He handed Adele the shovel. He didn’t like leaving her, but there might be trouble down at the wharf.
She was already at work with the shovel, digging a little path through the burning grass to get to the side of the house. Annie turned up, alongside him, with a spade. And he realized that he’d forgot about her. He was so ashamed that he hesitated a second.
“Keep it off the house,” Annie said quietly to her stepmother. She looked heavy-eyed and sleepy.
Al ducked back then, and raced along the path. He glanced over his shoulder, just once. The two stooped figures were outlined dark against the fire. What a target, he thought for an instant, if anybody was figuring that way.
But they had to save the house. And he had to be sure the boat was safe. So he ran harder.
“Shovel it under around the foundations,” Annie said.
Behind them were a couple of hollow popping sounds from a shotgun.
“I got to see about that,” Adele muttered, “when I get through here.” Al had put the little glass balls of extinguisher liquid on the back steps. Now she ran to get them and tossed them into the worst spot.
“Gasoline,” Annie said. “Burning on the bare ground.”
They shoveled as hard as they could in the hard-packed mud of the yard, shoveled a path through the burning area alongside the house, smothering out some of the flames.
Annie felt her eyebrows begin to scorch and she stopped for a minute and rubbed at them.
“Hurt yourself?”
Annie shook her head.
“Be careful,” Adele said. Her spade had not stopped.
She was stronger than she looked, Annie thought. She was working like a man. And you had to give her that: she wasn’t the least bit upset or nervous-looking.
Adele dropped her shovel to drag over a wheelbarrow load of sand: Al had brought it yesterday to make a sandbox for Claudie. She shoveled it now, carefully, on the flames that burned on the ground under the house itself.
Annie pointed. “Look there!”
Gasoline had splashed up the side of the house, almost up to the little loft window and it was burning.
“I get to that in a minute,” Adele said; “got to get it from under first.”
Al came back, still at a run. His face was brilliant red and his mustache hung down over his mouth like a piece of wet paper. He put the shotgun carefully aside and took a shovel.
In the end it was Annie who had the idea, had it all at once. And she turned and grabbed up two big buckets, the biggest she could find. She had remembered the pigpen and the little spring that turned the mud into liquid, a thick syrupy liquid that could be thrown by handful or bucketful.
She kicked down the bars. If the pigs got out, it was just too bad. She heard them down at the far end, snorting. They wouldn’t go too far, and with the ear notches she could find them again.
Full, the buckets were heavier than she’d expected. She staggered uncertainly, then, bending her body forward, she got herself moving at a half-run.
“Al,” she yelled, “hey, Al!” That was the first time she’d called him by his first name. She was a little surprised how natural it had come to her.
Won’t call him Papa again, she thought. And then: that’s a stupid thing to think of.
“You throw it,” she said, “I can’t.”
In a second he had scooped up one bucket, moved as close as he could, and splashed the syrupy mud down the side of the fire.
“That got it,” Adele said and grabbed the empty bucket and ran off with it.
Annie was throwing the mud by handfuls and listening to the splat and sizzle. Al yanked the bucket away and slung its contents in a heavy stream like molasses against the wall.
“Get another one,” he said to Adele.
As Annie left, Adele was coming back with two full buckets.
In five minutes the path of the fire was covered with the sticky, slop-filled mud. Where little flames still flickered—at the edges—they threw double handfuls. Adele was giggling like a kid. “Going to be weeks before we get the smell out the house.”
Annie just looked at her.
“Well,” Al said, “we got a house left, che’.”
Annie wiped her hands on her sleeves. “We don’t have a fence.”
Al shrugged. “Let it burn … ain’t worth the trouble saving now.”
“Oh,” Annie said and scratched at her head, “one of the dogs got bashed in the head or something. Down by the pen, I noticed.”
“God,” Al said, “I got no time for that.” He crossed the yard to the place where he had leaned the shotgun. He checked the shells. “I got to go see,” he said, and waved his hand toward the other houses—you could see the faint red glow through the trees.
“It’s out all right,” Adele said. “Here, leastways.”
“You watch it, che’ … so the fence don’t catch nothing else. Me, I’m going to take a quick look to see there ain’t nobody hanging around here. And then I leave the gun with you, no?”
Adele nodded.
When he had gone Annie said: “If there was anybody around wanted to shoot us, they’d done it when we was standing in front of the fire, fighting it.”
She couldn’t stop herself. She shivered, hard and all over.
Adele noticed. “It’s done with.” She put out her hand to touch Annie’s shoulder, then changed her mind.
And Perique was there, all of a sudden, standing just the other side of the burning fence. “You all right?” he asked Adele.
She laughed, such an easy relaxed laugh. Annie hated her for it.
“I’d come before,” Perique said to Adele, “only my old man went out chasing something or other he think he see. And he leave me to put out the fire in the henhouse.”
“Al is looking around just this very minute,” Adele said. “Back by the pen, there.”
“Okay,” Perique said. “I’m staying here, me. So he don’t go shooting at me.”
