It was quiet as a snowy night, at least for a minute. And then finally one fellow spoke up.
“Axel was here. He hitched a ride with somebody, but I don’t know who. And he had a little money on him. So he was gambling—laid it all on the table. Said he had a good feeling about it. Said his wife would be proud of him for bringing home the bacon. But then he lost. And he started looking real sick. Like he couldn’t believe he just turned that ten dollars into dust. He stopped playing then and sat there staring, until all of a sudden he stood up. ‘I need some fresh air,’ he said. He stepped out and didn’t come back. Later one of the fellers stumbled onto him there by the light pole. By the time the rest of us got to him, he was gone.”
“His heart gave out,” said the deputy.
“That’s what the coroner told me and Momma,” I said to the deputy. “But how do I know you aren’t covering up something? What you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be the long arm of the law?”
The deputy nodded. “You guessed it. That’s what I’m doing here. Making sure every little thing is aboveboard and legal as a court case.” He stood there with his arms folded. Right behind him on the inside wall was a door.
“Well, then,” I said, “how about you open that door? How about you show me just how legal every little thing is?” I crossed my arms too. And looked him in the eye and waited.
He snorted. Then he dropped his hand and pulled out his pocket watch. He glanced at it, then turned the face around for me and Dudley to see. “Boys, I do believe it’s past your bedtime. He narrowed his eyes. “How’d you get here anyhow? I know you’re too young to drive.”
I could feel myself biting my tongue half off. Here I was talking to a policeman and fixing to leave in a stolen car. What if he wandered out past those other vehicles in the field and found the Hinkle sisters’ Plymouth? But there were horses out there too, and they gave me the perfect answer. “Horse power,” I said. “I’ve been riding mules since I was four years old.”
He nodded. “How about you go climb on that mule and pretend like you never did see this place.” He leaned in close so I couldn’t help but smell whiskey breath. His voice was low and mean. “You forget you were ever here and I promise you I will too.” And just to make his point, he pulled his star-shaped badge from his pocket. He wiggled it back and forth in front of my face. “Like I said, my job is to make sure everything that goes on around here is in accordance with the law.”
It sounded like he was making some kind of deal with us. I could take him up on it or I could say we weren’t leaving until he opened that door. But I knew he was threatening me with trouble if I pressed the point. I also knew it wouldn’t do me any good. Even if he did open it, the only thing I’d see was empty sweet potato crates. I knew they had their moonshine tucked out of sight.
I turned to Dudley. “Some people think they’re above the law,” I said. “I don’t want nothing to do with their kind. Let’s go.”
35
GUILTY
April 1942
When the door shut behind me and Dudley, I took a second or two to just stand there and breathe in the clean night air.
Dudley socked me on the shoulder. “Let’s leave outta here,” he said. “Your mule is waiting.” Maybe he was trying to get a laugh out of me. More likely he was hoping the men inside were listening.
On the way back to the car I stopped by the light pole. Dudley kept walking, but I stood there wondering. Was Pop facedown? Did he go quick?
All of a sudden it didn’t matter so much exactly how he had died that night. What mattered was that he was on Hog Hill, with the likes of those goons. I started talking to Pop—right out loud.
“If you had to die, did it have to be here? Do you realize what people think every time your name comes up? He’s the drunk that died over at Hog Hill. I can just see them shaking their heads and saying what a pity it is. Feeling sorry for me and Momma. Well, Pop, I don’t want people looking at me and thinking what a shame it is that I was born to the likes of Axel Bledsoe.”
I stood there and listened for explanations or maybe an apology, even. But the only thing I heard was insects in the grass and somewhere off in the woods the sad sound of a hoot owl. I kicked the light pole. “You just had to leave us with no respect, didn’t you, Pop? I sure hope you’re happy.”
