5. SOME ARGUFYIN
WELL, YOU KNOW, my brother he ain’t so scared of Mr. Sim with his big old shovel, and say, “I ain’t pickin up this here chair to hit nobody with, nor kill nobody ’cause I come here peaceable and quiet, but I’m sure holdin on to this chair so long as you hold that shovel Mr. Jelkey,” and he holt up that chair like the man with lion. His eyeballs get red and he don’t like so much none of this. Uncle Sim, he look at him, then he look at Aunt Gastonia, and he say, “what’s that boy doin here, tell me, hear?”
And she tell him. And he say “Well then, hush up woman,” and he turn to my brother and say, “Well go on, and go on mighty quick” and he point out the door.
“Get him, Sim,” Grandpa Jelkey yell, and he get up from his chair again and holt out his cane, and yell, “Hit him over the head with the stick, boy.”
“Sit that old man down,” say Uncle Sim but Aunt Gastonia she start wailin and carryin on for me, ’case she don’t wants me to leave with my brother, and she say, “No, Sim, no, that boy’s sick and go hungry and cotch cold and ever’ single thing in the world will happen to him and he’ll turn bad, sinful bad, with that man, and the Lord shall drop it on my soul like the hot irons of hell and perdition, on your soul too, and on this house,” and she say this rarin up most tearful and pitiful, for me to see, and come over to hold me and hide me from ever’body and kiss me all over. Whoo!
“Put on your clothes Pic,” my brother say to me, and Uncle Sim put down the shovel, and my brother put down the chair, and Aunt Gastonia cry and cry, and holt me, poor woman, and I jess can’t move an inch I’se so sorry t’see ever’thing come so mean and bad. Well, Uncle Sim, he come over and cotch Aunt Gastonia and pull her ’way from me, and my brother find my shirt and put it on me, and Aunt Gastonia shriek. Lordy, I find my shoes and I find my hole-hat and I’se ready to go, and brother fetch me up piggy-back, and here we go for the door.
Well then, what you supposed happened? Here come Mr. Otis’ au-to licketysplit to the door, and out he come and knock on the house, and look in, and say “Well what’s this?” and look at ever’body and push his hat back.
Well, here go ever’body talkin at the same time. Aunt Gastonia, she argufy so hard, and explain so loud, and pray so shriekly, ain’t nobody else can hear what’s goin on, and Mr. Otis listen to her and look at ever’body else most quiet, and don’t say nothin. Well, brother put me down ’case he can’t scarce stand there with me on his back whilst ever’body yell, and Mr. Otis take my wrist, and listen, then he roll up m’eyeball like he done poor grandpa and look in there, then he back up and look me all over, and say, “Well, ’pears Pic’s in good enough health anyway. Now will you explain ever’thing once around again for me?” and, after Aunt Gastonia done that, and he shooked his head yes, uh-huh, yes, uh-huh, he say, “Well, I don’t want to interfere with you folks but I don’t guess I was wrong when I said it wouldn’t ever do to bring the boy here, ma’m, and likewise don’t guess he can stay here.” He look at Uncle Sim when he say that, and Uncle Sim say, “Yes’r, I don’t ’spect, Mr. Otis, ain’t been but trouble since he come here.” Then Mr. Otis go over and say hello to Grandpa Jelkey, and Grandpa Jelkey say “I’se shore pleased to hear your voice again, Mister Otis” and he jess sit there grinnin from ear to ear ’case Mr. Otis visitin.
Then Mr. Otis say, “I feel I owe it to this child’s grandaddy to see he’s taken care of proper” and he turn to my brother, and I don’t reckon he like my brother no more’n ever’body else, ’case he say, and shake his head, “It don’t ’pear to me like you can take care of this child, neither. You got a job up north?”
“Yes’r, I got a job,” my brother say, and he make a plain face and tuck his hat under his arm again, but Mr. Otis don’t ’pear to ’gree with him, and say “Well, is that the only clothes you got to wear when you travel?” and ever’body look at my brother’s clothes, which ain’t much of a much, and Mr. Otis say, “All you got there is a Army jacket, and there’s holes in the side of your pants, and they don’t fit right much anyhow because they’re all swole up at the legs and come down to your ankles so’s I can’t see how you can take ’em off, and you’ve got a red shirt that ain’t been washed, and G.I. boots pretty well scraggly by now, and that there beret on your head, so how do you ever expect me to believe you’ve got a job when you come travelin on home like that?”
