Mississippi Cotton (10 page)

An old colored man stood on the porch, a curved-stem pipe squeezed between his lips. He took it out and waved with it in his hand. “Hello there, Mr. Trek. How y’all doin’?” Chickens pecked and scratched around in the yard, their heads bobbing as if in competition for the last morsel of food.

“Hot as usual, Ben. How’re you doin’?” Cousin Trek had gotten out, a signal that we could, too, and we piled over the side of the truck. Casey picked up a rock and threw it at a blackbird perched on a fencepost. It stretched its wide wings and lifted itself, flying low and slow across the cornfields.

“I need to hire dis young fella to watch my corn. Dem birds’s after it all day long.” Ben pointed at a stick cross, adorned with a hat and ragged shirt drooping on it. “Dat scarecrow don’t scare nobody—at least no birds.” He laughed. We laughed with him, looking at the pitiful looking scarecrow.

“Well, Casey’s a good chunker. I can tell you that,” Cousin Trek said. Casey smiled. I think he liked being called a good anything.

“Hello, Ben,” Cousin Carol spoke her first words.

“Hello, Mrs. Mayfield. Looks like you gittin’ an afternoon off.”

“Well, jus’ a little bit,” she said. Cousin Carol was wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, but she put her hand under the brim at her forehead to block the glare, anyway. “Watch where you step, Casey.” She pointed at a spot on the ground.

Casey lifted his foot and looked at it. “I am,” he said. He scraped the bottom of his shoe against the side of the other.

The original McComb house had been burned to the ground by the Yankees, as well as all outlying houses on the place. The small wooden house Ben Samuels lived in was built many years later as a temporary living place. Gray weathered boards lined its structure from front to back. It was what I had heard my daddy say was a shotgun house. That meant if you walked inside, you could walk all the way to the back without turning a corner. The living room was up front, then down the hall, doors opening into bedrooms, then to the kitchen and out the back door.

There was a porch on the front with an overhanging roof. An old sofa and a straw-back chair sat where you could watch the sun set. The yard was not cluttered with various articles of junk that many of the houses in the county had. Many country folks often had an assortment of old worn-out and unusable items scattered around their yards: tires; old cars; bits of furniture, appliances, etc. But the Samuels place had nothing unusable. Just a John Deere tractor and some rolled chicken wire.

“Maybe I ought to hire Looty to come shoot ‘em,” Ben said.

“Looty, huh? What’s he up to,” Cousin Trek said.

“I tells you, I don’t really know. He was by here the other day. Said he’d shoot any bird in the corn for ten cents a bird.”

Ben and Cousin Trek both laughed. I wasn’t sure what part was funny so I didn’t laugh. Cousin Carol didn’t laugh either. I wondered how much more she knew about Looty than I knew. And I wondered what they meant about shooting birds. All I knew was what Taylor and Casey had told me yesterday at the branch.

Just then a big, muscular colored man walked out on the porch. He had a peach in his hand with what looked like about two good bites gone. He was taller than Cousin Trek who was exactly six feet tall himself. The man was as black a man as I had ever seen, except for those in the Tarzan picture shows. The ones Tarzan always called the Jaconi Tribe. I knew without anyone telling me that this was Big Black Julius, BB.

“How ya doin’?” Cousin Trek called.

“Doin’ fine, Mr. Trek. You’re lookin’ fit. Good to see y’all.” He nodded at Cousin Carol. “Mrs. Mayfield, how are you doing?”

“Fine, BB, jus’ fine. Thank you. Good to see you looking so well.” An obvious reference to his war wound. “Been working on the tractor?” She pointed to the side of the house.

“Yes, ma’am. At least I’m fixin’ to. It’s been missin’ some. Jus’ changed my clothes from church.” He stepped down off the porch. “These boys are lookin’ fit, too. They’ll be off to Ole Miss before you know it.”

Cousin Trek gave him one of those looks that was supposed to be friendly in a nasty way. Ben smiled then laughed. BB laughed, too.

“Well, if they do, they’re gonna pay their own way. They’re bound for the cow college if I pay for it. They gonna be farmers, not no sissy doctor or lawyer.”