And then Pop talked back to me. I mean, not really—I didn’t hear his voice talking in my ear. But the sound of him singing so strong and powerful was filling my head. Amazing grace … a wretch like me. I felt myself starting to cry. But there was no way I was doing that—not with Dudley waiting in Miss Pauline’s car. So I walked away from the light pole and leaned against the back of the car and tried to shut the sound of Pop’s singing out of my mind. Except I didn’t want to shut it out. I wanted to hear him singing. I wanted the sound of it to wash over me like river water on a hot day.
So I let that song roll across my mind in Pop’s voice, one verse after the other. Then, right in the middle of when we’ve been there ten thousand years, I felt Dudley thumping me on the back. “Jump in the car,” he said. “Quick. Someone is fixing to leave out of Peewee’s.”
Sure enough, I saw the headlights of some vehicle that was backing out. If they caught us with Miss Pauline’s car I’d be the one bringing disgrace on Momma’s head. I couldn’t blame that on Pop. I bolted like a skittish cat and hopped into the car.
Dudley cranked the engine and let the clutch out, fast—too fast. The car jerked and then stalled. “Calm down, Dudley,” I yelled.
“Shut up. I don’t need you hollerin’ at me.” He cranked it again. This time he only jerked a little and got us out on the road and heading toward home.
I looked back over my shoulder and saw headlights turning out of Peewee’s place. “He’s coming this way.”
“Shut up, Bledsoe. I can see that.” Dudley stepped on the gas.
“Whatever you do, don’t wreck this thing. What if it’s the deputy following us?” I wanted so bad to know it wasn’t the deputy. But I made myself look straight ahead. “See any red lights in your mirror?”
“If I do, I’ll outrun him.”
“No you won’t!” I yelled. The road here was dirt and I could just see Dudley skidding into the side ditch.
Dudley cackled. “Calm down, Bledsoe.”
That car followed us all the way to the cotton gin at the crossroads. When we stopped at the intersection it pulled up right behind us. Dudley was nervous. I could tell because he jerked Miss Pauline’s car when he tried to take off.
Then the other car turned and headed east. But first, the driver gave his horn three short toots—like a warning. I knew it was the deputy, reminding us that he was the one holding the star-shaped badge. And the power.
Still, at least he turned and went the other way. “Phew! That was close,” said Dudley.
We only had a few miles to go, and I could not wait to be rid of that stolen car. “Hurry!” I said. Dudley pressed on the gas, and the car took off like a hound dog after a rabbit. “Whoa! Slow down. Thunderation, Dudley, if you wreck this, we’ll be sleeping in the jailhouse for sure!”
“Make up your mind, Bledsoe.” Dudley went speeding down the hill toward the river. I hung on to the door handle and prayed. Lord, make him slow it down. Finally he started braking. From the river it was only about a mile to home. As anxious as I was to get this over with, I did not tell him to hurry up.
Back at the Hinkle sisters’, I half expected to see Miss Pauline standing in her empty garage waiting for us. Dudley turned the headlights off. Thank goodness for the full moon. As it was, I thought he was fixing to scrape the side of the building when he turned in. But we didn’t, and Dudley handed me the key. “I reckon you know where this came from.”
I had to be rid of it. The sooner, the better. So I snuck to the back door and listened for sounds inside. I saw that the door between the kitchen and the back porch was closed. I pulled the screen door open and hung the key on the hook, quick as I could.
I steadied the plant, and just when I was shutting the door, I saw a light come on inside the house. “Heaven help!” I whispered. “I woke them up.” I shut that door real quiet and then I took off running like a moonshiner with the law on his tail.
Dudley was waiting behind the Hinkle sisters’ garage. He started running after me. “What’s your hurry, Bledsoe?”
“I think they heard me.”
“Those old ladies are never gonna catch you. I can’t even keep up.”
“They could call the police.”
“You’re imagining things. I’m sure the sisters don’t go calling the police every time the house creaks. Hey, how about I sleep in your barn? I’m beat.”
“And take my chances on Momma catching sight of you in the morning?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll leave before daylight. There’s no telling what could happen if I’m not there when my family wakes up.”
