The Education of Little Tree

by Forrest Carter

  I peeped around the seat up the aisle, and saw the road ahead shining in the bus lights. It all looked the same way.

  We stopped at a bus station in a town and stayed a long time, but I didn’t get off or move from my seat. I figgered more than likely I was safer where I was.

  After we left the town, there was nothing else to watch. I kept my tow sack in my lap, for it felt like Granpa and Granma. It smelled kind of like Blue Boy. I dozed off.

  The bus driver wakened me. It was morning and drizzling rain. We had stopped in front of the orphanage and when I got off the bus a white-headed lady was waiting under an umbrella.

  She had on a black dress that come to the ground and she looked like the lady in the gray dress, but she wasn’t. She didn’t say anything. She bent and taken hold of my tag and read it. She nodded to the bus driver and he closed his door and left. She straightened up and frowned a minute and sighed. “Follow me,” she said, and led the way, walking slow, through iron gates. I put my tow sack over my shoulder and followed her.

  We went through the gates with big elms on each side which rustled and talked as we passed. The lady taken no notice whatsoever, but I did. They had heard about me.

  We walked across a big yard toward some buildings. I could keep up easy. When we got to the door of a building, the lady stopped. “You are going to see the Reverend,” she said. “Be quiet, don’t cry and be respectful. You can talk, but only when he asks a question. Do you understand?” Which I told her I did.

  I follered her down a dark hall and we went into a room. The Reverend was sittin’ at a desk. He didn’t look up. The lady set me down in a straight chair in front of his desk. She tiptoed out of the room. I put my tow sack in my lap.

  The Reverend was busy, reading papers. He had a pink face which looked like he washed it fairly heavy, for it shined. He didn’t have any hair to speak of, though I seen some around his ears.

  There was a clock on the wall, and I told the time. I didn’t say it out loud. I could see rain running down the winder in back of the Reverend. The Reverend looked up.

  “Stop swinging your legs,” he said. He said it right hard. Which I did.

  He studied some more at the papers. He laid the papers down and taken up a pencil which he turned end over end in his hands. He put his elbows on the desk and leaned over as I didn’t come up very high for him to see.

  “These are hard times,” he said. He frowned like he was personal settin’ on the hard times. “The State hasn’t the money for these matters. Our Denomination has agreed to take you—possibly against our better judgment, but we have.”

  I commenced to feel right bad about the Denomination having to mess with the whole thing. I didn’t say anything, as he had not asked me a question.

  He turned the pencil over and over again; which was not sharpened thrifty, for the point was too thin. I suspicioned he was looser than he put hisself up to being. He commenced again. “We have a school you can attend. You will be assigned small work details. Everybody here does some work; something you are probably not accustomed to. You must follow the rules. If you break them, you will be punished.” He coughed. “We have no Indians here, half-breed or otherwise. Also, your mother and father were not married. You are the first, the only bastard we have ever accepted.”

  I told him what Granma had said; that the Cherokees married my Pa and my Ma. He said what Cherokees done didn’t count none whatsoever. He said he had not asked me a question. Which he hadn’t.

  He commenced to get worked up about the whole thing. He stood up and said his Denomination believed in being kind to everybody; kind to animals and such.

  He said I did not have to go to the church services and the evening chapels; as bastards, according to the Bible, could not be saved. He said I could go to listen in on it more or less, if I was quiet and set in the back and taken no part whatsoever.

  Which I didn’t mind, as me and Granpa had already give up, technical-wise, on the entire thing.

  He said he seen by the papers on his desk that Granpa was not fittin’ to raise a young’un, and that I more than likely had not ever had any discipline. Which I hadn’t, I don’t reckin. He said Granpa had been in jail.

  I told him I might near got hung oncet myself. He stopped with his pencil in the air and his mouth opened. “You what?” He hollered.

  I said I might near got hung by the law oncet; but I got away. I told him if it hadn’t been for the hound dogs, I reckin I would have got hung. I didn’t tell him where the still was; as this might lead to puttin’ me and Granpa out of the whiskey trade.

