The Buried Book

by D. M. Pulley

Wayne’s eyes lit up. “We cuttin’ the nuts off that pig today?”

  Uncle Leo chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you be so excited about it. Put yourself in his shoes.”

  Jasper just stood there dumb while Wayne ran to the far wall for a knife that looked like a giant hook. Did he say, “cuttin’ the nuts off”?

  His uncle tapped his shoulder. “Wake up, Jasper. I need a few lengths of rope. That wall over there. Alright?”

  The boy nodded and walked over to the side wall and pulled two circles of braided horse hair down from a nail. When he returned, Uncle Leo was giving a demonstration to his son on how the knife in his hand worked. “You gotta split, then sever ’em. Got it?”

  Wayne nodded and asked, “Won’t he bleed out?”

  Bleed out? Jasper handed the rope to his uncle.

  “Nah. No major arteries to worry about down there. Thanks, Jasper. Now, boys, when you’re castrating your stock, you must proceed with extreme caution. That boar Sheldon worked last year nearly killed him. You get knocked down in a pigpen, it’s your ass. Got it? This is serious business.”

  Wayne was nodding as if he understood.

  “Jasper, you look confused, son.”

  “I—I’m sorry, but what are we doing?”

  “We’re gonna cut the nuts off Roy over there.” Wayne grinned and slapped him on the back like he’d just caught a whopper of a fish.

  “Easy, Wayne.” Uncle Leo gave his head a small shake and turned to Jasper. “What your overly enthusiastic cousin over there is tryin’ to say is that we have to castrate that pig.”

  Jasper felt sick. “Why?”

  “’Cause if we don’t, he’s liable to go wild and hurt the other pigs,” Wayne explained as though this were common knowledge.

  “Nuts make you wild?” Jasper frowned and fought the urge to grab his own.

  “Not wild. Aggressive. Bullish. We want happy pigs in this pen.” Uncle Leo was trying to reassure him, but it still didn’t make sense.

  Why would a pig be happy without his nuts? Jasper wanted to ask but held his tongue.

  “Besides,” Uncle Leo continued, “one boar is enough to keep the whole county in piglets for years, and that boar belongs to Arthur Hoyt over the hill there. So, we ready?”

  Jasper was not, but he stood his ground and followed his uncle’s orders.

  “You gotta grab and cut quick, or the pig will eat you alive. And it will eat you if it gets a chance.” Uncle Leo laughed like this was a joke as he led a medium-sized pig into the holding stall and shut the door.

  Wayne nodded at Jasper. “That’s why you never let yourself fall down in a pigpen. Right, Pop?”

  Jasper barely heard his uncle’s answer. Poor Roy was being hog-tied on his back to a fence post. Without a moment’s hesitation, Uncle Leo grabbed what the good Lord had given the pig and split it in two. Roy let out a tortured squeal. Jasper lurched back at the sound and felt himself turn green.

  “Don’t worry, kid.” Wayne chucked his shoulder. “Pop’s done this a hundred times. Right, Pop?”

  “Every summer.” Uncle Leo nodded. “Wayne, have the salt ready.”

  “Got it.” Wayne slapped a cardboard box onto the fence post.

  “What’s the salt for?” Jasper whispered.

  The question was lost in a high-pitched squall as his uncle sliced off the pig’s testicles in one clean swipe. Everything Jasper had eaten the night before rose up in his throat, and his own tiny balls shrank into his stomach.

  “Okay, boys. Back up!” his uncle barked.

  Wayne grabbed Jasper by the arm and pulled him back several feet. What happened next happened too fast for Jasper to fully comprehend. Uncle Leo dumped half the box of salt on the open wound. Roy let out a shriek twice as loud as when he’d lost his nuts. Uncle Leo released the ropes and hopped the fence in one motion. The nutless pig took off bucking and squealing around the pen.

  “Once you’re done, you better clear out of there, ’cause he’ll be madder than a nest of hornets.” Uncle Leo dusted himself off. He rinsed the bloody knife in a bucket of water before hanging it back up on the wall.

  Jasper gaped at poor Roy as he circled the pen, kicking and screaming. “Is he gonna . . . be alright?”

