With that, Hammer and Halton dashed across the yard past the smokehouse, past the garden, through the orchard, and across the pasture towards the woods and Papa’s praying rock. Mama ran back inside the house to check on Ma Rachel taking her afternoon nap, then, with me trailing behind her fast as I could, she hurried across the side yard and around the barn to the barnyard and called for Raindrop, the mare that always pulled her buggy. But Mama didn’t take the time to hitch Raindrop to the buggy this day. Instead, she simply bridled her, helped me up, then got on herself and turned Raindrop towards the wooded path Halton, Hammer, and I had just traveled. She said it was quicker than the road. When we reached the wagon, we didn’t get down. Instead, we went around it and looked over into the ditch.
Charlie wasn’t there.
“David, you sure this here where you left him?” Mama asked.
“Yes, ma’am, right there! He hit his head on that rock yonder!”
Mama sighed. “Well, he not there now.”
“You…you figure they done found him already?”
“I…I ’spect.”
“Well…then what we do now, Mama?” I asked.
“We go home…and we wait. They’ll be comin’ soon.” She looked up and down the road, into the woods on either side, then reining the horse around, gave Raindrop a click and a nudge, and we tore up the road towards home.
When we got to the house, Joe McCalister was standing by the well with Mr. Tom Bee, a neighbor of ours. “’Ey, how do there, Miz Caroline?” greeted Joe. “David, how you, boy?”
Mama reined in Raindrop and got down. She helped me to the ground, then turned towards the well.
“We was just waitin’ here for y’all t’ get back,” said Mr. Tom Bee. “We done knocked on the door, but ain’t nobody answered. Figured it’d be all right with y’all we gone ahead and get some water, but we—” On a sudden Mr. Tom Bee stopped his talking and looked close at Mama. “Somethin’ wrong, Miz Caroline?”
“Everything’s wrong,” answered Mama. “Everything.”
“What you mean?”
Mama took in a deep, deep breath. “Hammer. My boy, Hammer, he done gone and hit that white boy, Charlie Simms. Knocked him out. He done hit his head on a rock, and we figurin’ him t’ be dead—”
“Dead!” cried Mr. Tom Bee.
“That’s right, dead. David and me, we jus’ gone t’ see ’bout him, but…but he ain’t there where Hammer done knocked him out. S’pose his family done found him already. Reckon they gonna come soon for my Hammer. Oh, Lord, how come my Paul-Edward ain’t here? They gonna come!”
Joe laughed. “What ya talkin’ ’bout, Miz Caroline? That Charlie Simms, he ain’t dead!”
“What? Boy, what you sayin’?”
“That’s sure the truth!” said Mr. Tom Bee. “We jus’ done seen that boy Charlie over there front of the white folks’ school. Seen him when we was on our way here. Him and his brother, they was jus’ standin’ up there talkin’ t’ the sheriff—”
“The sheriff?” said Mama.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s right. Sheriff and them, they was doin’ some talkin’, but we ain’t stopped to jaw with ’em none. They was lookin’ mighty serious, and ya know we ain’t had no mind to go messin’ in white folks’ business.”
Mama nodded. She closed her eyes and her lips moved, but no sound came out.
“Lordy, Miz Caroline!” said Joe. “Ya all right?”
For a moment there, Mama didn’t open her eyes or say a word. Then she took a deep breath, opened her eyes to the heavens, and said, “Thank ya, Lord, that boy he ain’t dead. He ain’t dead!”
“They not gonna come now, huh, Mama?” I said.
She put her hand on my shoulder. “Naw, child, they still gonna come all right. Your brother done hit himself a white boy. Yeah, they still gonna come. But the Lord, He done stepped in and give the breath of life back to Charlie Simms. He done give it back! Now I know He gonna watch out after my Hammer too!” She took her hand away and hurried towards the house. “David, you come with me!”
“What you gonna do, Mama?” I asked, hurrying behind her fast as I could with my gimpy leg.
“Gonna cook me some molasses bread!”
I stopped. I was figuring Mama had gone crazy. “Molasses bread?” I said.
“That’s right. I been knowin’ that sheriff since he was a boy, so you come on now and you can give me a hand! We gotta hurry! We gotta hurry!”
