Chapter 10Every Preaching Sunday morning, right after services were finished and we were ready to leave the church grounds, Papa said two things, one to the mules, the other to Mama.He'd get Belle and Puddin' Foot unhitched and backed away from our oak tree and headed toward the main road; then he'd give the mules a light slap with the reins and say, "Belle! Puddin' Foot! Quit moving like molasses! There's such a thing as getting home 'fore dark!" Then he'd look around at Mama and say, "Nannie, looks like on preaching days you invite everybody and his dog to go home with us for dinner!"And every single time, Mama would smile up at Papa and say, "Well, ain't you glad the dogs don't come!"Then they would laugh, and we'd ride on home. Mama would start putting all the Sunday good things on the dinner table, and Papa would leave the wide gate open so the company folks could drive their wagons and buggies into the well lot, where a long time ago Grandpa Thad had wedged hitching rings deep into the trunks of the black walnut trees. And before the company men could unharness their teams, Papa would have his feed trough filled with fodder and corn.But the first Sunday after Christmas, I knew Papa wouldn't tell Mama a thing about inviting dogs to come eat dinner. Our wagon was the last one leaving the church grounds, and nobody was going home with us, not even Mierd and Wiley. Jenny Goode had begged Mama to let Mierd go to her house to eat dinner and spend the evening, and Mama had said she could. Wiley had gone home with the Hansen boys, and Wallace Goode went there too.Papa climbed into the wagon, gave Belle and Puddin' Foot a light slap with the reins, and told them about how slow cold molasses moves in wintertime. As usual, they paid no attention."You didn't ask anybody to take dinner with us today, Nannie?""I asked several, Jodie. But Miss Maime had already invited Vic and the schoolteacher to go with her and Doctor Elton. And January is always their turn to take the preacher, you remember.""Yeah, I bet Doctor Elton's looking forward to that! It'll half kill the man to sit all evening and talk to Brother Milligan!"When we got home, I climbed down from the wagon and skipped on toward the front porch. Mierd's old Nero came around the corner of the house and met me at the yard gate. When I stopped to pet him, he purred and rubbed his back up against my legs.Mama called to me from the kitchen and told me to run and tell Grandpa and Grandma that we were home from church. "Tell them I'll have Grandma's tray ready in just a little bit—soon as I can warm up the chicken and dumplings."In a few minutes I was back, and I found Mama in the kitchen already setting things on Grandma's dinner tray."Mama, you know what Grandma Ming said?""No, there's no telling 'bout your grandma. What'd she tell you this time?""She said if I stand 'hind the door and eat a chicken foot, it'll make me pretty!""Goodness me! I'd forgotten that old saying.""Can I do it, Mama?""You can try it, if you want to. That is, if the old rooster's feet haven't boiled all to pieces."I followed Mama over to the cook stove and watched her lift the cover off the stew pot. White steam whoofed up, but she jerked her head back before it could get on her face. With a big spoon, she started stirring through the hot simmering dumplings."Here's one foot. Well, here's the other one. You may as well have both of them. But now, Bandershanks, don't be expecting too much."Mama put the chicken feet on a saucer and handed it to me."Careful now. They're hot.""Which door, Mama?""It won't matter. Try that one."She pointed to the door between the kitchen and the fireplace room. I slid myself in behind it and squatted down to wait for all the steam to float away from the saucer. Then I happened to remember that Grandma Ming had said if I wanted to get pretty tostandbehind the door and eat a chicken foot, so I stood back up again.As I got up, one piece of my chicken slid off the saucer and fell to the floor. That was all right. I just wiped it off good with the tail of my underskirt.When I had finished chewing up every last piece of skin and soft gristle sticking to the bones, I set my saucer on the floor and darted over to the bureau by Mama's bed. But its looking glass had wavy streaks, so I ran across the hall to the big dresser in the front room. After a few minutes I decided I'd have to go back in the kitchen to Mama."Mama, them chicken bones ain't no good! I got to the looking glass, and it was— It was— It—""It was what, hon?""My same face!""Well, don't cry! You look fine. Sometimes it takes a long time for a girl to get extra pretty. Some need lots of chicken feet.""I wish every chicken had a hundred feet!"Papa called me to come over to the kitchen bench where he was sitting."Come on, sugar." He took out his pocket handkerchief to wipe my sticky fingers. Then he lifted me up in his arms. "You look real beautiful to me."While we were eating Sunday dinner, Mama said, "Jodie, I know it'll make you mad when I tell you what I've got to do this evening. But I can't help it.""What're you talking about? We've been married nearly twenty-seven years, and I ain't got real mad at you yet, have I?""Well, it's this— Our Missionary Society voted to take turns carrying foodstuff over to Ophelia and her young'uns. Today's my turn!""You're aiming to take groceries to Ward Lawson's house? Good Lord, Nannie!""It's our Christian duty!""Christian duty?" Papa had to grab his glass of water and take a gulp to keep from choking on the biscuit he was eating."We can't let old Miss Dink and Ophelia and them nine young'uns suffer! Vic took vittles to them Wednesday, and she said they're on starvation—not a crumb in the kitchen! No bread, no meat, just nothing."Papa put down his knife and fork. "Nannie, it ain't my Christian duty to feed the family of a sorry, no-'count sot who nearly beat me to death, then burned down my store and kidnapped my baby! And he ain't through yet! He'll poison our livestock or—""But, Jodie! The poor little young'uns! They can't