“Blue one looks mighty nice.” I turned as Mama came in. She felt the soft cotton of the dress. “Always did favor blue.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know. I like red myself.”
She stood behind me and gazed at me in the mirror. “You know, sugar,” she said, pulling my braid back down, “we’re going to miss you. We were thinking we weren’t going to have to say good-bye until after we took you to Jackson but now that Stacey’s come home with a car, you’ll be going with him. Have to admit, though, I’m a bit sorry that your papa and I won’t be taking you back. I was rather looking forward to it.”
“Well, Mama, you and Papa can still come.”
“No. There’s the cotton to pick so it’s better we stay here. We’ll get up to Jackson another time.” She smiled, reconciling herself to that time to come, then moved away and sat on the bed. She glanced at the red dress. “One of these dresses for church tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am. Wanted to wear something real nice.”
“That couldn’t have anything to do with Moe, could it?”
“Aw, Mama, you know I’ve got no mind on Moe!”
“I know that’s what you keep saying.”
“Well, I keep saying it because that’s the truth.” I put the blue dress down, hung the red dress in front of me again, and bragged, “I do look so good in red.”
Mama laughed and agreed. “But you also look good in blue, and if I recall, Moe is right partial to blue.”
I laid the red dress on the bed again. “I’m not dressing for Moe.”
Mama smoothed out the hem and said nothing.
Then I, too, sat on the bed, the dresses between us. “Mama, you know how I feel about Moe. Moe likes to tease about wanting to court me, but he knows I know he’s teasing. Besides, girls start courting, they’re thinking on getting married, and pretty soon that’s what happens.”
Mama studied me. “Thought you wanted to get married one day.”
“Yes, ma’am, one day. But I figure to do like you. You went ahead and got your teaching degree before you even met Papa, and you’ve been teaching ever since, except for that bad spell. You’d’ve been married, you most likely never would’ve gotten that degree.”
“Maybe not.”
Mama spread her fingers over the bodice of the red dress, then looked at me. “Listen, sugar, I want you to go to college as much as you want to go yourself. Wanted that for Stacey, too, but he chose to go to work.” She spoke those words evenly, without emotion, though there had been a time when she had gone ’round and ’round with Stacey about staying in school. “But I also want you to be honest about Moe and how you feel about him. He’s such a fine boy, and you should watch out for his feelings too.”
“Well, I don’t have anything to do with his feelings!”
Mama didn’t accept that. “Of course you do.” She glanced at the dresses again. “Any girl who looks for a special dress to wear for a young man has got to know that.”
“He’s my friend,” I said quietly, “and I want things to stay that way. I’ve seen how sometimes a boy and a girl be getting along just fine, and then they start seeing each other seriously, and then they break up, they can’t hardly speak to each other after that. Been better if they hadn’t even gotten together.”
“Well, I don’t think Moe would act that way, and I certainly don’t think you would.”
“Well, I still figure courting can get in the way of a good friendship. And most times I think that’s all there is with us. I mean, I really like being with Moe, and I like it when he pays me some attention. I can talk to Moe about just anything. But, Mama, Moe doesn’t stay on my mind like I figure a boy’s supposed to, and top of that I don’t go getting all excited when I see him. I miss him when he’s not around, but I don’t be crying about it. I miss him like I miss Stacey, and I figure Moe feels the same about me.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
I grew solemn. I hadn’t thought about that. I had just always figured Moe did feel the same. “Ah, Mama . . . I’d hate to think Moe was feeling something different from the way I feel. I ever thought he was, it’d spoil everything.”
“Spoil what?” asked Big Ma, coming in.
“We were talking about Moe,” I said.
Big Ma just looked at me, then she looked at the dresses. “Moe got somethin’ t’ do with all these here dresses on the bed?”
“Cassie’s trying to decide which one to wear tomorrow,” Mama said, turning to look again at the dresses herself.
“She oughta be in here packing,” asserted Big Ma, even though she knew perfectly well that my packing had been done for weeks now, since before I got sick. She came over to the bed and scrutinized the dresses, then picked up the red dress. “I like this one. Moe will too.”
