Tommy caught Jimmy’s arm and pulled him away from Kathyanne. “For Pete’s sake!” he said, shaking Jimmy. “I didn’t know you were such a big cry-baby, Jimmy. Don’t you ever beg to go around with me again. I’m through with you from now on. You stay away from me after this.”
“I want to go home!” he sobbed, unashamed.
“You ought’ve stayed home tonight and sucked a sugar-tit,” Tommy told him.
The startling bright beam of a flashlight suddenly burst upon them. Nobody moved. Then the dazzling beam moved slowly around the shed, momentarily revealing the terrified expression of each of the boys in turn. Finally it illuminated Kathyanne’s gleaming nakedness.
Somebody whispered, “There’s going to be all kinds of hell to pay now. I wish I’d gone to the movies tonight.”
“All right, boys,” a loud and familiar voice called out behind them. “I know every one of you. The fun’s over. Turn around and walk out the door one at a time. And don’t nobody try to knock this flashlight out of my hand, neither. I’ll slam you silly with this pistol butt. Now, get started like I told you. When you get outside, keep on walking, and don’t come back, neither.”
Tommy was the first to turn around. “It’s Will Hanford,” he said. “How’d he know we were back here?”
“It’s my business to know what goes on around town at night, Tommy,” Will told him, laughing at the rueful sound of his voice.
“It’s all your fault, Tommy Blackburn,” Jimmy said accusingly. “You made me come. I didn’t want to. I want to go home.”
“Aw, dry up, cry-baby!” Tommy told him.
The night patrolman, waving the beam of light back and forth, went to the side of the shed and waited.
“It’s me, all right, boys,” Will said, pleased with his accidental discovery of them. “Tending to my business as usual. Nothing goes on in Estherville that I don’t know about. Now, you boys go home. Everyone of you. I don’t want to catch none of you out on the street again tonight. I know who you are, and if I want you, I know where to find you. The less you talk about this, the better off you’ll be, if you want to take my advice. If you don’t want your folks to find out what I caught you at, just keep your mouths shut from now on. I’ll tell you something else, too. The next time you want to nuzzle one of these high-yellows, you’d better be sure it’s outside the city limits. Now, get going and don’t stop till you’re home. One at a time now. Tommy, you go first. Hurry it up now, like I tell you.”
The five boys left the shed one by one, and as each boy reached the alley he broke into a run. Jimmy Pugh, the last to leave, could be heard crying all the way up the street.
After they had left, Will Hanford switched off the flashlight and went for one of the empty packing cases to sit down on. Kathyanne hurriedly put on her dress before Will got back.
“Well, Kathyanne,” Will began talking to her, “you went and got yourself in trouble tonight, didn’t you? A good-looking girl like you ought to be more careful. You ought to know better than fool around with those school kids, anyhow. Kids like them will always get you in trouble. They don’t know nothing at that age.”
“I didn’t do anything, Mr. Hanford,” she protested earnestly. “It wasn’t my fault at all. It was those white boys. They made me come in this shed. That’s the truth, Mr. Hanford.”
Will laughed at her.
“I’m telling the honest truth, Mr. Hanford,” she pleaded.
“You ought to know it won’t do you no good to try to put the blame on them, Kathyanne. Nobody’ll ever believe it. You colored girls around town start all the trouble, and you know it. I’ve never seen a colored girl yet who wouldn’t egg on a white boy. You know good and well not a single one of those boys would’ve been in this shed if you hadn’t got them to come back here. You couldn’t lie out of me finding you in here naked to the skin with them, now could you? See how it is? You can’t fool me. I see too much of it around town to be fooled. I’ve heard all the tales you colored girls’ve made up, thinking some fancy story will keep you out of the jailhouse.”
“Mr. Hanford, they caught me out there in front of the drug store while I was on my way home and brought me back here. I didn’t want to come. I didn’t even see them till they jumped out and caught me. That’s the honest truth, Mr. Hanford. They’d tell you that, if you asked them. I just know they would. Please ask them.”
