Mississippi Cotton

by Paul H. Yarbrough

  Miss Sarah smiled as she blew smoke through her nose, as if she knew what she had done but didn’t feel one bit guilty.

  I think Big Trek had said it jus’ to remind Ben and BB that they needn’t feel afraid. I guess it really wasn’t clear yet what they had done. But now I knew that the reason Ben had come to Cousin Trek’s house the night of the storm was because he knew he could trust the Mayfield family.

  “Well, what did you do next, Sarah?” Mr. O’Grady asked. “You were gone by the time Ben and BB got there.”

  “I started ridin’ the bus south, away from the Delta. Thought I might go all the way to Mobile or Biloxi or someplace. I had his sixty dollars. I only got to Flora when I changed my mind. I sat there all night outside that little store where the bus stops, waiting for the bus to be comin’ back the next day. I decided to go back to Clarksdale. My momma was born there. I jus’ wanted to go home, I guess.

  “But I wanted to go see Looty, too. My boy. He didn’t know me. Didn’t know who I was. But, he came to Clarksdale as soon as I called him. He hadn’t seen me since he was a baby, but he knew I was his momma right away, I b’lieve. I don’t know how. He jus’ knew. I told him about his daddy. We went to the bridge together Sunday from Clarksdale. I showed him where his daddy died.”

  Looty did not break his silence, but he didn’t have to. He looked at Sarah and smiled, and she returned it. It was like he was looking in a mirror and the mirror reflected his feelings with the same smile, the same plain smile.

  The clock struck three o’clock reminding us we had been here over three hours. The story, the crime, all the mystery that had hung over us for the last week had all been revealed. But I had forgotten something, something the sheriff hadn’t. Something Ben and BB hadn’t.

  The sheriff pulled up a chair and drew himself as close to Ben as he could get. “What do y’all know about this watch, Ben?” He handed Ben the watch, and we watched as he opened it.

  I had never seen a man cry, not colored or white. I had been told that they did, but I had never seen it, not even in the picture show. I thought after a boy got to a certain age, he never was supposed to do it again. But when the sheriff asked Ben about the watch, Ben took on a tragic look; his eyes got wet and seemed to sparkle. BB put his arm around his daddy. Then a tear rolled down Ben’s brown face. And he closed the watch.

  CHAPTER 21

  Our 1949 Oldsmobile was coming down the gravel road toward the house. I was halfway up the windmill, Taylor was near the top, and Casey was two steps from the bottom, all on the lookout.

  I was the first to see them. “There they come. That’s our car.”

  “Your daddy must be drivin’. Goin’ too slow to be Farley,” Taylor hollered down to Casey and me from his perch under the blades.

  Casey was holding on with one hand, his arm outstretched, swinging back and forth with one foot on the windmill.

  “Move, Casey.” I was climbing down and my next step was on top of his head. “And anyway, Farley can’t drive fast when he’s with my mother and daddy.”

  Cousin Carol and Cousin Trek came out into the yard. Big Trek was rocking on the porch, and I glanced at him as we started to the end of the driveway, his pipe hooked to the corner of his mouth, hanging from a huge grin.

  By the time the car stopped, we had gathered, ready for the hugging, kissing, and squealing, and handshakes, and all that comes together in a family when you haven’t seen someone for more than an hour. Farley and I had given up trying to avoid it, and had accepted it like having to visit the dentist every once in a while. So you just stood in line and tried not to go limp when they squeezed you like a melon.

  It had been only three weeks since I had seen my mother and daddy at the bus station. But my mother buttonholed me like I had just been rescued from North Korea. Then after kissing me like I was a pet collie, she rubbed almost all the skin off my face trying to get her lipstick off me with a tissue from her purse.

  On the other hand, Daddy gave me a modest hug since I still wasn’t at the handshaking age, and released me with a playful brush of my hair.

  Farley just punched me in the stomach and whispered, “Good to see ya, ya little stoop.” Short for stupid.

  The greeting and hugs and handshakes soon subsided and we went into the house. After the bags were taken up to the rooms and everybody was arrived and greeted, Cousin Carol said, “Let’s go out on the porch. It’s a bit cooler out there. And I’ll bring us some iced tea.”