help it! They—""All right! All right! I'll hitch up the buggy and take you—this one time. I declare, womenfolks don't look at things like men do. You see Christian duty where all I see is plain, hard facts!"It was rather late when we got to Miss Ophelia's place. We didn't see anybody on the porch, in the hall, or anywhere. But there was a little streak of smoke rising from one chimney. Papa hitched Dale close to the yard gate, and we sat in the buggy to wait while Mama went inside with her box of eggs and butter and stuff.We'd been there a few minutes when Papa noticed two people coming up the trail from Ned's house."Looks like two women, Bandershanks.""It's Shoogie! And Doanie! Papa, lem'me run to meet them!""All right."Shoogie was glad to see me. Doanie, too. When we got back to the buggy, Doanie asked Papa if Shoogie could ride back home with us."Yeah, I reckon so, Doanie. What's going on?""Trouble, Mister Jodie. Trouble's pilin' up! Shoogie, she is plum puny. And now, Huldie and me just got word to go quick and help with a birthin'. Huldie see'd you pass Ned's house. She said ask, maybe y'all carry Shoogie back. She just in the way. Huldie said tell Black Idd he better put her in the bed. She look puny, plum puny!""In that case, we'll take her."Shoogie didn't look puny to me. She was grinning and eating hickory nuts. She let me have a bite and whispered that she knew where we could find lots, lots more."They's just lyin' on the ground—right down yonder at the field. Wanta go get some, Bandershanks?""Yeah, let's do! Papa, I'm going with Shoogie. We're gonna pick me up some hickor'nuts!""No, no, I don't want you out of my sight.""It's just right yonder, Papa.""Where's the tree at, Shoogie?""This side o' that rail fence.""Well, don't y'all be gone long, Bandershanks. Surely your mama will soon quit talking and come on so we can go home. I declare, this is nearly 'bout too much!"There weren't as many nuts lying under the hickory tree as Shoogie had thought. We found a few. Then we climbed over the fence to look under two more trees closer to the edge of the cornfield. None there."Bandershanks, let's go to them big trees 'cross the field yonder on that hill. See them? I just knows there's plenty under all o' them hickor'nut trees. I bet that's where Little Stray and Ned's chillen picks up their'n.""Papa won't like it!""We'll run and get back quick. Your mama still ain't back to the buggy. And your papa won't never know we's went. Look at him. He's just walkin' back and forth. Come on, Bandershanks! We's gotta run fast!"We did run fast, but it was farther across the cornfield than we had thought. When we finally got to the clump of hickory trees, all we could find were a few hulls lying around on the ground, and they were buried in dried-up leaves."I don't see none to pick up, Shoogie!""Squirrels has et them all.""Shoogie, let's go back."Shoogie caught my sleeve. "Be quiet a minute," she whispered. "I thought sho' I heerd somebody out in the woods. Yeah! Look! Some man with his shotgun! Run back in the field! He may be mean!""A man? Where?""'Tween them 'simmon trees! We's gotta hide, Bandershanks! Quick! Get behind these bushes!" Shoogie pulled me into some high weeds. "Squat down behind this big old stump!""Shoogie, silly! That ain't a mean man. That's— Ouch, Shoogie! You're hurting my arm!"Shoogie grabbed my other arm! "Look, Bandershanks! Yonder, comin' this way! More mens! Naw, it's Ned and Little Stray! Sylvie, too—just a-streakin' 'cross the field. Sylvie must be chasin' a rabbit. Lawd, no! There's a white man chasin' Ned! Who's that white man, Bandershanks?""I can't see nobody! Where?"Then I saw!"Don't let him get me, Shoogie! Don't let him steal me!""Stop, Bandershanks! Come back here! Don't run! Mister Ward'll see us! Be still, still. Scrooch way low!"We huddled closer together. Closer to the stump."Don't breathe, nor nothin'!"We could hear the dry cornstalks popping like little firecrackers as Ned and Stray and Mister Ward got closer and closer. Shoogie poked her head up to look. I took a quick peep."He gonna shoot 'em! Mister Ward gonna shoot!" Two loud blasts! Another! Little Stray darted by. Another blast! Mister Ward kept coming! Shoogie shoved me to the ground! I couldn't see Ned any more."Get on your belly and crawl! We's gotta get outta here! To the woods! No, this way! Through the corn!"The next shot whizzed right over our heads!Mister Ward yelled, "O,God!" He was right at us!Shoogie jumped up, jerked me up, and darted back toward the woods. Then she whirled to go the other way."No, Shoogie! Not this way!"We ran smack into Mister Ward! It knocked him down! We fell too, but he didn't reach out and catch at me or Shoogie! He just grabbed at his own neck, pulled himself up against our hiding stump, and cried "O, God" again. Shoogie rolled me over so fast my mouth got full of dirt! Before I could spit it out she had us both down in a gully, up again, and headed across the field. She was dragging me every step. Cornstalks hit me in the face. They were hitting her too, but she wouldn't slow up."Shoogie, wait and see what they're gonna do!""No! We don't care what they gonna do! We gotta get outta here!""I can't run so fast, Shoogie!""We's gotta get back to that rail fence and that hickor'nut tree! Bandershanks, pick your feets up high! That's the way to run fast!"It seemed we were running and stumbling through all the cornstalks in the whole world, but Shoogie didn't care. She went streaking on.When Shoogie finally did slack down and turn my hand loose, she began whispering to me as if she were starting a secret she didn't want even the high weeds to hear."Don't you dare tell Mister Jodie, Bandershanks! Don't tell your Papa Mister Ward done come back. Don't never let that mean white man's name roll 'cross your tongue. Not never!""Shoogie, my papa—""Gran'ma Huldie, she says don't breathe his name! Hit'll get you in trouble. She says she'll beat my hide iffen I gets in more trouble. And your papa might beat your hide!"I didn't want that!"Iffen Gran'ma