Everything was quiet. The sun was behind the roofs of the houses and the sky in the west was purple and pink. On the next block there was the sound of kids skating. Bubber leaned up against a tree and he seemed to be dreaming about something. The smell of supper came out of the house and it would be time to eat soon.
‘Lookit,’ Bubber said suddenly. ‘Here comes Baby again. She sure is pretty in the pink costume.’
Baby walked toward them slowly. She had been given a prize box of popcorn candy and was reaching in the box for the prize. She walked in that same prissy, dainty way. You could tell that she knew they were all looking at her.
‘Please, Baby--’ Bubber said when she started to pass them. ‘Lemme see your little pink pocketbook and touch your pink costume.’ Baby started humming a song to herself and did not listen. She passed by without letting Bubber play with her. She only ducked her head and grinned at him a little.
Bubber still had the big rifle up to his shoulder. He made a loud pow sound and pretended like he had shot. Then he called to Baby again--in a soft, sad voice like he was calling a little kitty. ‘Please, Baby--come here, Baby--‘ He was too quick for Mick to stop him. She had just seen his hand on the trigger when there was the terrible ping of the gun. Baby crumpled down to the sidewalk. It was like she was nailed to the steps and couldn’t move or scream. Spareribs had his arm up over his head.
Bubber was the only one that didn’t realize. ‘Get up, Baby,’ he hollered. ‘I ain’t mad with you.’
It all happened in a second. The three of them reached Baby at the same time. She lay crumpled down on the dirty sidewalk.
Her skirt was over her head, showing her pink panties and her little white legs. Her hands were open--in one there was the prize from the candy and in the other the pocketbook. There was blood all over her hair ribbon and the top of her yellow curls. She was shot in the head and her face was turned down toward the ground.
So much happened in a second. Bubber screamed and dropped the gun and ran. She stood with her hands up to her face and screamed too. Then there were many people. Her Dad was the first to get there. He carried Baby into the house.
‘She’s dead,’ said Spareribs. ‘She’s shot through the eyes. I seen her face.’
Mick walked up and down the sidewalk, and her tongue stuck in her mouth when she tried to ask was Baby killed. Mrs.
Wilson came running down the block from the beauty parlor where she worked. She went into the house and came back out again. She walked up and down in the street, crying and pulling a ring on and off her finger. Then the ambulance came and the doctor went in to Baby. Mick followed him. Baby was lying on the bed in the front room. The house was quiet as a church.
Baby looked like a pretty little doll on the bed. Except for the blood she did not seem hurt. The doctor bent over and looked at her head. After he finished they took Baby out on a stretcher. Mrs. Wilson and her Dad got into the ambulance with her.
The house was still quiet. Everybody had forgotten about Bubber. He was nowhere around. An hour passed. Her Mama and Hazel and Etta and all the boarders waited in the front room. Mister Singer stood in the doorway.
After a long time her Dad came home. He said Baby wouldn’t die but that her skull was fractured. He asked for Bubber.
Nobody knew where he was. It was dark outside. They called Bubber in the back yard and in the street. They sent Spareribs and some other boys out to hunt for him. It looked like Bubber had gone clear out of the neighborhood. Harry went around to a house where they thought he might be.
Her Dad walked up and down the front porch. ‘I never have whipped any of my kids yet,’ he kept saying. ‘I never believed in it. But I’m sure going to lay it onto that kid as soon as I get my hands on him.’
Mick sat on the banisters and watched down the dark street. ‘I can manage Bubber. Once he comes back I can take care of him all right.’
‘You go out and hunt for him. You can find him better than anybody else.’
As soon as her Dad said that she suddenly knew where Bubber was. In the back yard there was a big oak and in the summer they had built a tree house. They had hauled a big box up in this oak, and Bubber used to love to sit up in the tree house by himself. Mick left the family and the boarders on the front porch and walked back through the alley of the dark yard.
She stood for a minute by the trunk of the tree. ‘Bubber--,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s Mick.’
