THE HOMEPLACE

by Gilbert, Morris

  Charlie and Ralph came in, and both of them bragged on the appearance of their dates. “You girls ready?” Ralph said eagerly. “We’re gonna have a great time.”

  “We’re all ready,” Lanie said. She leaned over and kissed Corliss. Maeva slipped on her coat. “Charlie, you got to behave yourself tonight. We’ve got two chaperones.”

  “Who? I didn’t agree to any chaperones.”

  “Lanie and Ralph. They’re gonna keep an eye on us.” Maeva winked.

  Charlie laughed. “We’ll probably have to keep an eye on them. You know how wild they are.”

  The new bridge over the Buffalo River was packed, and the air was filled with the sound of fiddles, banjos, mandolins, and throbbing bass fiddles. The long tables arranged on both sides of the bridge were filled with food, mostly barbecued. Lanie thoroughly enjoyed the evening, for she loved square dancing, and Ralph wasn’t bad—although he wasn’t as good as she was. Bright overhead lights illuminated the crowd, and even though the cold breeze was sharp, she didn’t mind. But when Ralph withdrew a bottle, poorly concealed in a brown sack, and laced his drink with liquor, her joy wavered.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking, Ralph.”

  “Aw, don’t be such a bluenose, Lanie. Just try it. It’ll liven you up—and warm you up too.” He pushed the bottle toward Lanie, but she shook her head.

  “You know I don’t drink, and I’m surprised at you.”

  “What are you, some kind of Holy Roller?” He tilted the bottle, swallowed several times, then shivered and stamped his feet, catching his breath. “Wow! That’s strong stuff! Better try some.”

  Lanie crossed her arms. “No, and I wish you wouldn’t.”

  Lanie’s protests did little to influence Ralph, so she allowed herself to drift. She danced with several of her old friends and noticed that Dr.

  Merritt had come with Louise Langley. Louise, she thought, looked out of place. She wore a dress far too formal for square dancing, but she appeared to be having a good time. Lanie wondered about the talk she had heard about the two getting serious.

  He’ll probably marry her, but I don’t think she’s his kind.

  “You having a good time, Louise?”

  Louise looked up at Owen as they danced to the mountain music. “Oh, it’s all right, I suppose.”

  “I really like this sort of thing. I used to go down to Beale Street in Memphis and listen to the jazz musicians. Boy can they play those trumpets and pound those pianos! But these folks do pretty well with their fiddles and banjos, don’t they?”

  The two danced until the music ended and the master of ceremonies announced, “Folks, we’ve got a real treat fer you tonight. Two of Forrest Freeman’s girls are here, and ya’ll know that that whole family is about as musical as folks can git. I’m gonna ask ’em to come up and entertain us. Come on, Lanie, and you too, Maeva, let’s have a good one!”

  “Well, that’s something,” Owen said. “I didn’t know they were musical.”

  “Oh, the Freemans have always been that way. Their father could play just about anything.”

  The two watched as Lanie and Maeva went to the front. Lanie appeared embarrassed, but Maeva was grinning. “We’re gonna sing for you ‘The Wabash Cannonball.’”

  Lanie sang clear soprano, and Maeva harmonized perfectly with a low alto. The girls received loud applause and requests to sing another number, “The Great Speckled Bird.”

  Applauding heartily as the girls stepped down, Owen said, “Why, those two are good enough to go professional!”

  “Yes, they do very well,” Louise said. At that moment Harold Pin-nock asked Louise for a dance, and she accepted. Owen moved toward Lanie. “I think this is our dance—but I warn you to watch out for your feet. I’m not very good.”

  Lanie smiled, and they joined the other couples.

  “I liked your singing very much. I didn’t know you could sing like that.” He stumbled, and his weight fell on Lanie’s shoulders. “There,” he said with a rueful laugh, “I warned you.”

  “I’ll bet you’re more used to fancy ballrooms with orchestras.”

  “I like this much better. It’s the real thing. It’s different listening to a bunch of paid performers. These people are playing because they love it.”

  “Why, that’s right!” Lanie said with surprise. “I’d never thought of it like that.”