  He set down at his desk and put his face in his hands, like he was crying. He shook his head back and forth. “I knew this was the wrong thing to do,” he said. He said it two or three times. Which I wasn’t sure which thing was wrong he was talking about.

  He set so long shaking his head in his hands that I suspicioned he was crying. I commenced to feel might near as bad as him about the whole thing, and was sorry I had brought up about might near being hung. We set like this awhile.

  I told him not to cry. I told him I was not hurt in anyway at all and was not nor ever had got worked up about it. I told him however, that ol’ Ringer died. Which was my fault.

  He raised up his head and said, “Shut up! I have not asked you a question!’’ Which he hadn’t. He taken up his papers. “We’ll see … we’ll try, with the Lord’s help. It may be that you belong in a reform school,” he said.

  He rung a little bell on his desk and the lady come jumping in the room. She had stood outside all the time, I reckined.

  She told me to foller her. I taken up my tow sack and put it over my shoulder and said, “Thankee,” but I didn’t say Reverend. Even if I was a bastard and going to hell, I was not in any ways figgering to go any faster, since it hadn’t been settled whether you was to call such “Reverend” or “Mister.” Like Granpa said, if you was not pushed, there was not any sense at all running unnecessary chances.

  The wind rose up as we left the room and splattered the winder hard. The lady stopped and looked. The Reverend turned and looked at the winder too. I knew word had come about me, from the mountains.

  My cot set in a corner. It was separate from the others except for one, which was pretty close to me. It was a big room and had twenty or thirty boys who stayed there. Most of them was older than me.

  My job was to help sweep up the room every morning and every evening. I done it easy; but when I didn’t sweep under the cots good enough, the lady made me do it over again. Which happened fairly regular.

  Wilburn slept on the cot that was closest to mine. He was a lot older than I was; maybe eleven. He said he was twelve. He was tall and skinny and had freckles all over his face. He said he would not ever get adopted by anybody and would have to stay there until he was might near eighteen. Wilburn said he didn’t give a damn. He said when he got out, he was going to come back and burn the orphanage down.

  Wilburn had a clubfoot. It was his right foot and turned plumb inwards, making the toes of his high foot scrape his left leg when he walked and the right side of him kind of jumped along.

  Me and Wilburn didn’t play in any of the games in the yard. Wilburn couldn’t run, and I reckin I was too little and didn’t know how to play. Wilburn said he didn’t give a damn. He said games was for babies. Which is right.

  Me and Wilburn set under a big oak in the corner of the yard during playtime. Sometimes when the ball come far out in the yard, I would run and get it and throw it back to the boys who was playing the game. I could throw good.

  I talked to the oak tree. Wilburn didn’t know it, for I didn’t use words. She was old. With winter coming on, she had lost most of her talking leaves, but she used her naked fingers in the wind.

  She said she was getting sleepy, but was going to stay awake to send back to the mountain trees that I was here. She said she would send it on the wind. I told her to tell Willow John, which she said she would do.

  I found a blue m
arble under the tree. You could see all the way through it and when you held it up to one eye and shut the other one, everything looked blue. Wilburn told me what it was, for I had not seen a marble.

  He said you wasn’t supposed to look through marbles, you was supposed to thump them on the ground; but if I thumped mine, somebody would take it away from me, as somebody had lost it.

  Wilburn said, finders keepers, losers weepers; and they could go to hell. I put the marble in my tow sack.

  Every oncet in a while, all the boys lined up in the hall by the office and men and ladies come by and looked at them. They was looking for somebody to adopt. The white-headed lady in charge of us said I was not to line up. Which I didn’t.

  I watched them from the door. You could tell who got picked. They would stop in front of the one they wanted and talk to him; and they would all go into the office. Nobody ever talked to Wilburn.