  “I’ll help you,” my mother offered. “Ohhh! It’s so good to see y’all.” Greetings were like goodbyes—they seemed to linger. It was just part of life, I guess.

  The rest of us went out on the porch. The grownups went to one end where Big Trek usually sat and smoked his pipe. Casey, Taylor and I went to the other. Farley wasn’t sure at first where he wanted to go. He was at that awkward age where he was too old to talk with kids but too young to talk with old people. He finally came to us. I think Taylor and Casey wanted to talk about his driver’s license and were glad he came to our end.

  “Did Cousin David let you drive up here?” Taylor asked.

  “Some of the way. I drove past Flora, then a little more. Daddy says highway drivin’ is more dangerous because people go faster on the highway. He’d only let me go fifty-five.”

  “So, I guess that means you ain’t going to New Orleans by yourself anytime soon,” Casey said. We all laughed. Farley tried to pretend he wasn’t insulted. But when a guy got his driver’s license, he was supposed to be free.

  “Well, that’ll be when I get to college. That’s when you can really go where you want—as long as your parents send you money,” said Farley.

  “Speaking of money,” I said, “I made o’er eighteen dollars since I came up. Maybe Daddy’ll let you use the car and take us to town tonight.”

  “What’ll we do? Anything to do besides go to the picture show in ol’ Cotton City?”

  “Not since Dixie Daniels left,” Taylor said. Smiles.

  “Took her trained hamsters with her,” Casey said. Giggles.

  “What’re y’all talkin’ about?”

  Taylor, Casey and I all tried keeping straight faces. Farley knew we were making a joke about something, but he wasn’t sure just what, except it sounded like it was about him.

  “Oh, never mind,” I said.

  Cousin Carol and Mother came out. Cousin Carol had a tray with several glasses filled with iced tea. Mother had one with a pitcher full and some sugar and iced tea spoons. We all took a glass and thanked her.

  “Now y’all don’t worry about that old table there. You don’t need coasters. It’s old and beat up and has more rings than a hundred-year-old oak.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” We hadn’t been worried about the table, but we didn’t say so.

  “I don’t s’pose they got a pinball machine anywhere in town now, huh?” Farley asked.

  “Naa, checkers at the gazebo or dominoes in the back room of the café are the only games in Cotton City,” Taylor said. “And dominoes are out for us. Even if they weren’t, I heard Big Trek say one time that those guys are the best in the world. ‘Hard to beat a Mississippi domino player,’ he said.”

  “But a great picture show. Flying Leathernecks, John Wayne. It’s in color, too. First time it’s been to Cotton City,” I said.

  “Okay. I can go for John Wayne.”

  Casey, sitting on the floor with his back to the porch screen, bellowed the length of the porch, “Hey, Daddy, can we tell ‘em about the dead man and Miss Sarah and Looty and ever’body now?”

  Cousin Trek and Cousin Carol had thought it better if we waited until my mother and daddy got up here before telling them about the events of the past few days. It was easier and less expensive than long distance, and I hadn’t gotten into any trouble or gotten hurt so it was something that could wait.

  “What dead man?” Daddy asked from his end of the porch. “And who is Miss Sarah?”

  “What’re y’all talkin’ about?�
�� Farley looked jealous. He had missed something big and he knew it.

  Everyone at both ends of the porch began speaking at the same time. The story was told, repeated, and then someone would ask a question that already had been answered. Finally the questions and answers tapered off and everyone having absorbed as much as they could, like a Thanksgiving feast, sat back and tried to digest the episode. An occasional question here and there lingered. Sorta like mopping gravy from your plate with bread crust, I thought.

  “So Draco Marcus is no more, and Sarah Nash is going to the state hospital at Whitfield for examination?” Daddy asked.

  “Yeah, at least for now. I don’t know if she’ll end up in prison or not. Far as I’m concerned, it was justifiable homicide,” Big Trek said.

  “Looty and BB aren’t going to jail, are they?” Mother asked.

  “No. Prob’ly not. It’s not clear that Looty did anything wrong himself. Maybe some misdemeanor. Looty was tryin’ to help his momma, and BB was tryin’ to help Looty. It’s not as if they killed anybody themselves. But they did interfere a bit, ‘cording to the law,” Big Trek said.

