Precious Bones

by Mika Ashley-Hollinger

  LeRoy turned to the Reemses. “You fellas stay clear of Charlie. If I see or hear of you being close to his house, I’ll put every one of you behind bars. You understand?”

  Whackerstacker smirked. “Yeah, we understand.”

  LeRoy stood and watched as me and Nolay got in the buggy with Mama. He strolled over, leaned up against the buggy’s frame, and folded his arms across his chest. “Just to let you know, I’ll be stopping by tomorrow afternoon to pay a visit with Charlie.”

  Nolay said, “Thanks, LeRoy, I ’preciate you lettin’ me know.”

  We rode along in silence until Nolay glanced over at Mama. “Honey Girl, since when did you start totin’ a gun when we go firewood chopping?”

  Mama smiled and said, “You never know when you might come across a snake.”

  When we arrived back at Charlie’s, the once-raging fire had been defeated. Blue and his crew were still shoveling sand and dirt over the few small smoldering patches of coals. Earl, Ethan, and Little Man were helping Ironhead clean up his fire truck and re-coil the hose.

  Nolay drove into Charlie’s front yard. A few of the guava trees on one side of the house were scorched, but other than that there was no damage done to Charlie’s place. Mr. Charlie was sitting in his rocking chair with Sonny-Boy Rooster in his lap. When he saw us, he got up, tucked Sonny-Boy under his arm, and waddled over to the buggy. “Nolay, that nearly scared me to death. I’m scared they gonna come back and kill all my chickens. Me and my chickens ain’t never done nothing bad to the Reemses. Why are they doing this?”

  “Charlie, it ain’t nothing that you’ve done, they’re just dang mean people. Now, the sheriff has warned them not to come near you. Everybody’s gonna be watching out for you real close.”

  Mr. Charlie stood by the side of our buggy, gently stroking Sonny-Boy’s head. Like a father admiring his children, Mr. Charlie looked out over his yard full of chickens. A look of love and concern swept over his pudgy face. “I just thank the Lord that none of ’em was hurt. I don’t know what I would do without ’em.”

  “Charlie, ain’t nothing gonna happen to you or your chickens,” Nolay said.

  Mr. Charlie and his chickens were safe now. But for how long?

  Monday’s morning light was just a thread on the horizon when I heard Nolay drive away in the truck.

  As I waited for the school bus to arrive, an idea was fluttering around my head like a bumblebee. When I got on and sat down next to Little Man, I said, “That sure was something yesterday, wasn’t it?”

  “It was mighty scary for Mr. Charlie.”

  “And it was a awful mean thing for the Reemses to do.”

  “How do you know the Reemses started that fire?”

  “Little Man, I told you what Mr. Charlie said about Peckerhead coming out and threatening to burn his house down. And that was just what his brother was trying to do.”

  “I reckon you’re right. I’m just glad everyone pulled together and stopped that fire from doing any real damage.”

  I turned and glanced at the back of the bus. Skeeter Reems wasn’t even looking in our direction; he was looking out the window making like I didn’t exist. There was a bright red semicircle around the top of his ear. I had left a good impression on him.

  “Little Man, I have an idea. How ’bout after school you and me go giggin’ down at the river? And we can keep a lookout for Nolay and the sheriff. They’re going out to Charlie’s today. I sure am curious as to what Mr. Charlie saw that night.”

  “I don’t know, Bones, that sounds sorta like snooping on someone’s business.”

  “It’s not snooping. I just want to know what’s going on. Especially concerning Nolay.”

  “I guess you’re right. Sounds good to me. I’ll hurry up and get my chores done and be over at your house.”

  I was outside feeding Pearl and Harry when I saw Little Man stroll up our driveway with a croker sack tied around his waist and his four-prong gig.

  He reached into the croker sack, pulled out a mason jar full of thick brown liquid, and handed it to me. “Give this to your mama; it’s some fresh-squeezed sorghum syrup.”

  In a few minutes I returned with my gig and fish stringer.

  Me and Little Man walked down the sandy road, across the railroad tracks, past the Last Chance. We crossed U.S. 1 and climbed down the familiar trail to the Indian River. The tea-brown water stretched out in front of us, the afternoon sun glistening over its flat surface. We tied our fish stringers to our pant loops, rolled our pant legs up, and stepped to the water. Little Man pointed to several areas where the surface rippled with bubbles. “The mullet are already feeding. You go around that way, and I’ll go this way.”

