Hoodoo

by Ronald L. Smith

  “Well,” I said, “it’s already dead. Not like I’m gonna hurt it. Right?”

  “Right.”

  I knelt down and nudged the rat with a stick shaped like a fork.

  Now, I’m not gonna tell you everything I did right then because you might get sick, but I did it with my eyes half closed, the knife making squishy sounds as I cut through the soft skin. It was kind of like that time I saw Zeke skinning a squirrel. To tell you the truth, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.

  Bunny moved in closer, leaning over my shoulder. Her pigtails were loose, and her hair brushed the side of my face. That made me more nervous than the dang rat. “Looks like all you gotta do now is pull out the bone,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything. I was concentrating and didn’t want to mess things up. I let out a breath and pulled on a little leg bone until it popped out, nice and easy-like.

  We walked back to her yard. Bunny’s family had a well, and she used a bucket on a chain to draw up some water. We didn’t want to put the rat bone in the bucket, so Bunny cupped her hands and poured some water over the bone while I held it. That got off the rest of the blood and gunk.

  I cleaned off the knife and gave it back to her. I was proud of myself.

  “See that, Hoodoo?” she said, folding up her knife. “You did it.”

  She was right. I did do it. Without even getting the jitters.

  Now I had what I needed to make that mojo bag.

  Bunny turned up her nose and sniffed the air. It smelled like her mama was frying up some fatback. Fatback is like bacon, if you didn’t know. Mama Frances always put it in her collard greens.

  Bunny eased the bucket back down the well. “Guess we should get back,” she said.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the ground by her feet.

  She knelt down on one knee and picked it up. I moved a little closer to get a better look. She stood up and handed it to me. I turned it over in my fingers. It was white and picked clean. “Looks like a rat bone to me,” I said.

  “Well,” she said, “my kitty does kill a lot of rats. Guess we should’ve looked around a little more first.”

  She giggled. “Oh, Hoodoo. That is something else. All that work skinning a rat, and here’s a bone ready for the taking.”

  I shook my head. That was dang foolish. But Bunny started laughing, and the more she laughed, the more I did too, until we were both laughing our heads off.

  But then I started thinking about what else I had to do.

  Mrs. Snuff said I had to spell the bag. That meant I had to open that powwow book.

  The one I stole.

  The one with a picture of a chopped-off hand.

  Jump Back, Evil

  The next day I stayed close to home. I was tired, and every now and then got a headache on both temples. Maybe flying in the spirit world had some consequence. I learned that word in school: consequence. It was something that happened because of something else, if you didn’t know. Like if you ate a bunch of Squirrel Nut Zippers on the way home and then weren’t hungry for supper, that’d be a consequence.

  Mama Frances cooked up some fried green tomatoes in the afternoon and I ate a couple slices. She always put hot pepper juice on hers, but the one time I did, it felt like my tongue was on fire.

  I loved watching her cook. She knew right where everything was. I bet she could cook with her eyes closed if she wanted to. She must’ve thought I was doing okay and not worrying about nothing, but she didn’t really know what was going on. I had to put a spell on a mojo bag to keep the Stranger away. I knew she would’ve helped if I’d asked, but I didn’t want to. I had to do it myself. I had to believe.

  Don’t make no sense for a boy named Hoodoo . . . to not know hoodoo.

  After I got done eating, I went up to my room and pulled the powwow book from Daddy’s trunk.

  POW-WOWS

  ———–——— or ———–———

  LONG LOST FRIEND

  A Collection of Mysterious &

  Invaluable Arts & Remedies

  for Man as Well as Animals

  I didn’t want to look at that drawing of the Hand of Glory again, so I flipped past it. There were spells to stop bleeding, dry up warts, get rid of a toothache, cure a snakebite, and all kinds of other problems.

  I didn’t even know what I was looking for until I saw it:

  AGAINST EVIL SPIRITS AND ALL

  MANNER OF WITCHCRAFT:

  Prayer to Saint Michael

  Maybe this was what I needed to spell the mojo bag. The Stranger was an evil spirit, and I was going against him. Saint Michael fought against the devil in heaven, if you didn’t know.

  The words were written in Bible talk. I needed to say them like I believed them. That’s what everybody kept saying, so that’s what I did.

  Saint Michael the Archangel, defend me in battle.

  Be my defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil.

  May God rebuke him, I humbly pray, and do thou,

  O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God,

  thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits,

  who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

  Amen.

  The room was already quiet, but I swear it got even quieter. I could hear myself breathing.

  I flipped through more pages. A picture of a little sack, like the one Mrs. Snuff gave me, was drawn on the page. At the top, it said:

  FIXIN’ A HAND:

  Jump Back, Evil

  A hand was another word for a mojo bag. That’s what folks around here called them. And “jump back, evil” sounded about right. That’s what I wanted to happen: I wanted evil to jump on back. I kept reading:

  Rat bone

  Cat’s-eye stone

  Broken link of chain

  Salt

  Candles

  Saint Michael prayer and card

  Kananga Water

  John the Conqueror Root

  I didn’t know who John the Conqueror was, but I liked the way those words sounded. And what kind of water was Kananga?