  All of us boys including Farley had inched our way to the end of the porch. It was easier to hear and besides, the cookies that came with the iced tea were on that end.

  “Well, what about the watch?” Mother asked. “What was that about? I still don’t understand. And David, please quit chewing your ice. I can’t hear myself think.”

  “Well, anyway,” Cousin Carol began, “the watch was an old one. It had belonged to Mr. McComb. It had a place for a picture in it. Apparently nobody was sure just who, maybe his wife or even his father or mother’s picture, an early photo, had been in it. But when Mr. McComb left his place to Ben’s parents, he also left them the watch. He had no children of his own to leave it to.

  “He had taken an old photograph of them working in the field and cut the pictures out in the shape of a circle that would fit into the watch. The thing is, after Draco Marcus killed Ben’s momma and daddy, he went rummaging through their house and among other things, I’m sure, stole the watch. I guess it was jus’ the Lord’s will that when he was rummaging he didn’t discover Ben sleeping in the upper loft. Otherwise Ben may have been a panther victim.”

  Cousin Trek took up the explanation. “Ben didn’t even know there was a watch at the time. He was just a boy in 1899. And it didn’t show up until Sarah took it off Marcus’ body.”

  Cousin Carol waved her hand at him. One of those shush hand waves. “I’m telling this, now you just wait.” She looked back at my mother. “But Sarah took it to Looty’s the last time she went there. And Billy Joe and the sheriff found it there the night it rained so hard.”

  “Why’d she take it to Looty’s?” Daddy asked.

  “I guess maybe she wanted Looty to keep it for BB and Ben. He was her son. I guess it was like Elizabeth keeping the land in trust for Ben’s momma and daddy.”

  “Wonder why Marcus kept the photo inside the watch all these years?”

  “Prob’ly remind him of his conquest. He was a sick you-know-what,” Cousin Trek said.

  “He was a dirty, damn carpetbagging Yankee,” said Big Trek. Casey and Taylor and Farley and I laughed.

  “Now, Big Trek,” Cousin Carol said. “Please, watch your language. Even if you don’t think there are ladies present, there are children here.”

  With his pipe in his mouth he mumbled something, maybe I’m sorry. It wasn’t clear, but it was the best he was going to do.

  Daddy tried to get the subject back to the watch. “Apparently, Ben saw the watch for the first time at the jail. And it was the first he had learned that his momma and daddy had been murdered.”

  I thought back to Ben’s look when he’d been handed the watch—and his tears.

  Farley was telling us everything there was to tell about cars—how to speed around curves and what to do if you fishtailed on a gravel road. Course he knew if he got caught doing something like that with our daddy’s car he wouldn’t be driving again until he got out of college. Daddy had let him use the car to take us all to the picture show on the condition that he was to be especially careful with us in the car. Farley kept it kind of slow going downtown; too much chance of being spotted. You were on the honor system when you drove your daddy’s car, but you didn’t want someone being honest for you.

  The movie was pretty good, lots of action and planes shot down. John Wayne was wounded pretty bad, but he didn’t die like in Sands of Iwo Jima. He just got shot and had to bail out.

  Most of the time after the show was over we would hang around the square until somebody picked us up, unless we rode our bikes. But we didn’t want to hang around town when we had a car to ride around in.

  “Let’s go out and see Looty, or BB. I bet they’re home now,” I said.

  “C’mon Farley, we don’t have to be home ‘til ten,” said Taylor.

  “Okay, but put your head back inside the window, Casey. If you get killed, I’ll get blamed.”

  Casey pulled himself back in. “You smoke yet, Farley?”

  “Naa, I haven’t decided to yet. I got some friends that do though. They can’t smoke at home yet. Not even s’posed to smoke at all.”

  “You think Dixie Daniels smokes?”

  “Prob’ly. She’s in college now.”

  “Yeah. I bet she’s a zuta geeka girlie thi or something.”

  “What’re you talkin’ about?” Taylor said. We looked at Casey and laughed. I could see in the rearview mirror Farley was laughing, but didn’t take his eyes off the road.

  “You know. She’s in one of them fraternalty things.”

