Judy's Journey

  Jim Drummond was puzzled. “No, Lonnie gits the milk,” he said. “But what business is it of your’n? Who are YOU? She’s my kid, not your’n.”

  “Look here, mister.” Madame Rosie planted herself in front of the man and looked him straight in the eye. “You got a whole houseful o’ kids, I bet, and you shouldn’t have any at all, ’cause you’re so ignorant you don’t know how to feed ’em or bring ’em up properly.”

  “Now that’s a nice thing to say to a man,” began Papa weakly

  But he didn’t have a chance, for Madame Rosie continued: “You’re that tall dark man I saw in that scared rabbit’s life, and you’d better work harder and make things better for them kids, and give ’em a chance to go to school and read out of books with pictures in ’em.” She stopped abruptly. “Where do you live? What you doin’ here, so far from Alabama? ’Twas in Alabama I saw that girl before, I’ll swear to it. Where’s your home?”

  “Ain’t got none … yet,” said Jim Drummond, dropping his eyes, “exceptin’ the jalopy and tent.”

  “Livin’ in a tent and haulin’ them kids all over the country, no money and not even a steady job, I bet!” said Madame Rosie. She shook her finger under his nose. “You just better settle down and get a home for that little scared rabbit … with a picket fence round the garden like I saw .… You better make that rabbit’s fortune come true or I’ll——”

  Jim Drummond backed away, angry. “You’re cuckoo! You’re crazy! A fence? What you talkin’ about a fence for? What I do is none of your business. You mind your own affairs or I’ll have you arrested!”

  Madame Rosie turned and went off across the street. Her shoulders heaved as if she were crying.

  Jim Drummond shook his head. She’s crazy, he thought to himself. But Madame Rosie’s words stayed in his mind. He could not forget them. When he got back to the car, Judy was sitting hunched up in the seat, her lips set.

  “Honey, did you ever see that woman before?” Papa asked.

  “Yes, at that carnival we went to in Alabama,” said Judy.

  “Did you tell her we was poor, honey?”

  “I never said a word to her, Papa,” said Judy. “I was too scared to talk. I saw her sittin’ in her tent. She tells fortunes for fifty cents.”

  Still Papa could not understand it.

  “There! That’s her tent there.” Judy pointed across the street and read the sign: MADAME ROSIE—PALM READINGS—SPEAKS SEVEN LANGUAGES. She’s part of that trailer camp, I reckon.”

  Papa was thoughtful. “Likely she can read our minds,” he said.

  Papa bought groceries on the way home, and when they got back, Judy displayed the feed sack. Mama put it in a bucket of water to soak the grain and dust out.

  “Better not go near Missy with that feed-sack dress on,” warned Papa. “She can smell that grain a mile off—even after you wash it out.”

  After supper the Holloways came over for a visit.

  “We-uns come here winters and go up north summers,” said Mr. Holloway. He was a tall, thin-cheeked mountain man. “This-here’s our fourth year.”

  “Up north? You mean back to Tennessee where you come from?” asked Papa.

  “No,” said Holloway. “I can’t make me a living there. We go to South Jersey—big crop of peaches and vegetables there. We-uns can git work steady the whole endurin’ summer, but I don’t see no sense to workin’ when I don’t feel like it. When a nice day comes along, I’m one to stop and enjoy it. We-uns cleared over five hundred dollars last season at that—me and the ole lady both pickin’. Bought us our ear, a good un too.”

  “How’d you find out about goin’ up there?” asked Papa.

  “One feller, old neighbor o’ mine from Newport, Tennessee, went first just to see what that-ere part of the world was like. He made a heap o’ money and come on back home and told his neighbors. The next year other families went and tried it. Now there’s a passel o’ Tennessee folks go up thar every summer. They all come back with their pockets full o’ cash for the winter.”

  “We-uns don’t favor Tennessee in winter,” said Mrs. Holloway. “Florida’s more to our taste.”

  “That-ere farmer up in Jersey treats us fine for the most part,” Holloway went on. “Gives us a two-story house to live in .…”

  “A real house?” gasped Mama.

  “Yes ma’m,” said Mrs. Holloway.

  “Better try Jersey come summer,” said Holloway.

