The ride was less than a mile, but warm temperatures and abundant sunshine were too much to pass up in mid-March, so Chan took his time. He was turning onto the dirt lane that led to the house when he spotted a vehicle moving toward him. Cars were rare on Grebey Island. Chan watched it approach, a dusty white late model. The driver was a man about Daddy’s age. His passenger looked older, but not old.
“We’re looking for Earl Manning.” The driver seemed friendly enough.
“He’s gone to Kansas City.”
The driver nodded and glanced at his passenger.
“How about his wife?”
“That’s my mama. She’s plowing over there a ways.” Chan pointed. “What do you need her for?”
“Boy if we wanted you to know, we’d—” The passenger’s voice wasn’t nearly as friendly. The driver raised his hand, speaking sharply, “Harold, let me handle this.” Then, turning back to Chan, “We’re from the government. You know what that is?” Chan shook his head.
“We help people. We’re here to help your Daddy.”
“You gonna help him get the land ready for planting?”
The men exchanged looks. “We might help him with the planting, yeah,” the driver said. “Where are you headed?”
“Getting some lunch for Mama and me. I’m meeting her up by the woods.”
The driver smiled. “You’re an awful nice kid, ain’t you? You like farm life?”
“Yessir. I do. Mama and Daddy said I can get a dog soon, like Mama had when she was little.”
“Well my goodness, how do you like that?” The driver grinned. “I know a man who’s got a dog he wants to give away, a brown one, just a pup. You like brown dogs?”
“I sure do! I was hoping for a brown dog. I already got a name picked out.”
“What are you gonna call it?”
Smiling broadly, Chan replied, “Dixie. I’m gonna call her Dixie.” Then, pausing for a moment, he added, “This brown dog’s a girl, isn’t she? Daddy’s worried about a boy dog running off.”
“Oh yeah,” the driver nodded. “She’s a girl alright. You want us to talk to your mama, see if she’d be okay with you getting a dog?”
Chan wanted to start dancing on the roadside. “Will you?”
“We sure will, son. Tell you what. Head on to the house and give us a little time to talk to your mama. If she gives us the okay, Harold and me’ll go back to town and get the dog for you ourselves.”
###
It took everything he had to wait at the house. After making ham and cheese sandwiches, he turned on the television and sat down on the living room floor, eating a sandwich while watching Let’s Make a Deal and To Tell the Truth. When waiting any longer became impossible, he grabbed Mama’s sandwich from the refrigerator. The white car was pulling up as he walked outside. The driver was alone this time, and as he pulled closer, Chan saw him reach into the back seat.
He had the puppy!
Chan ran to window and looked in. The driver was cradling a tiny shivering ball of brown fur. “She’s kinda nervous,” he said. “Ain’t never been for a car ride before.” He passed the pup to Chan.
“Your mama said it was fine for you to have her,” he said. “She said for you to stay here with little Dixie and help her get used to her new home. She’ll be along later.”
Chan couldn’t believe how soft the puppy was. He clutched her close, rubbing her head.
“Thank you, Mister.”
“You’re welcome, boy.” The man glanced around the farm. “I reckon you’ll need a dog, seeing how lonely it can get out here. Now promise to take good care of her, okay?”
Chan took the puppy inside and placed her on the kitchen floor. The rest of the afternoon was spent building Dixie a place to sleep, fixing her a ham sandwich of her own, and trying to teach her to roll over. It didn’t take long for the attachment to become complete, as the dog was soon following Chan around the house. It was only when the early evening shadows darkened the kitchen that he thought of Mama. It was just like her to want to get as much work done as she could before dark, but she had to be getting hungry.
A few minutes later, with Dixie safely tucked into the bike’s basket with Mama’s ham sandwich, Chan rode off toward the river. Usually he could listen closely and determine where the tractor might be, the out-of-tune engine making enough racket to be heard from a mile away. Tonight, with dusk settling, Chan heard silence.
