Burrows

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  They knew the other customers were doing their best to listen. “That’s what I expect, because I ain’t heard a word from the FBI or any other laws since the Skinner got away that night.”

  They studied their coffee again.

  “Well, things are bad,” O.C. said in a normal tone of voice.

  “Not everthang. Here’s one, then, I gotta go.” Ned wrapped his rough brown hands around his cup. “Cody got called out about suppertime one night not too long ago when Delilah Harrison thought she had a burglar. He wasn’t sure how to get out to where they live in the dark, so he come got me and I went with him.” He leaned back and nodded toward Cody. “Tell him the rest of it.”

  “Well, come to find out when we got there, her old man Ezra Lee is still having hard dreams about the war over Germany and came home drunk again. She wouldn’t put up with it, so she sent him upstairs to sleep it off while she did the dishes.

  “Ezra Lee passed out on the bed and dreamed that he was back in one of them bombers. He woke up, still drunk, a-hollerin’ ‘we’re hit, we’re hit, we’re going down!’ He grabbed a bedsheet thinking it was a parachute and jumped out the second floor window and landed in Delilah’s rose bushes and broke his leg.”

  They chuckled for a moment.

  “Well that ain’t all. The fall sobered him up enough to limp around and beat on the kitchen door to get in. You know how everybody in Center Springs is on edge about these killings. Well, Delilah heard the commotion and thought someone was kicking their way in. She grabbed an iron skillet and hid behind the door. When Ezra Lee finally saw it was unlocked, he hobbled in and she banged him in the noodle so hard with the skillet it broke the handle off in her hand and damn near killed him.”

  Everyone in the booth was laughing when Ned collected his hat to head on back home and kill the rest of the day. “I’ll see y’all later, and be careful Cody.”

  Cody absently rubbed the little badge on his shirt pocket. “I will.”

  Chapter Ten

  Pepper and I looked forward to hunting Hootie with Grandpa Ned. But the day quail season opened, she was in one of her sad moods again. That gal was always the toughest girl I’d ever known, but she was hurt deep down inside and it wasn’t healing like it ought to. Every now and then we’d lose her when she was staying with us. It turned out that almost every time, she’d be staring into the round mirror on Miss Becky’s antique dresser at the arrowhead-shaped scar burned deep into the backside of her shoulder.

  She and I had problems with what happened to us a few months earlier, but Grandpa said we spent too much time thinking on the past and to put it all behind us. He said we needed to think about other folks and their troubles to get our minds off of our own. He got that from Miss Becky, because as far as she was concerned, if you helped other folks, your troubles didn’t seem so big.

  After my time in jail, I was doing a little better in school, so on Saturday morning Grandpa told us to get our hunting clothes on. We joined Uncle James and Mr. Kip, and drove to Mr. Martin Davis’ place like we’ve done since I was big enough to tag along. Mr. Martin had the best quail hunting in the country, Cody always said. Pepper loved Mr. Martin and called him a cute little old man, and he always made a big deal over her when we got there.

  Every year we visited outside for a while with Mr. Martin. I was always excited and ready to go, but the old men piddled around and visited while the frost melted, like they weren’t in any hurry at all. They about drove me crazy with all their talk, so Pepper and I usually played with the dogs until Mr. Martin came out with his beat up old Browning from behind the bedroom door, and we went hunting.

  This time Uncle Cody was busy with law work and Mr. Martin wasn’t waiting for us. Grandpa Ned had already told us he had lung cancer and was feeling bad, so when we got out of the trucks that morning, Grandpa, Mr. Kip, and Uncle James started up the porch steps. The screen door opened and a slim, homely woman met them at the door.

  “Howdy.” Grandpa stopped quick because he was surprised. “I didn’t know anybody was here except for Martin.”

  She nodded and fidgeted with a rag in her hand. “He’s inside. I’m his…we’re kin, so I’ve been coming over to take care of him, clean house and such.”

  “How are y’all kin?”

  “Mama is Anna Belle, used to be a Davis.”

  Grandpa nodded. “How’s he doing today?”