“Well sir,” my brother say, “it’s the style nowadays in NEW YORK,” but that don’t satisfy Mr. Otis none, and he say, “Goatee and all? Well, I just got back from New York City myself and I ain’t ’shamed to say it was my first time up there, and I don’t think it’s a fit place for folks to live whether they be white or colored. I don’t see any harm takin care of your brother if you stay home, for after all your grandaddy’s house IS still standin and you can get a job HOME as well as every’where else.”
“Well sir,” my brother say, “I got a wife in New York,” and Mr. Otis say quick “Does she work?” and my brother teeter a little bit on that, and say, “Yes, she works,” and Mr. Otis say, “Well then who’s goin to take care of this child durin the day?” and my brother get red in the eyeball again ’case he can’t conjure up no more to say. Well, you know, I has my fingers crossed, ’case I be so pleased when my brother and me was headin for that door, and here I’se stopped dead in that old house again.
“He’ll go to school in the daytime,” my brother say, and give Mr. Otis a look all tuckered-out and s’prised from such some talk, and Mr. Otis, he smile, and he say “Well, I don’t cast any doubt on your intentions, but who’s goin to watch that child when he comes home from school in that NEW YORK traffic? Who’s goin to help him cross the street in that coldhearted city, see he don’t get run over by a truck and such-like? Yes, and where’s that boy likely to get some fresh air to breathe? And proper friends that don’t go about with knives and guns at fourteen? I ain’t seen anything like it in all my born days. I don’t aim to wish such a life on that boy, and don’t guess his grand-daddy would neither in these last days of his, and I’m only doin this because I owe it at least to a very old friend of mine who taught me how to fish when I was no higher’n his knee. Well,” and he turn to Aunt Gastonia, and heave a sigh all under him, “the only proper thing to do is put him in a good home till he’s old enough t’ decide for himself.” And he pull out a fine book from his coat, and uncork a fine pen, and write most handsome inside it. “First thing in the mornin I’ll call up and make whatever arrangements are necessary, and meanwhile the boy can stay here,” and he turn to Aunt Gastonia, “because I’m sure, ma’m, you’ll see that ever’thing is maintained proper.” Yes, and Mr. Otis speak jess as fine and jess as pleasin as that.
But it ain’t so pleasin to me none, ’case I don’t like to stay in Aunt Gastonia’s house ’nother minute, ’nother night, ’nother no time, nor go to no GOOD HOME like Mr. Otis said, nor see m’brother traipse off so lone and blue down the road like he done. Well, he look back over his shoulder, poor brother, ever’ now and then, and dust up the sand slow with his ARMY BOOTS, and Aunt Gastonia’s chillun they folly him a piece down the road ’case they like him so and wantsa see him shuffle and bow-down some more like he done in the house, but he don’t. Mr. Otis stay on the porch talkin to Uncle Sim till my brother gone in the woods, then Mr. Otis get in his big au-to and go.
Well O well, they I was.
6. I GO THU THE WINDOW
COME NIGHTFALL EVER’BODY GO TO BED, and I’se in the bed with my th’ee little bitty cousins and can’t sleep none, and say to myself, “Oh me, what happen to me next?” and I’se wearisome for ever’thing and can’t neither cry nor nothing no more. Ever’thing I fixed on done run out on me and wasn’t nothin I could do. Lord, it was a bad long night.
Well, next thing I know I’se sleepin ’case I wake up and hear the hound dogs yelpin outdoor, and Uncle Sim open the window from where he sleep and sing out “Shet up that snappin and squallin out there,” and Aunt Gastonia say, “What for the hound
dogs cry?”
And Uncle Sim look, and come back in and say “Y’ere’s a black cat spittin in the tree up yonder” and he go back to sleep. Aunt Gastonia she say, “Black cat go ’way from my do,” and she make the sign, and go back to sleep likewise.
Then I hear m’ little bitty cousin Willis what sleep by the window say “Who dat?” and I hear, ever so soft, “Shhh,” and I look. Whooee, it’s my brother in the window, and me and Willis creep up over little bitty Henry, and puts our noses to the screen, and then Jonas, he come too, and put his nose to the screen. “It the man done dance,” say little Willis, and he go “Hee hee hee,” but my brother put his finger on his mouth and say “Shhh!” Here ever’body listen close for Aunt Gastonia and Uncle Sim, and Grandpa Jelkey y’at sleep in the corner, but they jess sleepin and snorin, and the hound dogs whine so they don’t hear nothin neither.