  I already had most of this stuff, but I needed to get the other things, too. If I went by Aunt Jelly’s, she might have a picture of Saint Michael, but I didn’t have time for that. She’d probably make me do some dang chores before I could get out of there.

  I put the book down and thought real hard. There was only one place where I could get that picture.

  I went into Mama Frances’s room and started snooping around. If she came up the stairs, I’d hear her. She was too old for sneaking.

  A big old cedar chest was pushed up against the foot of her bed. When I was little, I used to climb inside and close the top. Me and Bunny took turns getting in, and whoever stayed in the longest won. Thinking about that now gave me the willies.

  I opened the lid. The smell of roses, perfume, and mothballs came drifting up in my nostrils. Mama Frances used to have some old Bibles in here along with a few church fans, but all I saw was old clothes and quilts, so I closed it.

  I walked over to what she called her vanity—a big wooden table with a bunch of stuff on it. There was some pocket change, a few pieces of jewelry, and the Holy Bible next to a vase of dried flowers.

  I picked up the Bible. It was old, and the blue cover was about to fall off. Little pieces of paper stuck up between the pages. She must’ve marked where her favorite psalms were. I flipped to the back to the Book of Revelation. Sure enough, there was a picture of Saint Michael. His foot was on the neck of the devil. Big white wings came out of his back like a bird’s, and his shining sword was raised up high. I liked Saint Michael. If anyone could protect me, I knew he could.

  I still needed that John the Conqueror Root and the funny-sounding water. I could get the salt and the candles easy enough, but what about the other stuff? I couldn’t go back to Mrs. Snuff’s. She’d already helped me enough.

  And then it hit me. I knew just where to find the rest of those thi
ngs.

  I tucked the Bible under my arm and crept out, thinking hard about how I was gonna make evil jump back.

  It Lies Hidden

  The cowbell rang when I stepped into Miss Carter’s.

  Mama Frances was already gone to clean people’s houses when I woke up, so I didn’t have to make up any stories about where I was going. I just hoped Cousin Zeke would be working.

  But he wasn’t.

  “That Miss Frances’s boy?”

  I gulped.

  The blind man stood behind the counter wearing his dark glasses. I couldn’t see his eyes. I didn’t even know his name. One time I heard somebody call him Jooba—or was it Jubba? I couldn’t remember which, so I didn’t say either.

  “Yes sir,” I said. “I came to sweep up in the back.”

  I didn’t like lying, but I had to. It was just a white lie. That’s what Aunt Jelly called them.

  “Okay, Hoodoo,” he said. “Broom’s over there in the corner.” He pointed a long brown finger. “Bring out one of those boxes of cane syrup when you finish. It’s called Steen’s. If you don’t know how to read, there’s a picture of a house on the front.”

  “Yes sir,” I said. “I can read.”

  “Good,” he said. “Do your book reading and grow up smart.”

  He went back to work behind the counter, picking up stuff and moving it to different shelves. He was big but walked real smooth. His shoes squeaked on the floor.

  I picked up the broom and stepped into the back. I closed the door behind me.

  It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t do any sweeping up, so I did that first. After a few minutes, I had a whole bunch of dust balls in each corner. I swept them all together and then emptied them into a metal bucket.

  Now I could do what I came to do.

  I knew folks came in here to get their conjure potions, but I didn’t know where they were kept. Boxes of candy were on the shelves, and bigger boxes were stacked up on pieces of wood. The room was small, with one high window that let in a little sun. Every few minutes I heard the cowbell out front clang-a-lang, and then people talking and laughing.

  I looked at the shelves. Maybe what I needed was behind the boxes of candy. They went back a few rows deep, so I moved a couple of them out of the way to find out. I sighed. There was nothing behind them but white painted bricks.

  I pushed the boxes back into place. One of them slid too far and pushed a brick about three inches in, like there was room behind it.

  I smiled inside. Those bricks were loose.

  I looked to the door. I hoped Jooba—or Jubba—didn’t come in here all of a sudden. I turned back to the shelf and started pulling out bricks. One by one, I lifted them out and put them to the side. When I moved the last one, my mouth fell open.

  Small bags, bottles, and boxes were all crammed in there together. The first thing I pulled out was a box with a picture of a lady with red lips on the front. “Love Potion,” it said. I didn’t need no love potion. Another bag said “Angelica Root” and another read “Five-Finger Grass.”

  I heard voices again and looked to the door, but nobody came in. I turned back to the wall and started rooting around. There was all kinds of stuff in there: Hot Foot Powder, Gambler’s Luck, Law Keep-Away, Anointing Oil, a bunch of different-colored candles, little bottles of liquid with no name on the front, and a bag with a drawing of some roots on it. I picked it up. John the Conqueror Root!

  I stuck it in my pocket.

