by Jeff Fields
"I'll tell you what I'm doin', Carter, I'm buildin' houses. That's all I'm doin'. Buildin' houses, for me, and as many people as I can move out of this stinkin' hollow."
"You're gonna live up there, with the niggers?"
"I've lived down here with 'em all my life, ain't I! But that was all right wasn't it, as long as we stayed in niggertown, and under Bobo's heel. Well, I got news for you and the city fathers, Carter, me and the niggers are movin' out of niggertown! I'm gonna cover that hillside with houses—Jayell Crooms crazy houses, good, solid little houses that even black people can afford. Gonna make it a showplace of Crooms originals. And when the people passin' that highway see what can be done with scraps and a little imagination, I'm gonna run thieves like Smithbilt out of business! And when those birds from Washington come to talk about building a project for those people gettin' washed out by the dam, I'm gonna show 'em sump'n, I'm gonna have a bunch of 'em already in their own houses, not a damned project, and not at the taxpayers' expense!"
"Christ, Jayell!" said the sheriff. "You really are gonna stir up a hornet's nest. Man, if you go messin' with that deal there is gonna be hell to pay!"
"They want a model community," said Jayell, "well, we're gonna show 'em the model community of all time. A community of young, old, black, white and even red if I can get Jojohn to move in. A place for all races, all ages, put together with scraps and sweat and ignorance and hope. A dream village, Carter, think about it!"
The sheriff thought about it. He puffed his cheeks and blew and shook his head. "Jayell, you're a born fool, there's no doubt about it. It's hard to fault you, 'cause I know you mean well, but boy, you're sure headed for trouble. You've always been a wild hair, and folks have put up with that, but they ain't gonna put up with this. There's too much at stake."
Jayell stared at him intently, his fierce blue eyes fixed on the sheriff's face. "You going to close me down, Carter? You going to come in with some kind of injunction and stop me?"
"No, I ain't going to touch you, Jayell, and I'll stand on that. Legally, you're all right. But you know and I know there's other ways, and Bobo knows 'em all, and I warn you, there ain't nobody going to stop him. He's got his own cutthroats, and there's a lot of white people on edge about niggers doin' anything peculiar just now, and he's got influence with them, too. He kept a Klan from startin' up out at Flat Creek, did you know that? He's a devious son of a bitch, and he's smart, and he stands to lose a lot here, and if you cause the boys uptown embarrassment while this centennial thing's goin' on, and keep 'em from settin' Bobo up as their number-one shine boy, they're liable to turn him loose on you." The sheriff got in his car and closed the door. "If that happens, Jayell, you're on your own. My hands are tied. I want you to know that."
"I'll be ready," said Jayell, "and thanks."
"For what?" muttered Phaedra, as the sheriff drove away. "The spineless son of a bitch."
"Aw, honey, Carter's just performing a sheriff's number-one duty—gettin' reelected. Come on, we gotta get moved. We can put up with a couple of rooms until the rest of the house is finished. Skeeter, Jackie, tell the boys to start loadin' the power tools in the truck."
"The tools first, naturally," said Phaedra.
At first only the shop boys and the boarders reappeared at Wolf Mountain. Frightened by the run-in with Bobo, the others, like Em, stayed away. "They'll come around," Jayell said, and went on with the construction as though nothing had happened. After a couple of days without incident, spirits picked up again. Jayell and Phaedra moved into the two enclosed rooms of the strange creation he was building for them, he continued work on the Daniels house, and the boarders began to speculate what final shape their house would take.
On the third day Willie Daniels showed up. He stood silent, watching. "Willie, give Carlos a hand sawing those joists," Jayell said, and kept walking. Willie looked after him. Jayell turned around, walking backward. "And if you lay out drunk again, I'll fire you." Willie grinned, he tugged at his cap and went to work.