  “There’s a reality to mountain music. It comes from the earth, so to speak. I was telling Louise that you and your sister could become professionals.”

  “Oh, we’re not that good.”

  “Never know. One of these days I might be listening to you on the radio.” He put his head back and said, “And now, ladies and gentlemen,

  I present to you the songbirds of the South—the Freeman sisters.” He grinned. “How was that for an introduction?”

  Lanie laughed. “It would be nice, but I doubt it will ever happen.”

  Ralph held onto the wheel with both hands, but the car weaved across the road in an alarming fashion. “I don’t see why we had to leave!” he complained. “I was havin’ a good time.” His words were slurred, and he took his eyes off the road to look at Lanie. “Come on over here and sit close to me.”

  “You watch where you’re going, Ralph! Keep your eyes on the road!” The car swerved toward the ditch, and Lanie grabbed the wheel just in time to straighten it out. Ralph laughed, released the wheel with his right hand, threw it around her shoulder, and pulled her close. He tried to kiss her, but she yanked herself away. “Ralph, take me home!” She was humiliated and angry, for Ralph had made a spectacle of himself. She’d had no idea that he was so wild. At school he was loud and boisterous, but his behavior at the dance was terrible!

  Ralph pulled off to the side of the road. He left the engine running but moved over and threw his arms around her. “Come on. Let’s have a little lovin’.” His breath was rank with alcohol, and before Lanie could move he kissed her noisily just in front of the ear.

  “Leave me alone, Ralph! Take me home right now!” Ralph appeared not to hear. “Keep your hands off me, Ralph, or I’ll bust you in the jaw!”

  Ralph merely laughed, but when he moved toward her again, she gave him a resounding slap on the face. “Hey, what are you doin’?” he yelled.

  “If you don’t take me home, I’ll get out and walk!”

  Ralph glared at her and shouted, “Why don’t you then! That’s all you’re good for, Miss High and Mighty!”

  Lanie yanked at the door handle and stepped outside of the Oldsmobile. As she began walking, she heard the car roar. Ralph yelled something she could not understand, then the car moved away, weaving and throwing gravel. She watched as the taillights of the Oldsmobile disappeared in the distance. Anger surged through her. She walked fast under the bright moon, holding her jacket closed, for the night had grown very cold.

  Five minutes later she heard a car approaching and turned around to see headlights. She did not know whether to ask for a ride or not, but the car pulled up, and she heard Maeva’s voice. “What in the blue-eyed world are you doin’ out here, Lanie? You have a fight with Ralph?”

  Lanie walked up to Maeva’s window. “Yes. Can I ride with you, Charlie?”

  “Why, sure. Get in, Lanie.” Lanie opened the door and sat next to Maeva. Charlie stepped on the gas. “Ralph get out of line?”

  “He certainly did!”

  “He does that when he drinks. He thinks he’s some Romeo.”

  “I didn’t know he drank.”

  “Yeah, he started about a year ago. He doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “I wish I had known.”

  C H A P T E R 22

  The three boys had been running and laughing. They stopped to pick up rocks, and they all took a shot at a large gray squirrel that chattered angrily at them from a low branch of a hickory tree. Cody and Max missed by a broad margin, but Davis’s rock struck the limb right over the creature’s head. The squirrel turned an acrobatic backflip, caught anothe
r branch, then scampered to the top, disappearing into the upper branches.

  “You nearly got him, Davis!” Cody cried.

  “You sure can chuck rocks. Guess that’s why you’re such a good pitcher,” Max said, admiration shading his tone. “You sure showed them guys from Pine Grove how to play baseball!”

  Davis grinned, picked up another rock, and sent it into the tree with a deceptively free and easy motion. He always began his windup with a high kick in the air and threw with a leisurely sidearm. When the ball left his fingers, however, it appeared to pick up explosive speed.

  “That was a good game,” Davis said. “They had some pretty fair hitters.”

  “Shoot, they couldn’t touch you!” Cody boasted. “A couple of years from now I’m gonna be your manager and get you a contract with the Saint Louis Cardinals. We’ll be millionaires!”

