“It is cold,” said Judith, and Cassie wrote that down too, but Judith made her erase it. “Then she’ll try’n’ send me new socks or somethin’. Here, write this. ‘I am on my way to New York City to be-come a singin’ star.’” She watched Cassie print the words. “Now write, ‘You keep list’nin’ to the reddio, and you’ll be hearin’ from me.’”
Cassie wasn’t sure how to spell radio, so she wrote it the way Judith always said it. Reddio. “You want to mention your daddy?”
“It’d make her spittin’ mad if she knew I was gonna see him. Now lemme sign it.”
Cassie gave Judith the pencil. Judith took the card and made smeary black marks in the remaining space at the bottom that spelled Judith Forrest, as though her mother might be confused about which Judith had sent her a postcard.
Later, when Judith was asleep, Cassie wrote her own postcard.
Dear Lil Ma.
I am doing good. We have a car and people help us when it don’t run.
Grandmother would see it too, maybe first. The postman might just hand it to her. She erased everything and started again, with proper grammar this time.
Dear Lil Ma and Grandmother,
I am doing well. We have a car and people help us when it doesn’t run.
Wind blew under the KELLOGGS billboard, making the fire thin. A wall of thorny bushes separated the billboard from the road, and birds chirped sleepily from inside. She wondered what to write next. I miss you. Even though it was true, that would make Lil Ma cry. Cassie couldn’t bear to have Lil Ma’s crying in her mind.
I have met a mule that once was a man.
They would think she’d taken up drinking.
Soon we will be in Enterprise in Alabama …
That seemed good. She wrote it down.
where there is a monument to …
She turned the postcard so she could see the caption on the back. In the firelight, at first she thought she’d read it wrong. She read it again. She turned the card over and finished her sentence.
… where there is a monument to the Boll Weevil. I will write more soon.
Love, Cassie
She addressed it to Lil Ma at:
The Laundry on Negro Street,
Heron-Neck, Mississippi
Cassie put the card on the dashboard and lay down on the seat. She was tired, but the last two days had been so full of strange things. She found herself thinking about the two elderly women up on Hilltop who had spoken to her in such hard tones—as stern as Grandmother—but then another woman had given her the basket full of ham sandwiches, which she’d probably been taking to the funeral. Which made her think about Judith’s fears about the man the ham might’ve once been, which made her laugh. Judith sat up suddenly in the back and sucked in a quick breath through her teeth, like she’d scared herself out of a dream.
“You ’wake?” Judith said.
“Yes.”
“You hear that?”
Cassie listened but could only hear the low sound of the wind coming around the billboard. “Hear what?”
“Voices.”
“You dreamin’, Judith. You was sound asleep, and I bin ’wake this whole time.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” Cassie could hear her unwrapping the pistol.
Cassie sat up.“Please don’t go out there an’ start shootin’.”
“I’ll shoot enny damn thing that needs to be shot.” Judith climbed out of the car.
Cassie scrambled after her. “There ain’t nothin’ out there.”
“Shush!”
The pistol was immense, even in the dark. It was as long as Judith’s lanky forearms and heavy enough that she had to hold it with both hands. It was so big, it made her look too small to do anything with it.
Cassie followed her around the front of the car to where they had a clear view of the road. The area directly underneath the billboard was filled with thorn bushes and briars grown so thick and high that they presented the illusion that there was nothing behind the sign but briar patch, but there was actually a hedge of barbs and thistles. Judith and Cassie hunkered down on their heels, close enough to the thorns for their sleeves to catch.
“I heerd somethin’,” said Judith. “It weren’t no dream. Look.”
Across the road, two figures—as flat as a cardboard in the dark—were walking toward the billboard.
One of them said distinctly, “Dave said he saw ’em pull in back year.”
“He sure it’s them?”
“He said it was a junky ol’ Model A with a coupla nigger gals drivin’ it.”
“Thought one was white.”
“One was ’tendin’ she was white. The other one too dark to fool ennyone.”