  Next, I looked at the bottles. Most of them were brown and I couldn’t see inside them. I shook one with no label and heard liquid sloshing around. I set it down. Another said “Uncrossing Oil.” I didn’t know what that was. I reached for a clear green bottle with a long neck. Some flowers were on the front, along with the words “Kananga Water” in long pretty letters, like a lady would write. I didn’t know how much I needed, and I couldn’t just pour some in my pocket, so I took the whole bottle.

  The door opened a crack.

  I froze.

  “You done in there, Hoodoo?” the blind man called. “You making dirt or cleaning it?”

  “I’m coming right now,” I said.

  The door closed shut.

  I let out a big breath and pushed the bricks back into place, then stacked up the candy. I took one last look. Everything was just the way I found it.

  I headed for the door but then stopped. I’d almost forgot: Steen’s syrup. I’d tasted that syrup before. It was thick and sweet, like molasses.

  I turned around and looked at the big boxes on the wooden slats. My eyes roamed over the words printed in black letters. There it was, off to the side, with a picture of a house on the front. I picked it up, carried it to the door, and pushed it open.

  A man with a straw hat sat on an apple crate near the front counter, plucking on a guitar. It didn’t sound very good and was all jangly-wangly.

  Jooba or Jubba looked up. “You clean up good back there, boy?”

  “Yes sir,” I said, setting the syrup on the counter.

  “You find what you were looking for?”

  Gulp.

  “I was just cleaning,” I said, walking toward the door.

  “Hey, Hoodoo.”

  I turned around, my hand just an inch from the doorknob.

  “Don’t you want no candy?”

  I bit my lip. I couldn’t take any candy. That just wouldn’t be right.

  “No sir,” I said. “I’m okay.”

  He nodded his head. “You tell your Mama Frances I said hello, okay?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Outside, I wiped the sweat off my head and ran home, my pockets full of stuff to make evil jump back.

  Conjure

  Night birds called outside my window.

  I turned in the bed, trying to get to sleep. I kept thinking about those things I took from Miss Carter’s.

  I stole.

  That was wrong. I had to make it up somehow, when I was done with all this.

  I turned on my side. I’d already tried counting numbers and it didn’t work. I said a little prayer and that made me think of something else, so I whispered it out loud:

  Saint Michael the Archangel, defend me in battle.

  Be my defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil.

  May God rebuke him, I humbly pray, and do thou,

  O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God,

  thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits,

  who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

  Amen.

  I breathed out slowly. I couldn’t believe I knew the whole thing. That meant something. It had to. Maybe Saint Michael was already looking out for me.

  After supper that night, Mama Frances went outside to get some mason jars from under the porch. She said she was going to make a pie for tomorrow: a peach one, my favorite. When I thought about that, I felt bad, seeing as how I was doing all this sneaking.

  I put the things from Miss Carter’s in my pillowcase bag and went downstairs.

  Mama Frances came in, brushing dirt off her hands. Her eyes traveled from my face to the pillowcase bag and then back up. “Where you think you’re going, child?”

  Please don’t make me open this bag, Mama Frances. Please.

  “I was gonna go collect some stuff.”

  She came all the way into the kitchen and stood real close. “If you come in this door after dark, Hoodoo, you may as well bring the switch with you. Understand?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said, and stepped for the door.

  “Hoodoo?” she said.

  I froze. “Yes ma’am?”

  “You remember what I said the other day?”

  I thought about that. I didn’t have an answer, so I scratched my head.

  Mama Frances sighed. “I said you need to come to me or your Pa Manuel if you see anything strange, didn’t I?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said.

  She stared at me. “If I find out you’ve been keeping somet
hing from me, you won’t be able to sit for a week. I promise you that. You hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said for the fourth time.

  I could feel her shaking her head at me as I walked out the door, even though I couldn’t see her.

  I walked to Bunny’s house real slow. I was thinking about what I had to do. The powwow book and all the other stuff I needed was in my bag. I wanted to spell it on my own, but since Bunny helped me find the rat bone and cat’s-eye stone, I figured I had to let her come along.

  The whole time I was walking, I was thinking about the Stranger. I kept my eyes peeled. I didn’t think he’d try to get me in the middle of town, but that didn’t stop me from looking back every few seconds.

  By the time I picked up Bunny and we got to the Cliff, sweat was running down my back. We found a place to sit, and I took out the powwow book and flipped it open. “Look,” I said, pointing to the picture of the Hand of Glory. “That’s it. That’s what the Stranger’s looking for. The Hand That Did the Deed.”

  Bunny’s lips moved as she read over the words. “If the man did do murder, it is known as the Hand That Did the Deed, the deed being murder.”

  She looked back up and stared at me. “What’s that got to do with you, Hoodoo?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  We sat in silence for a minute. A hot breeze sighed through the trees. “That stranger said he wanted my hand,” I finally said.

  Bunny’s eyes grew wide. “He must be the one who cut off those people’s hands at the graveyard!”

  A shock went right through me.