Annie shivered again, even harder this time. And just when he was looking at her. She stomped her feet and then bent to examine her bare toes. “I got something in my foot,” she said.
“I reckon it’s over,” Perique said.
And his tone—she was furious—he thought she was afraid.
“Who was it?” Adele was asking.
And Perique was just shrugging. “Didn’t see nobody but I got a good idea.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Annie said.
“Huh?”
“She was wonderful,” Adele said. “You shoulda seen her.”
“Bet she was,” Perique said flatly.
Al came back. “Ain’t nobody around. …” He stared at Perique. “How’s it at your place?”
“Burned up a couple chickens.”
“Nothing more?”
“Didn’t come near the house. … Maybe the dogs stopped ’em .”
“They killed one of the dogs,” Annie said. And she was still panting though she shouldn’t have been. “I saw it. Only I didn’t see which one.”
Perique looked at her and she had to hold her under lip with her teeth to keep it from trembling.
“Which one?” Adele asked softly. “You see?”
“Tantine,” Al said. “Smash her head in.”
“I’ll kill ’em-,” Annie said.
“Jesus God!” Al said, “where’s Claudie at?”
And Adele chuckled a little and pointed up to the big old chinaberry tree in back of the house. “Told him to climb up there and stay out of the way. … Claudie!”
And his reedy little voice came back: “Claudie. … Claudie!”
“See?”
“Don’t she beat hell,” Al asked proudly, “don’t she now?”
“Look,” Perique said, “you stay by the house before you get hurt.”
“Quit telling me what to do,” Annie said.
“You stay close to the house, bébé, no?” Al asked her.
She just shrugged.
“Hold onto this
.” Perique handed Annie his shotgun. “I’m gonna have a look.”
The cistern was on this side of the house, behind the kitchen at a little angle. It was the biggest cistern on the island: they always had water, and plenty, even during the long dry Octobers and Novembers. There was a kind of ladder up the side, just cross-pieces nailed there: they used them for cleaning or repairing.
“What you see?” Al called.
Perique climbed up and looked. “Over by LeBlanc,” he said, “something burning for sure.”
“We gone already.”
“I keep an eye on the fence,” Adele said.
“Grab a bucket, man,” Al said.
“Don’t have to tell me, none,” Perique dropped down. “I brought one over here when I come.”
There were a couple more faint popping sounds. Al and Perique disappeared beyond the light of the burning fence. Adele walked once around the house, slowly, looking. When she had made the circle, she said to Annie who had not moved, who had stood staring straight into the flaming posts: “It looks all right.”
“They’ll burn out in a while.”
From his tree, Claudie said something.
“You stay there!”
Her tone frightened him so he did not even answer.
They could hear people yelling. “That’s your father,” Adele said.
Annie scratched the side of her face. She was beginning to be terribly sleepy again. Her legs were aching.
“What could we do,” Adele was asking, “if they come back this way?”
“Huh?” Annie got her eyes away from the fire. She almost had to reach out with both hands and pull herself free.
“If they come back … listen there.” Some more of the hollow shotgun sounds.
“Those are way off,” Annie said, “down by the west end. I bet they just shooting out at water, empty water.”
“I guess everybody’s up by now.”
Annie giggled. “With all this racket, they either up or dead.”
The nightgown made Adele look thinner than ever, a seer-sucker nightgown printed all over with little sprays of flowers.
“Don’t let that thing catch,” Annie said.
“I want to see could we do something with the fence.”
“Hell,” Annie said, “let it burn; it’s mostly gone now.”
Adele went over to the front steps. “I’m going get a dress on, and I’ll be right back out.”
“Hurry up,” Annie said.
She waited. It wasn’t more than two minutes before Adele was back.
“Okay,” Annie said, “you watch it now.”
As she was walking away, Adele said, very quietly: “And your boyfriend does not come to see how you are. …”
Annie felt herself stop breathing. She had been thinking that and wondering. “He knows I can take care myself. …”
Annie crossed the island, scarcely noticing where she walked. And when people yelled at her, she answered them without really knowing what she said.
The shore lights at the wharf were off—she was a little surprised. The telephone wouldn’t be working either, she thought. One of the luggers, it looked like the Bozo from where she stood, had its big searchlight on, shining it right down the line of the boats. And at the other end, the Pixie’s high spreader lights were on.
She squinted in the glare: the boats had not been touched, none of them.
“Inky,” she called, “Inky!”
“By the icehouse.”
She went over, her eyes drooping against the glare. “Quit playing games,” she said.
“Come around the back.”
She didn’t see him until she was close enough to touch him. He was sitting on a box, leaning against the wall. She blinked rapidly to get her eyes used to the dark again.
“Figured you’d be coming down,” he said.
Adele’s question was still echoing around in her mind: he does not come to see how you are?
“How’s the boat?” she asked.
“They didn’t even come close to this side.” He answered her slowly, not understanding her angry tone.