  “Of course. He’ll be fine by supper. Speaking of supper, here.” Uncle Leo held a bloody handkerchief out to Jasper. It contained something the size of a grapefruit. “Go run these back to your aunt in the kitchen.”

  Jasper’s jaw dropped at what his uncle was implying.

  “This here’s a farm, boy, not a zoo. We don’t let nothin’ go to waste. Not like in your big, fancy city. Now, here.” Uncle Leo grabbed Jasper’s hand and made him take the bloody rag and everything it held. It was still warm. His uncle clapped him on the back. “You keep your ears open and your mouth shut, we just might make a farmer out of you.”

  Jasper forced a smile.

  CHAPTER 3

  Would you say you had a happy home life as a child?

  “Where the hell’ve you been?” Jasper heard his father yelling on the other side of his bedroom door.

  “Don’t you use that tone with me!” his mother barked back. “I had to pull an extra shift.”

  “I called down to the dairy, Althea. Now, you better tell me where you been!”

  “I wasn’t at the goddamned office, now was I!” The door to a cupboard slapped open. Something wet splashed into a glass. “Do we have to discuss this every time? You know Galatas is constantly sending me out on errands. I had to go to the warehouse.”

  “Why is that? Why’s he got so many errands for you, huh?”

  His mother sighed. “Because I do a good job. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

  “I’ll tell you why! I don’t like the way that man looks at you!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I don’t trust him, Althea! The way I heard it, he’s runnin’ more than numbers out of that joint.”

  “Jesus, Wendell! There you go listenin’ to gossip again. Tell those boys down at the plant to mind their own damned business! Ain’t nothin’ coming out of the warehouse but butter and cream. Alright?”

  There was a heavy pause. The next time his father spoke, he sounded beaten. “How many nights is Jasper gonna be left alone like this?”

  “He wasn’t alone . . . He was downstairs with Mrs. Carbo.” A glass hit the counter. “I hate it when you do this. You know I’d rather be here with him, but what am I supposed to say to my boss?”

  “You should’ve said no.”

  “I can’t just say no to Galatas, and you know it! Besides . . . we need the money.”

  His father let out a long hiss of air, and his voice grew almost too quiet to hear. “This isn’t just about money. I can’t—I can’t live like this.” A moment later, the front door opened and then clicked shut.

  The sound of it hollowed Jasper out. He tried to shout after him, Dad! Don’t go!

  The next thing he knew, he was falling down a long dark tunnel. DAD!

  Jasper startled awake. It took him several breaths with his heart hammering his ribs to recognize where he’d landed. He was in Wayne’s small bed behind the thin curtain. He exhaled in relief. Then he realized his pajamas were wet.

  No! He leapt out of bed, banging his elbow on the small chest of drawers under the window. He stifled a yelp and checked Wayne’s face. The older boy snored and rolled over. The only other sound was the wind whistling through the trees outside. On the other side of the wavy window glass, the eastern sky was just starting to glow at the edges. Everyone would be awake soon.

  Jasper felt the sheet and blanket where he’d lain. There was only one small wet spot. He put his pillow over it. He’d try to clean it later when no one was watching. He stripped off his pajamas and wiped down his legs with them. He couldn’t let Wayne know what he’d done. He’d rather die than have his cousin think he was some baby. He balled up the pajamas and searched for a place to hide them. There was barely space to turn around
in his cousin’s makeshift bedroom. It was the length of the bed and only wide enough for the mattress and the small chest of drawers that held Wayne’s clothes. Jasper’s suitcase sat on top.

  A rooster crowed from the henhouse. Jasper was out of time. He threw the ball of urine-soaked pajamas under the bed and pulled his last pair of clean pants out of his bag. He quietly closed the lid of the suitcase and bit back tears. It had been ages since he’d had an accident. He glared down at the pathetic organ that had betrayed him. The image of Roy’s balls split open flashed in his head, and he nearly doubled over.

  Jasper was saying a silent prayer that he would not ever have another accident again in his life when a knock rattled the cabin door.

  “Leo? Leo, you in there?” a voice bellowed. The knock turned into a pound.