Gradually a trickle of onlookers returned. Mostly children at first, then a few mothers who came to get them, and stayed for a few minutes to watch. At the end of the day a worker or two from the mill would come and stand at the edge of the slope and discuss the job among themselves, then drift away to supper. Whenever we had to go down into the hollow, people would turn from their clotheslines, they would stop talking in the picket-fenced yards and watch us pass. They waited. Business went on as usual at the other stores on the Ape Yard main street, but no one came to Teague's grocery. They watched the activity going on at Wolf Mountain, and at Mr. Teague brushing the steps in front of his store, and waited for Doc Bobo's next move.
They didn't have long to wait. The following Monday morning, a beginning workday, there was a disturbance at the edge of the job-site. Jackie James threw down his board and ran for Jayell. The shop boys were crowding on the other side of the fire where they were boiling coffee, pointing toward an apparition standing in the woods.
"Who is it?" demanded Jayell. "Who's there?"
The tall figure strode down through the tree trunks, dark and dripping from the rain. Lilly Waugh walked straight to the fire and leveled her pistol in Jayell's face.
"Get these niggers off my property!"
"This is not your property, Miss Lilly. We made a trade, remember?"
"I never bargained for niggers on my land!"
"It's my land they're on, and who I bring on my land is my business. There's a mile of woods between here and your house; you won't even know we're here. And I give you my solemn word, nobody will set foot on your property."
She whirled on the shop boys. "Off! Get off or I'll kill ever' one of you." She waved the pistol menacingly and the boys broke and scattered, running for the trees. She stopped beside Tio. "What are you waitin' for, boy?"
"I got hired to do a job, and ain't nobody runnin' me off but the man that hired me."
"Is that so?" she cried, backing away. "Is that so?" She aimed the pistol at him, but Tio didn't budge. Seeing that he would not be frightened, she suddenly turned and pointed the pistol at Jayell. "Then tell him, mister. Two seconds, I'll give you, and then so help me I'll blow your head off!"
His jaw set, Jayell walked around the fire. They stood facing each other, the county's notorious wild ones, staring each other down. "Lilly, you ain't crazy, you're just a scared old woman. But you've been playing that crazy act too long. Now folks believe it. Now, if you was considered sane and shot me, you might be out of jail in a year—Judge Strickland might even shake your hand and call it self defense. But they couldn't do that for crazy Lilly Waugh. Crazy folks ain't allowed to kill, only the sane ones. They'd put you away, Lilly, you'd spend the rest of your life with the screaming people. Now, I got nothing but respect for a person that's figured a way to keep her pride and privacy and keep folks at a distance, but at this late date don't ruin it. Don't you go gettin' sane, like them. You're too far above that. Put up your gun and go home." Jayell turned and walked toward the house. "All right, I don't pay folks to stand around!"
The boys came edging out of the trees, hesitantly, keeping an eye on the woman. She looked about, her blue eyes flashing this way and that. "I'll not stand for it," she said angrily, "you wait, you wait and see!"
Jayell walked behind an unfinished wall and there was a businesslike clatter of boards. Taking the signal, the other boys hurried to their work. Hammering and sawing filled the air. Miss Lilly turned and marched back into the woods.
Jackie James stood up from behind a lumber pile. "Shoot," he said with pride, "Jayell'll show her what crazy is!"
41
"Get up, boy! Sump'n's happened!" It was Em, standing silhouetted against the predawn blue of the window. When he saw I was awake he stepped through the window onto the roof of the shed. I jumped out of bed and followed him, and we stood looking down into the early shadows of the Ape Yard. I couldn't make out anything unusual; there were a few people moving about, the headlight
s of cars on their way to the first shift at the mill, kitchen lights burning, the usual early morning stirrings in the hollow.
"I don't see anything. What is it?"
"Ain't right down there," he said, alarm growing in his eyes. "Come on!"
I dressed quickly and we ran down the ridges and along the woods to the road that curved by Teague's store. Then Em put an arm in front of me and pointed.