  Wilburn said he didn’t give a damn, but he did. Every time it was line-up day, Wilburn put on a clean shirt and overalls. I watched Wilburn.

  When he was in line, he always grinned at everybody that come by and taken his clubfoot and hid it behind his other leg. But they wouldn’t talk to him. Every night after line-up day, Wilburn peed on his cot. He said he done it deliberate. He said he done it to show them what he thought of their damn adopting.

  Whenever Wilburn peed on his cot, the white-headed lady would make him take his mattress and blankets outside the next day and lay them in the sun. Wilburn said he didn’t care. He said if they messed with him much, he was going to pee on his cot every night.

  Wilburn asked me what I was going to do when I growed up. I told him I was going to be a Indian like Granpa and Willow John and live in the mountains. Wilburn said he was going to rob banks and orphanages. He said he would rob churches too, if he could find out where they kept their money. He said, more than likely, he would kill everybody that run banks and orphanages, but he would not kill me.

  Wilburn cried at night. I never let on I knew, for he stuck his blanket in his mouth, which I figgered he didn’t want anybody to know. I told Wilburn he could more than likely get his foot fixed straight when he got out of the orphanage. I give him my blue marble.

  Chapel services was held at dusk evening, just before supper time. I didn’t go, and skipped supper too. This give me a chance to watch the Dog Star. There was a winder halfway down the room from my cot, and from it I could see the Dog Star real plain. It rose in the dusk with a bare twinkle and got brighter as night darkened.

  I knew Granma and Granpa was watching it, and Willow John. I stayed by the winder every evening for an hour and watched the Dog Star. I told Wilburn if he wanted to skip supper some night, he could watch it with me, but they made him go to chapel and he wouldn’t give up supper. He never watched it.

  At first when I commenced to watch it I tried to think up things during the day that I would remember that night, but I found out that this was not necessary.

  All I had to do was watch. Granpa sent me remembrance of me and him settin’ on top of the mountain, watching the day birthing, with the sun hitting the ice and sparkling. I heard him plain as speaking, “She’s coming alive!” And there by the winder, I would say, “Yes, sir, she’s coming alive!”

  Me and Granpa went back fox huntin’ watching the Dog Star; with Blue Boy and Little Red, and ol’ Rippitt and Maud. We laughed might near until we couldn’t stand it at ol’ Rippitt.

  Granma sent remembrances of the root gathering and the times she spilt sugar in the acorn meal. And the time she caught me and Granpa on our hands and knees in the corn patch, braying like a mule at ol’ Sam.

  She sent me a picture of my secret place. The leaves was all fallen, brown and rust and yeller on the ground. Red sumach hemmed it like a ring of fire torches that would not let anybody in but me.

  Willow John sent me pictures of the deer in the high ground. Me and Willow John laughed about the time I put the frog in his coat pocket. Willow John’s pictures would get fuzzy, for his feeling was strong on something. Willow John was mad.

  Every day I watched the clouds and the sun. If it was cloudy, I would not be able to watch the Dog Star. When this happened, I stood by the winder and listened to the wind.

  I was put in a grade of school. We done figgering which I already knew; for Mr. Wine had taught me. A big fat lady headed up the learning. She meant business and would not tolerate any foolishness at all.

  One time she held up a picture that showed a deer herd coming out of a spring branch. They was jumping on one another and it looked like they was pushing to get out of the water. She asked if anybody knew what they was doing.

  One boy said they was running from something, more than likely a hunter. Another boy said they didn’t like water and was hurrying to get across. She said this was right. I raised my hand.

  I said I seen right off they was mating; for it was buck deer that was jumping the does; also, I could tell by the bushes and trees that it was the time of the year when they done their mating.

  The fat lady was total stumped. She opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. Somebody laughed. She slapped her hand on her for’ad and walled her eyes back and dropped the picture. I see right off she was sick.

  She staggered back’ards a step or two before she got aholt of her total senses. Then she run at me. Everybody got quiet. She grabbed me by the neck and commenced to shake me. Her face got red and she commenced to holler, “I should have known—we all should have known … filth … filth … would come out of you … you … little bastard!”