I decided to sleep in the barn too. That way I could run Dudley off at the crack of dawn. But first I grabbed the milking bucket off the back porch so I’d have an excuse for being out of the house when Momma woke up.
Dudley was asleep in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t just fall off like that. My mind went back and forth between worry and guilt. My ears were tuned for the sound of that deputy’s car coming up the lane. When I did sleep, I dreamed about red lights flashing and Pop singing and Dudley swearing. I woke up and Dudley was gone.
The sun was working up its courage to face the day, so I decided to get a head start myself. Eleanor was sleeping in her stall. “Rise and shine,” I said, nudging her to her feet. She bawled the whole time. “Never you mind,” I told her. “Ain’t none of your beeswax what I’m doing here so early or where I was last night.” I put some oats in her bucket and pulled up the milking stool. “You don’t have any idea what it feels like to be Junior Bledsoe. So don’t be judging me.”
When I took the milk inside, I heard Momma stirring in her room. I poured the milk into jars and set them in the icebox. Momma came into the kitchen squinting. And yawning. “Have mercy! You did the milking already?”
“That boy stayed out all night,” yelled Granddaddy from the bedroom.
Good grief! I couldn’t get by with anything. “I slept in the barn,” I told Momma. “Granddaddy snores too loud.”
“Wasn’t snoring when I heard you go out the back door.”
“Okay, Granddaddy. But I still slept in the barn.”
“Hmph. Bet you think I wasn’t a boy once.” Now he was leaning on the doorframe between his room and the kitchen. “I could teach you a thing or two about sowing some wild oats.”
Momma was, for sure, awake now. She put her hand on my arm. “Is there something you should be telling me?”
“I slept in the barn,” I said. “There’s nothing more to say about that.”
She leaned in and sniffed. “Why do I smell cherry cigars?”
And why didn’t I think about me carrying that smell home? “Momma,” I said, “if I walked into your room right now I’d smell cherry cigars. The scent of them never left when he did.”
“Maybe.” She pulled away. “Or maybe you’ve taken up smoking. Junior, we don’t have money for foolishness. And that Walker boy. If he’s anything like his daddy. I beg you to stay away from him.”
“The way Calvin Settlemyre avoids me?” I asked. “Because, after all, I might be just like Pop. Momma, I’ve never touched a drop of liquor. I promise you.”
“Acorn don’t fall far from the tree,” said Granddaddy. He was standing not two feet away from me and Momma. And it was like she believed him more than me.
“Your father promised too,” she said. “But it didn’t stop him from drinking.”
I probably shouldn’t have blamed her for thinking ill of me like that. After all, my name was Axel Bledsoe. “Well, if you don’t believe me, then,” I said, “I reckon you didn’t call me Junior for nothing.”
I heard her gasp, and the sound of it was ragged. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. “Momma,” I said, “you watch. I’m going to do better than Pop did.”
So far I hadn’t accomplished much in that department. In fact, I was failing. Sure, Pop was a drunk, and everybody knew it. But nobody could say he was a car thief.
36
NEWS
May 1942
I was in the garden, planting squash hills and minding my own business, when I heard Ann Fay’s voice behind me. “Hey, Junior. Look who’s in the paper. The real Sergeant York. He had to register for the army.”
“I’ll look in a minute,” I said. I pulled a few seeds out of the paper poke and dropped them into the ground.
She parked herself beside me, right in the dirt. “The president registered too. Only he won’t have to serve on account of having polio.”
“No,” I said. “President Roosevelt doesn’t have to fight because he’s already serving our country—meeting with world leaders and making important decisions. And the reason he signed up was every man between forty-five and sixty-five has to get a draft number. He just turned sixty.”
“I know that,” said Ann Fay. “Back in January. I saw it in the paper.”
“It’s all propaganda, you know. Same with Sergeant York. People see pictures of them signing up and it makes them want to register too.”
