I was about to turn back for the house when I saw something moving around in the chicken pen. I went around the side of the barn as a boy scooped up a chicken by the head, flung its body in a circle, and then stuffed it inside his overalls.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, and for a second I thought about running to the house to get Mr. Calhoun or my brothers. But then the boy came out of the pen and headed straight for me. Just about the time he saw me, I realized he couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old. Strangest thing was his skin. It was the color of smooth caramel, not dark like the other coloreds I’d seen working in the fields. I’d heard people talk about kids that were mixed, with one white parent and one colored, called them some funny name I couldn’t remember. But that seemed like foreign talk to me, like talking about elephants and white tigers. Sure they existed somewhere, but not in these parts. Not in Cullman, Alabama for sure.
He stopped and glared right at me. “Well?”
“Well what?” I said.
“You gone run an tell on me? I know you wants to! Go on an tell ’em. See if they can catch me!”
I wasn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, he was stealing, and that was wrong. On the other, it was obvious he wasn’t getting much food at home. And my heart made the decision before my mind did.
“I won’t tell on you,” I said.
“Why not? You know what I just done, don’t ya?”
I looked around to see if anyone had seen us yet and motioned for him to step into the barn with me, mindful of Ellen’s warning about Chester. He thought about it for a minute, but I guess curiosity got the better of him. He stepped inside the door.
“What you want with me?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just didn’t want Chester to see us is all. What’s your name?”
He didn’t answer at first, just eyed me like I might jump on him. “You said you wasn’t gone tell.”
“I won’t, but I still want to know your name.”
“What for?”
I shrugged. “Seems polite. If I see you somewhere, I don’t want to call out ‘Hey boy!’”
He gave me another funny look. “You’s some kind of crazy white girl, ain’t ya?” He didn’t give me time to answer before laying into me. “You don’t talk to me if you see me. And I ain’t gone talk to you neither. Now I gots to get home.”
Just then, Chester pulled the barn door open and stepped inside with an armload of leather straps. He saw the boy first, and he threw down all but one of the straps, his eyes blazing.
“What you doing in here, boy?” Chester yelled.
The boy just stared at him with the same defiance he’d shown me. But Chester wasn’t having it. He stepped over and grabbed the boy by the neck. Then he reached into his overalls and yanked the dead chicken out. When he released his grip, he shoved the boy down onto the ground.
“You thieving again?” Chester yelled.
He lifted his hand like he was about to strike, and that was when my voice leapt out of my throat. “No, wait!”
Chester jumped and turned around. “Who are you?”
“R-Ruby. I worked in the strawberries, and now in the vegetable fields.”
He came closer, which sent my heart nearly out of my chest. “Ruby? What are you doing here with this little Negro?”
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I found the dead chicken and gave it to him cause he looked like he needed some food. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Chester studied me with intense green eyes that made my skin want to jump off the bones. “You gave him the chicken?”
I nodded.
He turned back to the boy, who’d stood and was creeping toward the door. “That right, boy?”
He nodded too.
Chester looked down at the leather strap in his hand, and I was afraid he was thinking about using it. I didn’t know what I’d do if he did. Maybe run for Mr. Calhoun. But instead, he went over and bent down and mumbled something into the boy’s ear. The boy brought his gaze up, and I believed if he could have, he would’ve killed Chester with that look.
Then quick as lightning, the boy was out the door.
Chester turned to me and pointed his crooked finger at me. “You stay away from them Negroes, you here? I knew you wasn’t gonna be nothing but trouble.” And he was out the door too.
I spent all of Friday keeping my head down and avoiding Chester. I couldn’t get his sneering face out of my head. There was something awful inside that man, and I preferred to go the rest of my days without ever talking to him again. I looked around for the caramel-skinned boy, but I didn’t see him anywhere. That was probably best considering Chester’s warning.
I thanked God for Saturday.
At the soup kitchen, I met the most beautiful people I could’ve imagined. Though, I don’t think most folks would have seen the beauty in them. A mother came in with her kids, three of them hanging on her and not one of them older than six. Their sunken cheeks and dirty clothes were about the most pitiful thing I’d ever seen. A couple of them didn’t even have shoes. But they all beamed at me with the sweetest smiles. I talked to their mom and found out about the tough times they’d been through, how she’d lost her husband in a construction accident down in Birmingham and was trying to get to her family up in Kentucky. I prayed with her before she left. I wished I could’ve given her some money, or some clothing for the children. But it was amazing to see gratitude in someone so tossed about by her circumstances.
I met several people who lifted my spirits more than I could’ve ever expected, all when I was supposed to be lifting theirs. I thanked God for the chance to be a part of his work in their lives. Course, I couldn’t help those moments of selfish joy either, when Matthew would glance over at me and smile. My stomach squirmed like crazy every time he spoke to me, no matter how much I tried to tame it. As we finished serving the food for the day and started cleaning up, I realized it would be another long, back-breaking week before I could do it all again. I tried to take a lesson from that young mother and be grateful for a roof over my head, but I had to admit it wasn’t easy.