  “He’s better. Seems to have rallied since he knew y’all were coming.” She stepped aside. “Well, y’all go ahead in. I got some cleaning to do at Sammy’s.”

  “All right, then. Good to see you.”

  She left, cutting across the yard to follow a trail through the pasture and disappeared from sight. They went on inside and left us in the yard to wait. Pepper didn’t like waiting outside, she wanted to see Mr. Martin, but she did as she was told.

  Mr. Kip and Uncle James came back out and milled around while Grandpa stayed and talked. After a while he came to the door and motioned for me and Pepper to come in. I’d never been inside before and didn’t like it, because it smelled bad like a house does when someone is sick. The strong odor of cigarettes didn’t help much, either. Pepper stuck her tongue out like she was yakking and we got kinda tickled.

  “Shit, this stinks,” she whispered in my ear.

  I always get nervous when she starts cussing around grownups, but Grandpa didn’t hear her. We went through the living room and though it smelled of smoke, everything was spotless and neat as a pin.

  Mr. Martin was propped up in a big old four-poster bed and he raised up when we came into his room. “Howdy, boy.” His voice was weak and phlegmy. He stuck out his big nicotine-stained hand for me to shake.

  Cody taught me a long time ago to shake strong like a man, but when I did, I was afraid I’d break the old man’s hand, it was so soft and bony.

  “Hey, gal.”

  Pepper leaned over the bed and gave him a big hug. She moved funny in her oversize brush pants Grandpa gave her for Christmas, but he said she’d eventually grow into them.

  Grandpa acted uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other at the end of the bed. Mr. Martin motioned for me to come over beside him. “I’m gonna do something this morning that’ll make you mad at me.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I waited a minute.

  “Your old grand-pappy here and the rest of them are gonna to hunt this morning like they always do, but I need you two to stay here in this room with me while they do it.”

  Our eyes met across the bed and Grandpa nodded.

  Mr. Martin pointed out the window of his farmhouse toward the creek bottom pastures and fencerows where we hunt quail. “Sick old people like to have healthy young’uns around sometimes, and I need a good dose of y’all today, so I’ve asked your grand-pappy to shoot a mess of birds this morning while the three of us sit here and listen through the window.”

  Well, that really made me mad and tears made my eyes hot, because Hootie was out there and I surely wanted to hunt over him. But I knew how Grandpa would feel if I made a fuss, and I didn’t want Pepper to see me tear up, so I swallowed it back. Not getting to hunt didn’t seem to bother her much, but then again, I already knew that girls saw things different.

  Grandpa gave us a little smile, patted Mr. Martin’s bony foot under the sheet, and left.

  “Sit right there in that rocker beside the winder so you can see.” Mr. Martin pushed himself up and Pepper used a couple of feather pillows to prop him higher. She straightened the wedding ring quilt on his bed and sat on the edge to hold Mr. Martin’s big old wrinkled hand in hers. “I like to lay here where I can see outside. The best time to watch is when the shadows start to stretch out in the evenin’.

  “Up to a week ago, when I felt better, I watched deer come by, and an old hog ever now and then. There’s a big covey of quail that works along that fencerow there. I see a lot.”

  He paused, racked with deep, wet coughs. He lay back and closed his eyes for a moment. “Shoot
, about a week ago I even saw somebody slipping around the barn over yonder and heading down toward my cousin Donny Wayne’s house that you can barely see through the trees there across the pasture. His old skull was nearly peeled like he was in the army. He walked like that Foster bunch, but I couldn’t tell which one it was, if he was a Foster. He didn’t have any business out there anyways, so I hollered and he ran off. Probably thought I had a shotgun in my hand.”

  I heard the men open the dog boxes outside and load their shotguns and the sound of those bolts, slamming closed like to have killed me. Grandpa and them walked through the gate, and into the pasture. The dogs ran across the grass to the first fencerow, histed their legs on fence posts and clumps of grass, and started working birds. That’s when Mr. Martin lit another cigarette he didn’t need.