Huldie finds out we seen Mister Ward, she'll get me for takin' you 'cross that field. She still claims hit was me what let Mister Ward steal you and run off with you. Says I ought not to 'a had you playin' by the road! Bandershanks, she 'clares iffen I gets you in bad one more time, she's gonna beat the daylights outta me! And iffen you tells Mister Jodie, he'll tell Gran'ma Huldie!"It was taking us forever to cross the field.When we finally got back to the buggy, Papa didn't say a thing about beating me or my hide. He hardly noticed us. Mama was there by the buggy, and they were looking at a big, double-barreled shotgun Miss Dink wanted Papa to fix.Papa walked back to hook the chain on Miss Ophelia's rickety gate, and he and Mama talked on-about Miss Dink being sick in the bed again, and about Miss Ophelia claiming she hadn't seen Ward since Christmas Eve night, and about some gunshots way across the field. Papa was more worried about the shots than about Miss Dink."Nannie, it sounded like it was between here and Wes Bailey's house!""Quit worrying, Jodie. It was probably them three boys out shooting at tin cans. Boys like to practice.""Maybe so, but let's get on home. These days I stay uneasy, 'specially every time I hear a gun go off."Papa glanced down at me and Shoogie. "You girls hurry and climb up in the back of the buggy there so we can go. My, y'all both look like you've been running pigs in a briar patch!""No, suh, Mister Jodie. Me'n Bandershanks ain't see'd no pigs. No pigs a-tall!"Mama was surprised to see Shoogie. And she was afraid we had both just about played our dresses to pieces.Papa helped Mama up into the buggy, and she held Miss Dink's gun and the reins till he could climb in."Nannie, I doubt if this old thing can be fixed. Just look, both hammers are rusty as all get-out. What's Miss Dink's idea, anyway?""Well, she's sick and worried, of course. The gun belonged to her husband, and she thinks it'd be some protection—now that her and Ophelia and the young'uns are by themselves all the time.""I'll oil it up and see what I can do. But it's not any 'count." I tried to get Papa to let me look at Miss Dink's shotgun, but he wouldn't. He said guns were not for girls. He laid it across his knees and took the reins from Mama.Papa gave Dale a light slap with the reins, and we drove on toward home. We didn't even stop to talk to Mister Wes Bailey, even though he was standing out on his front porch as we passed by. He and Papa just raised their hands to each other, the way men always do.Papa had already gone to the store the next morning when I woke. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked over at Mierd's and Wiley's study table. Their books were gone, so I knew they had left for school. It was that way almost every morning, no matter how hard I tried to wake early. The whole family could eat breakfast, and Mama could even get the milking done and the cows turned out to pasture before my eyes would open.I could hear talking. Sounded like Doanie. Yeah, that was Doanie, in the kitchen with Mama.Mama was saying, "What colored woman was having a baby yesterday evening? Mister Jodie told me you and Huldie had to go help with one.""Law, me and Huldie was up the blessed night! I ain't shet my eyes yet! Hit wasn't no colored! Hit was Miss Addle Mae!""Addie Mae Bailey! Why, didn't nobody know she— I declare to my soul! She's been visiting off down in Louisiana for the longest!""Miss Addle Mae, she come home the day after Christmas, and Mister Wes and Miss Lida Belle, they makes her hide in the smokehouse so's nobody'd see her. Then yesterday, when the time come, they won't fetch the doctor. They sends for Huldie and me.""That poor girl!""Law, Miss, when we gets there, Miss Addie Mae, she's in a bad way. Huldie tells Mister Wes he ought'a send for the doctor! Miss Lida Belle, she beg and beg him to go get Doctor Elton. He say he don't want nobody, not nobody, knowin' 'bout Miss Addle Mae.""What did—""Huldie, she do what she can, and I helps her. Finally, 'bout midnight, we gets the baby--the biggest baby I ever see'd! But, he was stillborn. Poor Miss Addie Mae was in terrible shape. Then Huldie see'd de blood keep a-comin'! She yells, 'Lawd God, Mister Wes! Fetch the doctor! Fetch the doctor! This girl's dyin'!'"At that, he tear out for the doctor! Doctor Elton, he rush over and make her swallow somethin' he call 'Ergot.' Then he tell me to hold tight 'gainst Miss Addie Mae's bottom stomach with both my fists. That help. Miss Addie Mae dozed off to sleep. We stays there with her all night. Just 'fore daylight, the doctor say she gwine t' live.""Did Doctor Elton see the baby?""Yes'm. Huldie, she done cover the baby with her cook apron. The doctor, he uncovers hit hisself. He say, 'God damn! Ward Lawson's!' He puts the apron back and walks out the front door!""I declare to my soul!"Doanie and Mama stopped talking. At first I thought it was because they didn't have anything else to say, but it wasn't that. They came hurrying into the room where I was to look out the front window 'cause both of them had heard a horse galloping up our road."That's Mister Jodie comin' yonder!""Goodness, I wonder what's the matter! He hasn't been gone an hour!"Mama ran to open the door.It was Papa, all right."Nannie! Nannie!" He started calling her before he even got off his horse. "What's wrong, Jodie?""He's dead! They just found him!""Who?""Ward! Ward Lawson's dead!""Oh, the Lawd have mercy!" Doanie screamed. She threw up her hands and ran for the back door."Doanie! Papa called her back.Doanie let the door slam and came running back inside."Is Sun Boy at home?""Yes, suh. He home.""Tell him to come up here quick.""Yes, suh.""I've got to go over to the Lawson place. Miss Nannie will have to go too. You tell Sun Boy to hitch up the buggy for Miss Nannie, and y'all help her load up some vittles and stuff to take.""Yes, suh." Doanie started to leave."And, Doanie, send one of your boys to tell Bett to come. She can cook today for Pa and Ma. Me and Miss Nannie may not get