I turned and looked at Mr. Tom Bee and Joe McCalister. Both of them was looking puzzled as I was by the way Mama was acting.
“Uh…Miz Caroline,” called Mr. Tom Bee, “ya wantin’ us to stay on up here awhile?”
“No, suh, thank ya!” Mama hollered back, still moving. “Y’all get y’alls water and y’all go on! Best no full-grown menfolks be standin’ up here whens they get here! That’ll jus’ mean more trouble. Y’all get y’alls water and go on now! We’ll be all right! I knows what I gotta do! David, hurry up, boy! We ain’t got much time!”
She was running now. She ran onto the porch, not even looking back, just expecting me to follow. I glanced around again at Mr. Tom Bee. He was all frowned up, looking worried. He didn’t give me a sign what to do, what to think, so I limped on across the yard, and followed my mama to the kitchen house.
It wasn’t too long after that the sheriff showed up. Sheriff Peterson Rankins, his name was. He was a large-sized fella, sandy hair and a mustache, looked like he was always burned by the sun. He’d been up to our place before; he’d even come for water. Mama and Papa, they was always cordial to him, but they ain’t never got close, not like some folks did with him. Mama and Papa, they always kept their distance. They said it was best that way. Anyways, he came to our place riding his stallion, stepped down from his horse, and went over to the well. We were looking out the window watching him, waiting for him. He didn’t bother to come up to the house and ask if he could get himself a drink. He just took off the lid that covered the well and pulled himself up a bucket.
Mama heaved a heavy sigh and thanked the Lord Mr. Tom Bee and Joe were gone. Then she said to me, “All right now, David, you watch out for your Ma Rachel. She nappin’ now, but she wake up, you make sure she don’t see that sheriff and make sure she don’t come out. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll take care of her.”
Mama nodded, set her jaw, pulled the door open, then stepped out. I watched her from the darkness of the room. The sheriff took his drink and looked up. Mama stopped right where she was on the stone door-step. The sheriff, he took his full of water, poured what he didn’t have a thirst for back in the bucket, and came over. “Well, how do there, Caroline?” he asked.
“Jus’ fine,” Mama answered. “Water there still sweet?”
The sheriff glanced back at the well. “Finest water in the county. Always said so. Y’all blessed, Caroline. Without that water don’t know what half the folks ’round here woulda done.” Mama gave a nod and he came on up the side yard and stopped just before he reached the step. “I understand Paul-Edward and your oldest boys, they away lumberin’.”
“Yes, suh, that’s right,” Mama said.
The sheriff grunted, then got on with his business. “S’pose ya know how come I’m here.”
Mama just looked at him for a moment, then she said, “All I knows is what my boy David in there done told me.”
“David?” said the sheriff. “Ya mean to tell me he still ’round here?”
“He still ’round,” said Mama.
“Then you tell him t’ get on out here.”
“He taking care of Ma Rachel. Best we talk, jus’ you and me.”
The sheriff met her eyes, and his eyes narrowed down. He waited a moment, then he said, “Where’s that Hammer?”
“Hammer? Don’t rightly know where that boy is.”
“You better know. After what he gone and done, you sure ’nough better know.”
Mama stood straight and tall. “What he done?�
�
“Thought you said David done told ya.”
“He told me his side, but he ain’t told me what you gonna say.”
The sheriff sighed, took off his hat, and mopped his brow with a large handkerchief, then he mopped the sweat from the inside of his hatband. “Charlie Simms—that’s Old Mr. McCalister Simms’ boy—he jus’ got hit in the head. His brother Ed-Rose come and got me. I gone over to the Simms place and Old Mr. McCalister ’bout fit to be tied.” He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket, slapped the hat back on his head, and stared direct at Mama.
Mama waited, still as a windless day.
“Charlie told me your boys, Hammer and David, done half-killed him with a side of lumber.”
“The boy, he all right?”
“Yeah. He got some bruises, but I figure his feelings smartin’ more’n them bruises.”
“You done said Charlie Simms said both Hammer and David done hit him?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Mama frowned and didn’t say anything.
“That the story you heard?”
“That what he done told ya, then ya got no call t’ believe what my boys done told me.”
“And jus’ what was that?”
“You gonna take my boys’ words over them Simmses?”
“You jus’ tell me.”