Ann Fay turned real quiet then and put the paper on the ground so she could cuddle Jesse and Butch. “I want me a dog,” she said. “That way, if Daddy has to go off to war, I’ll have somebody else to love me while he’s gone.”
“Dogs are a dime a dozen,” I said. “Pop got Butch from Garland Abernethy, and I found Jesse in the side ditch.”
Ann Fay snorted. “Huh, I ride up the road practically every day and never once have I seen a dog in the ditch waiting for me to take it home.” She kissed Butch and then Jesse on the tops of their heads. She scratched them behind the ears and stared into space like she forgot I was even there. I went back to hoeing and after a while I heard her again.
“What if they pick Daddy’s number? And what if he don’t come home?”
I probably should have been more understanding. After all, if Leroy was called up, I’d be scared for him too. Still, I couldn’t help thinking Ann Fay should be glad she even had a daddy to worry about. “Don’t be fretting about something that hasn’t happened yet,” I told her. “Speaking of worrying, your momma’s gonna think the bus forgot to drop you off.”
“School let out early today,” she said. “On account of sugar rationing. The teachers have to do the registrations. Did Bessie sign up?”
“Not yet. But she will. All the baking she does, we’re gonna need sugar.”
“Yeah,” said Ann Fay. And then she finally told me her real reason for dropping by—besides bringing me the paper, that is. “Rob Walker said his brother Dudley stayed out all night on Friday. Wonder who he done that with.”
Ann Fay had my attention for sure. But I just grunted, not letting on that I knew what she was talking about.
“Some people are just trouble, is what they are.”
“Yep,” I said. “Like Rob Walker.” I covered the seeds with dirt. “Why’re you talking to him anyway?”
“He was telling somebody else. I just happened to hear it. He said Dudley was with you.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was heading, and I especially didn’t like thinking about what would happen if certain people found out where I was on Friday night. But I told myself to stay calm.
“You covering something up, Junior?”
“Yup. And they’re called squash seeds. Wanna help?”
“Can’t. I got my school clothes on.”
I looked at her and shook my head. “And there you are—si
tting in the dirt. What’s your momma gonna say?”
“My dress is just fine,” she said. “But where’d you go on Friday night?”
“To bed. Actually, I slept in the barn. Granddaddy snores.”
“Rob said Dudley came sneaking in the house with hay in his hair. When his daddy found out, he took a beating for it.”
I started hacking at a thistle coming up through the dirt, hoping she didn’t see worry on my face. “Wayne Walker sure ain’t like Leroy Honeycutt,” I said. “Count your blessings on having Leroy for a daddy, Ann Fay.”
She stood up and brushed the dirt off the back of her dress. “Reckon I better go. Like you said, Momma’ll be fretting. Don’t worry, Junior. I won’t tell my daddy what people are saying about you and Dudley.”
“That’s big of you,” I said.
Ann Fay stood there scowling like she was expecting a thank-you for being so neighborly and all. Maybe she was doing me a favor.
“Thanks for the report. And the newspaper.”
Evidently that’s what she wanted to hear, on account of she turned and walked off. I sure hoped her momma could get the red dirt out of her skirt tail.
But I will say, she had me worrying. And wondering about Dudley. Did he know all along he would take a beating for what he did? Why would he take that chance just on account of me and my pop?
I couldn’t stop wondering about that. If Dudley was in trouble, would I be next? How did I know Ann Fay wouldn’t go telling Leroy what she heard?
37
DOFFING
May 1941
Two days later, Leroy came by the house. I couldn’t tell if he’d heard anything suspicious sounding about me or not. But at least he didn’t preach any sermons or ask me what I’d been up to. “How’s the job hunt coming along?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I do odd jobs here and there. But it’s hit or miss. I need something I can count on, like a factory job.”
“And how is that better than going to school?”
I shrugged. There wasn’t a good answer for his question, so I just said, “School used to be okay. But this year it was useless.”
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