I jumped up and slammed my hands to my hips in vexation. “Now, what I want to know is how come Moe’s name keep coming up about these dresses?”
Big Ma ignored me and thrust the dress toward me. “Try it on!” she ordered.
Mama laughed. “Go ahead. Let’s see which one shows you off best.”
Feeling a bit exasperated, I took off my blouse and skirt, then slipped on the dress. Mama got up and undid my braid, then combed it out and tied my hair with a ribbon. When she was finished, she and Big Ma stood back satisfied as I pranced around in front of the mirror admiring myself. I was pretty and I knew it. I didn’t think much about it, though. It was just one of those things I was, and I didn’t dwell on it, except for when I had on something especially nice and was wanting to look my best.
“Don’t wear out that mirror, now,” admonished Big Ma, knowing I was thinking I was looking pretty cute. “Here, try on the blue one here.”
I laughed and started to take off the dress. As I pulled it over my head there was a crisp knock on the door and Little Man called: “’Ey, Cassie! Harris and Clarence and Willie, they’re here! You still going hunting with us?”
“Course I am!” I hollered through the material, and hurried to get out of the dress.
Big Ma slapped at my arm. “Girl, hang on there! You gonna tear this thing.” She helped me out of it, then cast Mama an accusing glance. “Y’all still gonna let her go?”
Mama smiled at Big Ma’s continued disapproval. “Mama, now, you know she’s gone plenty of times before.”
Big Ma sighed in disgust. “Y’all jus’ spoils this girl!” she declared once more. “Here, give me that dress, Cassie! Whiles you out prancin’ ’round them woods, s’pose I best run the iron over one of ’em for ya, you gon’ wear it in the mornin’. Which one you gonna wear?” She didn’t give me time to answer as she took up both dresses. “‘Spect I best go on and iron ’em both. Knowin’ you, you likely to change your mind come mornin’.”
“Thank you, Big Ma,” I said cheerfully, and gave her a quick hug.
“Humph!” she grumped and went on out.
I laughed and hurried into my blouse, then started to pull on my skirt. “You going hunting with the boys,” Mama said, “you best wear that old, faded flowered skirt. This one’s too nice.”
“What I need to be wearing is a pair of pants.”
“You know how I feel about that.”
“But, Mama, it just makes sense to wear pants!”
“That flowered skirt is washed and ironed and hanging up there in that closet somewhere. You best find it and put it on if you’re going. Hunting is one thing, but wearing pants at your age is another. You planning on arguing with me about it, I’ve got the time. Do you?”
“Suppose not,” I grumbled. “Wouldn’t do any good anyway.”
“I think you’re most likely right about that,” she said, heading for the door. “Be sure you hang up that other skirt before you go. You can take it to Jackson with you and wear it again before it’s washed.” She reached the door and looked back at me. “You look mighty pretty in both those dresses, sugar.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Mama.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, sm
iling too. Then she left.
Little Man hollered for me again from the porch.
“All right, all right, I’m coming!” I shot back. I grabbed the flowered skirt from the closet and threw it on. Underneath it I pulled on a pair of Stacey’s old pants that I kept well tucked away at the back of my drawer, rolled them up above my knees, and hurried out to join the boys. I was eager for the hunt.
The Hunt
The thing about going on a coon hunt was that a body had to be totally prepared, and that included taking along every item of importance. Before we left the house, we made sure we had ourselves a goodly size bag of peanuts, some potatoes for baking, a couple of jugs of cider, a kerosene lantern, matches, a flashlight, hunting knives, hunting bags, a rifle, and an ax. Then we set out for the cane field, where we chopped ourselves some cane. Now that we had all the essentials, we were ready. With three hound dogs along and with Stacey carrying the rifle, we set off for the woods.
The hunt had begun.