Mama glanced back towards the kitchen. “You don’t mind, Sheriff Rankins, I got my supper on cookin’. Ma Rachel, she been feelin’ poorly, so I ain’t got nobody t’ watch out for it. You mind if I see t’ my food? You mind if we talk by the kitchen?”
“Well, I s’pose no matter what your boys done gone and done, you folks still gotta eat. Go on. Lead the way.”
Mama nodded. She left the doorway and stepped along the stones that led to the back porch. I left the window, checked on Ma Rachel, seen her still napping in her room, then I took off to the pantry where I could watch what was going on at the kitchen house. The sheriff and Mama stood on the walkway in front of the open kitchen door. The smell of molasses bread was strong. The sheriff sniffed the air and looked at Mama. “What’s that I smell cookin’?”
“Jus’ my molasses bread,” said Mama. “’Scuse me, but I best check on it ’fore it burn. Please take yourself a seat on the bench there.”
With that, she gone into the kitchen house. The sheriff, he sniffed the air again, then sat down, took off his hat, and laid it on the bench. He crossed his legs and looked out across the yard. He seemed right calm, not at all hurried about taking Hammer and me in. There was a window in that kitchen, and I could see Mama taking out the long pans of molasses bread and setting them on the side shelf right next to the door. The sheriff could see her too.
“Ya know I ain’t had molasses bread in I don’t know when—I ’spect not since our cook, Aunt Cora, died more’n a year ago. Now that old nigra woman could sure ’nough cook! My wife, well, she jus’ ain’t got the touch for cookin’ like old Aunt Cora done had. We got ourselves a young nigra gal come up to help her out, but she ain’t much got the touch neither.”
Mama came out of the kitchen and nodded, as if the sheriff not having any molasses bread was of some great concern to her, but she said nothing. The sheriff glanced through the door at those great pans of bread cooling on the sideboard and cleared his throat. “It sure do look mighty good.”
“Well, let me get you a piece,” Mama said, and went back into the kitchen. She cut a sizeable square of the bread, plopped a heaping spoonful of newly churned butter on top, and took it to the sheriff, along with a large glass of fresh buttermilk. The sheriff thanked her, took a hefty bite of the molasses bread and butter, and smiled. Then he cleared his throat and looked at Mama. “So what your boys done said happened, Caroline?”
“Well, ’cording to my boy David, him and Hammer was walking ’long the road when they run ’cross Charlie Simms. The Simms boy, he needed help putting a wheel back on his wagon, and he done asked them to help him out. David, he done held the wagon up for Charlie Simms to put the wheel back on, but he done told the Simms boy he couldn’t hold it long and that he was gonna hafta let it go, and that’s what he done—he let it go. Well, Charlie Simms, he done hit him for letting it go. Hit him and knocked him down, off his crutch—you know my David, he done broke his leg a few weeks back, and he been having to use a crutch ever since. Well, anyways, David said that’s what Charlie Simms done to him, and Hammer done beat him for it—with his fists, mind ya. He ain’t used no side of lumber, nothin’ else, jus’ his fists. He hit Charlie Simms with his fists, and Charlie Simms done fell back on a rock and hit his head, and that’s what done knocked him out.”
The sheriff grunted and finished his molasses bread. He wiped the plate clean. Mama waited. He drank his buttermilk. Mama waited. Finally he put the plate down on the bench, and sighed. “That was sure mighty good, Caroline. Mighty good.”
“Thank ya.”
“I sure wouldn’t mind takin’ a piece home, let my wife have a taste.”
“There’s plenty,” said Mama. “Ya welcome to it.”
The sheriff nodded his gratitude. Mama stood there, still waiting. The sheriff sighed and looked at her. “Now, Caroline, you know I can’t jus’ go ’lowing Hammer to go ’round hitting a white boy. Hammer and David, they gotta pay for what they done.”
“David, he ain’t touched Charlie Simms.”
“Well…that’s David’s story.”
“David don’t lie.”
“Well, that may be, but I can’t hardly go believing him over Charlie, can I now?”
“That’s up to you, I reckon.”