“What for you come here Mister Dancin Man?” say little Willis, and Jonas say “Uh-huh?” and little Henry wake up and say “Git offen my laig!” awful loud and ever’body jump back in the bed under the covers and m’ brother duck down behind the window. Well, woof, you know, I hold up my breath then. But ain’t nobody wake up.
Ever’body rare back up the window, soft.
“Is you gwine shuffle again?” Jonas say, and little bitty Henry he woke up and seed what was in the window, and rub his eye, and say, “Ish-yo-gin-shuff-gin?” ’case he always r’peats what Jonas say. My brother say “Shhh” and little bitty Henry put his finger to his mouth and turn around and nudge me, you know, like it was my foot, then ever’body look at my brother again.
“I’se come to get Pic,” my brother say thu his hands, “but I come back tomorrow or next year and dance all over fo ever’one of you and give you each fifty cents, hear me now?”
“What fo you don’t wantsa dance now?” little Willis say, and Jonas say “Jess a little bit?” and little bitty Henry say “Jiz-il-bit, hmm?” and my brother put his head on one side, and look at ever’body, and say, “Well, I do really b’lieve they’s a Heaven somewhere,” and he say, “Pic, git in your clothes quiet whilst I dance for these folks,” and I do that quick and my brother he shuffle-up soft and dance in the yard in the moonlight and the chiles watch with a great big old s’prised grin on they faces. Well, you never seed such a dance like he done b’neath the moon like that, and no chiles like them seed one neither.
“Shet up that snappin and squallin out there!” yell Uncle Sim from t’other side of the house, and I tell you, ever’body duck down again s’fast nobody seed th’ other do it. But Uncle Sim, he only mean the hounds, poor sleepin man.
Then ever’body raise up ’nother time again.
Brother undone the screen from the window and say “Shh” and reach in, and Jonas say “Shh” and little Henry say “S” and I cotch brother’s neck, and out I go with my head first and then the feet, and dog my cats, and cat my dogs, and looky-here, if I ain’t out in that barnyard in the middle of the dark and ready to leave and go.
“Less go,” my brother say, and he haul me up on his back like he done in th’ afternoon, and we turn around and look at the chiles in the window, and they’s so sorry-lookin they’s fixin to cry, you know, and my brother know this, and he say, “Don’t cry, chillun, ’case me and Pic come back tomorrow or next year and we all have a big fine time t’gether and go down the crick and fish, and eat candy, and th’ow the baseball, and tell tales t’ each other, and climb up the tree and hant the folks below, and all such fine things, you jess wait awhile, you jess see, y’hear me now?”
“Yas’r,” Jonas say, and little Henry say, “Yass,” and little Willis say “Uh-huh” and off me and m’ brother go, ’cross the barnyard and over the fence and into the woods and don’t make a sound. Whoo! We gone and done it.
7. WE COME TO TOWN
GRANDPA, IT WAS THE DARKENEST NIGHT ’case the moon got covered over by clouds jess as soon as brother and me reach the woods, and that moon was jess a scant banana moon and showed but scraggy and feeble betwixt the cloudy when it look out. It got cold, too, and I shore was chill. I reckon they was a rainstorm comin to warm me, ’case I don’t at all feel so good as I done when we begun. Seem like they was somethin I forgot to do, or somethin I forgot to bring from back at Aunt Gastonia’s house, but I knowed they was nothin like that, exceptin I all dreamed it. Lordy why’d I go dass dream such a thing and fret myself there? Way across the woods and thu the black yonder, here come the train, but it’s pow’ful far off ’case me and brother only getsa hear it when the wind blow, and hear it wooo—all long draw-out and goin away, sound like waitin for to get to the hills. Shoo! it was cold, and p’culiar, and black. But my brother, he don’t mind.
He carry me thu the woods a space, then he put me down and say, “Woof, boy, I ain’t goin to carry you on my back all the way to New York,” and we tramp along till we get to the corn field, and then he say, “Here, you sure you can walk all right after bein sick like you was?” and I say “Yas’r, I’se jess a little chill” and walk along.