“Mama!” The only reply was his echo bouncing off the trees along the river.
The line between plowed and unplowed soil was barely visible in the gloaming. Chan followed that line from one end of the field to another, but still no tractor. It was at the far end of the field, past the tree line that separated farm from river, that he saw the tracks. He parked his bike and followed them, his stomach tightening as he wandered into the dark tree stand. Night was coming to life: whippoorwills, crickets, and bullfrogs joining in a macabre serenade. An owl shrieked. Chan jumped and considered a hasty retreat, then he saw the tractor.
Something was horribly wrong.
The tractor was on its side, tipped over in the muddy bog at the river’s edge. He ventured a few steps closer.
“Mama?”
In the dim light, he spotted something white.
The sleeve of a shirt, sticking out from under the left tire.
With Mama’s arm still in it.
PART THREE
Mutt Manning
FIFTY-FOUR
“I can’t enroll the boy in school, Earl. He’s retarded.”
His voice was scarier than a Grebey Island rattlesnake. Chan could only guess how big he was. The lady who took Daddy in to see him wouldn’t let Chan go along. He could only sit and listen, hoping Daddy held up okay.
“Lowell, the law says he has to go to school.” Daddy’s soft voice could barely be heard through the open door.
“Listen to me, Earl. You should have thought about this when you married that woman. You made this problem for yourself. Besides, it’s almost Christmas. School started four months ago.”
“Lowell, you know what we’ve... what he’s been through.”
Chan tentatively approached the lady’s desk.
“I’m going to be in first grade.”
She snorted. “We’ll see about that.”
What did she mean? Of course he was going to school. That was why they were here. Daddy said it was time. Chan knew all about school. Kids on television went to school. They learned and had friends. They went outside and played and had lunchboxes and books. The teacher taught ABC’s and numbers.
He couldn’t wait.
His teacher would be so proud of him. He already knew his ABC’s, even how to read a little. He could count to a hundred. Mama had worked with him every day, before the accident. Shows like Captain Kangaroo helped too. He only had to see or hear something once and he knew it. Mama had told him he was smart.
“Lowell, the law says—”
“It doesn’t matter what the law says, Earl. There’s no way I’m allowing a retarded half-breed into my school.”
The lady smiled.
“Sounds like you might not be going to school.”
Chan’s stomach started to hurt, and he had to pee. He wanted to go to school so bad. There was nobody on the island except Daddy and Dixie. He and Dixie knew every inch of Grebey Island. They were best friends, but he wanted real friends.
Right now, though, he had to pee really bad. He tried to find something to take his mind off the pressure he was feeling down there. Across the room were two blue chairs and a table with magazines. He would look at the pictures and maybe forget he had to pee.
“Don’t sit there!” the lady’s sharp tone made him jump. Why couldn’t he sit in the blue chairs? Nobody else was using them, and they were by the magazines. He looked back at the lady, unsure what to do.
“Just stand and wait,” she said. “You won’t be here long.”
Chan concentrated on his father’s wavering voice
. Good days were rare, and today wasn’t one of them.
“Well at least give him a chance. He’s not dumb. He knows—”
“I don’t have to give him a chance. I’ve heard the stories and I can see by looking at him that he’s backward. All he’d do is take up space.”
“Please Lowell. Just talk to him. You’ll see. Jack Schira, Mama’s lawyer friend up in Columbia, said he has to go to school.”
Chan heard the man take a deep breath.
“Okay Earl, bring him in here and leave us alone.”
Chan’s stomach lurched. Daddy walked out and motioned to him.
“Daddy, I don’t wanna—”
Shushing him, Daddy placed a trembling hand on his shoulder and steered him into the office.
“Daddy I have to go—”
“Son, this is Mr. Surratt. He’s the school principal.”
He wasn’t as big or old as he sounded, probably younger than Daddy, with short black hair and a black suit.