He didn’t answer, but she knew he was there. It was like she could smell him. She swung up on the lowest branch and climbed slowly. She was really mad with that kid and would have to teach him a lesson. When she reached the tree house she spoke to him again--and still there wasn’t any answer. She climbed into the big box and felt around the edges. At last she touched him. He was scrounged up in a corner and his legs were trembling. He had been holding his breath, and when she touched him the sobs and the breath came out all at once.
‘I-I didn’t mean Baby to fall. She was just so little and cute--seemed to me like I just had to take a pop at her.’
Mick sat down on the floor of the tree house. ‘Baby’s dead,’ she said. ‘They got a lot of people hunting for you.’
Bubber quit crying. He was very quiet.
‘You know what Dad’s doing in the house?’ It was like she could hear Bubber listening.
‘You know Warden Lawes--you heard him over the radio.
And you know Sing Sing. Well, our Dad’s writing a letter to Warden Lawes for him to be a little bit kind to you when they catch you and send you to Sing Sing.’
The words were so awful-sounding in the dark that a shiver came over her. She could feel Bubber trembling.
‘They got little electric chairs there--just your size. And when they turn on the juice you just fry up like a piece of burnt bacon. Then you go to Hell.’
Bubber was squeezed up in the corner and there was not a sound from him. She climbed over the edge of the box to get down. ‘You better stay up here because they got policemen guarding the yard. Maybe in a few days I can bring you something to eat’ Mick leaned against the trunk of the oak tree. That would teach Bubber all right. She had always managed him and she knew more about that kid than anybody else. Once, about a year or two ago, he was always wanting to stop off behind bushes and pee and play with himself awhile. She had caught on to that pretty quick. She gave him a good slap every time it happened and in three days he was cured. Afterwards he never even peed normal like other kids--he held his hands behind him. She always had to nurse that Bubber and she could always manage him. In a little while she would go back up to the tree house and bring him in. After this he would never want to pick up a gun again in all his life.
There was still this dead feeling in the house. The boarders all sat on the front porch without talking or rocking in the chairs.
Her Dad and her Mama were in the front room. Her Dad drank beer out of a bottle and walked up and down the floor. Baby was going to get well all right, so this worry was not about her. And nobody seemed to be anxious about Bubber. It was something else.
‘That Bubber!’ said Etta.
‘I’m shamed to go out of the house after this,’ Hazel said.
Etta and Hazel went into the middle room and closed the door.
Bill was in his room at the back. She didn’t want to talk with them. She stood around in the front hall and thought it over by herself.
Her Dad’s footsteps stopped. ‘It was deliberate,’ he said. ‘It’s not like the kid was just fooling with the gun and it went off by accident. Everybody who saw it said he took deliberate aim.’
‘I wonder when we’ll hear from Mrs. Wilson,’ her Mama said.
‘We’ll hear plenty, all right!’
‘I reckon we will.’
Now that the sun was down the night was cold again like November. The people came in from the front porch and sat in the living-room--but nobody lighted a fire. Mick’s sweater was hanging on the hat rac
k, so she put it on and stood with her shoulders bent over to keep warm. She thought about Bubber sitting out in the cold, dark tree house. He had really believed every word she said. But he sure deserved to worry some. He had nearly killed that Baby.
‘Mick, can’t you think of some place where Bubber might be?’her Dad asked.
‘He’s in the neighborhood, I reckon.’
Her Dad walked up and down with the empty beer bottle in his hand. He walked like a blind man and there was sweat on his face. ‘The poor kid’s scared to come home. If we could find him I’d feel better. I’ve never laid a hand on Bubber. He oughtn’t be scared of me.’
She would wait until an hour and a half was gone. By that time he would be plenty sorry for what he did. She always could manage that Bubber and make him learn.
After a while there was a big excitement in the house. Her Dad telephoned again to the hospital to see how Baby was, and in a few minutes Mrs. Wilson called back. She said she wanted to have a talk with them and would come to the house.
Her Dad still walked up and down the front room like a blind man. He drank three more bottles of beer. ‘The way it all happened she can sue my britches off. All she could get would be the house outside of the mortgage. But the way it happened we don’t have any comeback at all.’