  “Hold your horses,” his uncle barked back. There was a creak and the sound of shuffling feet. On the other side of the curtain, the front door opened. “Mornin’, Wendell. You leave your manners at home?”

  The angry thud of his father’s footsteps shook the floorboards. “Cut the crap, Leo. Where is she?”

  “Easy, Wen. We’d better go outside.”

  The door to the cabin thumped shut. Jasper stood half naked behind the curtain, holding his pants and staring after the two men. His dad wasn’t even looking for him, but his heart fluttered anyway. He’s come to take me home. Jasper had never been so homesick in his life. He threw on his trousers and crept out into the kitchen. Out the front window, the two men stood in the yard by a beat-up truck. Jasper scowled at the strange vehicle. His parents only owned one car, and she’d taken it. His father was dressed in blue coveralls for work.

  Uncle Leo looked sort of silly standing there in his union suit, but that didn’t stop him from being indignant. “What the hell are you doin’ here at this hour?”

  “She’s gone, Leo. She hasn’t been home in three days.”

  The spring in Jasper’s heart went slack as his father’s words sank in. She’s gone. He cupped his ear to the bug screen to hear better.

  “Yep. I figured as much.”

  “What do you mean you figured as much? This ain’t funny. She hasn’t been to work. That boss of hers, Galatas, has been by lookin’ for her, calling the house at all hours. Even showed up on my doorstep with his fat red face, making threats. If she doesn’t come in today, she’s canned.” His father ran a hand through his thinning gray hair.

  “I wish I could help, I really do.” Leo held up his hands. “Last I saw her was three days ago myself. She brought Jasper here and left just like that. Didn’t ask, just did it.”

  His father went quiet as the words sank in, then said, “Did she say where she was headed?”

  “Nope. Wouldn’t say. She didn’t know when she’d be back either. Kept sayin’ how I had to keep the boy safe. As if somebody might come snatch him. Woman’s got a damned screw loose, but that’s Althea, isn’t it?”

  His father shook his head. “I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t do that. Althea wouldn’t do that to Jasper. She’d die first.”

  Leo shook his head. “Well, she must be dead then.”

  In the dull light of morning, he could see his father cover his eyes with his hand. His shoulders shook. He’d never seen his father cry before, and the sight sent a bolt of panic through him. She must be dead then.

  Jasper sank down onto the floor. She can’t be dead. She’s coming back in a few days. She promised.

  “He’s inside. You want to see ’im.”

  “Not like this. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t—I can’t stay. I gotta get to work. You tell him I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise. Saturday. Okay?”

  “Alright. You get on then.”

  “Thank you, Leo. I’ll pay back this debt. I will. You have my word.”

  Jasper didn’t hear what was said next. His ears couldn’t take it. He buried his face in his knees and clutched the sides of his head. His father didn’t want to see him. He wasn’t taking him home. Tears streamed down his face.

  “He’ll be back, kid.” His cousin squatted down next to him and patted his shoulder. Jasper had no idea how long Wayne had been standing there and didn’t really care. He shot up and slammed out the front door. His father’s truck had pulled away up the long dirt drive, leaving a cloud of dust hanging in his wake. Jasper ran after it. He could still hear the sound of tires on gravel up ahead. He wasn’t that far behind. Maybe if his dad saw him in the rearview mirror he would stop. Maybe he would take him back home.

  Jasper ran for all he was worth. Glancing over his shoulder, he half expected to see Wayne or Leo hot on his tail, ready to take him down. There was no one. They’d let him go. They didn’t want him either. His uncle would never say it, but Jasper could see it in his worried eyes every time they all sat down for dinner and divvied up the meat. He was a burden. Another mouth to feed.

  The sound of tires grew fainter as he turned the corner up onto Harris Road. A half mile or more ahead, he could see the red outline of the truck. He kept running, knowing he’d never catch him now. His father probably couldn’t even see him through the cloud of dirt out his rear window.

  Jasper’s feet slowed to a stumbling walk as he lost his wind. Even the trail of dust had died down by then. There was nothing but corn. The burning in his lungs was his only consolation. He turned and looked how far he’d gone down the road from his uncle’s driveway. He hated that road. He’d watched it for three days, jumping up at the sound of every passing car, thinking it was her.

