Shadow trotted beside them, keeping pace despite constant distractions of squirrels and birds that made him whine eagerly. Chantry held tight to the lead. When he got to the far edge of the park, they had to go down a small hill, then up to the other side that brought them out close to Sugarditch. It was the back way, usually just used for work trucks. A low concrete block building was locked up for the weekend, and the city truck used for hauling dirt stood in the empty lot. No fence secured it, but there’d never been a need for one.
He didn’t know what made him look, some movement at the corner of his vision maybe, but he looked over at the lot in time to see a blond haired kid climb up into the cab of the truck. Chris Quinton. With his two familiar sidekicks on his heels.
He stopped to watch. After a moment the truck fired up, engine rumbling. They were going to steal that truck. Chantry watched in disbelief. It was a stupid thing to do, even for Chris. The huge vehicle lurched forward, stalled and died. He heard them laugh; then the engine turned over again. Once more it rolled forward, then died. This time they left the truck, leaping down to the ground and abandoning it.
Chantry decided it was time to get out of there. If they were in the mood for trouble, he didn’t want to be anywhere close by.
He started down the hill, grass slick beneath his feet, Mikey a clumsy weight on his back and the dog pulling him off-balance. Going downhill was easy enough, going back up was harder.
He made it to the top, breathing hard, and halted to catch his breath. A narrow road ran between the park and the railroad easement. He’d follow the train tracks a ways, then cut over to Sugarditch.
As he started across the road, a red truck came around the corner and braked to a halt in front of him, blocking his path.
“Hey, fag. I knew that was you. What’re you doing spying on us?”
Chantry let Mikey slowly to the ground, one hand holding him for balance, the other still on Shadow’s leash. He decided to play stupid.
“When?”
The truck door opened. Chris stepped out, and Chantry heard the other door open. Damn. He hated being caught like this. Chris grinned real cocky.
“Just now. You saw us. Brad said you did.”
Brad Durbin came around the front of the truck. He’d made tight end on the football team this year, a big boy who was quick on his feet and bulky if not particularly bright. His father was the plant manager at Quinton Cotton Works. The third boy was Adam Wimberly. Fat. He just did whatever Chris wanted him to do.
Chantry didn’t answer, and Chris got braver.
“Ain’t got no old man to back you up this time, fag. You out here all by yourself ‘cept for that crippled kid and a mangy mutt.” Brad laughed and Adam smirked, both acting like Chris had said something really smart. Chantry didn’t move or speak, just stared at Chris until his eyes got narrow and the grin on his face faded some.
Chris reached out and gave him a shove. “So what’cha gonna do, Callahan?” A mean look creased his face. “Still think you can win a fight without your old nigger backing you up?”
“Thought we settled that the last time you called Dempsey that name.” Chantry gently shoved Mikey to one side, thrust the dog’s leash into his brother’s hand and stepped away from them. If there was going to be a fight, he wanted them gone. “Go home, Mikey. Now.”
He was used to fighting more than one at a time. Beau and Rafe had never been shy about ganging up on him. It’d taught him a lot. But he didn’t like having distractions, and he didn’t want Mikey anywhere near to catch the backlash.
Mikey whimpered a protest, but stumbled a few feet away to stand uncertainly in the middle of the street. Shadow strained at the leash, whining and growling like he knew there was trouble. He wished Mikey would get out of the street and go home like he’d told him. He didn’t like that he was still so close.
“We didn’t settle nothin’,” Chris said. “You got in a few lucky punches before you got rescued.”
“Seems to me you was the one needed rescuin’.” Chantry balanced on the balls of his feet, arms at his sides but ready. Fierce anger still ate at him. He hadn’t forgotten that cross burning in Dempsey’s front yard.
“Yeah? You think so? Well, this time you’re the one gonna need help.” Chris made his move finally, a quick punch that Chantry evaded with a sidestep. He turned into the step, brought his arm back around so his fist connected with Chris’s nose. It sent him crashing back against the side of his truck. Before Chris could recover he hit him again, this time a hard left to the belly that bent him double with a loud grunt.