“Sit down here, boy,” the man said motioning to a chair beside the desk. “Give us a few minutes, Earl. Close the door behind you.”
Daddy left them alone. Chan knew something bad was going to happen.
And it was going to happen to him.
He sat down, pulling his right leg up and squeezing himself into the chair. He kept his head low, eyes on the floor.
“Boy, what’s your name?”
The man’s sharp tone made him jump. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of Dixie. She was probably lying by the back door, waiting for him to return.
“You know your name, don’t you?”
He nodded his head slightly, still not looking up.
“C’mon boy, what’s your name? Are you as stupid as they say?”
“Its... its...” Tears dripped onto his shirt.
The man got up and stood over him, so close Chan could smell him.
“Can you count? Know your ABC’s? Colors? Anything?”
Yes! All of those things! I can count to a hundred. I can say my ABC’s. I know red from blue from green from yellow. I know all that stuff. I’m smart! Just stop yelling at me!
But his lips trembled so badly he couldn’t get a word out. His palms were sweaty, his breathing ragged.
The man chuckled.
“I guess you are as stupid as they say.”
Unable to hold it any longer, his bladder let go. Seeing the wetness covering his jeans and spreading across the upholstered chair, the man swore.
“Earl, get back in here!”
When Daddy scrambled back into the room, Chan was curled in a ball, sobbing and trying to cover his soiled clothes. Daddy looked at him, then at the man. The boy hoped he would ask what happened. Daddy needed to know that the man was mean.
Daddy said nothing.
“Earl, it’s pretty obvious he’s retarded. You could’ve done more to help him along the way, but you ignored his problems and now you expect the school to fix them.”
Daddy was silent. Any will to fight had been extinguished over the past nine months.
“It’s obvious he’s not ready for school yet, but since he’s school age, like your mama’s attorney friend said, we are required to do our best to educate him.
“I’ve got an idea.”
FIFTY-FIVE
When he finished reading the last page, Chan looked up. Mr. Meekins was smiling.
“That’s just fine, son. Real fine. That was fifth grade, you know.”
Mr. Meekins patted his head, stood slowly and made his way to the old desk salvaged from the Adair School surplus property pile. It was well-worn and a bit wobbly, like the man using it.
“I guess we’re just about done,” Mr. Meekins said. “Is your daddy coming up like we talked about?”
“Yes sir.”
Mr. Meekins glanced at a wall clock, then turned back to Chan.
“Come get up on my lap.”
Chan didn’t understand at first. He had never sat on anyone’s lap before, other than Mama’s and Grandma’s. Mr. Meekins was demanding, yet quick to dole out praise, but there had been no physical contact, other than the occasional pat on the arm or shoulder. Still, he would never turn down his teacher.
Chan lowered himself softly onto the old man’s spindly legs. Mr. Meekins situated him so they were eye to eye. His smell, a mix of leather and mothballs, had overpowered Chan the first few times they met, but now it was a scent he anticipated each morning, sitting on the steps of the old Grebey Island schoolhouse, waiting for Mr. Meekins to pull up in his pristine old Buick.
“Son, I’m seventy-eight years old.” Mr. Meekins’ voice was different that before, like he was talking to another grown-up.
“It’d been thirty years since I had students and a classroom of my own, way back when they closed the colored school at Trowbridge.
“When I got called to come up here and work with you two years ago, I figured something wasn’t right about it. I hadn’t been doing much, other than some custodial work at the AME church.”
Chan sat still, listening closely.
“Anyway, the more I thought about it the more I started to understand. That Lowell Surratt is the devil himself, just like his daddy before him. You need to remember that. He wanted to see you fail at school, so he went out and found an old broken-down colored school teacher that no white school would hire in his prime. Hardly paid enough to cover my gas from Cape Girardeau and back.”
Anger flared in Mr. Meekins’ eyes as he gazed out the schoolhouse window toward the Mississippi River. Chan shared that anger. Lowell Surratt had called him retarded. He was the devil.