The sheriff was silent again, studying on the matter. He drank the last of his buttermilk and set the glass down beside the plate. Then he got up. “I’ll tell ya what I’ll do. I’ll go talk to Old Man McCalister Simms and see if I can’t get him not to press charges on this thing. I’ll see if maybe he’ll accept Hammer and David working for him for a spell. I think he’ll see he can come out ahead that way, ’stead of me takin’ them boys to jail.”
Mama nodded. “We’d be obliged if you can work it out that way. We ain’t wantin’ our boys in no jail.”
“Well, fact of the matter is you and Paul-Edward, y’all been doin’ a mighty Christian thing here, lettin’ folks use your water like you been. Lotta folks couldn’t’ve made it, they couldn’t count on that water. I ain’t forgettin’ that.”
“Well, the water, it wasn’t never ours to give. The good Lord done put it there.”
The sheriff nodded. “Still, some folks might not’ve been so willing to share. But you listen to me, Caroline, and heed my words. This better not happen again. That boy Hammer get in trouble one more time, he goin’ to jail…he don’t end up hangin’ from a tree first. That boy’s wild, and I don’t care how Christian you and Paul-Edward be, that boy don’t straighten up, there ain’t gonna be no savin’ him. You understand me now?”
“I understand.”
The sheriff picked up his hat from the bench and put it back on. Mama went back into the kitchen, covered a whole pan of uncut molasses bread with a clean cloth, set it in a basket, and gave it to the sheriff. The sheriff grinned on seeing that long pan of molasses bread, gave a nod of thanks to Mama, then headed back up the walkway, and Mama followed him. I left the pantry, ran through the house to a window looking out onto the side yard, and just about died when I saw who had just pulled up the driveway: Charlie, Ed-Rose, and their daddy, Old Man McCalister Simms.
Now Charlie and Ed-Rose might’ve been mean, but that there daddy of theirs, Old Man McCalister Simms, was rock-bottom, ornery mean. Just about everybody was scared of him and that included those children of his. It was said Old Man McCalister Simms he’d had himself two families, one by a wife near ’bout the same age as him and after she died, a young wife, younger than his youngest daughter. Charlie and Ed-Rose were part of that second family and two of the youngest of Old Man McCalister’s twelve children.
Sheriff Rankins, he saw the Simmses co
me up too. So did Mama. Mama stopped near the side door and didn’t go out to the drive. The sheriff, he did though. He hooked the basket of molasses bread onto his saddle, then went over to the Simmses’ wagon.
Old Man McCalister Simms halted the wagon and shouted, “Where’s them niggers ’at done hit my Charlie?”
The sheriff spoke softly. I couldn’t hear what he said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t satisyfing Mr. McCalister Simms. He was sure enough a hard one, that Old Man McCalister Simms. “I want ’em and I wants ’em now! Ain’t gonna ’low them niggers gettin’ away with this!”
The sheriff, he gone on talking soft-like. Old Man McCalister Simms sat on the wagon seat frowning, looking meaner than ever. Finally he gave a nod and the sheriff stepped away from the wagon and motioned to Mama to come over. “Caroline!” he called. “You come on over here now, and you tell that boy David t’ get on out here too!”
Before Mama could call me, I had the door open and was out. “Where Ma Rachel?” she asked.
“She still ’sleep,” I said.
“Least that’s something,” Mama said, and crossed the side yard to the wagon with me by her side. Up close to Charlie now, I could see his face was all bruised up and swollen, and there was a wrapping around the top of his head. If I wasn’t standing there so scared, I would’ve smiled with a lot of satisfaction that my brother Hammer had given Charlie the whipping that had been coming to him for so long. But there was no smiling right then; Hammer and I were in enough trouble. I didn’t want any more.
“Now, Caroline,” said the sheriff, “I done talked to Mr. Simms and his boys, Charlie and Ed-Rose, here, and he done agreed not to put your boys in jail. ’Stead, he’s gonna be mighty generous with y’all and let your boys work the summer on his place, seein’ your boys done half-crippled Charlie. There’s a lot gotta be done Charlie would’ve been doin’ his ownself, your boys hadn’t’ve beaten him so. Your boys gonna hafta take up the slack.”
Mama nodded.
“All right then. Startin’ tomorrow, first thing!” The sheriff then turned to his horse and got ready to mount.
But then Old McCalister Simms said, “I want ’em whipped.”
The Well Page 3