Brad dove at him, caught Chantry around the middle and took him to the ground. They rolled on the gravel road as Brad punched him a couple of times. They weren’t hard punches since the bigger boy was off-balance, but hard enough to rock his head back and split his lip. He was used to this kind of fighting, being outnumbered and outweighed, and didn’t let the punches get to him. He focused on getting leverage, giving Brad just enough room to pull back for another punch and leave himself open. It didn’t take too long. Brad hauled back and rocked to his feet, bending over and holding Chantry’s shirt in one hand while he drew back his other fist.
Chantry brought his leg up and caught him behind the knee, hard. Brad went down like a sack of meal, and he rolled to his feet just in time to get hit by Adam, who’d finally worked up the courage to step in. They both went sideways into the grass. Adam was easy to beat down. It took only a couple of punches to put him out of commission, but by then Chris was on him again and Brad was getting to his feet. They piled on top of him. The breath got knocked out of him so he couldn’t get any air, couldn’t see anything but a haze of angry faces and fists. He managed to put his arms up over his face. Fists thudded into him, it seemed like from every direction.
He heard somebody hollering, then suddenly the weight lifted and he could twist free. He rolled to his knees and tried to push up from the ground. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he jerked loose, stumbled to his feet and spun around so fast that he nearly lost his balance and went back down. Everything was a blur. Something wet kept running into his eyes. Sweat maybe. It stung.
“Hold on there, son. Don’t be swinging at me.”
Chantry sucked in a gulp of air but it made his ribs and belly hurt. He shook his head and that hurt, too, but his vision cleared some. Dale Ledbetter held up a hand, palm out.
“Just stand there a minute. Don’t any of you move.”
Chris and Brad started talking at the same time, accusing Chantry of attacking them for no reason. Adam Wimberly still lay on the ground, moaning. Chantry didn’t say anything. He didn’t think he could talk even if someone held a gun on him. His mouth felt thick, and he still couldn’t see worth anything.
After a minute Mr. Ledbetter said, “I’ve heard enough. Just so there’s no misunderstanding, boys, I saw enough, too. It’s none of my business if you boys want to fight, but one on one. I don’t much care for three against one.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Chris said incredulously, “You’re going to take that white trash’s side?”
“No. I’m not taking any side. I’m just telling you to keep it clean and honest. Something you might want to think about, Mr. Quinton. Do you suppose you boys can go your own ways now without any more trouble?”
One of Chantry’s eyes wouldn’t open. He peered through his good eye at Mr. Ledbetter and nodded. He just wanted to find Mikey and get home.
Mr. Ledbetter looked at him. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Chantry shook his head and nearly choked at the wave of pain that act summoned. “I can walk,” he got out.
“I’m sure you can. But your little brother is already in my car and he can’t. Might as well accept the offer. I don’t intend to leave you boys here to fight some more.”
There wasn’t much choice. Chantry slid a look at Chris, then went with Mr. Ledbetter. He had Mikey in the back of his car like he’d said, and Shadow sat in the cargo area panting happily
and looking like he rode in a new Bronco every day. It was black and shiny, and Mrs. Ledbetter sat up front, looking a little horrified when she saw Chantry.
“Good heavens,” she started to say, but her husband cut her off with a quick wave of his hand and she lapsed into silence. Chantry felt a wave of shame. He probably looked like a street kid, dirty and bloody and rough. Sugarditch trash. Mama would cry if she saw him like this.
Two little kids sat in the back, strapped into car seats, and Chantry ended up riding in the very back with Shadow. The car still smelled new. Now it’d smell like dog. And blood.
“I’ll clean your car for you,” he told Mr. Ledbetter when he stopped at the end of Liberty Road where Chantry insisted he leave them. “It got a little dirty where I was sitting.”
“Don’t worry about it. I pay people at the lot to do that for me. It keeps them gainfully employed and out of trouble. You might try that yourself.”