Clarence Hopkins led the way into the moonlit forest. The day had cooled considerably and was no longer miserable. A slight wind stirred. When we reached the Caroline, I slipped off my skirt, folded it lengthwise, and hung it neatly on the branch of a pine. The boys paid no attention and walked on. I had done this same thing plenty of times before. I rolled down my pants legs, then ran to catch up with the boys.
Wearing rubber boots to protect our feet from the damp of the forest floor, for some time we walked single file along the trail. Finally we came to the ridge leading down to the Rosa Lee and stopped. Earlier Harris and Clarence had baited several traps with fish, covered the traps with leaves and brush, and secured them to tree roots at the edge of the creek. We decided to wait until later to check them. We left the ridge and moved back into the forest to set up a camp that would be far removed from the traps, so that the dogs wouldn’t be drawn to them. Then the hounds picked up a scent and we released them to track the coons. Now we got down to the fun part of the hunt. We gathered some wood and built ourselves a fire, then roasted our peanuts and potatoes, peeled our sugarcane, and settled back around the fire to await the barking of the dogs.
“Won’t be long now,” predicted Harris, sipping at a cider jug. “Ole T-Bone gonna soon be on the scent.”
The rest of us laughed. T-Bone was Harris’s dog and had lost whatever hunting skills he was supposed to have practically the day after he was born.
“Ah, man,” said Little Willie, “that ole T-Bone couldn’t smell a coon if you put it right up under his nose.”
“Shoot, I don’t even think he know what his nose is for!” declared Clarence.
“Excepting to get him into trouble,” I contended. “Remember that time we came down hunting with Mr. Morrison and old T-Bone was stupid enough to follow that coon down to the water and that coon near to drowned him—”
“Would’ve too,” said Little Man, “Mr. Morrison hadn’t’ve come along! Old coon just sitting there in the water, holding T-Bone’s head under!”
Christopher-John shook his head. “Poor ole T-Bone,” he uttered; then he couldn’t keep from laughing.
We all laughed again, and Harris took our teasing in stride. He even smiled himself. He was accustomed to our ridiculing his dog. “That’s all right,” he said. “Y’all jus’ keep on talkin’ ’bout T-Bone ’cause he gonna make y’all eat y’all’s words. Y’all jus’ wait and see. He gonna be the first dog down there barkin’. Why, even Mr. Morrison said he had a nose—”
“You know, Harris,” said Stacey, joining in the fun, “even Mr. Morrison could be wrong. He said so himself.”
“But he wasn’t often, was he, now?” asked Harris.
Stacey looked at him for a long moment while we all were silent, thinking on the giant man, Mr. L. T. Morrison. Mr. Morrison had come walking along the road one day with Papa years ago when we all were very young, and had stayed. He had become a part of our family and a part of the community too. He had been special to all of us. Now he was gone. Stacey answered Harris quietly: “Naw, Harris, naw, he wasn’t often.”
“Yeah, but he was that time!” cracked Little Willie, and laughter came back. “He was here, he’d tell you so!”
We all laughed on, and that included Harris. Then we were merciful and let the subject of poor ole T-Bone rest. For some time after, we ate and laughed and drank our cider, told stories about days past, about hunts with Papa and Uncle Hammer and Mr. Morrison, and hunts with Clarence’s papa, J.D., and Willie’s papa too. We talked and teased each other about days present, including everybody’s love life—or lack of it—and gave little thought to raccoons. Then Clarence turned to Stacey on a sudden and said: “Stacey, like to get me a ride up to Jackson with y’all tomorrow. There room?”
“What you wanna go to Jackson for, boy?” inquired Willie. “You gonna get a job?”
Clarence grinned. “Gonna join the Army.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Y’all remember my cousin El live over the other side of Strawberry? He come down here a few summers back.”
“El,” said Stacey. “Yeah, sure—”
“Well, he done joined the Army!”
“That a fact?”
“Uh-huh, and he come down here on leave couple weeks ago, and we got to talkin’ ’bout the Army, and he say it’s all right. He talked so good ’bout it, I been figurin’ maybe I’d join up myself. What you think, Stacey?”