Then I saw them, white men in old battered cars and trucks, scattered out around the neighborhood. They had parked unobtrusively at different points along the streets, in front of stores, even in people's driveways. They sat quietly in their cars, their lights off.
Em nudged me and we walked along the street toward the store. I could feel their eyes on us as we moved along the darkened street. As we approached a black Chevrolet, the doors opened and two men stepped out.
"Where you goin', big 'un?" one of them asked.
Em stopped. "That some business of yours?"
"I don't believe I'd go around that store if I's you."
"Why?"
"I'd just stay away from there," the man said.
Em lowered his shoulders until he looked the man directly in the eye. "I'm gonna take that as friendly advice, friend. 'Cause, you see, ain't nobody tells me where I can and cannot go, and if I took it as a threat, I'd have to bust ever' bone in your face. I can take it as advice, now, can't I?''
The man looked over at his partner. He swallowed.
"Can't I—please?"
The man nodded.
"Oh, good," said Em. "You got such a pretty face." And he straightened and we continued on our way.
Mr. Teague was alone in the store. He was standing behind the leaning counter in the old part of the store.
"What's happened, Mr. Teague, where's Tio?"
He responded with a grim nod toward the stairs. We raced up the steps to the apartment.
Carlos sat at the kitchen table, perspiration standing on his contorted face. His head was bandaged with a dirty handkerchief. Tio was standing behind him, tight-lipped, peeling Carlos' shirt away from his back. The back of his head and neck were nicked and bleeding, but his back had borne the brunt of the beating. The ragged shirt was matted with pulpy flesh, and as the blood-soaked flannel was pulled away, little lint patches were left standing in the open wounds. Welts stood out like mole burrows across his back. "Doc Bobo," said Tio, "he made the rounds last night. All the shop boys."
"He's next, I told him," said Carlos, shivering as Tio peeled away a swatch of cloth, "I told him he got to git gone!"
"Okay," said Em, "that does it. We're gettin' out of here."
Tio didn't answer. He went to the medicine chest and got down a can of yellow salve. Em yanked it out of his hand. "You hear me? We got to get gone!"
Tio snatched his arm away. "Don't tell me what I got to do. I ain't goin' nowhere!"
"The hell you ain't!" Em turned him and shoved him toward the door. "Walk or I'll tote you, but you goin', and now!" He straightened Tio up and dragged him toward the stairs. "Earl, go up and get the bike!"
"It's too late," I said. From the top of the stairs I could see the green hood of the Continental nosing to the curb. We flattened ourselves on the landing as the screen door squeaked open and Doc Bobo's resonant voice came booming into the store.
"Good morning, Mr. Teague!"
Mr. Teague glanced up briefly and went on weighing up cheese. After Doc Bobo came a dozen white men, Paulie Mangum, Otis Barton, and several others I recognized from the Klan gathering at Barton's farm, most of whom had only in recent years moved out of the Ape Yard themselves. They lined up behind Bobo against the opposite wall. There was a shadow movement across the window and Clyde Fay eased himself on his heels by the door. Doc Bobo, his nose heavily bandaged, stepped up to the counter and waited, but Mr. Teague went on with his work, chin up, sighting through his bifocals as he pressed the thin-ground knife through the cheese.
"Ah—if we might have a moment, Mr. Teague."
The old man waited until the scales stopped rolling and wrapped the wedge in brown paper. He peered over his glasses at the crowd. "Well, the word must have got out about my special on turnips!" The men shifted uncomfortably as he met their gaze and nodded in greeting. "Otis, Vern, Alf—ain't seen much of you boys since you moved out of the Yard—where you been keeping yourselves?"
"Mr. Teague," said Doc Bobo, "I'm afraid we're here on a bit of unpleasant business. Is your delivery boy about?"
"Tio? He's around somewhere, why?"
"We'd like a word with him, if you don't mind."
"Any business you got with him," said Mr. Teague, "you can take up with me."
