by Sam Halpern
“Just foolin’.”
“Let me see,” and she rolled back my upper lip and I jerked away. “You didn’t get that falling out of any barn loft, young man. Which one of your crazy friends hit you?”
“I fell out of th’ loft,” I said, acting kind of mad.
“Is that how you talk to your mother?” said Dad, and he was giving me that stare.
Tears come rolling and I bawled as bad as LD. I don’t know how long I cried, but when I finished Mom had her arms around me and Dad was picking at his food.
“You okay?” Dad asked me sharp.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Got anything you wanta talk t’ me about?”
I almost choked as I shook my head.
“Then it’s closed,” he said.
Everybody started eating again, but the clink of the knives and forks on the plates sounded ten times louder than usual. “It’s been a bad day,” Dad said to Mom. “Remember that guy who said he would be able to help us house tobacco? He took a job in Cincinnati.”
Mom’s mouth fell open. “How’ll we get the tobacco in the barn?”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t know. Everybody’s huntin’ for help. I just don’t know, M’dom,” and how he said it was real down.
I knew Dad was right. We had to have another hand because we had so much tobacco that even swapping work with Mr. Mac and Babe wudn’t enough.
Mom shook her head and looked worried. “There has to be someone else we can get.”
“I wish I knew who,” said Dad with a sigh.
Mom thought for a minute, then said, “Jennie Dee Wallace said a man came by the other day looking for a house to rent.”
“What kind of man?” asked Dad, and his eyes widened.
“Jennie Dee thought he was a mountaineer,” said Mom.
“Where is he?” asked Dad, kind of excited.
Mom shook her head. “I don’t know. Rags might know.”
“Ring him up for me!”
A couple of days later, Dad come into the yard with what was a mountaineer. He wudn’t very tall and was real skinny. He had a quiet about him that was scary. Dad rapped at the kitchen door, and Mom and I come outside.
“M’dom, this is Mr. Ervin Cross,” said Dad.
“How do you do?” said Mom, wiping her wet hands on her apron.
“Hidey,” the skinny man said, then looked down.
“This is Samuel, my youngest, Mr. Cross,” said Mom. “Say hello, Samuel.”
“Hello,” I said, and Mr. Cross nodded.
Mom asked, “You have a family, Mr. Cross?”
“Yep,” said Mr. Cross, still looking down.
Mom kind of stared at him. “Are they with you?”
“Nope.”
Dad shifted his weight and I could tell he didn’t exactly cotton to Mr. Cross.
“You have a boy, sir?” I asked.
“Two,” he answered, and looked at me.
“They my age?” I asked.
“Reckon Radar is,” then he looked at Dad. “We ought see t’ th’ house.”
“Sure,” said Dad, and they took off for the house in the hollow with me tagging along.
The house wudn’t much, just wood floors and whitewarshed walls, but it had two rooms, a kitchen, an outhouse, and a chicken coop. It needed windows put in and Dad told Mr. Cross that Mr. Berman could get them for him.
“Hit’ll do,” said Mr. Cross, finally.
“You need help movin’?” Dad asked.
“Nope.”
“You got a lot of stuff?”
“’Nough.”
When we got back to our house Dad told Mr. Cross that if he needed milk for his family he could have some whole milk for drinking and lots of skim milk from the separator for making stuff. Mr. Cross acted like he hadn’t heard a word.
“Can I keep chickens?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Dad, “What kind you got?”
“White Legurns and three fightin’ roosters.”
“Fightin’ roosters?”
“Yep. And you ain’t never seed any better. Kill any chicken fools with ’em.”
Dad squinted one eye. “Can I carry you t’ your family?”
“Nope,” Mr. Cross answered, then struck out walking down our lane.
A week went by and we had pretty much given up hope that the Crosses were coming. Then one morning Dad come in from milking and said they had moved in during the night.
“During the night?” said Mom, stopping her work and looking at him.
“Smoke’s coming out of th’ chimney. I can’t figure out who else could be there.”
“Why did they move in at night?”