back before night, so tell Bett for her and Hollis to milk and feed the livestock.""Yes, suh. I tell her."Mama was rushing around, gathering up my clothes. She seemed in the biggest kind of hurry, but she whispered that I ought to look out the side window to see the icicles.I was still watching the icicles when Doanie flew out the yard gate, running as fast as she could go. One corner of her white head rag came untied before she got as far as the well, but she didn't stop to fasten it back in place. To keep it from flapping in her eyes, she jerked it off her head as she disappeared around the side of the garden."Jodie, what happened?""I don't know yet. Wes phoned me. He'd just heard it. Said Ward was shot—stayed out in all the freezing drizzle last night. His shotgun was lying on the ground by the barn fence, and Ned told Wes it looked like maybe Ward was trying to crawl under the barbed wire when his gun went off."I wanted to tell Papa that Mister Ward wasn't even close to a barn or a fence when me and Shoogie saw the blood leaking out of his neck. But Shoogie had made me promise not to let Mister Ward's name roll out of my mouth! So, I just looked back at the icicles.Mama sat down on the edge of my bed and started pulling my nightgown up over my head. But I could tell she wanted to talk to Papa, not me."Who found Ward?""Wes didn't say. 'Course Wes didn't know anything for sure. I tried to phone you, but never could get you.""I reckon I was still down at the cowpen.""He asked me to call into town to get the county coroner right away. I don't know why he didn't do it himself—he's the new Justice of the Peace. But I didn't argue with him. I phoned in and explained to the coroner everything Wes had told me.""I can tell you how come Wes wanted you to put in the call! He's too tight to spend a dime on toll charges, that's why! Bandershanks, you be unbraiding your hair, and I'll help you with your stockings. What time you reckon the coroner will come, Jodie?""He's not coming. First he said that he'd get right on down here; then he asked me how far the old Crawford place is from town. When I told him it's around twenty-three or twenty-four miles, he said in that case Wes could just hold the inquest himself.""Wes?""Yeah, he said that, according to the state law, if a coroner lives more'n twenty miles from the place where a dead body is found, the nearest Justice of the Peace can make the inquisition, as they call it.""Will Wes know what to do?""That's what I wondered myself, but 'course I didn't say so to the coroner. No need to tell him we've got ourselves a J.P. who can't read or write. I just said Wes had never held an inquest and asked if there was any special instructions I ought'a pass on. He said to tell Wes to get himself at least twelve men and swear them in as jurors—have them take the oath."Then, he insisted that I hold the line while he got down his law book and read the oath to me. He had me copy it down, word for word, in case Wes needed it."But, Nannie, right after the old fellow had rambled through another five or ten pages of his state books, he said that if it was plain that Ward's gun went off accidentally while he was trying to climb a fence, why, we won't have to hold no inquest.""I thought you always had to have an inquest.""No, apparently not. He said that a county coroner is not obliged to call a inquest if there's no suspicion of foul play.""What do you figure y'all will do?""I just don't know. But I gotta get on over there and tell Wes what the coroner said. We may have to ride around and get twelve men together. Hal Goode will be there. I phoned Doctor Elton, and he'll be on as soon as he can. He'd just come in off an all-night case. Dan's going. With me, that'll make four. And Old Man Hawk will come.""Oh, you can soon get twelve men together.""You know, Nannie, nothing ever shakes the doctor; but when I called and told him they'd found Ward dead, he sure sputtered. Took me by surprise.""What'd he say?""He said, 'That son of a—' Ah, Nannie, it won't do to repeat. But, I declare, I never heard old Doctor Elton cuss so before.""Who's keeping the store for you?"Vic's boys. Oh, I almost forgot. Vic sent you word that she'll go on over to Ophelia's as soon as she can dress a chicken. And she's gonna get Lovie to help her phone the other women."Mama reached behind the door and took down Papa's heavy cloak."You'd better wear this over your jacket, Jodie.""Yeah. It's plenty cold out. Nannie, I've had the strangest feeling—sorta guilty —like I'd killed Ward myself!""What on earth do you mean?""It's curious. When I first heard he was dead, I'm ashamed to say it, but I was actually glad! 'Course there's been two or three times when I wanted to kill that man! It was all I could do to keep from it. Now that he's dead, why, I've got an odd feeling—""You've got no reason to feel guilty. You didn't do a thing to the man. Jodie, have you got time to step out to your pa's and tell them?""Yeah, I'll go tell them. I've got a plug of Brown's Mule to take Pa, anyway. He may not chew it, but I'm clean outta his brand."Mama followed Papa to the door."Jodie?"He turned around, and she whispered something to him."Nannie! That red-headed devil!""Doanie told me, Jodie. And I thought you ought'a know!""That explains it!""What?""Where Ward got money to finish setting up his still and then buy that high-priced automobile! Wes Bailey forked it over!""As hush money?""Yeah."Papa left in a big hurry.
Every Preaching Sunday morning, right after services were finished and we were ready to leave the church grounds, Papa said two things, one to the mules, the other to Mama.
He'd get Belle and Puddin' Foot unhitched and backed away from our oak tree and headed toward the main road; then he'd give the mules a light slap with the reins and say, "Belle! Puddin' Foot! Quit moving like molasses! There's such a thing as getting home 'fore dark!" Then he'd look around at Mama and say, "Nannie, looks like on preaching days you invite everybody and his dog to go home with us for dinner!"