Suddenly Mick thought about something. Maybe they would really try Bubber in court and put him in a children’s jail.
Maybe Mrs. Wilson would send him to reform school. Maybe they would really do something terrible to Bubber. She wanted to go out to the tree house right away and sit with him and tell him not to worry. Bubber was always so thin and little and smart. She would kill anybody that tried to send that kid out of the family. She wanted to kiss him and bite him because she loved him so much.
But she couldn’t miss anything. Mrs. Wilson would be there in a few minutes and she had to know what was going on. Then she would run out and tell Bubber that all the things she said were lies. And he would really have learned the lesson he had coming to him.
A ten-cent taxicab drove up to the sidewalk. Everybody waited on the front porch, very quiet and scared. Mrs. Wilson got out of the taxi with Mister Brannon. She could hear her Dad grinding his teeth together in a nervous way as they came up the steps. They went into the front room and she followed along after them and stood in the doorway. Etta and Hazel and Bill and the boarders kept out of it.
‘I’ve come to talk over all this with you,’ Mrs. Wilson said.
The front room looked tacky and dirty and she saw Mister Brannon notice everything. The mashed celluloid doll and the beads and junk Ralph played with were scattered on the floor.
There was beer on her Dad’s workbench, and the pillows on the bed where her Dad and Mama slept were right gray.
Mrs. Wilson kept pulling the wedding ring on and off her finger. By the side of her Mister Brannon was very calm. He sat with his legs crossed. His jaws were blue-black and he looked like a gangster in the movies. He had always had this grudge against her. He always spoke to her in this rough voice different from the way he talked to other people. Was it because he knew about the time she and Bubber swiped a pack of chewing gum off his counter? She hated him.
‘It all boils down to this,’ said Mrs. Wilson. ‘Your kid shot my baby in the head on purpose.’
Mick stepped into the middle of the room. ‘No, he didn’t,’ she said. ‘I was right there. Bubber had been aiming that gun at me and Ralph and everything around there. He just happened to aim it at Baby and his finger slipped. I was right there.’
Mister Brannon rubbed his nose and looked at her in a sad way. She sure did hate him.
‘I know how you all feel--so I want to come to the point right now.’
Mick’s Mama rattled a bunch of keys and her Dad sat very still with his big hands hanging over his knees.
‘Bubber didn’t have it in his mind beforehand,’ Mick said. ‘He just--’ Mrs. Wilson jabbed the ring on and oft her finger. Wait a minute. I know how everything is. I could bring it to court and sue for every cent you own.’
Her Dad didn’t have any expression on his face. ‘I tell you one thing,’ he said. ‘We don’t have much to sue for. All we got is--’
‘Just listen to me,’ said Mrs. Wilson. ‘I haven’t come here with any lawyer to sue you. Bartholomew--Mister Brannon--and I talked it over when we came and we just about agree on the main points. In the first place, I want to do the fair, honest thing--and in the second place, I don’t want Baby’s name mixed up in no common lawsuit at her age.’
There was not a sound and everybody in the room sat stiff in their chairs. Only Mister Brannon halfway smiled at Mick, but she squinted her eyes back at him in a tough way.
Mrs. Wilson was very nervous and her hand shook when she lighted a cigarette. ‘I don’t want to have to sue you or anything like that. All I want is for you to be fair. I’m not asking you to pay for all the suffering and crying Baby went through with until they gave her something to sleep. There’s not any pay that would make up for that. And I’m not asking you to pay for the damage this will do to her career and the plans we had made. She’s going to have to wear a bandage for several months. She won’t get to dance in the soiree--maybe there’ll even be a little bald place on her head.’