“We’ll see,” Cousin Carol said.

Taylor and Casey and I jus’ listened. We weren’t sure what was funny and what wasn’t. Anyway, Cousin Trek changed the subject.

“How’s the leg, BB?”

Cousin Trek said he never was sure why BB didn’t go off to Florida A&M on that scholarship, but by October BB was in Korea. Later, he was in a famous Battle up near China, called the Chosin Reservoir. Cousin Trek said the men called it the Frozen-Chosin. He said there were almost as many casualties from the cold as from the fighting.

BB got shrapnel in his legs and frostbite in his toes. He was discharged due to his wounds, but he got a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star for helping some other men. Little pieces of shrapnel were still in his leg. The doctors said his leg would be stiff for a while, and that he was lucky he hadn’t lost any toes.

“Leg’s fine, Mr. Trek. Getting’ better every day. I’ll be up to snuff all the way pretty soon. But now who’s this new fella you got here?” BB looked straight at me and smiled. It was a big pleasant smile. His huge white teeth contrasted against his pure black face. I knew right away why Taylor and Casey called him their friend.

Cousin Trek put his hand on top of my head. “Jake Conner. He’s our cousin. And the hardest workin’ city boy you ever saw.”

BB laughed big. I was kind of embarrassed being called a city boy, but something in his laugh told me he was going to be my friend, too.

The subject of the dead guy at the river hadn’t come up. And I figured I’d better not bring it up now. And despite Taylor’s big talk about asking BB as soon as he saw him, Taylor didn’t mention it.

We had piled back in the truck and Cousin Trek was taking us on the rest of the Sunday afternoon drive. I had met BB and we had gotten set for meeting him in the morning at seven. After seven, Taylor told me, we’d just work “until we were dead.”

I wasn’t sure what part of the county we were driving through. Cousin Trek had made too many turns for me to keep track. I was just happy being in the open bed of the truck joking and fooling around with Taylor and Casey.

I wanted to talk more about Looty, and I wondered what else there was to know. After we found the dead snake yesterday, Taylor and Casey told me about him. Taylor said he was kind of a crazy man who lived by himself. His house was not far from theirs, and his grandparents had once had a lot of land and a lot of money. They had lost most of their money a long time ago, and no one seemed to know much about Looty’s momma or daddy, or whatever became of them. He lived with his grandmother from the time he was about five until a few years ago, when she died.

That’s when the story got a little stranger. Taylor said he had it on good authority that after Looty’s grandmother had died, Looty cremated her in the bar-b-que pit. It was a big brick one, and certainly could handle a little old lady about a hundred years old, or whatever she was. Casey swore that Looty kept her ashes in a mayonnaise jar on the mantle in the living room.

Once Looty started living alone, he started using his .22 rifle to shoot crows and blue jays that got in the vegetable garden. His grandmother never would let him use it, even after he was grown. But after she died, he got to be such a good shot that he had to spend ninety days on the county farm for shooting somebody’s chickens. While Looty was on the county farm, Cousin Carol and Cousin Trek helped take care of his place. They felt sorry for him.

I scooted over next to Taylor so he could hear. “I said, how come you never told me and Farley about Looty before?” Casey scooted over next to me so he didn’t miss anything.

“Well, we aren’t supposed to talk about him much. Daddy says he’s jus’ an unfortunate guy, and we were too little to be swappin’ stories anyway. But when we found that snake shot, Casey jus’ shot his mouth off.”

“Well, I still say it’s a good guess,” Casey said.

I missed some of what Taylor said and he had to say it again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about the snake to Cousin Trek,” I said.

“Naaa, it’s okay. We jus’ aren’t supposed to be blabbin’ lots of stuff about him. I mean about Looty. But I guess it’s okay now. We were jus’ kids when that rule was first passed,” Taylor said.

“Did your momma and daddy see the ashes in the mayonnaise jar when they went inside the house? You know, when he was in jail?”

“Oh, yeah. But Daddy said that it was a jar full of sand most prob’ly.”