“You two feel like some ice cream?” Matthew asked as Mary and I wiped down the counters one last time.
He stood in the center of the kitchen with this huge grin on his face, oblivious to all the stains spattered across his shirt and pants. I let myself imagine that he was genuinely interested in spending time with me, but not for long. I hated it when he made me forget I was just a little sister to him.
I frowned and looked at Mary instead. “I can’t. Henry should be here any minute.”
I willed my eyes not to look and see if he was disappointed, but I heard his deep exhale anyway. When I did take a look, he slung a bag of trash over his shoulder and headed out the door and behind the church. Mary and I followed. He threw the bag onto the burn pile and turned around, dusting his hands off. We all looked at each other like we weren’t sure what to do next. But then Henry pulled up in Mr. Calhoun’s truck. He blew the horn and waved at us.
“Hidey ya’ll! How’s saving the world going?” He jumped down from the truck and sent the dust flying.
Matthew laughed and shook Henry’s hand. “You should come join us sometime. It’s good for the soul.”
“Naw,” Henry said. “I think I’ll leave all the Lord’s work to the experts.”
The two of them talked baseball, while Mary and I listened. Her eyes glazed over as she looked at Henry, like all the other girls in town, and I tried not to laugh. I figured even Mary couldn’t help herself. I finally got their attention and asked Henry when we were heading back.
“Oh, I forgot, Rubes, I got some business to take care of, uh, some more deliveries and such.” He looked at Matthew and to my horror asked, “Could you take her home for me?”
“Sure, I’d be happy to,” Matthew answered.
Henry waved goodbye and sped off in the truck before I could even raise a word of protest. I just stood there with my mouth gaping o
pen. And I could’ve sworn the back of that truck was empty. He was going to get it as soon as he got home.
“Well, I guess that means you have time for ice cream,” Mary said. She smiled kindly at me, looking all hopeful. But I couldn’t think of one thing to say. All I could think about was how humiliating it would be for the two of them to see that shack we’d been living in.
“Come on,” Matthew said, motioning for us to follow him. “We can walk down to Kleinman’s before we head out.”
I shook my head and managed to find my voice. “Mother’s expecting me home soon. You two go ahead, and I’ll find another ride home.”
“That’s nonsense!” Matthew looked downright mad. “What is it with you? Why can’t you ever let me do nothing nice for you?”
“Matthew,” Mary said. “Don’t make a fuss. If she has to get home then we’ll take her.”
“Well of course we’ll take her.” He looked right at me and narrowed his eyes. “I’m driving you home, so don’t get any fool ideas about getting another ride home.”
“I don’t think anyone made you the boss of me,” I said. “I can manage just fine on my own. Maybe I don’t even want you to take me home. You and Henry make decisions for me like I don’t even matter.”
He threw his hands up and walked away from me a few steps before turning around. “Okay, fine. Ruby, what do you want? I’d like to take you home, but if you have a better option, by all means let me know, and I’ll leave you alone.”
Mary stepped in front of me as she scolded him. “Oh leave her alone and quit being so rude.” She turned and faced me then. “Ruby, is something wrong? Did Matthew upset you? Why don’t you want us to take you home?”
Couldn’t she understand that explaining why I was embarrassed was just as bad as having them see our house? But I didn’t see any way out of it. I didn’t have any other way home, and I hated making Matthew mad at me.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I called over to him. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just talk before I think. You know that.”
He grunted and rolled his eyes. “Well let’s get going then. Car’s over here.”
I followed behind Mary, but when she started to climb into the back seat, I grabbed her arm and shook my head. “Let me take the back.”
“Don’t be silly.” She smiled so innocently at me I almost believed she was oblivious to my feelings about Matthew. Though I wasn’t sure how she could miss it. “You have to get out first anyway.”
I didn’t want to make Matthew any madder than I already had, so I kept my mouth shut and climbed into the front beside him. As we headed out of Cullman toward Hanceville, I tried to think of something to say that would smooth things over. Words sure flew out of my mouth when they shouldn’t, but heaven forbid I should come up with the right thing at the right time. So I said the first thing that popped into my head.
“You ever seen a colored person that was mixed? You know, one with a white parent and a colored parent?”
Matthew looked at me wide-eyed, like I’d asked if he’d ever seen a two-headed dragon. “What on earth would make you think of something like that?”
I shrunk down in my seat. “I don’t know. Just curious is all. You know, Calhoun lets coloreds work some of his land. Course, he keeps them fenced off.”
“I guess Calhoun can do what he wants with his own land,” Mathew said. “But it’s a bad idea mixing white and colored folks in the same fields. B’sides, they got their own town with all their own stuff. Don’t see why they’d be coming up into Hanceville for farming work.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The Colony. They all live and work there, except for the few that are maids and such. Got their own stores, their own doctors, even their own gin. That’s how it should be everywheres. Ain’t no need to mix ’em in with the rest of us. Just causes trouble no one needs. Probably where them mulattoes come from.”