Doc Bobo looked solemn. "Well, the fact is, Mr. Teague, the boy was involved in a little incident yesterday that's got some folks upset, and they figured it's time one of his own people straightened the boy about a few things. You understand."
"No, ah . . ." Mr. Teague wiped his hands on his apron. "Straighten him out about what?"
"Well, it seems he and some other boys from the Yard was messin' around up at Miss Lilly Waugh's place yesterday, and when she tried to run 'em off they wouldn't leave. She's awful upset about it." Doc Bobo acknowledged the men along the wall. "Naturally, the other folks up that way got a little disturbed too."
"They wasn't messin' around and they wasn't on her property," said Mr. Teague. "They was working for Jayell Crooms, on land she traded to him."
"Mr. Teague, you and I both know that don't make no difference. These are nervous times, times when the least little thing can cause a lot of trouble. She said the Grant boy bucked up real mean, said he threatened her."
"Hell, you all know Lilly Waugh! The woman's liable to say anything. I can't be responsible—"
"Mr. Teague, nobody's blaming you." Doc Bobo leaned in confidentially and spread his manicured hands on the counter. "It's a fine thing you done, taking the boy in and keeping the burden off some poor colored family, and don't think it's not appreciated. If it's anybody's fault it's mine. I should have seen it coming. The fact is, Mr. Teague, the boy's been living white so long he's just forgot his place. Now, I've been around to see the others, and I can assure you we'll have no more trouble out of them, but it's especially important that we don't overlook the Grant boy. He's coming of age now and it's time to remind him who he is. Time to get that boy off tenderloin and back on pigs' feet and blackeyed peas."
The white men chuckled appreciatively and shifted and spaded their hands in their pockets. Doc Bobo smiled at his joke too, but kept his eyes on Mr. Teague. It saved him his fingers.
With a startled grunt he jerked them away just in time to avoid the cheese knife as it slashed a groove in the counter where they had rested a moment before.
"Take your hat off, nigger."
It was so quiet in the store you could hear the paddle fan rocking softly on its base.
Doc Bobo stood frozen in shock.
Mr. Teague's voice dropped to a raw whisper. "What's the matter with you, boy? What do you mean, layin' your filthy hands on my counter? And standin' here in my store, in front of all these white gentlemen, with your hat still on your black greasy head!" The long knife whipped out and Doc Bobo's crisp homburg fluttered to the floor.
"Fay!"
Doc Bobo spoke just in time. Clyde Fay stopped at the end of the counter, only a few feet from Mr. Teague.
I shivered involuntarily. Tio and I looked at each other. It seemed impossible for a man so big to move like that. Like the pictures on movie flip cards, it was as though he was at the door one minute and, in the next instant, at the counter, giving only the illusion of motion.
Mr. Teague cocked his head, birdlike, and studied him a moment, then walked toward him, trailing the knife along the counter. He strained his hooked shoulders to look up into the face that hung above his head. "You going somewhere, boy?" Fay flicked a glance at Bobo. Mr. Teague piped up again, his bald head palsying slightly with rising anger. "You hear me, nigger? What's th
e matter, thick lips, can't you talk?" Fay towered above him, motionless as black marble, his slitted eyes fixed straight ahead. Mr. Teague's lips twisted into a sneer. His voice dropped lower, mimicking, tantalizing. "You black kinky-headed son of a bitch. Lift your hand against me, you outsized jungle monkey. Come on burr-head!"
Fay didn't move, but the fury was smoldering in him, pulsing in the muscles of his face. The others sensed it too. It hung in the air like the heavy, rotten odor of death. Only Mr. Teague, perched on the lip of destruction, seemed unconcerned. "Got your hat on too, ain't you? I swear, things is comin' to a state." The knife point drifted slowly upward and tipped Fay's cap from his head. I looked at Tio. His eyes were squeezed shut. "Maybe that fancy coat's too tight. That why you can't answer me, boy?" Mr. Teague sawed a button off Fay's jacket. There was an agonizing moment of silence, and another one rattled to the floor.