“Yessir.” Chantry didn’t offer any explanation or make any excuses. People never really believed them anyway, even when it was the truth. “Thank you for the ride.”
“Are you mad at me, Chantry?” Mikey asked as they walked down the gravel road toward the house. “I didn’t know what to do, and he stopped and asked if I was lost and I just told him you were in trouble. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, Mikey. You did good.” He gave his hand a little squeeze just to let him know he meant it.
“Shadow tried to bite that fat boy,” Mikey said after a moment, and Chantry looked down at him, surprised.
“He did?”
“Uh huh. But I held on to him so tight he didn’t get to. Now I wish I hadn’t.”
If his face didn’t hurt so bad, he would’ve smiled. Instead he just said, “Me, too.”
CHAPTER 5
He was right about Mama crying when she saw his face. He tried to clean up outside with the water hose, but she came out. He didn’t want to tell her what happened. Mikey couldn’t stop talking about it. He told her over and over how Chantry had fought those three big boys, and how he’d kept Shadow from biting them and wished he hadn’t. Chantry just kept quiet and let Mama try to fix his face. She had this tight look in her eyes, like she wanted to say something but didn’t.
Later, when he took off his shirt, he saw huge purple splotches all over his ribs and belly and remembered that someone had kicked him a few times, too. He’d be sore for a while. He was just glad Mr. Ledbetter had come along when he had, or things might have gotten even worse. He didn’t know what to think about Mr. Ledbetter. He’d made it pretty plain that he didn’t much like Chris, but maybe that was because he wasn’t mayor anymore and blamed old man Quinton for it.
He didn’t go to church with Mama and Mikey the next day but stayed home, and Tansy came over while Rainey was still asleep and knocked on the front door just lightly enough to alert Chantry, but not hard enough to wake Rainey.
“You look like you French kissed a blender,” she blurted out when Chantry opened the door, and he tried to smile but it hurt too bad so he ended up just shrugging. Tansy sucked in a deep breath. “Daddy told me they all jumped you. Chris, too. Is that true, Chantry?”
“How’d he hear that?”
“You know Daddy hears everything. So. Is it true?”
He didn’t answer, just leaned against the door frame with the screen door still between them and looked at her. After a minute she turned around and went to sit on the porch steps. He followed her out, sat down beside her without saying anything.
“I don’t guess you want to tell me why this time either,” she said after a few minutes of silence, and when he didn’t reply, she shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t know what to think.”
Since he couldn’t tell her what to think, he just stared off at the fields across the road. It had gotten cool during the night, and smelled like autumn at last. Brown furrows lay in neat rows of stubble where the harvest machines had come through a few weeks before. There was a chill in the air that dissipated during the day, crept back at night. Tansy let out a long sigh.
They were a lot alike even though he was a boy and she was a girl. They didn’t have anybody else, had grown up within spitting distance of each other. Chantry had taken to getting out of the house as much as he could when he was a little kid because Beau and Rafe made his life such a misery, and Tansy . . . well, she just liked being by herself too, he thought. Always making up words in her head, pretty words that sounded good when she said them to him, and she said she liked it that he never laughed or made fun of her like other kids did.
“Ever think of leavin’ here?” she asked after a few minutes, and he looked at her.
“Every day. Why? You want to leave?”
“I will leave. Just like my auntie and cousins. They’re off up in Chicago now, don’t ever come back down to visit anymore. Daddy says it’s better that way. He and my auntie got in a big fight a long time ago when I was little. I heard her say one time that he shouldn’t have ever married my mama, but I don’t know why she’d say that.”
Chantry went quiet. He’d always liked Tansy’s mama, thought Julia Rivers soft and strong, just like his own mama. But there had been something about her that kept people at arm’s length, a sort of air like a princess. Untouchable. Distant. Sometimes even sad. He’d said that last to Mama one time and she’d just looked at him for a minute, and then said, “There are times I think you know too much for a little boy.”