Stacey took his time before he answered, and that was good, because Clarence thought a lot of his opinion. After all, since childhood, Stacey had pretty much been the leader of their small band of friends that included himself, Moe, Willie, Clarence, and at one time long ago, a boy named T. J. Avery. Willie, though, took no time for pondering. “I think you a fool,” he said.
“I ain’t askin’ you!” retorted Clarence.
“Didn’t need to ask me. Was happy to tell you without you asking.”
Clarence turned away from Willie, ignoring him. “Stacey? What you say, man?”
“Well, I tell you, Clarence,” said Stacey, taking the cider jug, “joining up, it’s not something I’d do.”
“Well, you got no cause to!” exclaimed Clarence, defending his action. “Shoot! Your folks always done had somethin’! And now you up workin’ in Jackson, bringin’ back that paycheck. You makin’ so much money, you can ’ford to go ’head and buy a car! Me and mine, we ain’t never had much of nothin’ ’ceptin’ that plot of land of Mr. Harlan Granger’s! I join the Army, I get me a uniform, then I belong to Uncle Sam!”
“That what you want, Clarence,” said Stacey, “I’m not talking against it. I’m just saying, me, I’d never join. Don’t see the need of it.”
“But you’ll take me to Jackson?”
“Course, that’s what you want.”
Clarence seemed relieved, not only for the ride but that by giving him one, Stacey had also given him his approval. “Well, good, then! Give me a chance for a nice long ride in that new car of yours!”
“What your folks got to say ’bout all this?” questioned Willie. “Or ain’t you told them?”
“I told ’em all right, but you know Papa, he ain’t wantin’ me to go. He wantin’ me to stay on and help him. But I got me a mind for the Army. I like them uniforms!”
“Well, you better be liking them a whole lot,” I advised. “A war break out and you have to go fight, you might end up being buried in one.”
Clarence laughed. “Shoot! I know how to use a gun and I ain’t afraid to fight! Ain’t nobody gonna shoot me!”
“Well, what about Sissy, then?” said Stacey. “I know she can’t be liking the idea.”
“Ah, Stace, that girl, she ain’t even talkin’ to me. Said she ain’t studyin’ me, I go off and leave her. That’s what we was arguing ’bout when y’all come ’cross us on the road today. Said I can just forget ’bout her, I do.”
“But you going anyway?”
“Why, shoot, yeah! Ain’t no woman the boss of me!”
“No woman ’cepting your mama and Sissy,” I muttered.
Clarence glanced over at me and laughed. “Well, we just see ’bout that, Cassie. We jus’ see ’bout that, ’cause I got my mind set. I’m goin’! And, Harris, you can jus’ tell yo’ little ole sister that for me too!”
Harris shrugged. “You tell her. Got nothin’ t’ do with me, and I ain’t wantin’ her comin’ down on my head for telling her what you been sayin’ ’round—” He stopped abruptly and got up.
“What is it?” asked Christopher-John.
“Sounds . . . that sounds like T-Bone done bayed a coon.”
Willie shrieked with laughter. “Boy, sit on down and enjoy these here peanuts! You know that ole hound ain’t got nothin’!”
“He got reason for barkin’,” contended Harris.
“Poor ole dog,” I commiserated. “He probably got reason all right. He probably down there barking because he got himself cornered in that water again.”
Harris frowned, looking a bit worried at the thought. “Y’all jus’ wait on here,” he said, grabbing a flashlight. “Me and T-Bone be back ’fore long.”
“’Ey, don’t you wanna take along a rifle?” called Clarence. “Case you want to shoot down that coon T-Bone got treed?”
Harris glanced back in silence, then, as we laughed again he hurried off as fast as he could without the rifle.
“’Ey, Harris, wait up!” I yelled and got up and followed him. I certainly wasn’t worrying about T-Bone. I just had a mind to go along with Harris because he seemed worried and was so ridiculously crazy about that dog of his. “I expect you’re going to miss Clarence now that he’s going off to the Army,” I said, trailing behind him.
The Road to Memphis Page 6