  I silently slipped my feet into the warm, brackish water. Like gritty peanut butter, the sandy bottom squished up between my toes. The mullet were so busy feeding they weren’t aware of us until we plunged our gigs into the midst of them. We moved from feeding frenzy to feeding frenzy. Before long, our stringers were full; we had enough for our families and some to share.

  We dropped both stringers inside Little Man’s croker sack, climbed up the riverbank, and headed toward the Last Chance.

  We walked up to the front entry, where Mr. Speed’s bench sat blank and empty. I stood and looked at it. My chest felt like a big hand was squeezing it. Little Man placed the croker sack by the front steps and said, “Bones, let’s go in and see if we can sell some of these.”

  We walked inside. The familiar silhouette of Mr. Ball stood behind the counter. Those dark half-circles still sat under his eyes. I looked toward the back of the store, to Miss Evelyn’s little room, but she wasn’t there. It was as empty as Mr. Speed’s bench.

  “Howdy, kids,” Mr. Ball said. “Been down to the river?”

  Little Man answered, “Yes, sir, and we had a mighty bountiful day.”

  “Well, if you got some extras, bring ’em on in. Folks are always looking for fresh fish.”

  Mr. Ball paid us two dollars and fifty cents for five of our fish and threw in two RC Colas and a moon pie for each of us. As we went outside, I watched as Little Man walked over to Mr. Speed’s bench and sat down. He looked at me. “Come on, Bones.”

  I walked over and slowly sank down beside him. I scooted back; my feet dangled over the edge. We silently munched our moon pies and sipped our RCs. I looked across U.S. 1 at the Indian River, stretching out like a brown blanket for as far as I could see. More to myself than to Little Man, I said, “I reckon this is how he looked out at the world every day. Waitin’ for someone to come by so he could talk to ’em. I sure do miss him.”

  “Yeah, I miss ’im, too. He always had something good to talk about.”

  A gentle breeze fluttered by as me and Little Man sat silently on Mr. Speed’s bench.

  I looked up at the sound of car tires crunching on gravel to see Sheriff LeRoy turn onto the county road and drive past the Last Chance. I nudged Little Man. “Let’s go. I bet the sheriff is going up to see Mr. Charlie. Nolay should be by any minute now.”

  Little Man grabbed the croker sack, and we walked toward the railroad tracks. Before long, Nolay pulled up beside us in the truck. “Where y’all been?”

  Little Man held up the sackful of fish. “Down to the river, giggin’ mullet.”

  “Looks like you had a good day. I can give y’all a ride home, but I got a stop to make first.”

  Little Man put the sack in the truck bed, and the two of us climbed in front with Nolay. He drove down the guava-tree tunnel to Charlie’s house. As we pulled up, Sheriff LeRoy was just ambling up to Charlie’s front porch. Charlie stood at his screen door, the little rooster clutched under his arm.

  Nolay turned to us and said, “Y’all wait, I’ll be back shortly.”

  I looked at Little Man. “We can’t hear nothing from here. I bet if we climb up those guava trees we can hear what they’re saying.”

  “We cain’t do that, Bones, that wouldn’t be right.”

  “Well, do you want to k
now what’s going on or not? ’Cause I sure do. Nolay said wait, he didn’t say where we had to wait.”

  Little Man rolled his big brown eyes. “I don’t know, Bones, we sure could get in trouble.”

  Reluctantly, he opened the door, and we crawled out into the thick guava trees. The branches were so close together it was like climbing on a huge spiderweb. We reached the top, where we had a perfect view of the front porch. LeRoy sat across from Charlie in a little cane chair that looked like a child’s toy under his enormous body. Nolay stood at the porch railing. Charlie sat in his rocking chair with Sonny-Boy Rooster nestled on his lap.

  As we settled in, swarms of hungry mosquitoes swooped in and began to devour every patch of skin that was uncovered. Little Man looked at me and whispered, “We’re gonna get eat up by these skeeters.”

  We watched as Nolay and the sheriff swiped and scratched at the mosquitoes. They swarmed around Charlie but never seemed to land on him.