“Why do mountaineers do anything?” Dad muttered, then he answered himself. “’Cause they’re crazy’s why! We have to have him though, so let’s make the best of it.”
At first, the only Cross I saw was Ervin. I wanted to go down and meet the rest, but Mom and Dad said no. I could go down if they asked, otherwise no. Nobody asked.
Things were pretty much back to normal now. Just like before, everybody seemed to forget about the crazy man except Fred and me, but pretty soon even we were back to having a good time, mostly trying to see what the Crosses were doing. There’d be smoke coming out of their chimney, but no people in sight. I began to wonder if anybody else lived there, and Fred and me talked about maybe Mr. Cross was mixed up with the crazy man. A brother or something. I didn’t meet the Cross boys until the first day of school. They were already at the bus stop, when Naomi and I got there. I knew they had to be Crosses because they looked a lot like Ervin. One was a couple years older than me and the other maybe a year younger. We stood there, together, nobody saying anything, then I picked up a rock and threw it at a fence post and hit it dead center. The older Cross did the same thing, only a lot harder. Soon, we were peppering away.
“Hey, I bet you’re Radar,” I said to the older one.
“Yep,” he said, “and hit’s spelled th’ same back’ards as fo’ards.”
“What’s his name?” I asked, pointing toward his brother.
“Billy Bacon Jacob.”
“’Lo, Billy Bacon,” I said.
“Hidey,” he answered.
“Hello, Billy,” said Naomi, and Billy didn’t say nothing back.
When Rosemary showed up, she and Naomi acted like they hadn’t seen each other in years, hugging and squealing and jumping up and down even though they spent half the summer together. Rosemary was prettier than ever and when I looked at her, I felt weak. By the time the school bus come, I was back to where I was when we first met. I just really loved Rosemary.
22
Tobacco housing went easier than anybody figured even though Ervin was slower’n molasses in th’ wintertime. We swapped work with Mr. Mac and Babe, which meant we had twenty-five acres to house. Things went well, though, and by mid-September, we were finished.
Fred didn’t start school that fall. Nobody said anything because the teachers figured he was helping with the tobacco, but soon as housing time was over the truant officer come down to see Alfred and Mamie and told them if Fred didn’t show up they were going to put Alfred in the pokey. Alfred got mad and told the man to get his ass out of his house. The truant officer said, “Okay, buddy, but you just wait. You goin’ t’ jail!”
That scared Mamie and she told the truant officer that the reason Fred couldn’t go was he didn’t have any clothes and wudn’t any money to buy them with because they had to save up to buy salt butts for winter. The truant officer said he didn’t give a damn about their butts and if Fred wudn’t at school in a few days Alfred was gonna be busting rock on a chain gang.
The day after it happened, Alfred was still sore and asked Dad what he ought do.
“Tell him to send Fred to school,” Mom said when Dad brought it up at supper.
“I did,” Dad answered, heaping stuff on his plate. “He sends th’ girls.”
“What did he say?”
; “Said he was saving up t’ buy mules and farm equipment. He wants t’ crop Red Bill Rogers’ place year after next.”
“What’s that got to do with sending the girls to school and not Fred?” Mom asked.
“Well, they got Purina feed sacks and Mamie made clothes for Thelma Jean, and WK bought dresses for Annie Lee, so Alfred wasn’t out anything. But Levi’s and shirts cost money.”
“So Alfred will buy his mules a week later,” said Mom.
“You know Alfred,” said Dad, chuckling. “Stubborn as those mules he’s gonna buy.”
“Then let them throw him in jail,” replied Mom. “Serve him right!”
Dad didn’t answer. He just raised his eyebrows, then winked at me.