  The next day Joe Bob and Mister Mulligan finished Missy’s shed. They all went out to look at it. It had a wooden framework and tin on the top and two sides. Joe Bob was very proud of it.

  “What you limping for?” asked Mrs. Harmon. “Hurt yourself?”

  “Oh, it’s nothin’,” said the boy. He sat down and looked at his leg. “Jest a little bump and a cut.”

  The leg was badly swollen and the cut looked sore. When Joe Bob tried to get up, he could hardly walk.

  “If I was you folks,” said Mrs. Harmon, “I’d do something.”

  “What?” asked Mama, frightened. “What can we do?”

  “They got a clinic over at the government camp in Belle Glade, and outsiders can go there for medical help,” said Mrs. Harmon, “but that’s a long ways from here. All you need is First Aid.”

  “What’s that?” asked Mama.

  “Good land! Don’t you know?” asked Mrs. Harmon. “First Aid is gettin’ that cut washed out good and clean, and bandaged so no germs can get in it.”

  “What’s ‘germs’?” asked Mama.

  “I’ll wash it,” said Judy. “I’m not afraid of blood.”

  “I’d do it myself,” said Mrs. Harmon, “but I’m afraid to use this canal water. It might infect it. There’s only one thing to do—take him to school, to the school nurse. She’ll fix it up. Better hurry and get there before school lets out.”

  “School?” gasped Judy. “They got a nurse at school? What’ll she do to Joe Bob?”

  “Good gracious, child, she won’t hurt him none,” said Mrs. Harmon. “Don’t look so scared. She’ll fix your brother’s leg so it will get well quick. It don’t pay to let a thing like that go. That cut’s a deep one—she might have to take some stitches in it.”

  “You mean she’ll sew it up?” demanded Judy, wide-eyed.

  Joe Bob and Cora Jane began to cry. Then Lonnie started in.

  “Calla, you stay here and get them kids quieted down,” said Papa. “I’ll take the boy to school, like Miz Harmon says. Judy can come too, and find the nurse.”

  “Just ask Bessie,” said Mrs. Harmon. “She’ll tell you where the nurse is.”

  Judy gulped. She would have to go back to school again.

  It did not take long to get there in the jalopy, and school was not out yet. Judy went bravely in and Papa followed, carrying Joe Bob. He set him down by the door and they waited.

  It was the hardest thing Judy ever did in her life—knock on the door of Miss Garvin’s room. But knock she did.

  “What? You back?” asked Miss Garvin. “Didn’t I send you to Third Grade?”

  “Bessie … I want Bessie …” stammered Judy. “My brother’s hurt …”

  Miss Garvin called Bessie, and almost before they knew it, they were all in the nurse’s office. The nurse was little and pretty and her name was Miss Burnette. She examined Joe Bob’s leg and said, “We’ll fix that in a jiffy.” She laid out adhesive tape and rolls of bandage. “But first we must wash it clean and disinfect it.”

  Joe Bob did not cry at all. He just watched what the nurse did.

  “We was scared to wash it in canal water,” said Judy.

  “That was right,” said Miss Burnette. “If you ever have to use water you are not sure of, boil it first.” As she worked, she talked about the importance of cleanliness and of taking care of even minor injuries.

  A man wearing a white coat came into the room.

  “This boy has hurt his leg, Doctor,” said the nurse.

  The doctor set to work and before Jo
e Bob knew what had happened, it was all over. “Good thing to have a few stitches in that cut,” said the doctor.

  “Did … did you … sew me up, Doc?” asked Joe Bob, surprised.

  “Yes,” said the doctor, laughing.

  “Come back in two days for another dressing,” said Miss Burnette.

  Joe Bob limped to the car with Papa’s help. Then school was dismissed and Bessie climbed in the back seat with Judy.

  Judy squeezed Bessie’s arm. “Oh, I do like school after all!” she said.

  CHAPTER VII

  Bean Town

  “JOE BOB’S LEG IS well again,” announced Judy one day several weeks later. “The nurse took the bandage off.”

  Judy and Joe Bob stopped in at Mrs. Harmon’s to pick up Lonnie. Lonnie was walking now and he stayed with Mrs. Harmon while Papa and Mama went to the bean house to work and the children were in school. Judy had bravely entered the Third Grade and was happy with her new teacher, Miss Norris.