Was one of them the pimply faced boy from the gas station? It didn’t really matter who they were. The boys sauntered closer to the sign coming around the opposite side where Cassie and Judith were. Cassie pushed Judith forward, keeping the island of thorns between them and the boys.
Judith let herself be pushed, but not far. She craned her neck to see. Cassie could tell by the crunch of brush that the boys were coming around to a point where they couldn’t help but see the car. She gave Judith a shove, but Judith didn’t budge.
“They gonna de-stroy the car,” Judith hissed. “They ain’t no different than them damn Justice boys. They prob’ly brought a canna gasoline.” She took a step toward the car. Cassie grabbed Judith’s arm to hold her back and pulled. She pulled with such force that Judith lost her grip on the heavy gun. It fell out of her hand and into the mass of briars.
“Jesus Christ!” Judith plunged her hands in to find it.
“Hey,” said the voice of the pimply faced boy, which Cassie could now hear clearly. “Hey, here’s that piece o’ crap now.”
She could just see the tops of their heads and heard them kicking the cast-iron skillet around and slamming the car doors.
“Where you reckon they went?”
“They heard us comin’, idjit. I tol’ you to shut yer mouth. They miles away by now.”
Judith pulled herself loose from the bushes, wiping blood from where the thorns had raked her arms. She didn’t have the gun. “God dammit,” she panted. “Come on!” She lunged forward, but Cassie grabbed her again.
“It don’t matter what they do to the car! What you think they gonna do to us?”
“Well, if I had my damn gun, they wouldn’t do nuthin’.” Judith yanked away and ran before Cassie could get another hand on her.
“Hey!” Judith shouted. “Hey, you git the hail away from mah car!”
Cassie hunched in the shadows, wondering what the hail she should do now. There was only one thing. She snaked her hands into the briars.
“Well, now,” said one of the boys. “Looky year. Where’s yer friend?”
“She saw how ugly you was, and she run off,” said Judith. “You git the hail outta here. You got no bizness botherin’ folk in the middle of the goddam night.”
“My, my,” said the other boy, “we din’t realize this was yer personal billboard. An’ look how nice you got it set up. Where you sleep? Inna backseat?”
“I said git out,” said Judith, and Cassie heard the iron skillet ring as she picked it up off the ground. “An’ I mean, git out.”
“Lil lady, you needn’t get all excited.”
Cassie’s fingers touched cold metal. She got a two-fingered grip on the barrel of the gun. Thorns stuck into the backs of her hands.
“I’m gonna crack your haid wide open!” yelled Judith, and a second later, Cassie heard one of the car windows smash. Male voices laughed. Cassie got a better grip on the gun, her hands scored. She wrenched it out, and the skin of her wrists tore like the cuffs on an old shirt. The gun glinted in the dull night. It weighed more than she’d thought, as heavy and graceful as two bricks. She almost dropped it again. She stuck the pistol straight in front of her, bolted around the billboard, and burst out in front of the car, where Judith was swinging the frying pan with furious desperation. The boys were
close enough to grab it.
“You stop right there!” shrieked Cassie, and both the boys stopped. She’d never shot a gun in her life. She pointed the heavy thing at the pimply faced boy’s heart. Judith looked scared. Cassie could see that and the scratches and blood trickling down her own arms all at the same time.
“Whoa, now,” said the pimply faced boy. “There ain’t no need fer violence.”
“You get out right now! Or I’ll blow your head off!”
“Looky year,” said the other boy.
“Get out!” Cassie screamed. Her arms were giving way under the weight of the gun. “Get out!” She’d never heard herself scream before.
The pimply faced boy took a nervous step away from Judith. Judith raised the skillet without hesitation and swung it into his elbow. The bang and howl made Cassie think that the gun, inspired by the situation, had shot of its own accord, but the sound was the impact of the cast iron on bone. The pimply faced boy howled again. The other boy grabbed the back of his friend’s jacket and practically carried him past Cassie. She swung around to follow them with the barrel of the gun and this time remembered to put her finger on the trigger. She wanted to kill them. It had something to do with the driving and the wind and being away from home. She wanted to kill them, and then Judith was behind her, pulling the gun out of her hands. Cassie dropped into the dirt on her knees. Judith fell down beside her. Out by the road, the boys were still running, into the trees on the other side.