Lonnie didn’t start school either, and since LD and I had fallen out and Fred wudn’t there, I didn’t have any close friends to pal around with. The Langleys were nice, especially Melvin, but he was serious all the time. I tried to get friendly with Radar, but it didn’t work out. He couldn’t talk about nothing but chickens. After a week or so you can’t say much more about a chicken. Billy Bacon Jacob never said anything, he just kind of hung around. I was lonesome. The only time I had fun was on the weekends with Fred. He was happy being out of school and said he didn’t want to ever go back. He planned to help his dad crop and buy a .22 rifle. Alfred told him that if he put his back into the work, they might buy their farm in as little as four years, then the two of them could crop it together and sharecrop another farm until Fred could buy his own land. The only thing they had to do now, Alfred said, was keep the goddamn truant officer off their necks.
Just as I was about to be bored crazy at school, Lonnie showed up. It was great to see him, but real sad too. His eyes and face were light greenish-red-purple and he limped. His sisters were marked up a little, but not as bad as Lonnie. When I got on the bus and saw him, I didn’t know what to say. About all I could get out was, “’Lo, Lonnie.”
“’Lo, Samuel,” he said so soft I almost couldn’t hear it. “How y’ doin’?”
“Okay,” I answered, and moved over to sit beside him. Everybody who got on the bus after that stared at Lonnie and his sisters. When LD got on, he turned white and didn’t even say hello.
The first chance Lonnie and I got to be alone was at recess. While the other kids went out to the big open field, we leaned up against the rock fence and talked.
“How y’ doin’?” he asked again.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Anything happen in th’ past few weeks?”
It hit me then that Lonnie didn’t know about anything since July. “Yeah,” I answered. “Lots of things. The crazy man killed another buck and there was almost a posse and I almost got t’ go on it but it was rained out and after that we got together t’ talk about fightin’ and LD tellin’ . . . I mean us tellin’ and LD and me had a fight and . . .”
I was talking a mile a minute and Lonnie laughed and said to slow down. I did, then I told the whole story.
“You ’n’ LD made up yet?” he asked.
“No!”
“Goin’ to?”
“No!”
Lonnie looked out across a barbwire fence on the other side of the road to a bare field where somebody had just finished cropping. He didn’t say anything else.
“Think I should?” I asked.
“Hit’s up t’ you,” he said, twisting his nose and sniffing.
I wudn’t sure what he meant. “If we told about th’ crazy man and your pa found out . . .”
“Go ahead and tell,” he said, hunching his shoulders. “I don’t care.”
“I’m afraid you’ll get beat up again.”
“My pa don’t beat!” Lonnie said, turning toward me and answering quick and hot.
I didn’t know what to say. He glared like he was going to come for me. I just stood there. “I only wanta be your friend, Lonnie,” I said.
Big tears welled up in Lonnie’s eyes, and he turned toward the field again. We stood a little more, then he croaked out, “Thank y’, Samuel.”
I left because I knew he wanted to be alone. I thought about the problem all through geography and missed hearing a few questions because Miz Callen yelled at me.
It was early October by this time, and Fred still wudn’t coming to school. The truant officer went to the Mulligans’ again and Alfred run him off. That was a mistake because before the day was over, a deputy stopped by and told Alfred if Fred wudn’t on that school bus the next morning he’d be back before noon with handcuffs.
The next day, when the bus pulled up in front of the Mulligans’, Annie Lee and Thelma Jean were there waiting but no Fred. You could hear screaming and yelling inside the house. One of the voices was Fred’s and the other was Mamie’s.
“G’won!” said Annie Lee. “Hain’t nobody else comin’.”
“Not what it sounds like t’ me,” said the driver.
“I don’t care what hit sounds like t’ you. Hain’t nobody else comin’, so g’won.”
The driver grinned and threw it in low, grinding the gears. Like usual, we drove to where we picked up LD and the Langleys, then turned around and headed back. As we neared the Mulligans’, Alfred stepped outside waving his arms and Mamie pushed Fred out the door. He stumbled toward the bus like a drunk. Didn’t nobody say nothing when he got on, they just looked. The second he was inside he headed for the backseat and hid in the corner. He was crying but not making a sound. I wanted to go back and say something but I was afraid it would just make things worse. God, it was awful. I knew what was going to happen and did happen the second the Flickums got on. They took one look and started laughing and pointing.