Since he didn’t know why she’d say that when she was always telling him he needed to study more, he’d just thought it a little strange.
Now he said to Tansy, “Your mama was really pretty, just like you.”
Tansy looked at him. She smiled, with her mouth and her eyes and something deep inside that made her whole face glow like a lit candle. He liked it when she smiled at him like that.
“You always say the right thing, Chantry.” She went quiet, and after a minute she said in that dreamy voice she got sometimes, “One day I’m gonna be a star. I’ll make a lot of money, too. I have songs in me, Chantry, things I can’t say to anyone else unless I put it to music. Things that get all mixed up in my head until they come out as a song. There’s others feel the way I do. Maybe they’ll want to hear my songs so they’ll know they don’t have to feel alone, y’know?”
Yeah. He knew all about feeling alone.
They sat side by side for a while without speaking, until Tansy decided to leave before Rainey woke up and said something smart to her. He had a way of doing that, especially when Mama wasn’t home. He always said something nasty about Chantry being friends with a colored gal and her daddy, but never in front of Mama. She didn’t tolerate that kind of talk. Mama said prejudice against someone because of their skin color was as foolish as hating someone because of their hair color. Rainey always said it was the way God intended it to be, but he said it kinda smart-like. He never made much secret of the fact he didn’t really believe in God.
Chantry wasn’t sure about God either, but just knew there were a lot of folks who thought like Rainey did about black people. He didn’t think that way, though. Like Mama, he thought it was better to judge people on what they did instead of skin color or how much money they had. He wouldn’t like Chris Quinton no matter what color he was, but he liked and respected Dempsey who had no money and no education. And Tansy had always been his best friend. His only real friend.
But the strangest thing kept happening lately. For some reason, Chantry kept having these dreams that were crazy. Mixed up dreams. He’d start off dreaming about Cinda Sheridan and it’d end up being about Tansy. He didn’t know why. He’d never dreamed about Tansy like that before and didn’t ever think about her like that when he was awake. Not much, anyway. Not like in the dreams.
Maybe it was because he’d seen her breast that day her top slid down. It was the first breast he’d ever seen that wasn’t in a magazine. There was a world of difference, he’d decided, between the real thing and pictures. He’d found magazines on
ce when Beau and Rafe were still living with them, with pictures of ladies without any clothes. There had been men, too, and they’d been doing stuff to the ladies that he couldn’t believe. Mama had found him looking at them one day and raised a big fuss, then she’d taken the magazines outside and burned them in the old fifty-gallon metal drum where they burned garbage, and Beau and Rafe beat him up later for getting into their stuff. But he thought about those pictures sometimes, a lot more lately when he didn’t even want to. It’d make him feel all hot and funny inside when he thought about it, and then he’d feel weird for thinking about Tansy that way at all. She was more like a sister than a friend, and he liked her better than most anyone he knew, even though he still couldn’t understand her stupid fascination with Chris Quinton.
After the day Chris and his friends had caught him at the edge of the park, Tansy didn’t say any more to him about Chris. He was glad. He didn’t like there being trouble between them. While it wasn’t like it’d been before, at least it wasn’t all tense now either.
With November came cool weather, and he began leaving his window open at night. He liked to watch the stars, and feel the brisk air wash over him. It was almost like sleeping outside, but without a lot of the bugs. Unless the winter got really cold, the bugs didn’t die off. Mosquitoes were the worst.
Thanksgiving was two weeks away, and this weekend the school planned a Fall Festival like they did every year. He didn’t want to go, but Mama had said he had to so he could help her with everything and watch Mikey. She’d been working so hard lately, and even though she never said, he knew she was more and more worried about Mikey.
When Chantry had given her his first paycheck, she’d looked at him for a long minute and then started to cry. It always made him feel panicky when she did that, but she told him that she was just fine, and so very proud of him. He didn’t regret doing it, even though it meant he didn’t have as much put back to keep Shadow. He divided what was left out of his pay between Mama’s savings and his own every week now.
Dark River Road Page 7