  He couldn’t go back and just wait, he decided. His mother was missing, and he was going to find her. He spun back to the road ahead and started walking toward town. Maybe he’d hitch a ride back to Detroit or ride the boxcars like a real hobo. If Little Orphan Annie could solve a crime, he could find his mother.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at the larger stones as he went, bashing his toes against them through his dirt-covered socks. His uncle was wrong. His mother wasn’t dead. She wasn’t even sick. He knew that was how people died, because that’s what had happened to the old man who lived down the hall, the one who would always ask him if he liked baseball. He would cough and cough all night, shaking the walls of Jasper’s bedroom until, one night, he just stopped. He’d been very old and wrinkled. His mother wasn’t hardly old at all. She did complain about getting gray hairs. Those were all his fault, she said. But she didn’t have white hair. It was still mostly black. Her face was still smooth and beautiful, with only the smallest crinkles around her eyes when she smiled. He loved it when she smiled.

  A stray tear fell down his cheek. He wiped it away.

  She can’t be dead, he decided. Not unless someone killed her.

  He stopped walking. His uncle’s voice repeated in the back of his head, Althea, what are you runnin’ from?

  “Jas—per!” He heard his name being called from a half mile away. It was his uncle.

  The boy turned to the tall rows of corn and ran into the field.

  CHAPTER 4

  Tell me about your mother. What kind of woman was she?

  The rustle of the corn drowned out the sound of his uncle’s voice as Jasper ran through the field. Leathery green leaves clawed his face and shoulders as he pushed his way down the unbending furrow between the rows. Stalks towered over his head, blocking out the sky. The hot air was thick with dirt and pollen. It was like breathing mud. He was drowning in corn. He didn’t even know where he was going.

  Jasper stopped and forced himself to take ten deep breaths, just like his mother had taught him to do when he’d wake up screaming with nightmares. Just breathe, baby. Everything will be okay, she’d say. But it wasn’t okay. He couldn’t breathe. One, two, three . . . four . . . five . . .

  Jasper grabbed a thick cornstalk to steady himself. Uncle Leo had told him once that if he listened real hard, he could hear the corn grow. It sounded exactly like the kind of stupid nonsense grown-ups liked to tell little kids. But Jasper listened for t
he corn despite himself . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . All he could hear was the faint buzz of hidden insects and the hiss of his own ragged breath. He strained again before giving up . . . nine . . . ten.

  No one could hear corn grow. Jasper whacked his forearm against a cornstalk, hoping it would break in half. It just swayed back and forth like it was laughing at him. His uncle had lied. His mother had lied too. She isn’t coming back soon.

  A white cloud passed over his head through the long stems. He was smaller than an ant in the grass. He was Jack looking for his beanstalk. Any second a giant would shake the ground, stomp over, and pluck little Jasper off his lawn.

  “Fee . . . Fi . . . Fo . . . Fum,” he whispered. It wouldn’t be so bad to be eaten, he thought and began walking again. The world would go red, then black, and then there would be nothing. He would be okay with that. His skin was itchy with pollen and sticky with sweat. He scratched at a mosquito bite until it bled. Feeling nothing would feel better than this.

  Jasper’s feet had found their way to the end of the cornfield. He’d never seen this part of the farm before. It was a foreign country. He wouldn’t have been surprised if some person in odd-looking clothes approached him, speaking a language he didn’t understand. But there was no one.

  Instead of corn, neat rows of short leafy greens stretched before him for over five hundred feet before turning into tall brown wheat near the horizon. A hundred feet to the left, there was a split-rail fence and then more corn. Three hundred feet to the right, there stood a field of bushy-looking grass that rose up to his chest. At the far end, he could just make out something tall and bulky hidden behind a stand of trees. He puzzled at it.

  Jasper picked his way through the leafy greens he suspected were sugar beets and into the thick, bushy grass. Oats, he thought. These were probably oats. Uncle Leo always answered his questions about the different crops. He didn’t say much else, but his uncle never tired of talking about farming. Leo even let Jasper steer the tractor a few times. He’d stand between his uncle’s knees while his enormous work boots operated the metal levers.