  “Land sakes!” said Mrs. Harmon. “So she did, and his leg looks as good as new.”

  All the canal children came running up and everybody looked at Joe Bob’s leg.

  “I’m going to be a nurse when I grow up,” said Judy. “Just see what Miss Burnette gave me.”

  The children crowded close—Joe Bob, Cora Jane and Lonnie, Gwyn Holloway and Tessie with their baby sister in her arms, and the new twins, Roberta and Rosella Parish who had recently come to live on the canal bank. Judy displayed a First Aid kit.

  “It’s got everything in it—mercurochrome, adhesive tape, and gauze for bandages,” said Judy proudly. “Traveling around so much, Miss Burnette said we might need it. And she told me what to do with everything.”

  “My baby’s got a cut on her finger,” said Tessie Holloway.

  “I’ll fix it,” said Judy. She washed the cut and bandaged it neatly.

  “I got a baby too,” said Rosella Parish. “I think she’s got a cut, I’ll go get her.”

  Soon seven-year-old Rosella came staggering out with a fat baby in her arms. “She ain’t got a cut, but her hands are stuck shut, and she cries if you try to open ’em. Her toes are stuck together too, and her feet are sore.”

  “I can’t fix that,” said Judy, closing her kit. “You take her to the nurse at school. That’s muck-sores. It comes from lettin’ her play in the dirt—this black muck. It makes people’s skin raw and sore. White people can’t stand it to pick beans in the muck fields, their skin gets too sore. Even the colored people get it, but not so bad. Miss Burnette was tellin’ about it. You take the baby to the clinic at school.”

  “I got a dozen mosquito bites,” said Gwyn Holloway, but Judy had closed her kit.

  “Read us outa your book, Judy,” begged Tessie.

  “Yes, let’s play school,” begged the others.

  Judy put her First Aid kit inside the tent and brought out her Geography. She sat down on a crate and the children clustered round. They squirmed uneasily, scratching mosquito bites.

  “Now children,” began Judy, “what does it say on the book?”

  “‘A New World Lies Before Us!’” chanted the children in unison.

  “And we want to learn all about the country we live in,” added Judy. “Here’s the map of the United States. Today I want each of you to tell me where you came from and we’ll find it on the map.”

  First Joe Bob pointed out Troy, Alabama, then Tessie found Newport, Tennessee. The twins looked in Arkansas for Bald Knob but could not find it.

  Just then Papa and Mama came home.

  “Papa, we can’t find it,” said Judy. “Bald Knob just ain’t in Arkansas at all.”

  The twins began to cry. “Yes it is! Yes it is! We came from there.”

  Papa took the Geography and looked all over the state of Arkansas. “It’s there all right,” he said. “I think it’s that tiny little black speck. They just forgot to print the name.” The children all looked at the black speck and the twins were very proud. Then they looked for Lake Okeechobee and Judy pointed out Bean Town. The children all put a finger on it. “That’s where we are right now,” they said.

  “All of us here live in the Southern States,” Judy went on. “When we study the New England States I’ll show you where a girl in my class lives. Now tell me, what are the products of the Southern States?”

  The children looked at each other. Nobody knew.

  “What do they grow in the Southern States?” repeated Judy. “Cotton,” answered Joe Bob. “We used to pick it.”

  “Cotton,” echoed the twins. “We picked it too.”

  “Sugar cane,” said Gwyn Holloway.

  “Cane syrup and ’lasses,” added Tessie.

  “Lumber—pine trees and turpentine,” said Joe Bob. “We saw them tapping the trees in Georgia and North Florida. We saw turpentine camps.”

  After Judy read a few paragraphs aloud, the children began to shout all at once: “Oranges from Florida!” “Apples from Arkansas!” “Tobacco from North Carolina and Tennessee!” “Peaches from Georgia!” “Rice and salt from Louisiana!” “Cattle and wool from Texas!”

  “Tomorrow we will study the rivers of the Southern States,” said Judy. “Class dismissed.” The children scattered and began to play.

  “They’re learnin’ more outa that ole book than they do at school,” said Mama.

  “Judy has a way with her,” said Mrs. Harmon. “Tells me she’s gonna be a nurse when she grows up.”