And every single time, Mama would smile up at Papa and say, "Well, ain't you glad the dogs don't come!"
Then they would laugh, and we'd ride on home. Mama would start putting all the Sunday good things on the dinner table, and Papa would leave the wide gate open so the company folks could drive their wagons and buggies into the well lot, where a long time ago Grandpa Thad had wedged hitching rings deep into the trunks of the black walnut trees. And before the company men could unharness their teams, Papa would have his feed trough filled with fodder and corn.
But the first Sunday after Christmas, I knew Papa wouldn't tell Mama a thing about inviting dogs to come eat dinner. Our wagon was the last one leaving the church grounds, and nobody was going home with us, not even Mierd and Wiley. Jenny Goode had begged Mama to let Mierd go to her house to eat dinner and spend the evening, and Mama had said she could. Wiley had gone home with the Hansen boys, and Wallace Goode went there too.
Papa climbed into the wagon, gave Belle and Puddin' Foot a light slap with the reins, and told them about how slow cold molasses moves in wintertime. As usual, they paid no attention.
"You didn't ask anybody to take dinner with us today, Nannie?"
"I asked several, Jodie. But Miss Maime had already invited Vic and the schoolteacher to go with her and Doctor Elton. And January is always their turn to take the preacher, you remember."
"Yeah, I bet Doctor Elton's looking forward to that! It'll half kill the man to sit all evening and talk to Brother Milligan!"
When we got home, I climbed down from the wagon and skipped on toward the front porch. Mierd's old Nero came around the corner of the house and met me at the yard gate. When I stopped to pet him, he purred and rubbed his back up against my legs.
Mama called to me from the kitchen and told me to run and tell Grandpa and Grandma that we were home from church. "Tell them I'll have Grandma's tray ready in just a little bit—soon as I can warm up the chicken and dumplings."
In a few minutes I was back, and I found Mama in the kitchen already setting things on Grandma's dinner tray.
"Mama, you know what Grandma Ming said?"
"No, there's no telling 'bout your grandma. What'd she tell you this time?"
"She said if I stand 'hind the door and eat a chicken foot, it'll make me pretty!"
"Goodness me! I'd forgotten that old saying."
"Can I do it, Mama?"
"You can try it, if you want to. That is, if the old rooster's feet haven't boiled all to pieces."
I followed Mama over to the cook stove and watched her lift the cover off the stew pot. White steam whoofed up, but she jerked her head back before it could get on her face. With a big spoon, she started stirring through the hot simmering dumplings.
"Here's one foot. Well, here's the other one. You may as well have both of them. But now, Bandershanks, don't be expecting too much."
Mama put the chicken feet on a saucer and handed it to me.
"Careful now. They're hot."
"Which door, Mama?"
"It won't matter. Try that one."
She pointed to the door between the kitchen and the fireplace room. I slid myself in behind it and squatted down to wait for all the steam to float away from the saucer. Then I happened to remember that Grandma Ming had said if I wanted to get pretty tostandbehind the door and eat a chicken foot, so I stood back up again.
As I got up, one piece of my chicken slid off the saucer and fell to the floor. That was all right. I just wiped it off good with the tail of my underskirt.
When I had finished chewing up every last piece of skin and soft gristle sticking to the bones, I set my saucer on the floor and darted over to the bureau by Mama's bed. But its looking glass had wavy streaks, so I ran across the hall to the big dresser in the front room. After a few minutes I decided I'd have to go back in the kitchen to Mama.
"Mama, them chicken bones ain't no good! I got to the looking glass, and it was— It was— It—"
"It was what, hon?"
"My same face!"
"Well, don't cry! You look fine. Sometimes it takes a long time for a girl to get extra pretty. Some need lots of chicken feet."
"I wish every chicken had a hundred feet!"
Papa called me to come over to the kitchen bench where he was sitting.
"Come on, sugar." He took out his pocket handkerchief to wipe my sticky fingers. Then he lifted me up in his arms. "You look real beautiful to me."
While we were eating Sunday dinner, Mama said, "Jodie, I know it'll make you mad when I tell you what I've got to do this evening. But I can't help it."
"What're you talking about? We've been married nearly twenty-seven years, and I ain't got real mad at you yet, have I?"
"Well, it's this— Our Missionary Society voted to take turns carrying foodstuff over to Ophelia and her young'uns. Today's my turn!"
"You're aiming to take groceries to Ward Lawson's house? Good Lord, Nannie!"
"It's our Christian duty!"
"Christian duty?" Papa had to grab his glass of water and take a gulp to keep from choking on the biscuit he was eating.
"We can't let old Miss Dink and Ophelia and them nine young'uns suffer! Vic took vittles to them Wednesday, and she said they're on starvation—not a crumb in the kitchen! No bread, no meat, just nothing."
Papa put down his knife and fork. "Nannie, it ain't my Christian duty to feed the family of a sorry, no-'count sot who nearly beat me to death, then burned down my store and kidnapped my baby! And he ain't through yet! He'll poison our livestock or—"
"But, Jodie! The poor little young'uns! They can't help it! They—"
"All right! All right! I'll hitch up the buggy and take you—this one time. I declare, womenfolks don't look at things like men do. You see Christian duty where all I see is plain, hard facts!"
It was rather late when we got to Miss Ophelia's place. We didn't see anybody on the porch, in the hall, or anywhere. But there was a little streak of smoke rising from one chimney. Papa hitched Dale close to the yard gate, and we sat in the buggy to wait while Mama went inside with her box of eggs and butter and stuff.
