he was one of very few Black kids in the sixth grade. His prior school combined grades to enlarge the classes, but now, he stood out in the hallway of the middle school, just for sixth graders.
“I guess it was easy. My older cousin said, You gonna look like a raisin in a bowl of mashed potatoes.” Tate responded and both boys laughed. They became friends on that day.
Later that year, Tate was in the History Club at the Travis City Middle School and was invited to San Antonio for a field trip to the Alamo. It would cost money, which he did not have, but Mrs. Turner arranged for Tate to stay with a Black family. The father of the family was a career military Chief Master Sergeant at Lackland Air Force Base. When Mrs. Turner pulled in the driveway of their suburban home, Tate could not believe his people could live somewhere this nice. That exposure changed his world. His grandparents’ home was stable and loving, but this was indeed a revelation to a young boy. On his way home from the San Antonio trip, he made up his mind to go to the Air Force.
The story of his past now prepared him for his future as he walked through the Lackland seeing very few Black men or women. Here there was no Mrs. Turner or Cam, but there was a Chief Master Sergeant that would make certain he would succeed.