Mrs. Wilson and her Dad looked at each other like they was hypnotized. Then Mrs. Wilson reached around to her pocketbook and took out a slip of paper. ‘The things you got to pay are just the actual price of what it will cost us in money. There’s Baby’s private room in the hospital and a private nurse until she can come home. There’s the operating room and the doctor’s bill--and for once I intend the doctor to be paid right away. Also, they shaved all Baby’s hair off and you got to pay me for the permanent wave I took her to Atlanta to get--so when her hair grows back natural she can have another one. And there’s the price of her costume and other little extra bills like that. I’ll write all the items down just as soon as I know what they’ll be. I’m trying to be just as fair and honest as I can, and you’ll have to pay the total when I bring it to you.’
Her Mama smoothed her dress over her knees and took a quick, short breath. ‘Seems to me like the children’s ward would be a lot better than a private room. When Mick had penumonia--’
‘I said a private room.’
Mister Brannon held out his white, stumpy hands and balanced them like they was on scales. ‘Maybe in a day or two Baby can move into a double room with some other kid.’
Mrs. Wilson spoke hard-boiled. ‘You heard what I said. Long as your kid shot my Baby she certainly ought to have every advantage until she gets well.’
‘You’re in your rights,’ her Dad said. ‘God knows we don’t have anything now--but maybe I can scrape it up. I realize you’re not trying to take advantage of us and I appreciate it. We’ll do what we can.’
She wanted to stay and hear everything that they said, but Bubber was on her mind. When she thought of him sitting up in the dark, cold tree house thinking about Sing Sing she felt uneasy. She went out of the room and down the hall toward the back door. The wind was blowing and the yard was very dark except for the yellow square that came from the light in the kitchen. When she looked back she saw Portia sitting at the table with her long, thin hands up on her face, very still.
The yard was lonesome and the wind made quick, scary shadows and a mourning kind of sound in the darkness.
She stood under the oak tree. Then just as she started to reach for the first limb a terrible notion came over her.
It came to her all of a sudden that Bubber was gone. She called him and he did not answer. She climbed quick and quiet as a cat.
‘Say! Bubber!’ Without feeling in the box she knew he wasn’t there. To make sure she got into the box and felt in all the corners. The kid was gone. He must have started down the minute she left. He was running away for sure now, and with a smart kid like Bubber it was no telling where they’d catch him.
She
scrambled down the tree and ran to the front porch. Mrs.
Wilson was leaving and they had all come out to the front steps with her.
‘Dad!’ she said. ‘We got to do something about Bubber. He’s run away. I’m sure he left our block. We all got to get out and hunt him.’
Nobody knew where to go or how to begin. Her Dad walked up and down the street, looking in all the alleys. Mister Brannon telephoned for a ten-cent taxi for Mrs. Wilson and then stayed to help with the hunt. Mister Singer sat on the banisters of the porch and he was the only person who kept calm. They all waited for Mick to plan out the best places to look for Bubber. But the town was so big and the little kid so smart that she couldn’t think what to do.
Maybe he had gone to Portia’s house over in Sugar Hill. She went back into the kitchen where Portia was sitting at the table with her hands up to her face.
‘I got this sudden notion he went down to your house. Help us hunt him.’
‘How come I didn’t think of that! I bet a nickel my little scared Bubber been staying in my home all the time.’
Mister Brannon had borrowed an automobile. He and Mister Singer and Mick’s Dad got into the car with her and Portia.
Nobody knew what Bubber was feeling except her. Nobody knew he had really run away like he was escaping to save his life.
Portia’s house was dark except for the checkered moonlight on the floor. As soon as they stepped inside they could tell there was nobody in the two rooms. Portia lighted the front lamp.
The rooms had a colored smell, and they were crowded with cut-out pictures on the walls and the lace table covers and lace pillows on the bed. Bubber was not there.
‘He been here,’ Portia suddenly said. ‘I can tell somebody been in here.’
Mister Singer found the pencil and piece of paper on the kitchen table. He read it quickly and then they all looked at it The writing was round and scraggly and the smart little kid hadn’t misspelled but one word. The note said: Dear Portia, I gone to Florada. Tell every body.
Yours truly, Bubber Kelly They stood around surprised and stumped. Her Dad looked out the doorway and picked his nose with his thumb in a worried way. They were all ready to pile in the car and ride toward the highway leading south.
The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter Page 17