  “It’s a sorority, you dope. If it’s a girl,” Farley corrected him. “And it’s not a, whatever you called it. It’s a fraternity. Those are kinda boys clubs like things.”

  “That’s what I say. No girls allowed,” Casey said.

  “Yeah. Hamsters or no hamsters,” Taylor said.

  Farley didn’t get our laughter.

  There was a light in Looty’s window. His old truck was in the yard but that didn’t mean much. Farley pulled into the dusty driveway and turned off the engine and the lights. There was a moon but it wasn’t bright, and our eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark. It reminded me of the night we had sneaked out.

  We pulled up next to the porch, which had no light at all. I stepped up into the darkness, squinting to see the door. It was like I was stepping into a closet. I reached behind to feel for one of the guys behind me.

  “Hey, Jake.” Looty moved from the shadows. “Hey, Casey and Taylor. And I know you.” He looked at Farley. “You’re Jake’s brother.”

  “What are you doin’ out here in the dark, Looty?” Casey asked.

  “Seems kinda scary,” I said.

  “I’m not scared. I jus’ like to sit out here sometimes.”

  “Doncha have a porch light?” said Farley.

  “Yeah. If it was on though it wouldn’t be dark, I guess. And I like sittin’ in the dark.”

  “Nice goin,’ Farley,” I said.

  “Shuddup, ya little stoop. You might have to walk home—in the dark.”

  Casey laughed. Farley wasn’t sure if he was laughing at me or him, so he told Casey the same thing. He wouldn’t really make us walk home, but I decided to change the subject. “Is BB back at his house, too?”

  “I think so. They took my momma away. She killed my daddy. So they put her in the hospital.”

  “Yeah, we know. We’re sorry and all. But we were jus’ hoping they hadn’t put BB in jail. He was jus’ tryin’ to help you.”

  “BB’s my best friend, like a brother. He used to tell me about Andrew and Silas. That’s why he helped me.”

  “Who’re Andrew and Silas?” Farley asked.

  “Two Confederates who were at Shiloh,” Taylor said.

  Farley’s face was blank. It was fun to know something somebody a lot older than you didn’t know. I knew he had never heard of Andrew and Silas Chandler.

&
nbsp; Taylor briefly told Farley about the two boys, Silas and Andrew. Silas was black, Andrew was white. When Andrew at fifteen went off to serve in the Confederate Army, his boyhood friend Silas, age seventeen, followed him. Andrew was captured and wounded. When Andrew was released, Silas cared for his wounds, saved his life and carried him home to Palo Alto, Mississippi.

  Looty was slow, and we all were quiet for a minute. All we heard were frogs croaking from the branch, crickets with their high- pitched screeching, and a yard dog barking in the distance for any number of reasons dogs barked.

  The night we were sneaking around out here there were no sounds. Or maybe our fear affected our hearing. The stars were out and it was a cool night. Not real cold like the desert got after the sun went down. Deserts reflected the heat. The Delta absorbed it all day, and it released ever so slowly at night. But it still felt good. This last night for my summer in the Delta felt special. I started to say something more about Andrew and Silas and more about what Big Trek had told us about them, but Looty finally spoke again.

  “BB said that my daddy was jus’ a unfortunate man who thought of hisself only. He said maybe my momma would be home one day. But nobody was sure right now. He said we were lucky not to git more than jus’ fussed at by the judge and sheriff.”

  Looty paused and stared into the night. The dog let out a long wail. Looty turned slowly in the direction of the sound. I thought he might change the subject, but didn’t. “He said we could’ve gone to the jail where I got sent for shootin’ those chickens that one time.”

  “Well, we’re sure glad you didn’t have to go, Looty,” Taylor said.

  “Yeah, really and truly,” Casey and Farley said almost in unison. Farley just said it because he thought he should, probably. He hadn’t gotten to know Looty in the last week like the rest of us had. In these three weeks I had come to know Looty as more than a simple-minded sharecropper. I felt like I had known him all my life.

  “Me too. ‘Bout all you git to eat is buttermilk and beans and some cornbread. Hardly ever any honey or cheese or any real good stuff or nothin’. And, I only had one Co Cola, jus’ one time. One of the deputies giv’ it to me.”