  “I bet you kids don’t know it, but people were thick as fleas on a dog when we was all growing up here in the bottoms. Why, I bet there was probably a dozen different families living within hollerin’ distance of one another. Each house had about ten kids each, plus their mamas and daddies, and usually a grandparent or uncle to boot. I don’t cipher too good. How many folks would that be, Pepper?”

  “Somewhere maybe around a hundred and thirty?”

  “Don’t surprise me none. Living close was good, because we helped one another when times got tough.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Yessir, family is a powerful thing, but mine’s about gone.”

  He finished the cigarette, crushed it out in a full ashtray beside the bed, and lit another one. “Son, I can’t get up anymore and I can’t hunt, neither, but what I need is for you to watch them out yonder and tell me and Pepper everything that’s happening this morning. Don’t leave nothing out, not even one little ol’ sparrow flying past or one missed shot.”

  I walked over to the wooden window.

  “Raise the winder there, Top, so’s you can see and hear.”

  “It’s chilly.”

  “I know, but I’m under all these quilts and y’all are dressed to be outside, so it’ll be all right.”

  It was a struggle to raise the sticky old window, but I got it up. Mr. Martin didn’t like screens, so I had a clear view of the pasture down below. I didn’t have much spirit to talk, but I sat in the rocker and told him how the Brittanys worked the fencerow, running back and forth with their noses on the ground, and how they checked every berry tangle on either side of the fence. I described how Grandpa and them spread out and how they carried their shotguns. I told him how the sky and the land looked once I got the idea of what Mr. Martin wanted.

  “That’s right. Pretend you’re one of the Colt Forty-five baseball announcers on the radio and tell me what you see. Is the frost melting yet?”

  “Nossir. The ground is still white where the sun can’t reach the shade.”

  “Are the leaves pretty down there in the bottoms?”

  “They’re turning, and a bunch’re already falling. There’s a big hawk setting on the top limb of a tree. He’s watching the dogs work down below.”

  “He’s waiting to see if anyone kicks up a bird. He’ll sure enough take out after one if they don’t get them all on the rise.”

  Cody’s new Brittany, White Dog, would hunt with anybody. He didn’t act like he missed Uncle Cody at all and pointed the first covey. Hootie did what he was supposed to do and that was to honor the older dog’s point. The whole thing blew up when Uncle James walked up to flush the birds. We heard the little pops from the shotguns and I told Mr. Martin how each bird flew. A couple dropped into the deep briars and the dogs had to find them.

  The men only hunted in the north pasture and around the edges within sight of the barn, but I finally figured out that they intentionally stayed right close to the house.

  After a while, I got into the spirit of the whole thing and started reporting what was happening, like they do on television. Pepper climbed up on the bed beside Mr. Martin and curled up against him like a kitten.

  “Taking the lead, I see Mr. Kip moving up behind White Dog and Hootie who are on point. I’m sure there’s a covey ready to fly and he’s walking slow and everyone else is ready and there…they…go! Birds are flying every-which-a-way. Grandpa drops one, Mr. Kip drops another one and looky there, Uncle James gets two with one shot!”

  The sound of the shots reached us a moment later.

  Mr. Martin got a kick out of it. I even stopped for a commercial break when the dogs worked the ground between coveys. I advertised a prescription medicine in a bottle sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. It tickled Mr. Martin and he laughed until he started coughing so hard tears came to his eyes. Pepper held his hand even tighter.

  “Don’t ever take up smoking, kids. Y’all ought not get sick and die on one another. Cousins need to take care of each other for as long as they can, because family is important.”

  He recovered and talked for a while about how bad cigarettes were for people, but it didn’t stop him from lighting one after the other. Smoke hung heavy in the room, despite the open window. The men found one more covey and the pops came quick and soft. I went back to covering the action and pretty soon they finished and started back.

  “They’re done, Mr. Martin.”