“I didn’t hear you yelling for help,” he remarked, laughing at her efforts to convince him. “I’ve been in this part of town since dark, too.”
“I didn’t try to do that, because I was afraid they’d hurt me if I did.”
“Is that so?” he said, with a loud mocking laugh. “If it went to court, and they testified you lured them to this alley, you wouldn’t want to see yourself stand up and swear on the Bible that five white boys were telling a lie, would you now, Kathyanne? That wouldn’t show good sense, would it?”
“No, sir, but—”
“Then quit that lying about it.”
“But, Mr. Hanford, I’m not—”
“If you’re smart, you’ll leave things just like they are. When you go to court in the morning, it’ll only be twenty-five days or twenty-five dollars. That’s all. Have you got twenty-five dollars to pay the fine with?”
“No, sir, Mr. Hanford,” she answered, frightened.
“I can do a little talking, and I could find somebody who’d maybe pay your fine for you, if all went well.”
“I don’t want you to do that, Mr. Hanford,” she told him.
Will lit a cigarette and then offered one to her. She shook her head. By that time, Will had moved close to her.
“I’ll tell you something, Kathyanne,” he began, moving the box until he was touching her. “I think maybe I could help you out, myself. I don’t always do it, you understand, but this time I might could. I’ve seen you around town a lot of times, and I always get the notion I’d like the chance to talk it over with you. This is the first really good chance I’ve had. How’s that strike you?”
“What do you mean, Mr. Hanford?”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind helping you out, instead of letting somebody else do it, if you want to listen to reason. I don’t have to make it hard on you, unless I want to. Nobody knows about it yet, except those kids, and I scared them out of opening their mouths. That’s what I’m getting around to. What do you say, Kathyanne? I think maybe I’d like to forget all about it and let you go on home tonight.”
He was watching her closely. She did not say anything.
“That’s right, Kathyanne. I’ll play ball with you, if you’ll play with me. You’ll have to promise not to say anything about it, though. I’ve got a job to protect. That’s the important thing. Now, me and you. There’s plenty of places around town where I can always get anything good I want, but I don’t know nobody that’s got your looks to go along with it. You’re one hell of a good-looking woman all the way from the ground up. I’d say that about you any time of the day or night. It’s a shame you had to go and get born colored instead of white. But that don’t bother me. I always could get crazier in the head over a half-and-half than I could over a pure white. I’d make a fool of myself over you. Now, what do you say, Kathyanne? Just me and you. Them kids’ll never talk. They’re too scared.”
He stopped and swung his knee against her leg.
“You don’t want to have to go to jail, do you, Kathyanne?” he said meaningfully. “And you don’t have to, neither, if you play ball with me. You know that. I don’t have to take you in. All you have to do is get agreeable and you can forget all about that jailhouse. There’s no sense in a good-looking girl like you going behind the bars. I know you don’t want to stand up in court tomorrow morning. What do you say now, Kathyanne? Want to get in the ball game?”
Kathyanne got up, shaking her head. While she waited before him, she could see his face harden with anger.
“Is that what you want to do—turn me down?”
She nodded.
“Too dumb to know when you’re well off, ain’t you?”
“Dumb—and too good for you.”
Will jumped up, knocking over the wooden crate. “I’ll learn you!” He drew back his fist and hit her.
She fell on the floor. Before she could move, he kicked her with the heel of his shoe. After that she was blinded by the bright beam of light in her eyes.
“Some day you’re going to get paid back for mistreating people the way you do,” she told him.
“I never could stand to be turned down cold by a nigger wench,” he was saying angrily. “I wish I’d let those white boys stay and rough you up like they wanted to. I’m sorry now I chased them off. Five of them would’ve roughed you up good and plenty. You goddam stuck-up nigger wenches never have learned to appreciate what a white man can do for you. Just let some flashy buck nigger come along and you’ll bust your buttons for him. But let some white man, who can do something for you, come along, and you get goody-goody all of a sudden. Looks like there’s no known way to get sense through a thick nigger skull. That’s one reason I never could like a nigger—you can’t learn them nothing.”