I remembered the boy standing in the doorway of the barn with a dead chicken stuffed in his overalls. “What if they need help? Who helps them? I mean, if they’re having trouble getting food.”
“I reckon they got their own soup kitchens at their own churches. They take care of their own just like we do.”
“But what if they don’t?”
Matthew looked at me with his brow all scrunched together. “What are these questions for? Something going on at Calhoun’s place?”
I shook my head and dropped my gaze. There was no need drawing attention to something I couldn’t explain anyway. I was getting the feeling that the longer we talked on the subject, the stranger I was going to sound.
I couldn’t help my curiosity about people, especially coloreds. If they had their own place to go for help, why would a little boy be stealing a chicken? Why risk the harsh punishment that would surely come down on him? I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow I was supposed to help him, but I had no idea how.
July 14, 1931
Dear Asa,
I thought the best place to send a letter would be to Grandma Graves, so I hope this finds you. Circumstances here have changed greatly since you left us. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the bank took the farm from us shortly after you left. We’re sharecropping now at Mr. Calhoun’s property over on the west side of Hanceville. We’re getting by, better than some, but just barely. I won’t depress you with all the details. But a word of encouragement would sure be nice. Some days it’s real hard to believe in a miracle-working God when I look around at this place and think about all we’ve lost—Daddy, our home, all our belongings. I’d ask you to come back if I thought you would, but I believe you and Mother have a history you can’t overcome. I hope that won’t keep you from helping me. I can’t imagine why you’d pop into my life, talk all about my gift and my calling, and then just vanish with no other help in finding my way. So I’m asking you to find some way to teach me, to let me know how to go forward.
In the meantime, I figured while I’m waiting on God to show me what he wants me to do with this gift you say I have, I’m doing what I can to help people around me. I started volunteering at the soup kitchen at Matthew’s church in Cullman. I’ve met people from all over. A few I know, and they don’t hardly ever look me in the eye. But the ones passing through town seem eager to tell me their stories and happy to accept my blessings. I can’t offer them much more than a warm meal and prayers for safe travels. Sometimes, I feel so powerless and small.
Matthew’s doing well. He’s completely recovered from T.B. without a sign he ever had it! That old goat Cass still acts like I’m sent straight from hell to lead Matthew and the rest of the Doyles astray. I don’t know what set him off against me, but it seems to have something to do with you. It’d sure be helpful if you would explain that to me.
Matthew’s been so frustrated with me lately. Every Saturday, Henry drives me to the church to help with the soup kitchen, and Matthew and his sister drive me home. Only, I don’t let him bring me to the house. I make him drop me off at Mr. Calhoun’s, and I walk the rest of the way home. We had a big fight over it at first cause he thinks he knows better than me when it comes to just about everything. But I couldn’t let him and Mary see our place.
Please write back if you can. Even if you don’t teach me one more thing about healing, I don’t care. I miss you.
Sincerely,
Ruby
Now Mr. Calhoun was adamant that there’d be no stealing watermelons out of the patch set aside for selling at the market, but sometimes I dreamed of those sweet melons on my tongue on a hot day. Thankfully, he’d planted a few scattered throughout some of the other crops, and if you happened to come up on one that was good and ripe, you could take a little break, crack it open and share with some of the other workers around you. I was always good at telling when they were ripe, so eventually I was the official watermelon thumper. It had to make just the right sound.
I was crawling around in the pepper garden a few days after I’d sent that letter to Asa, and I swea
r it was the hottest day ever on the planet. There was no need for rain, cause I was sweating so much I was watering the peppers myself. Even after a couple of weeks of working in the fields most days, I still wasn’t use to the work, and my muscles were aching something fierce. I came up on a smaller watermelon, one that wouldn’t be much for sharing with a group. So when my thumping proved it to be ripe, I called Henry over to eat it with me. I’d tried staying mad at him over leaving me to ride home with Matthew, but I’d never managed harboring a grudge before, and I sure didn’t manage it this time either. We sat on the ground between the pepper plants and enjoyed that juicy melon so much, we didn’t want to get back to work. I picked over the remains of my half of the watermelon, delaying the inevitable as long as I could.
Henry dragged his shirt sleeve across his face and let out a big sigh. “Rubes, I don’t think I can keep this up much longer.”
“Just a couple of hours left in the day,” I said. “It’s cooling off now. If I can make it, you can.”
He stared off at the hills in the distance, not saying anything for a couple of minutes. It was a little unnerving for him to be quiet and serious for long. I tried to think of something to get him talking.
“Henry, do you ever think about what life would be like somewhere else?”
He looked sideways at me and grinned. “You reading my mind with some kind of magic or something?”
“No, just wondering.”
“Sure, I think about it. I guess most folks going through tough times dream of something different. Don’t you?”
Sometimes it felt like that was all I ever did. “You think it’s possible? To change the way things are?”
“I guess it’s possible.” He frowned and gazed over the hills again. “But seems like it’d cost you everything.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Well, I don’t have a dime, so I guess I’m stuck for now.”
Healing Ruby: A Novel Page 18