“We have to go,” said Cassie.
“We goin’ right now.” Judith picked herself up and helped Cassie to her feet. She held the gun against her chest like a pet cat, and when they got to the car, she only let go of Cassie long enough to pick up the skillet and toss it in the backseat.
“I thought you was gone to hit him in the head with that thing,” said Cassie.
“I wanted to. But I din’t wanna kill ’im. You want to drive?”
Cassie shook her head and got in the passenger side. Judith slid in, shut the door, and started the engine.
“I wanted to kill ’em,” said Cassie. “I cain’t believe how much I wanted to.”
“You was truly terrifiyin’,” said Judith. “They saw you standin’ there, a lil nigger gal with a big ol’ gun, pointed right at ’em. I bet that keeps ’em up at night fer a while.”
She pulled onto the road and sped up. They watched the trees and the shadows. After a mile or two, the trees opened up into newly plowed fields. Cassie watched the road behind them until she was sure they weren’t being followed.
“They’s something you should know ’bout that gun,” said Judith.
“Don’t it shoot?”
“It shoot,” said Judith, “except there ain’t no bullets in it. They right here in my pocket.” Judith produced three bullets, huge even in the dark, each the size of a man’s thumb.
“Why ain’t they in the gun?”
“These here is the very last three bullets that goes with this gun, and I cain’t see wastin’ ’em on no trashy white boys.”
“What do you mean ‘the last three bullets’?”
“Miss Cassie, as you well know, Big Red is right at one hunnert years old, and so far as I know, they ain’t makin’ bullets for it no more.”
“What if they don’t work?”
“All a bullet’s gotta do is fly out the gun and stick itself into something. Ain’t no one gonna bother us with a bullet stickin’ in ’im.”
“Have you ever shot that gun?”
“Lotsa times,” said Judith.
It felt pointless to ask any more questions. Cassie looked out her side of the car, at nothing in particular, not even the dark.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the episode with the pimply faced boy and his friend, both Judith and Cassie stayed in the car when they went to gas stations, and both watched suspiciously as the service man pumped gas and sopped the windshield with soap. The broken window from when Judith had smashed it with the frying pan was in the back, and they found a piece of cardboard big enough to fill the hole and sturdy enough not to be blown away as they drove.
Judith still wanted candy and jerky, but instead of getting these at gas stations, they agreed that a stop at a five-and-dime in some tiny town wouldn’t put much of a dent in their schedule. Judith would use the WHITES ONLY bathrooms to keep herself cleaned up. Cassie would find an isolated patch of trees to relieve herself and various cold creeks to wash in.
February was almost over, March was fast approaching, and Virginia was a long way off. Cassie worried, but with the calendar in hand, Judith seemed confident that they would get there with all the time in the world to spare. In the meantime, the car ran, if not smoothly, then at least steadily. At night they camped behind billboards for KENT CIGARETTES, FUNK’S BUTTER, and OLDSMOBILE. Usually there was enough brush to keep the car hidden from anyone driving by. If there was enough moonlight, Cassie would study the maps before she went to sleep. Judith would puzzle out city names, and they would follow the courses of rivers and railroads with their fingers.
By the end of their first week, they’d reached the Alabama border. There was no golden gate or candy-striped guardhouse. There was only a sign:
WELCOME TO ALABAMA
THE HEART OF DIXIE
“Dammit,” said Judith.
Cassie was driving.
“God dammit.”
Cassie looked over to see a bloody stain spreading on Judith’s skirt.
“Ain’t we got a god-damn rag somewhere in this heap?”
Cassie pulled off by the first creek in Alabama. The car bumped off the road and into the grass. Judith kicked her door open and ran down a narrow pebbly beach and into the water, up to her knees. There were houses nearby, so instead of taking the dress off to wash it, Judith twisted around in it so that it was on backward, dark buttons running up her chest instead of her back. She squatted in the water, took off her drawers, and scrubbed them.