We'd been there a few minutes when Papa noticed two people coming up the trail from Ned's house.
"Looks like two women, Bandershanks."
"It's Shoogie! And Doanie! Papa, lem'me run to meet them!"
"All right."
Shoogie was glad to see me. Doanie, too. When we got back to the buggy, Doanie asked Papa if Shoogie could ride back home with us.
"Yeah, I reckon so, Doanie. What's going on?"
"Trouble, Mister Jodie. Trouble's pilin' up! Shoogie, she is plum puny. And now, Huldie and me just got word to go quick and help with a birthin'. Huldie see'd you pass Ned's house. She said ask, maybe y'all carry Shoogie back. She just in the way. Huldie said tell Black Idd he better put her in the bed. She look puny, plum puny!"
"In that case, we'll take her."
Shoogie didn't look puny to me. She was grinning and eating hickory nuts. She let me have a bite and whispered that she knew where we could find lots, lots more.
"They's just lyin' on the ground—right down yonder at the field. Wanta go get some, Bandershanks?"
"Yeah, let's do! Papa, I'm going with Shoogie. We're gonna pick me up some hickor'nuts!"
"No, no, I don't want you out of my sight."
"It's just right yonder, Papa."
"Where's the tree at, Shoogie?"
"This side o' that rail fence."
"Well, don't y'all be gone long, Bandershanks. Surely your mama will soon quit talking and come on so we can go home. I declare, this is nearly 'bout too much!"
There weren't as many nuts lying under the hickory tree as Shoogie had thought. We found a few. Then we climbed over the fence to look under two more trees closer to the edge of the cornfield. None there.
"Bandershanks, let's go to them big trees 'cross the field yonder on that hill. See them? I just knows there's plenty under all o' them hickor'nut trees. I bet that's where Little Stray and Ned's chillen picks up their'n."
"Papa won't like it!"
"We'll run and get back quick. Your mama still ain't back to the buggy. And your papa won't never know we's went. Look at him. He's just walkin' back and forth. Come on, Bandershanks! We's gotta run fast!"
We did run fast, but it was farther across the cornfield than we had thought. When we finally got to the clump of hickory trees, all we could find were a few hulls lying around on the ground, and they were buried in dried-up leaves.
"I don't see none to pick up, Shoogie!"
"Squirrels has et them all."
"Shoogie, let's go back."
Shoogie caught my sleeve. "Be quiet a minute," she whispered. "I thought sho' I heerd somebody out in the woods. Yeah! Look! Some man with his shotgun! Run back in the field! He may be mean!"
"A man? Where?"
"'Tween them 'simmon trees! We's gotta hide, Bandershanks! Quick! Get behind these bushes!" Shoogie pulled me into some high weeds. "Squat down behind this big old stump!"
"Shoogie, silly! That ain't a mean man. That's— Ouch, Shoogie! You're hurting my arm!"
Shoogie grabbed my other arm! "Look, Bandershanks! Yonder, comin' this way! More mens! Naw, it's Ned and Little Stray! Sylvie, too—just a-streakin' 'cross the field. Sylvie must be chasin' a rabbit. Lawd, no! There's a white man chasin' Ned! Who's that white man, Bandershanks?"
"I can't see nobody! Where?"
Then I saw!
"Don't let him get me, Shoogie! Don't let him steal me!"
"Stop, Bandershanks! Come back here! Don't run! Mister Ward'll see us! Be still, still. Scrooch way low!"
We huddled closer together. Closer to the stump.
"Don't breathe, nor nothin'!"
We could hear the dry cornstalks popping like little firecrackers as Ned and Stray and Mister Ward got closer and closer. Shoogie poked her head up to look. I took a quick peep.
"He gonna shoot 'em! Mister Ward gonna shoot!" Two loud blasts! Another! Little Stray darted by. Another blast! Mister Ward kept coming! Shoogie shoved me to the ground! I couldn't see Ned any more.
"Get on your belly and crawl! We's gotta get outta here! To the woods! No, this way! Through the corn!"
The next shot whizzed right over our heads!
Mister Ward yelled, "O,God!" He was right at us!
Shoogie jumped up, jerked me up, and darted back toward the woods. Then she whirled to go the other way.
"No, Shoogie! Not this way!"
We ran smack into Mister Ward! It knocked him down! We fell too, but he didn't reach out and catch at me or Shoogie! He just grabbed at his own neck, pulled himself up against our hiding stump, and cried "O, God" again. Shoogie rolled me over so fast my mouth got full of dirt! Before I could spit it out she had us both down in a gully, up again, and headed across the field. She was dragging me every step. Cornstalks hit me in the face. They were hitting her too, but she wouldn't slow up.
"Shoogie, wait and see what they're gonna do!"
"No! We don't care what they gonna do! We gotta get outta here!"
"I can't run so fast, Shoogie!"
"We's gotta get back to that rail fence and that hickor'nut tree! Bandershanks, pick your feets up high! That's the way to run fast!"
It seemed we were running and stumbling through all the cornstalks in the whole world, but Shoogie didn't care. She went streaking on.
When Shoogie finally did slack down and turn my hand loose, she began whispering to me as if she were starting a secret she didn't want even the high weeds to hear.
"Don't you dare tell Mister Jodie, Bandershanks! Don't tell your Papa Mister Ward done come back. Don't never let that mean white man's name roll 'cross your tongue. Not never!"
"Shoogie, my papa—"
"Gran'ma Huldie, she says don't breathe his name! Hit'll get you in trouble. She says she'll beat my hide iffen I gets in more trouble. And your papa might beat your hide!"