  The voice of Sheriff LeRoy drifted up to our perch. “Now, Charlie, I ain’t here to cause you no trouble. There’s been a murder right here near your place, and if you can hep me with my investigation, I sure would appreciate it.”

  Seated in his old rocking chair, Charlie turned toward Nolay. Nolay nodded to Charlie and said, “It’s all right, Charlie, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to you. I done explained to the sheriff about the Reems brothers trying to make you sell your land.”

  Charlie cleared his throat and began, “Well, that evenin’ you’re asking about—that was the same day Nolay, Bones, and Little Man stopped by my house—I went out back to my outhouse and heard voices yellin’ at each other. My curiosity got me and I snuck out down the trail to see what was goin’ on. I seen them two Reems brothers over by the railroad tracks. They was both liquored up. Whackerstacker was yellin’ about Peckerhead stealin’ his liquor money. Peckerhead knocked his brother to the ground. When Whackerstacker stood up, he had a fair piece of tree branch in his hand and he started hittin’ Peckerhead.”

  Charlie stopped, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. “Even after Peckerhead was down on the ground, he woodn’t stop hittin’ ’im. He beat ’im like he was a pile of old dirty clothes. His own brother. About then, Whackerstacker’s oldest boy, Fats, come runnin’ up and grabbed his daddy. The two of ’em talked for a while, then they drug ol’ Peckerhead’s body up to the railroad tracks and laid ’im across. They hid that tree branch up under some bushes.”

  Sheriff LeRoy leaned in closer. “What happened then, Charlie?”

  “After they left, I snuck up to see if maybe he was still alive and I could hep ’im. But it was too late, he was already gone. So I turned around and hightailed it back home.”

  I looked over at Little Man and whispered, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

  “Course he’s tellin’ the truth! Mr. Charlie don’t know how to lie!”

  Sheriff LeRoy leaned in closer yet and said, “Did they know that you saw ’em?”

  Charlie hung his head. “The next day, after the po-lease took away Peckerhead’s body, Whackerstacker and two of his boys, Fats and Skeeter, come over here. He asked me did I see or hear anything last night.” Charlie looked up at Nolay and continued. “Now, I was raised not to tell no lies, so I said, yeah, I seen a little, but I wouldn’t tell nobody. Well, next thing I know, ol’ Whackerstacker’s sayin’, ‘Charlie, I’m gonna show you what would happen if you ever go tell anybody.’ ”

  Charlie pointed to an old crate sitting by the side of his house. His voice cracked as he continued. “That there is where Lulu nested. She was just sittin’ there on her aigs. Whackerstacker reached over, grabbed her by the neck, and wrung her head clean off. Throwed her body out in the yard. It was a-floppin’ and a-twistin’ in the dirt. Then he started pickin’ up her aigs and smashin’ ’em on the ground. After he smashed every one of ’em, he picked up her little crate and set it right in front of me. He told me, ‘This here is a empty nest. Every one of ’em will look like this if you open your mouth.’

  “That was about the worse sight I ever did see. Lulu was just a sweet little ol’ hen, never hurt nobody in her life. And there she was, floppin’ around on the ground, blood flyin’ everywhere. And her baby aigs smashed all over the floor. I just cain’t get that picture outta my mind.”

  Sheriff LeRoy took off his oversized Stetson and held it with both hands in front of his knees. “That was a dang mean thing for him to do, Charlie. I can’t blame ya for not saying anything.”

  Charlie’s shoulders slumped and he began to cry. Tears slid down his face like raindrops on a windowpane. “I know I done wrong by not comin’ out and tellin’ what I saw. But Whackerstacker told me if I said one word, he and his boys would come back and kill every one of my chickens. Every one of ’em. And burn my house down, too.”

  Sheriff LeRoy reached inside his pocket and pulled out a red handkerchief. My breath caught in my throat as he held it out toward Charlie. Charlie looked at it, gently reached out, grasped it, and promptly blew his nose into it. “Thank ya, Sheriff.”

  As I watched Charlie blow his nose into Sheriff LeRoy’s red handkerchief, my mind felt like a rainbow stripped of all its color, dull and gray. I slowly turned and looked at Little Man. His brown eyes glistened soft and lucid like a bottomless pool of water. As mine began to mist over, he looked away and whispered, “Ain’t no reason to be sad. That there is happy news.”