Cassie waded out into the cold creek and stood next to her. Judith was crying. Her tears dripped off her chin and into the chill water. “I can get the blood out for you,” said Cassie.
Judith stood up, soaked. The stains on her dress were on the back and the front. It wouldn’t matter which way she put it on. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Why’re you cryin’?” said Cassie.
“It ain’t my time of the month,” said Judith. “It was a baby. I was gonna have a baby.”
Cassie built a fire on the riverbank and hung the dress on a stick to dry. It was still stained. Only vinegar and salt, or bleach would truly clean it.
Judith sat among the pebbles in her undershirt and discolored drawers. “I wonder if it woulda looked like him. All pale like he was.”
Cassie pushed twigs into the fire. “Din’t you think he was good-lookin’?”
“I guess. Those pink eyes bothered me. Did you think he was? You know. Handsome?”
“I kinda thought so. He wasn’t too nice to you, though. Good lookin’ don’t mean nothin’ if he ain’t good to you.”
Judith hugged herself. Her skin showed gooseflesh. Cassie got her patchy red coat from out of the car and draped it around Judith’s shoulders.
“That what your mama said?” said Judith
“My mama never talked ’bout no men.”
“Your gramma?”
“What your mama tell you ’bout men?” Cassie stirred the fire.
“’Fore daddy left, she’d say, ‘Find yo’sef a man just like yo’ daddy.’ She used to make me an’ Henry get down on our knees an’ pray with her every night ’fore bed and thank God for our lil fam’ly. We did that until the day Daddy run off, an’ after he left, she’d say, ‘Don’t never marry no man like that! He gonna bamboozle you, an’ no one gonna forgive you for bein’ so stupid! Not even God.’” Judith studied her own bare feet. “You know how in fairy stories the pretty girl gits rescued by a knight on a white horse? She’d tell Henry stories like that when he was sick. She
loved them stories more’n she loved the ones in the Bible.” Judith looked up at Cassie. “But unless you a beautiful princess locked in a tower or in some magical sleep, ain’t no man ever gonna come rescue you. They ain’t interested in your misery.” She hunched over her belly.
The fire smoked and gave off no heat to speak of. Cassie tried to think of something to say to make Judith feel better. “Beanie Simms used to tell me stories, but they never made no sense. They was animals instead of people. Like this monkey who found gold in the river behind his house. So he gets his friends—the elephant and the lion—to help him dam the river and dig up the gold. He says he gone share it. When they’re done, he breaks the dam and they all drown, and he keeps the gold.”
Judith pushed her arms into her coat and gave that some thought. “How you drown a elephant?”
Cassie poked the fire. “Guess it was a big river.”
“Din’t that monkey’s friends know he never gonna share nothin’ with ’em? What kinda story’s that—one monkey gits rich, but ever’body else dies in the end?”
“It’s just a story,” said Cassie. “What kinda lady stays locked up in a tower till the right man come along?”
Judith put her head in her hands. She looked weary, like an old woman. “I’m gonna go lay down.”
“You feelin’ all right?”
“Just tarred.”
“Well. G’night then.”
“G’night.”
Later the moon rose over the bare trees, so full it woke Cassie out of her sleep. She knew it was the moon, not a noise, and she sat up in the front seat, not afraid but alert.
She got out of the car as quietly as she could. Judith was curled up in the back, sleeping too deeply even to snore. Between the river and the car, Judith’s dress hung drying on its rack of sticks. The dress was a light color, possibly white at one time, or maybe a pale pink. In the moonlight, the stains spread down like maps of unknown places. Maybe they could pick up some bleach, or vinegar and salt at a store, soon, depending on which was cheaper.
Cassie went back to the car and took Lil Ma’s shoes out from under the passenger seat and went barefoot to the creek to count the money they had left. One dollar bill, four quarters, and some change, which added up to another forty-six cents. She put all of it back into one shoe, put both shoes on, and stood.
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