I didn't want that!
"Iffen Gran'ma Huldie finds out we seen Mister Ward, she'll get me for takin' you 'cross that field. She still claims hit was me what let Mister Ward steal you and run off with you. Says I ought not to 'a had you playin' by the road! Bandershanks, she 'clares iffen I gets you in bad one more time, she's gonna beat the daylights outta me! And iffen you tells Mister Jodie, he'll tell Gran'ma Huldie!"
It was taking us forever to cross the field.
When we finally got back to the buggy, Papa didn't say a thing about beating me or my hide. He hardly noticed us. Mama was there by the buggy, and they were looking at a big, double-barreled shotgun Miss Dink wanted Papa to fix.
Papa walked back to hook the chain on Miss Ophelia's rickety gate, and he and Mama talked on-about Miss Dink being sick in the bed again, and about Miss Ophelia claiming she hadn't seen Ward since Christmas Eve night, and about some gunshots way across the field. Papa was more worried about the shots than about Miss Dink.
"Nannie, it sounded like it was between here and Wes Bailey's house!"
"Quit worrying, Jodie. It was probably them three boys out shooting at tin cans. Boys like to practice."
"Maybe so, but let's get on home. These days I stay uneasy, 'specially every time I hear a gun go off."
Papa glanced down at me and Shoogie. "You girls hurry and climb up in the back of the buggy there so we can go. My, y'all both look like you've been running pigs in a briar patch!"
"No, suh, Mister Jodie. Me'n Bandershanks ain't see'd no pigs. No pigs a-tall!"
Mama was surprised to see Shoogie. And she was afraid we had both just about played our dresses to pieces.
Papa helped Mama up into the buggy, and she held Miss Dink's gun and the reins till he could climb in.
"Nannie, I doubt if this old thing can be fixed. Just look, both hammers are rusty as all get-out. What's Miss Dink's idea, anyway?"
"Well, she's sick and worried, of course. The gun belonged to her husband, and she thinks it'd be some protection—now that her and Ophelia and the young'uns are by themselves all the time."
"I'll oil it up and see what I can do. But it's not any 'count." I tried to get Papa to let me look at Miss Dink's shotgun, but he wouldn't. He said guns were not for girls. He laid it across his knees and took the reins from Mama.
Papa gave Dale a light slap with the reins, and we drove on toward home. We didn't even stop to talk to Mister Wes Bailey, even though he was standing out on his front porch as we passed by. He and Papa just raised their hands to each other, the way men always do.
Papa had already gone to the store the next morning when I woke. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked over at Mierd's and Wiley's study table. Their books were gone, so I knew they had left for school. It was that way almost every morning, no matter how hard I tried to wake early. The whole family could eat breakfast, and Mama could even get the milking done and the cows turned out to pasture before my eyes would open.
I could hear talking. Sounded like Doanie. Yeah, that was Doanie, in the kitchen with Mama.
Mama was saying, "What colored woman was having a baby yesterday evening? Mister Jodie told me you and Huldie had to go help with one."
"Law, me and Huldie was up the blessed night! I ain't shet my eyes yet! Hit wasn't no colored! Hit was Miss Addle Mae!"
"Addie Mae Bailey! Why, didn't nobody know she— I declare to my soul! She's been visiting off down in Louisiana for the longest!"
"Miss Addle Mae, she come home the day after Christmas, and Mister Wes and Miss Lida Belle, they makes her hide in the smokehouse so's nobody'd see her. Then yesterday, when the time come, they won't fetch the doctor. They sends for Huldie and me."
"That poor girl!"
"Law, Miss, when we gets there, Miss Addie Mae, she's in a bad way. Huldie tells Mister Wes he ought'a send for the doctor! Miss Lida Belle, she beg and beg him to go get Doctor Elton. He say he don't want nobody, not nobody, knowin' 'bout Miss Addle Mae."
"What did—"
"Huldie, she do what she can, and I helps her. Finally, 'bout midnight, we gets the baby--the biggest baby I ever see'd! But, he was stillborn. Poor Miss Addie Mae was in terrible shape. Then Huldie see'd de blood keep a-comin'! She yells, 'Lawd God, Mister Wes! Fetch the doctor! Fetch the doctor! This girl's dyin'!'
"At that, he tear out for the doctor! Doctor Elton, he rush over and make her swallow somethin' he call 'Ergot.' Then he tell me to hold tight 'gainst Miss Addie Mae's bottom stomach with both my fists. That help. Miss Addie Mae dozed off to sleep. We stays there with her all night. Just 'fore daylight, the doctor say she gwine t' live."
"Did Doctor Elton see the baby?"
"Yes'm. Huldie, she done cover the baby with her cook apron. The doctor, he uncovers hit hisself. He say, 'God damn! Ward Lawson's!' He puts the apron back and walks out the front door!"
"I declare to my soul!"
Doanie and Mama stopped talking. At first I thought it was because they didn't have anything else to say, but it wasn't that. They came hurrying into the room where I was to look out the front window 'cause both of them had heard a horse galloping up our road.
"That's Mister Jodie comin' yonder!"
"Goodness, I wonder what's the matter! He hasn't been gone an hour!"
Mama ran to open the door.
It was Papa, all right.
"Nannie! Nannie!" He started calling her before he even got off his horse. "What's wrong, Jodie?"
"He's dead! They just found him!"
"Who?"
"Ward! Ward Lawson's dead!"
"Oh, the Lawd have mercy!" Doanie screamed. She threw up her hands and ran for the back door.
"Doanie! Papa called her back.