“One of these days somebody’s going to shoot you, Mr. Hanford, and I’ll be one of those who’s glad to hear about it.”
Catching her arm in a tight grasp, he jerked her to her feet. “Come on to the jailhouse, nigger. Maybe next time you get a chance to play ball with a white man you’ll have some sense in that nigger head of yours. Maybe you’ll listen next time. When you stand up in court tomorrow morning, you’re going to get the book thrown at you. I’ll see to that, unless some white man comes along and wants to make a deal with me. No stuck-up nigger wench’s going to turn me down cold like you done and get away with it. I’ll make you sorry. Come on!”
He pushed her forward toward the door and she went stumbling helplessly into the alley. When Will caught up with her, he gave another shove and took out his pistol to have it handy in case he wanted to use it.
Chapter 7
GANUS WAS STRETCHED OUT on the wooden bench drowsing in the shade of the awning when Harry Daitch came out of the store and shook him awake. It was a sultry August midafternoon, and ordinarily, there were no grocery orders to deliver at that time of day. Most of the housewives in town did their marketing in the early morning hours, especially during the hot summer months; and, since deliveries were usually completed by noon, Ganus, as a rule, was more than apt to find an opportunity to drowse for an hour or two between dinner-time and five o’clock. The hour from five to six, week in and week out, was the busiest time of day at Daitch’s Market, not that the dollar volume or the stock turnover was large then, as actually both were meager, but it was due to the great variety of small everyday household necessities that had been overlooked in the rush and turmoil of morning shopping. This was the time of day when people phoned Harry at the last minute and asked him please to hurry and send Ganus with a loaf of light bread or a bottle of catchup in time for supper. As most families in Estherville ate supper at six or six-thirty, Harry did his best to please his customers by promising that Ganus would get the bread or the catchup to them by the time they sat down at the table. It was not unusual to see Ganus Bazemore pedaling his bicycle at breakneck speed through the streets between five and six o’clock with a bottle of catchup bouncing around in the wire basket on the handlebar and trying to get to the Hunnicuts’ or to the Barksdales’ house in time for them to pour it on the calf’s liver or the sausage cakes. Some families, such as the Watsons and the Crawfords, liked to spread catchup on their sliced bread before eating a bite of anything else and, if Ganus were late, they were the ones who became the most enraged, threatening to take their trade elsewhere if Harry Daitch ever let it happen again.
Sleepy-headed and with dragging feet, Ganus got up and followed Harry into the store. He stood at the counter beside the cash register rubbing his eyes and yawning while Harry wrapped up the order he had just taken over the telephone, and entered it in the charge-book.
Harry shoved the package across the counter to Ganus.
“Mrs. Vernice Weathersbee wants this loaf of bread and pack of Luckies delivered right away, Ganus. Don’t stop along the street and talk to somebody and forget where to take it, either. She’s in a big hurry, so don’t keep her waiting. I don’t want her to phone back in half an hour and complain that you haven’t even got there yet. You know where she lives up there on Cypress Street in that little yellow bungalow with the green trim. You’ve delivered to her lots of times. Now don’t get all balled up and make a mistake and leave her order at the wrong house. If you’d stop that napping every afternoon, you wouldn’t get so woozy. Now, get yourself wide awake before you leave here so you’ll know where you’re going and what you’re supposed to do.”
Ganus’ mouth had fallen open. His eyes were large and white. “Who—who—who did you say take it to, Mr. Harry?” he asked, coming fully awake at the realization that he had heard Vernice Weathersbee’s name spoken. “Are you sure about that, Mr. Harry—it couldn’t happen to be somebody else, could it, Mr. Harry?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” Harry said. “I talked to her myself on the phone less than five minutes ago.”
Ganus’ head was bobbing around loosely on his neck. “You don’t mean that white lady up there in that little old yellow bungalow with the fig tree in the backyard—do you, Mr. Harry?”
“How would I know if she’s got a fig tree in her backyard, or up her chimney?” Harry said, becoming provoked. “I don’t snoop around my customers’ backyards to see what kind of trees they’ve got. I’m talking about Mrs. Vernice Weathersbee. The grass widow up there in Cypress Street. You know who I’m talking about. You made a delivery to her the first part of the week.”