  Davis laughed at his brother’s scheme. “Do you ever dream of anything practical, Cody? I’m not going to make a million dollars playing baseball. Hundreds of guys can pitch better than I can.”

  “Well, kiss my foot, you’re only fifteen! Wait two or three more years until you get your growth,” Max said.

  They reached the foot of Macy’s Ridge, a long outcropping that bordered Fairhope to the south. It rose at first in a gentle slope and then crested sharply some two hundred feet in the air. The land beneath was thickly wooded, and the boys started up the trail. “Hey, look at that!” Cody yelled.

  Davis looked. “That’s an old tractor tire, a big one too!”

  Cody was already at the tire, trying to lift it up. “This is great! I’m taking it home with me.”

  “You can’t take that thing home,” Max scoffed. “You can’t even pick it up!”

  “All of us can. Come on, grab hold.”

  “What would you want an old worn-out tractor tire for?” Davis asked.

  “Lots of things. I might put a lining in it and make a fish pond out of it and paint it blue and sell it. I’ll find somethin’ to use it for.”

  Davis grumbled, but the three of them tugged and pushed until they got the tire upright. Davis glanced up the slope and shook his head. “It’ll be a chore gettin’ this thing up that hill.”

  “But think how easy it’ll be gettin’ it down!” Cody said. “Come on now. Let’s go.”

  The monumental struggle to get the huge tractor tire up to the top of the ridge took all the boys’ strength. By the time they reached the crest, all of them were gasping. Cody said, “Well, we . . . made it . . . now it’ll be . . . easy.”

  The three guided the tire over the crest, and then the downhill slope began to pull at the tire.

  “Hang onto it!” Max warned. “Look out, don’t let it get away!”

  But the huge tire did get away. Davis’s feet slipped, and when he fell, Cody was unable to hold it. The big tire rolled rapidly away.

  “Well, ain’t that a pretty come off!” Cody yelped, then took off running. “Come on, let’s catch that dumb ol’ tire!”

  “I hope it don’t hit none of them apple trees,” Max said. “That’s Old Man Langley’s place down there. He’ll have us all put in jail if we done anything to it.”

  The three boys ran after the tire, but it had gathered momentum and was bounding straight down the hill. “Dad gum it!” Davis groaned.

  “It’s gonna hit Mr. Langley’s fence!” All three stopped to watch.

  “Hope it don’t bust it,” Max whispered.

  But the tire struck the white picket fence, flattened a section, and plunged straight toward the saplings.

  “It’s gonna hit his apple trees!” Cody yelped. “He loves them dumb ol’ trees. He boasted to everybody how much he spent on that orchard.”

  Otis Langley had planted a beautiful apple orchard the year before in neat, organized rows. The trees were only saplings, but they were the best money could buy. All three of the boys leaned to the left as if that effort would pull the bounding, rushing tire between the rows.

  “It’s gonna hit ’em!” Cody swallowed hard. “It’s gonna knock ’em down!”

  The big tire hit the first apple tree, snapped it off—then the second—then the third. Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! The tire seemed guided by some unseen malevolent force! The trees were planted at least thirty feet apart, and if the tire had gone down the middle, all would have been well. But by the time it reached the end of the row it had destroyed at least twenty of the young saplings.

  Davis watched as the tire crashed through the far side of the picket fence and then hit the side of the Langley house with a crash.

  “Come on,” Max cried, “let’s get out of here!”

  “Yeah,” Cody said. “We’ll go back and come in from the west.

  Nobody will ever know who done it.”

  A sickness came to Davis as he saw the wreckage from the huge tire. He could understand Mr. Langley’s love for the orchard, for the trees were beautiful, so straight and true—and now a whole row of them lay crushed. He turned around and ran after the two as they fled down the far side of the ridge. When they reached the safety of the woods, Davis said flatly, “That was a bad thing.”

  “Aw, shoot, what’s a few trees to Ol’ Man Langley?” Cody said. “He’s rich enough to buy all the trees in the world. We’re lucky nobody seen us do it. Come on. We don’t say anything to anybody, right?”

  “Well, I ain’t talkin’,” Max said. “I don’t want no trouble with that man for sure.”