  Mama laughed. “All because of Joe Bob’s leg. Don’t know which she likes the best, that school nurse or Miss Norris, her teacher. She’s a big girl to be only in Third Grade, but she says there’s some eleven and twelve years old in the class. They’re from families who follow the crops and they miss a lot of school.”

  “She’ll soon catch up to Fifth Grade where she belongs,” said Mrs. Harmon, “if you folks stay here and keep her in school.”

  “That’s just the trouble,” sighed Mama. “We was countin’ on steady work and gittin’ a little cash money ahead. But it don’t seem to be much. Each day the field hands can’t start pickin’ the beans till the vines dry off about eleven in the morning. We go to the bean house at noon and hang around, waitin’ for the belts to start.” Today they didn’t start till two and then ran for only an hour. We git twenty-five cents an hour, so we made fifty cents—the two of us.”

  “What does Jim do in the bean house?” asked Mrs. Harmon.

  “First one thing, then another,” said Mama. “Sometimes he packs beans, sometimes he catches ’em, sometimes he works on a loading crew—that is, on the busy days. On slack days, the men just hang around like the women-folks.”

  “Yesterday you didn’t work at all, did you?” asked Mrs. Harmon.

  “No, on account of the rain they couldn’t pick, so we didn’t earn a penny. And every day the whole family’s got to eat,” said Mama. “If we can’t earn more’n this, we’ll have to move on, and that’ll put the young uns back in their school work. Their Papa’s set on ’em learnin’ somethin’.”

  “Don’t go yet,” said Mrs. Harmon. “The peak of the bean season will soon be here, and then you can earn a-plenty and git caught up.”

  Mrs. Harmon was right.

  Suddenly the crop reached its peak and the bean houses ran day and night, weekdays and Sundays. It was a rushing life. Papa and Mama were gone from noon till midnight, sometimes till 2 A.M. Then they would come in exhausted and throw themselves on the mattress without taking trouble to undress. Several times they did not get back until 5:30 the next morning. Judy took care of the children after school, got them their evening meal and put them to bed on their bundle of quilts. She was glad Mrs. Harmon was so near, at night.

  The Drummonds needed money badly. Every extra hour that Mama and Papa could stick it out meant a few cents more. There was the back rent for camping on the canal bank and the always over-due grocery bill to be paid. New clothes were needed, and they must try to save a little. Nobody knew how long the peak of
the bean harvest would last or what job would come next. The future was dark and uncertain.

  Judy got used to having her parents away in the afternoon. Sometimes, coming back from school, she took Joe Bob and Cora Jane and walked through the main street of Bean Town to look in the show windows. They made up a game, picking out things in the windows that they liked best.

  One day they met Madame Rosie. They came upon her so suddenly there was no escape. Madame Rosie bought them all double ice-cream cones and led them to her tent. Joe Bob and Cora Jane sat still, pretty scared, licking hard on their cones to keep them from dripping. Judy was surprised to find her shyness gone. It was as easy to talk to Madame Rosie as to Mrs. Harmon.

  “You told my fortune once, didn’t you?” said Judy.

  “You bet, and a beautiful fortune I saw for you too, dearie,” said Madame Rosie. “But tell me—what do you eat for breakfast?”

  “Mama’s workin’ all night in the bean house now,” said Judy. “She gets doggone tard watchin’ them beans go by in the glarin’ light and with all the noise of the machinery. She’s so sleepy in the morning, sometimes she don’t git up at all. I can cook fried bread as good as she can——”

  “‘Fried bread,’ what’s that?” asked Madame Rosie sharply.

  “It’s jest self-risin’ flour and water,” said Judy. “You mix it with your hand and throw it in a skillet with grease.”

  “I never heard o’ fried bread where I come from,” said Madame Rosie.

  “Where’s that?” asked Judy eagerly.

  “Well, from most everywhere,” said the woman.

  “Mister Mulligan comes from everywhere too,” said Judy, “but he was born in Killarney, Ireland. I showed it to him on the map.”

  “Oh, I was born in Chicago, but——” began Madame Rosie.

  “That’s in the Central States,” said Judy. “I’ll bring my Geography and show you some time.”

  But Madame Rosie was more interested in food than in Geography, perhaps because she herself was so well fed. “What does that fried bread look like?” she persisted.