  “I nearly am, too.” He gave us each a long regard. “You know kids, I was your age once, but time passes and I got old. It’s a misery now. I won’t be around this time next year, and I want to give y’all a gift I never gave my own kids. They’re gone now, and don’t have anything to do with me for reasons of their own, but here’s what I want you two to have. It’s a couple of stories about my life for y’all to hold on to, because when I’m in the Forest Chapel cemetery, and all my memories are gone, that’ll be the end of me, ’cept for a hunk of rock.”

  Those words sent a chill up my back, but I sat on the edge of the bed. While Pepper held his hand in one of hers and rubbed it with the other’n, Mr. Martin told about other hunts and birds he’d killed, and places he’d seen in the world. “Miss Pepper, you make sure you never quit hunting and fishing. It ain’t just a man’s world. Both men and women can love the outdoors, so you stay right in there with the men and show them how it’s done.”

  He talked for a long time about hunting elk in Montana, and mule deer in Colorado, and even bear in Alaska. But mostly he talked about hunting quail, which he dearly loved.

  “And another thing, you two. Y’all had a hard time last spring, and things that happened weren’t right. That kind of thing weighs on the mind, but you two are young and healthy…not like me. If the memory gets too heavy on y’all’s shoulders, remember I said that even though things seem rough, there’s other things that’r rougher.”

  He coughed some more as Pepper’s eyes welled, and I knew what she was thinking. I felt a lump in my throat.

  “We all have our demons,” Mr. Martin said. “But most other folks’ troubles are worse than our own. We all have secrets we cain’t tell no one and we’ll all most likely take them to our graves. Why, I know one person…” He looked startled, as if he suddenly realized we were there. “Never mind, anyway, Miss Pepper, Mr. Top, y’all stay away from these old cigarettes. They’ll kill you. That’s why they’re called coffin nails.”

  He lit another by scraping a kitchen match alight with a rough thumbnail. “Listen, I can hear them quail calling to get the coveys back together. That reminds me of the time…”

  After a while I realized that the men were back in the yard, listening through the open window while Mr. Martin talked. He finally got tired and started coughing again, and after that, he was finished. Everyone came inside, muddy boots and all and stood around the room.

  Uncle James reached into his hunting vest and handed Mr. Martin a little rooster quail that he’d shot. The old man lay there in bed, stroking the bird’s feathers while they laughed and talked about the hunt. Hootie stuck his nose in the door and came in and muddied up the floor. Grandpa’s face got red, but Mr. Martin laughed his phlegmy laugh and called him over to the sid
e of the bed to rub his ears for a while.

  A few minutes later, Mr. Martin leaned back like he was really tired. Pepper hugged him again. I didn’t know I’d learned anything, but I shook his hand and we left to take Hootie outside.

  Grandpa and the men stayed a little while longer before they came outside. They were sniffley when they loaded up the dogs, like everyone was coming down with colds.

  Grandpa put a hand on my shoulder and drew Pepper close for a moment. “Martin said he had a good time and to thank y’all, though he’s sorry he ruined your hunt. He also said for y’all to try and remember what he told you, whatever that means.”

  We knew. Pepper and I didn’t talk in the truck, but she held my hand the whole way back. “I know what Miss Becky means now,” she finally said. “There’s always more trouble out there than our own.”

  The problem was, I didn’t know what Pepper meant with that comment. I wished I could figure out what grownups were talking about, even with us kids.

  A week later and I heard Mr. Martin had died in the night. Pepper cried. I realized he’d taught me more than one lesson that day, but I hoped I wouldn’t have to learn too many more things like that.

  On the backside, though, Pepper started feeling a little bit better and she smiled more and more.

  Chapter Eleven

  Several stories above the ground, the rotting roof was patched with an old tire holding down a piece of rusty tin flapping and rattling in the breeze.

  ***

  Cody was in the grip of another nightmare. This one was the worst. He thrashed, making soft animal sounds high in his throat, rousing Norma Faye from a sound sleep. He was drenched in sweat and tangled in the sheets.

  An out-of-control wisteria vine wound its way up the support post and provided habitat for a variety of creatures.

  He moaned, muscles twitching in terror. Norma rolled over and draped one arm across his chest to calm him. She felt his racing heart. “Hon, wake up.”