Doanie let the door slam and came running back inside.
"Is Sun Boy at home?"
"Yes, suh. He home."
"Tell him to come up here quick."
"Yes, suh."
"I've got to go over to the Lawson place. Miss Nannie will have to go too. You tell Sun Boy to hitch up the buggy for Miss Nannie, and y'all help her load up some vittles and stuff to take."
"Yes, suh." Doanie started to leave.
"And, Doanie, send one of your boys to tell Bett to come. She can cook today for Pa and Ma. Me and Miss Nannie may not get back before night, so tell Bett for her and Hollis to milk and feed the livestock."
"Yes, suh. I tell her."
Mama was rushing around, gathering up my clothes. She seemed in the biggest kind of hurry, but she whispered that I ought to look out the side window to see the icicles.
I was still watching the icicles when Doanie flew out the yard gate, running as fast as she could go. One corner of her white head rag came untied before she got as far as the well, but she didn't stop to fasten it back in place. To keep it from flapping in her eyes, she jerked it off her head as she disappeared around the side of the garden.
"Jodie, what happened?"
"I don't know yet. Wes phoned me. He'd just heard it. Said Ward was shot—stayed out in all the freezing drizzle last night. His shotgun was lying on the ground by the barn fence, and Ned told Wes it looked like maybe Ward was trying to crawl under the barbed wire when his gun went off."
I wanted to tell Papa that Mister Ward wasn't even close to a barn or a fence when me and Shoogie saw the blood leaking out of his neck. But Shoogie had made me promise not to let Mister Ward's name roll out of my mouth! So, I just looked back at the icicles.
Mama sat down on the edge of my bed and started pulling my nightgown up over my head. But I could tell she wanted to talk to Papa, not me.
"Who found Ward?"
"Wes didn't say. 'Course Wes didn't know anything for sure. I tried to phone you, but never could get you."
"I reckon I was still down at the cowpen."
"He asked me to call into town to get the county coroner right away. I don't know why he didn't do it himself—he's the new Justice of the Peace. But I didn't argue with him. I phoned in and explained to the coroner everything Wes had told me."
"I can tell you how come Wes wanted you to put in the call! He's too tight to spend a dime on toll charges, that's why! Bandershanks, you be unbraiding your hair, and I'll help you with your stockings. What time you reckon the coroner will come, Jodie?"
"He's not coming. First he said that he'd get right on down here; then he asked me how far the old Crawford place is from town. When I told him it's around twenty-three or twenty-four miles, he said in that case Wes could just hold the inquest himself."
"Wes?"
"Yeah, he said that, according to the state law, if a coroner lives more'n twenty miles from the place where a dead body is found, the nearest Justice of the Peace can make the inquisition, as they call it."
"Will Wes know what to do?"
"That's what I wondered myself, but 'course I didn't say so to the coroner. No need to tell him we've got ourselves a J.P. who can't read or write. I just said Wes had never held an inquest and asked if there was any special instructions I ought'a pass on. He said to tell Wes to get himself at least twelve men and swear them in as jurors—have them take the oath.
"Then, he insisted that I hold the line while he got down his law book and read the oath to me. He had me copy it down, word for word, in case Wes needed it.
"But, Nannie, right after the old fellow had rambled through another five or ten pages of his state books, he said that if it was plain that Ward's gun went off accidentally while he was trying to climb a fence, why, we won't have to hold no inquest."
"I thought you always had to have an inquest."
"No, apparently not. He said that a county coroner is not obliged to call a inquest if there's no suspicion of foul play."
"What do you figure y'all will do?"
"I just don't know. But I gotta get on over there and tell Wes what the coroner said. We may have to ride around and get twelve men together. Hal Goode will be there. I phoned Doctor Elton, and he'll be on as soon as he can. He'd just come in off an all-night case. Dan's going. With me, that'll make four. And Old Man Hawk will come."
"Oh, you can soon get twelve men together."
"You know, Nannie, nothing ever shakes the doctor; but when I called and told him they'd found Ward dead, he sure sputtered. Took me by surprise."
"What'd he say?"
"He said, 'That son of a—' Ah, Nannie, it won't do to repeat. But, I declare, I never heard old Doctor Elton cuss so before."
"Who's keeping the store for you?
"Vic's boys. Oh, I almost forgot. Vic sent you word that she'll go on over to Ophelia's as soon as she can dress a chicken. And she's gonna get Lovie to help her phone the other women."
Mama reached behind the door and took down Papa's heavy cloak.
"You'd better wear this over your jacket, Jodie."
"Yeah. It's plenty cold out. Nannie, I've had the strangest feeling—sorta guilty —like I'd killed Ward myself!"
"What on earth do you mean?"
"It's curious. When I first heard he was dead, I'm ashamed to say it, but I was actually glad! 'Course there's been two or three times when I wanted to kill that man! It was all I could do to keep from it. Now that he's dead, why, I've got an odd feeling—"
"You've got no reason to feel guilty. You didn't do a thing to the man. Jodie, have you got time to step out to your pa's and tell them?"
"Yeah, I'll go tell them. I've got a plug of Brown's Mule to take Pa, anyway. He may not chew it, but I'm clean outta his brand."
Mama followed Papa to the door.
"Jodie?"
He turned around, and she whispered something to him.
"Nannie! That red-headed devil!"
"Doanie told me, Jodie. And I thought you ought'a know!"
"That explains it!"
"What?"
"Where Ward got money to finish setting up his still and then buy that high-priced automobile! Wes Bailey forked it over!"
"As hush money?"
"Yeah."
Papa left in a big hurry.