“Yes indeed. He wanted you to fail. So he put you and me together in this old schoolhouse, probably thought he’d be done with the both of us by now.”
The anger melted away.
“But you know something? We showed him. We beat that devil at his own game, didn’t we?”
The boy nodded.
“Yep, we beat him at his own game. You and me did real good together, didn’t we?”
“Yessir.”
“Yes indeedy. After today you’ll be done with second grade, but you’re reading at a fifth grade level and doing math that fourth graders do in regular school.”
“We’ll do even better next year, Mr. Meekins.”
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to your daddy about. How’s he been doing?”
Chan shook his head. “Not good. He’s sad most of the time. The doctor gave him some more pills, but he forgets to take them. Sometimes he just spends his days out where the old Dobson place used to be. Then there’s the times he goes away. He was gone for six days in the spring.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, son. Remember, if you ever feel you need a new home—”
“I need to stay with Daddy, Mr. Meekins. He needs me.”
###
Chan was cleaning out his desk and Mr. Meekins was making some final notes in his student file when Daddy entered the schoolhouse.
“C’mon in, C’mon in,” Mr. Meekins said, motioning Daddy to a rickety chair.
“Good to see you, sir,” Daddy said quietly, taking a seat. “I’m sorry I ain’t stopped by more. Farm’s keeping me pretty busy. With Chan in school and Mary gone, I have so much to do.”
“Vessie, Daddy. Mama’s name was Vessie.”
Daddy looked at him blankly.
“I’ll get to why I asked you to come,” Mr. Meekins said, picking up on Earl’s confusion. “We’ve reached the end of our second school year and Chan has done very well.”
“That’s good to know.”
Chan looked closely at his daddy’s face, hoping to see something that showed he was proud. It wasn’t there. Daddy was like he mostly was lately: quiet, almost afraid.
“Folks up at Adair School hoped he wouldn’t do very well, so they could classify him as retarded, maybe put him in a special school, but he’s not retarded, Mr. Manning. He’s as smart as any little boy I ever taught.”
Mr. Meekins�
� words felt good. Daddy was probably proud, even if it didn’t show.
“I appreciate you working with him,” Daddy said.
“Well, I’ve done what I can do, but it’s time for Chan to go to regular school.”
Oh no! Regular school was where that mean devil Lowell Surratt was. The last time he’d seen Lowell Surratt, he peed his pants. By now everybody at the regular school probably knew.
Daddy stiffened. “Lowell Surratt ain’t gonna take him,” he said. “He already told me that.”
Mr. Meekins nodded slowly. “He might have told you that, but that was before I called some people in Jefferson City.”
Daddy said nothing, but his eyes showed his fear.
“I sent the people at the state department of education some of your boy’s work and told them the whole story about why I was his teacher and why we’ve been working by ourselves down here on Grebey Island. They didn’t like it one bit, so they made a call to Lowell Surratt.”
Daddy had started to sweat, despite the coolness of the day.
“Lowell’s gonna be madder than ever now. That ain’t good.”
“Oh yessir it is good, it’s very good,” Mr. Meekins said with a grin. “You see, Lowell Surratt was told that he would enroll your son in third grade in the fall or lose the state money the school gets. Ain’t gonna be no more discrimination in Adair.”
“I want to go to school here.” Chan’s outburst caught both men by surprise.
“Chan, the opportunities for you in Adair are so much more than I can give you. Besides, once you get into school and start to know other kids, you’ll be fine.”
Mr. Meekins continued talking about how good school would be at Adair, but Chan wasn’t hearing the words. There was so much that could go wrong.
What if the teachers were like Lowell Surratt?
What if the kids didn’t like him? He’d never been around other kids. Just Daddy and Dixie. And Mama before the accident.
What if he couldn’t keep up? What if he really was retarded?
Daddy seemed oblivious to Chan’s panic, but Mr. Meekins sensed something was wrong.
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