  “But I was so stupid … I thought …”

  “Hush, there’s more.”

  Perched in the top of those guava trees like oversized bats, me and Little Man turned our attention back to Chicken Charlie’s porch.

  Nolay and LeRoy glanced at each other. LeRoy said, “Now, Charlie, what you said here ain’t going any further than this here porch. I’m gonna do some investigatin’. In the meantime, I don’t want you to be scared of them Reemses. I’ve already warned them, but if they come around here, you get down to the Last Chance and put a call in for me. You know how to use the telephone?”

  “Yes, sir, Sheriff, I do. And if I need hep, Mr. or Mrs. Ball can hep me.”

  Sheriff LeRoy stood up and placed his Stetson back on. His massive frame filled the front entry of the porch. “Now, Charlie, you take it easy, and I’ll be gettin’ back in touch with you soon. Thank you for all your hep.” He was nearly down the steps when he turned around. “Charlie, do you mind if I take that little ol’ crate with me?”

  “Lulu’s crate? Why, no, Sheriff, you can have it if you want. Lulu won’t never be needin’ it again.”

  LeRoy placed one of his large hands under the crate, carried it out to his car, and placed it in the trunk.

  Nolay nodded to Charlie and walked over to LeRoy’s car. “What do you think, LeRoy?”

  “I think I got some work to do. When I did my first investigation, I seen all them feet prints. Now I know who they belong to. I got to put all the pieces together. And Nolay, you stay away from them Reemses. I’ll go out and pay them another visit and make it crystal clear they are not to come near Charlie or his place. This here is po-lease business, and I will take care of it.”

  The sheriff got in his car and Nolay began walking back to the truck.

  Little Man turned to me. “We better get down before your daddy gets back to the truck.”

  We scrambled down and crawled back to the truck. Just as Little Man closed the door, Nolay opened the driver’s side and slid in. He glanced at us with a twinkle in his eyes. On the ride to Little Man’s house, the two of us scratched and rubbed the red welts that covered our face, hands, and feet. Nolay was doing the same thing.

  Nolay cleared his throat and said, “You know, I seen the durndest thing back at ol’ Charlie’s. I thought I saw two monkeys sitting up in his guava trees.”

  Me and Little Man stared at each other.

  “Did y’all hear everything?” Nolay said.

  I answered. “Yes, sir, we heard everything. Sorry, Nolay, but we just couldn’t help ourselves. Jus
t like Mr. Charlie, our curiosity got the best of us.”

  “Well, you know what curiosity did to the cat. So let’s get this straight. Not one word of this goes any further than the inside of this truck. You two understand that? This here is serious business. You heard what the Reemses said they would do to ol’ Charlie.”

  I looked at Nolay. With my right index finger I made the sign of the cross over my chest. “I cross my heart and hope to die. I won’t say a word.”

  Little Man made the same sign. “Cross my heart and hope to die, too.”

  Nolay pulled up in front of Little Man’s house. As he got out of the truck, Little Man reached in back and got his croker sack and gig. He pulled out my stringer of fish and set them in back. “Thank ya for the ride, Mr. Nolay. Bones, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I waved. “Okay, Little Man, see ya on the school bus.”

  As we drove home, I asked Nolay, “Are you gonna tell Mama?”

  “Well, of course I’ll tell your mother,” he said. “I think it might help to ease her mind.”

  “Yes, sir, I reckon it will. It sure did ease my mind. I’m so relieved that you and Mr. Charlie weren’t involved.”

  Nolay gave me a sideways glance. “Now, why would you think me or Charlie would have been involved in killin’ Peckerhead?”

  “I’m not real sure, I just got confused. I mean, with all the stuff the sheriff was saying about evidence and you not telling the truth about being out fishing that night with Ironhead.”

  “Well, sometimes things ain’t the way they seem to be. Just ’cause I wasn’t out fishing don’t mean I was out killing someone.”

  Nolay took a deep breath and said, “To set things straight, that night I was supposed to be fishing with Ironhead, I was up in Jacksonville, delivering a load of moonshine. Not something I really care to share with you. I know it’s against the law, but far as I’m concerned, it’s a white man’s law. The way I look at it, I ain’t hurtin’ nobody and I’m puttin’ food on my family’s table.”