  Davis did not speak, but a misery formed within him, and he knew it would not be easy to forget what he had just seen.

  By the next day most of the town had heard of the fate of Otis Langley’s apple trees. Most of them found it funny that the richest man in town could suffer a loss even as the rest of them did. Others worried about the vandalism.

  Langley stormed into the office of the police chief, Ed Hathcock. He shouted about the damage and ended by saying, “Ed, I want you to find the thugs that ruined my orchard. I’m going to prosecute!”

  “Well now, Mr. Langley, that ain’t gonna be too easy.”

  “I don’t care whether it’s easy or hard! You get out there and hunt for them. Somebody must have seen those hoodlums, whoever they were, with a big tire like that.”

  Hathcock scratched his neck. “Well, I’ll sure try, Mr. Langley, but it don’t look too promisin’. I been askin’ around, but nobody saw a thing.”

  “If you want to hang onto your job, Ed, you’d better find those criminals quick!” Langley slammed the door behind him when he left.

  “Who did you say is here?”

  Helen Langley said, “It’s one of those Freeman children. His name is Davis.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me, Daddy.”

  “Well, have him come on in.”

  Langley leaned back in the chair. It was Sunday afternoon, and he had returned from church in a bad mood. The sermon had been titled “Love Thy Neighbor,” but he felt little love at the moment. He glanced out the window and winced at the wreckage of his orchard. Davis entered. “What is it you want, boy?”

  Davis had been struggling with his conscience ever since the disaster. Max and Cody had written the whole thing off, but Davis was unable to sleep. At church that morning he had been miserable. The sermon was not particularly abusive, for Brother Prince wasn’t that kind of a preacher, but he spoke with conviction about being fair and honest as Jesus was.

  Davis went home after the service saying almost nothing, but by one o’clock he knew he couldn’t carry his burden any longer. Without a word to anyone, he left the house and went to the Langleys’ place.

  His voice was thin and reedy. “I . . . I got to tell you something, Mr. Langley.”

  “What is it? Speak up. I have things to do.”

  “Well . . . I have to tell you that . . .” For a moment Davis could not finish. “I was the one who let that tire wreck all your trees.” He saw Mr. Langley’s face turn red. “I didn’t mean to do it, sir. It
was an accident, and I’ll work, and I’ll pay you back for the—”

  Langley stood up. “Work it out? You know what those trees cost, boy?”

  “No, sir, but—”

  “Seven dollars apiece. That’s a hundred and forty dollars worth of trees for twenty! There’ll be no working it out!”

  Horror came to Davis then. He could never get that much money together. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything! I’ll cut your grass or paint. I’m a hard worker.”

  “Get out of this house, boy, and I’ll tell you right now! I’m telling Chief Hathcock about this. You’ll be sorry for this trick!”

  Davis left the house, his heart filled with fear. He knew that he had to tell his family. He dreaded that as much as anything, but it had to be done.

  Langley did not wait until Monday. He got in his car and went to Ed Hathcock’s house.

  “What is it, Mr. Langley?” Hathcock looked alarmed.

  “I know who destroyed my trees. It was that oldest Freeman boy.”

  “Are you sure? Davis is a mighty good boy. Never been in trouble.”

  “He confessed. I want you to arrest him, Ed.”

  “Why, I can’t do that, Mr. Langley. It was an accident, wasn’t it?

  The boy sure didn’t mean to do it on purpose.”

  “He did it, and that’s what counts! It’s destruction of property.”

  “Look here, Mr. Langley. I realize you’re mad, but we can’t do this.

  You can charge the boy for the trees. He’ll probably have to work it out.”

  “I don’t want it worked out! I want him arrested!”

  “Well, I just plain can’t do it.”

  Langley slapped his hat against his thigh. “I think you’re due for an early retirement, Ed. If you won’t do your job, we’ll find somebody who will!” He turned without another word and walked out, slamming the door. Ed walked slowly back to the kitchen, where his wife Laverne was fixing dinner.

  “Well, you done the right thing,” she said. “That poor family don’t need any more trouble.”