  I hadn’t no way in the world of knowing what she was hollering about, and stood ready to set it right. She shaken me some more and then clasped her hand behind my neck and pushed me out of the room.

  We went down the hall to the Reverend’s office. She made me wait outside and shut the door behind her. I could hear them talking, but could not understand what they was saying.

  In a few minutes she come out of the Reverend’s office and walked off down the hall without looking at me. The Reverend was standing in the door. He said, real quiet, “Come in.” I went in.

  His lips was parted like he was going to grin, but he wasn’t. He kept running his tongue over his lips. There was sweat on his face. He told me to take off my shirt. Which I did.

  I had to pull my overall galluses off my shoulders, and when I got my shirt off, this made me have to hold up my overalls with both hands. The Reverend reached behind his desk and taken up a long stick.

  He said, “You are born of evil, so I know repentance is not in you; but praise God, you are going to be taught not to inflict your evil upon Christians. You can’t repent … but you shall cry out!”

  He cut loose with the big stick acrost my back. The first time it hurt; but I didn’t cry. Granma had learnt me. Oncet when I stumped off my toenail … she learnt me how the Indian bears pain. He lets his body mind go to sleep, and with his spirit mind, he moves out of his body and sees the pain—instead of feeling the pain.

  The body mind only feels body pain. The spirit mind only feels spirit pain. So I let my body mind sleep.

  The stick splattered and splattered acrost my back. After a while it broke. The Reverend got another stick. He was panting hard. “Evil is stubborn,” he said while he was panting. “But praise God, right will prevail.”

  He kept swinging his new stick until I fell down. I was wobbly but I got up. Granpa said if ye could stay on yer feet, more than likely, ye would be all right.

  The floor tilted a little, but I seen right off I could make it. The Reverend was out of breath. He told me to put my shirt on. Which I did.

  The shirt soaked up some of the blood. Most of the blood had run down my legs into my shoes, as I didn’t have any underwearing to catch it. This made my feet sticky.

  The Reverend said I was to go back to my cot and I was not to eat supper for a week. Which I didn’t eat supper anyway. He said I was not to go back to the grade or leave the room for a week neither.<
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  It felt better not to use my galluses, so that evening at dusk, I held up my overalls when I stood by the winder and watched the Dog Star.

  I told Granpa and Granma and Willow John about it. I told them I had no way in the world of knowing how I made the lady sick; nor what come over the Reverend. I told them I stood ready to make amend, but the Reverend said I couldn’t, as I was born evil and would not know how.

  I told Granpa that it ’peared to me that more than likely I couldn’t hardly no way at all handle the situation. I said I wanted to come home.

  It was the first time I ever went to sleep watching the Dog Star. Wilburn wakened me under the winder when he got back from supper. He said he left supper early so as to see about me. I slept on my stomach.

  Wilburn said when he growed up and left the orphanage and taken to robbing orphanages and banks and such, that he would kill the Reverend right off. He said he didn’t care if he did go to hell, like I was.

  Every evening after that, when dusk brought the Dog Star up, I told Granma and Granpa and Willow John I wanted to come home. I would not see the pictures they sent, nor listen. I told them I wanted to come home. The Dog Star turned red and whitened and turned red again.

  Three nights later, the Dog Star was hid by heavy clouds. Wind tore down a light pole and the orphanage was dark. I knew they had heard.

  I commenced to expect them. Winter come on. The wind sharpened and cried around the building at night. Some didn’t like it, but I did.

  Outside now, I spent all my time under the oak tree. She was supposed to be asleep, but she said she wasn’t, on account of me. She talked slow—and low.

  Late one evening, just before we was to go in, I thought I seen Granpa. It was a tall man and he wore a big black hat. He was moving away from me down the street. I run to the iron fence and I hollered, “Granpa! Granpa!” He didn’t turn.