Cousin Trek turned the truck for downtown. “I’ll bet Daddy’s gonna buy us a Co-Cola,” Taylor said.

Casey mumbled something.

“What?” Taylor asked him.

“I said, I don’t think it is.”

“Is what?”

“Just sand.”

CHAPTER 8

The next morning came quick. It started getting daylight early, and I wasn’t ready to start anything, even at twenty cents an hour. I thought maybe no one would notice me tucked away on the top bunk buried under the sheet. Maybe they’d think I was dead and leave me alone until my parents came. Maybe they’d just forget I was here. I would have rather painted the state capitol building than get up.

“Let’s go, boys,” called Cousin Carol. “Time to get to work.” The gentle voice that I had heard all weekend had a sharp edge. Maybe it’s just that anybody’s voice would have a sharp edge at five-thirty in the morning.

We had stayed up late last night talking about BB and Looty, and us going to Clarksdale on Wednesday. I don’t know what time it was when I finally fell asleep, but it was late. I could tell that now.

I swung my legs over the edge and was greeted by the tickling fingers of Taylor. “Stop it, you idiot!”

“Now stop that, Taylor,” Cousin Carol said. “You’re just going to start something.”

Casey walked into Taylor’s room. He was rubbing his eyes. “It can’t be time to get up yet. I’m sure this is a dream. I’m goin’ back to bed.”

Cousin Carol grabbed him by his ear and pulled him back. “Do I sound like a dream?”

“Ow, ow, ow! It sure don’t feel like one.”

“Doesn’t.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, it was not.”

“I mean it’s what I meant to say.”

“I think tonight maybe y’all won’t stay up half the night talking.” She glared at all of us. “Will you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, y’all wash the sleep out and hurry on downstairs. Breakfast is almost ready.”

We dressed and made our way downstairs. Cousin Carol was busy in the kitchen. Cousin Trek was having a cup of coffee and whistling his favorite tune, The Bonnie Blue Flag. I looked out of the kitchen window; it looked like the pink eastern sky was about to build into another hot day.

“Have a seat, Mr. Jake,” Cousin Trek said. “You too, boys.” Casey was still rubbing his eyes.

A large glass of milk and a glass of orange juice marked our places at the round table, a red and white checkered tablecloth draping off around the edge about six inches. The tablecloth was on for every meal but seemed to stand out more at breakfast for some reason.

Breakfast was eggs, toast, bacon, grits with lots of butter, plenty of milk and orange juice. The sustenance began to bring us back to life. Back from the peace of deep sleep and soft beds—just in time for Mr. Hightower.

He drove up about six-thirty. He was like family, the way he knocked on the screen door and with a quick “Good mornin’,” walked right in.

“Good morning, Earl,” Cousin Carol said. “Pour yourself a cup and sit down.”

Earl put his brown hat in the chair next to him. In his work clothes, he looked tanned and strong—a real cotton farmer. His blue cotton shirt sleeves rolled up revealed big hairy forearms, with hard-looking muscle that came from farm work. He had a gentle way about him, but a mannerism that made you know he was definitely no softy. One of his big hands swept around the cup, not using the crook, and took a big swallow. Black. No sissy coffee for Earl Hightower.

“BB is gonna meet us at seven over on that twenty acres on the far side. That right, Trek?”

“Yep. We saw him yesterday afternoon. Drove by there. He’ll be there at seven. Prob’ly already there.”

Cousin Carol poured some milk out of the bottle into my empty glass. She refilled Casey’s and Taylor’s. “Want some eggs, Earl?”

“No thanks, Carol. I ate an hour ago.” He winked at Casey. “I had two rattlesnakes and a panther’s haunch. I’m full and ready to work. Ready to get burned up in this hot Delta sun of ours.”

Casey yawned. I could tell he had heard these kinds of stories before. I wished Mr. Hightower had left out the part about the hot Delta sun.

“I think there’ll be enough to do for these young fellows for most of the day in that twenty acres alone. If it’s not, I’ve got some other things, if it’s alright with you, Trek.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine. They’re all ready to go,” Cousin Trek said. Casey yawned again. Cousin Trek picked up the newspaper.