Ganus drew a long deep breath. “Yes, sir,” he admitted with a dismal sigh. “I reckon I do know, Mr. Harry.”
“And she said tell you to bring the things in the house and put them on the kitchen table like you used to. She said the last time you dropped everything on the back steps and ran off. Now, I don’t want that to happen again. You hear, Ganus? You knock on her back door and go on in the kitchen like you ought to. Mrs. Weathersbee’s a good buying customer and pays her bills fairly on time—at any rate, she pays a hell of a lot sooner than some folks I could name. I don’t want her taking her trade somewhere else.”
With a fearsome feeling darting through his stomach, Ganus reluctantly picked up the package containing the bread and cigarettes as though it were the last thing on earth he wanted to touch. His lips moved wordlessly several times.
“What’s the matter now?” Harry asked him.
“Mr. Harry,” he said apprehensively, “you don’t happen to know offhand about somebody else who might just accidentally happen to be going up that way past that white lady’s house and might could do us a real big favor and leave off the groceries for her, do you?”
Harry had started to the stock room in the rear of the store. When he heard Ganus, he turned around with a puzzled look. He stood there tugging nervously at his left earlobe.
“What was that, Ganus?” he asked, looking still more puzzled.
Swallowing first, and then in halting speech, Ganus said, “I—I—I thought somebody else—he might could leave them off at her house—if it was all right with you, Mr. Harry. I sure would be mighty much obliged.”
Harry came striding all the way back to the counter.
“Ganus, do you want to quit your job—is that what all this beating around the bush is about?”
“No, sir, Mr. Harry!” Ganus was quick to assure him. “I wouldn’t go and do a downright foolish thing like that. I want to hold on to this job, Mr. Harry. It’s the finest job I ever had in all my life. I wouldn’t let it get away from me for anything in the world. No, sir, Mr. Harry!”
“Then what’s all this talk about not wanting to deliver Mrs. Weathersbee’s order?”
Seeing Harry’s unsympathetic attitude, Ganus began to worry. He was sorr
y now that he had allowed himself to say anything at all about Vernice Weathersbee’s order. He clutched the package tightly in both arms as though afraid Harry would snatch it from him and hire another boy to make deliveries. He hastily backed toward the door with it. Harry followed him as far as the middle of the store.
“Now, look here, Ganus—” Harry began threateningly.
“Mr. Harry, I didn’t mean to say anything like that,” he pleaded, his voice rising to a high pitch and quavering with anxiety. “My tongue got slipped up somehow or other, it looks like. I want to hustle these groceries straightway up there to the white lady’s house just like you said. Anytime you want to send something up there, all you have to do is just mention it to me, and I’ll hustle it up there and put it smack-dab on the kitchen table just like you said. Please, sir, don’t go and hire another boy and take away my fine job. I’m always going to do exactly like you tell me every time. Don’t you worry, Mr. Harry. Don’t you worry one whit.”
“You’re the one who’d better start worrying, if I ever hear you talk like that again,” Harry warned him. “There’s plenty of other good boys who want this job. You’d better remember that, Ganus. If you don’t keep on your toes, and watch your talk, you’ll find yourself out of a job so quick it’ll make you dizzy. I’m not fooling, neither.”
Ganus ran out of the store and jumped on his bicycle. He pedaled furiously up Peachtree Street and, cutting the corner recklessly, went down Cypress Street as fast as he could toward the yellow clapboarded bungalow in the middle of the block. It was a small four-room dwelling with a weather-warped shingle roof. Volunteer grass and a rank growth of knee-high weeds covered the untended front yard. Powdery plow-dust drifting in from the country fields had settled on the front porch and blowing rain had hardened it into a reddish crust on the railings and floor. Plantings of camellias and blue iris were struggling valiantly to survive without care. Ganus was out of breath when he rode into the backyard and leaned his bicycle against the fig tree at the bottom of the kitchen steps.