“What are you hanging on to that for?” She pointed to the automatic in his lap.
“In case they get over this way.”
“They gone,” she said. “And everybody’s putting out the fires.”
A boat cost a lot of money, she thought. And it didn’t belong to him. So he had to be careful. More careful than he’d be for himself.
“Won it off a guy, couple years ago. Out at Milneburg one night.” He rubbed the short blued barrel.
You always had to be more careful of things that weren’t yours. And if it hadn’t been for the boat, he’d have come. …
“We had a fire,” she said.
He whistled. “I wondered about that!”
“Side of the house got scorched.”
“I figured that you weren’t exactly all alone, with your old man right there, and your stepmother.”
“We put it out in no time at all.”
“They didn’t come near the boats, none of ’em .”
“Burnt down our fence.”
“Jesus,” Inky said, “it’s beginning to look like a war.”
She shook her head. “They had to, I reckon.”
“Huh?”
“With Pete Livaudais and all.”
“Hell,” he said, “it’s getting too rough for me.”
“They had to.”
“The electricity’s off.”
“Line down, I bet.”
They could hear people yelling, and toward the western end of the island more shots.
“What’s that all about?” Inky asked.
She shook her head.
“Look how red it makes the clouds right up there.”
“Rain clouds,” Annie said.
“Time for it.”
“You going to take me with you?” Annie asked.
“When?”
“When you leave.”
“You still want to go?”
“Seems like.”
“Okay,” Inky said.
She squatted down on the shells. “Give me time to pack, huh?”
He bent forward and peered at her. “You feel all right?”
“I’m tired,” she said; “I been working.”
“Sorry,” he said, “but I couldn’t help it.”
Her little finger was aching, just the way it always did when she was terribly excited. She rubbed at it, hard.
“You going to stay here?”
He nodded. “Me, and the one guy down in that lugger there: Ozzie something-or-other.”
“Pailet.”
Inky nodded. “Just in case.”
“Where’s Dan?”
“Went home to see what was going on.”
“I better go back,” Annie said.
“Sorry I can’t go with you.”
“Nothing much to do back there now.”
“Okay,” he said, “so kiss me good-by.”
Annie went back to the house. The fence was still burning. Claudie, armed with a long green leafy branch was watching it.
“What are you playing at, stupid … King of the May?” she asked him.
She stumbled through the house until she came into the kitchen where there were two kerosene lamps lit on the table. Adele was bent over at the stove, trying to see if the coffee was dripped.
“I wish they’d make a glass pot,” she said, “so you’d know.”
“I been down by the boats.”
“I was thinking you would.”
“They didn’t even go near any of them.”
“I have heard that,” Adele said.
“How?”
“People passing by.”
“I’m sleepy,” Annie said, “I’m going back to bed.”
“You watch the fire and Claudie for me,” Adele said. “I heard the LeBlanc roof is burning.”
“Jesus,” Annie said, “what could you do?”
“Y
ou just sit on the front porch and watch the fence, no?”
“God!” Annie said and scratched over her ear. “I’m going to bed.”
“You just sit and watch.”
“All the same to me if the whole island burn up.”
She found her way to her room in the dark and stretched out on the bed. She was yawning and arching her back when the door opened. The fire flickering outside gave just enough light for her to recognize Adele.
“Jee-sus!” And she waited.
“Are you fixing to leave here?” Adele asked.
“Huh?”
“Way you acting nobody’s going to want you around here.”
On the tin roof overhead began the first little knocking thuds of the rain.
“There it comes,” Annie said, “and that is going to solve your problem.”
Adele was quiet for so long that Annie lifted up her head to see if she was still there.
She was. “When people find out what you do,” she said slowly, “when …”
“Jesus,” Annie said.
Annie did not hear her leave; but she knew by the silence that she must be gone.
The first thick fat drops of rain were plopping into the dirt and smashing into the flat sides of leaves. A sharp clean odor began to come from the ground.
With a flashlight Adele hurried along, noticing only: there’s no lightning, none at all. And it’s coming down a little faster.
A couple of dogs were growling and snapping in the underbrush. All of them, Adele thought, and not a one began the barking in time.
She passed the Arcenaux house and waved to Philomene Arcenaux who was sitting on her front porch, rocking, as if nothing had happened. There was a kerosene lantern burning on the floor by her.
“Nothing happen here?” Adele called to her.
She shook her head, slowly, so that even in the half-dark Adele could see the fat chins tremble. “Didn’t come this far in.”
“Didn’t do no real harm with us.”
“Over by LeBlanc’s now,” Philomene said, “they have some doing and some trouble.”
“I was going by there,” Adele said.
“I don’t go,” Philomene said. “And I be no use, leastways.”
“I got to see,” Adele said.
It wasn’t more than a couple of hundred yards away. She could see the glow over the trees. But when she finally saw it, there wasn’t a house any more, just the outlines: the studs dark against the yellow flame.
She stood staring, fascinated by the light, shaking her head slowly.
The Hard Blue Sky Page 39