My brother say, “I get you a coat first thing,” and then he say “Get up little boy,” and he haul me up on his back again and look around at me out the corner of his eye. “Listen t’ me, Pic” he say, “you’re every bit sure you want to come along with me ain’t you?” and I say “Yas’r.”
“Well what for you call me sir when you know I’m your brother?”
“Yas’r” I say, and then I cotch myself and say “Yas’r, brother,” and don’t know what to say. Well, I reckon I was scared for I don’t scarce know where we’s goin and what happen to me when we get there if we gets there, and it don’t sit right to myself to ask brother ’at come get me so glad and so pleased like that.
“Listen to me, Pic,” he say, “you jess go along with me till we get home and call me Slim like ever’body else do, hear?”
“Yas’r, Slim” I say, and then I cotch myself again, and say “Yass, Slim.”
“Well there you go” he laugh. “Now say, you seen that black cat back yonder in the Jelkeys’ tree that had all them hound dogs barkin at it? I brung it there myself to make them dogs miss me, and didn’t it spit, and fetch them up fine and bring us good luck that old black cat? Well, lookout!” Slim say to a tree, and dodge of it, and duck behind it, and bark at it, and go “Fsst!” like a cat, and both of us laugh some. That’s the way he was, grandpa.
“Po little boy,” he say, and give a sigh, and hitch me up higher on his back. “I guess you’re as much scared of ever’thing like a grown man is. It’s like the man say in the Bible—A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth. You ain’t scarce eleven years old and already knowed that, I don’t guess you didn’t. Well, I come and made a vagabond out of you proper,” and we walk along and come to see the lights of town up ahead, and he don’t say nothin. Then here we go step on the road.
“Now, I’ll tell you where we’re goin,” my brother say like if he read my mind and see all the troubles in it, and he say, “Then we’ll unnerstand each other fine and be friends to go out to the world together. When I heard about grandpa I knowed all the trouble and shame that would come down on your head, Pic, and told Sheila, that’s my wife, she’ll be your new mother now, and she agreed with me and said—Go down get that poor chile. Well,” he said, “Sheila’s a mighty fine woman and you see pretty soon. So here I come down South for you ’case I’m the only kin you got left, and you’re the only kin I got, baby. Now, you know why Mr. Otis give Grandpa Jackson that shack and that piece of land you was born on?—and why Mr. Otis wanted to help you today?”
“Nos’r, Slim” I say, and I shore wantsa hear it.
“Because your grandpa was born a slave and Mr. Otis’ grandpa owned him once, you never knowed that did you?”
“Nos’r, Slim, nobody never told me that,” I say, and seem to me I heard folks talk about slave one time, and it fetch up recollections, you know.
“Mr. Otis,” my brother say, “he’s a good man and feels he owes some o
f the colored folks some help now and then, and he has a nice way by him though it ain’t by me, and mean well. Ever’body mean well, in their own pitiful way, and Aunt Gastonia mostly, poor woman. Uncle Sim Jelkey ain’t no bad man, he’s jess poor and can’t support no vagabond Pics like you none. He don’t too much hate anybody in his inside heart. Old Grandpa Jelkey, he’s jess a old crazy man and I don’t guess I’d—be crazy too if the same thing happened to me that happened to him. I tell you about that a minute. Well, I don’t aim to see you go to no foster home like Mr. Otis was fixin to send you today. Now, you know why Aunt Gastonia take you in but the menfolk Jelkeys don’t want you?”
Well, I wantsa hear this, and I say “Why that?”
“That’s because your daddy, Alpha Jackson, my daddy as well as yours, done blinded old Grandpa Jelkey in a fearsome fight about ten years ago and ain’t nothin but bad blood left betwixt the two families. Aunt Gastonia, she was your mother’s sister and loved your mother very much all her life, and took care of her right down the end when daddy come out of five years sentence in the work gang, three of’em in the Dismal Swamp, and never did come back home to her.”
“Where’d he go?” I ax my brother, and try to remember my father’s face, but it wasn’t no use.
“Nobody know,” my brother say, and he walk along glum, and he say “Little man, your father was a wild man and a bad man and that’s all he was, or is, and whether he’s alive or dead and where-EVER he’s at tonight. Your mother’s long dead, poor soul, and nobody blamed her for be-comin crazy and dyin like she done. Boy,” my brother say to me, and turn his head to look at me, “you and me come from the dark.” He said that, and said it jess as glum.