“Fred’s a flarred feed sack . . . Fred’s a flarred feed sack . . .” and Fred lunged out of the backseat, but I’d already hit a Flickum before he could get there. In a flash, Fred and Annie Lee and me just started beating hell out of every Flickum in sight with the bus driver trying to stop us and everybody all wrapped up together.
The driver couldn’t pull us apart and began hitting me to make me let go. Then Naomi screamed for him to take his hands off me and pulled me out of the tangle. All of a sudden the bus started to roll backward, and the driver, who had finally got Fred off somebody, run to the wheel. Fred saw his chance and made a beeline for the door. I looked out the window and saw him jump over the fence and tear out through a pasture.
When Naomi and I got home that night I found out about more trouble. One of Mr. Mac’s bucks had been killed on the back of their place. It was the same deal as before, only this time it had been dead for several days and there was no trail. As soon as I heard, I got scared and at supper I couldn’t eat. Like always, Mom was watching and asked what was wrong.
“Nothin’,” I said. “Just ain’t hungry.”
“Aren’t. Is that all?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dad had a little smile on his face. “Couldn’t be because you were in a fight on the bus today and worried what your mom and I are gonna say, could it?”
“A fight!” said Mom. “With whom?”
“Those trashy Flickums called Freddie a feed sack,” said Naomi. “Samuel was right.”
“Naomi!” said Mom, and it surprised me too because Naomi didn’t like fights.
“Naomi’s right,” said Dad. “This is one fight Samuel can be proud to have been in. He stood up for his friend.” Then he told the whole story. It was pretty much like it happened except I come off a real hero, how I saw injustice being done to a friend and how I had backed him even though there was more Flickums than Fred and me and I had waded in anyway. After a while even Mom, who hated fighting, said she knew she had a courageous son who did his duty.
I felt awful. Wudn’t any doubt in my mind the crazy man thing was a lot more important than that old fight on the bus. Things wudn’t quite right about that either, because Annie Lee had got into it, and when she got mad she could stomp the whole Flickum family herself. They were praising me and I was lying my fool head off
about the important problem.
“Yeah,” said Dad. “Alfred said Annie Lee told him it was something t’ see, old Samuel there punchin’ away on any Flickum he could find. Just like Barney Ross or Benny Leonard, I bet,” and he laughed, and I made myself grin.
“And he’s so modest,” said Mom. “What’s our hero have to say about all this?”
“Wudn’t nothin’,” I muttered, and Dad looked at me like I had just been made captain of the Kentucky Wildcats football team and I felt worse than ever.
After dinner, I took a walk to the tobacco barn. I wanted to go see Fred but I knew he wudn’t going to let me get anywhere near him while he was hurting. That was how Fred was, and he wudn’t about to change. Walking at night scared me now, but my problem bothered me more. To the tobacco barn and back to the house, tobacco barn and back to the house; I don’t know how many times. My thoughts went in circles. I had to talk to somebody and there was only one person I could think of to trust. That Saturday, I took the Cummings Hill route to Ben’s.
It was real pretty out with all the leaves green, yellow, red, and brown on the oaks and hickories. Squirrels were everywhere storing nuts and things for winter. The groundhogs were so fat they waddled and the little animals born in the spring were sleek and near full-sized, drinking at the shiny clear pools of the slightly running creeks, with the sun hanging in the sky like a yellow ball, filling the air bright and fall-smelling, with duck families flying overhead.
I come out of the last grove of trees onto the bottoms and there was Ben gathering pumpkins and stacking them in piles so the trucks could pick them up. Cain and Abel were near him so I stopped and yelled.
“Mr. Begley.”
He looked up and shushed the dogs, then called, “Come on in, Samuel.”
I walked up grinning and set one bare foot on a warm pumpkin. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi, yourself,” he answered, and grinned back. “Whatcha up to?”
“Come t’ see you.”
“Reckon y’ did.” He laughed. “Don’t nobody else live here. You like pumpkin pie?”
“If they have ciminon,” I answered.
“Well, I got one up th’ house with cinnamon. Think that’ll do?”
