IGMS - Issue 21

by IGMS

  He didn't read the look.

  "Listen up," Rich Evans said. "We've let your bootlegging and gun-running go for a long time, because you're good old boys and Hal has a soft spot for good old boys. But this is different. This is a battle for our souls. You don't give that boy his name, then you'll be paying an entirely different set of tariffs, if you know what I mean."

  Bill looked at Rich Evans slant-eyed again. He yanked out a pack of smokes. "Wife won't abide this in the house. You fellers want to follow me out?"

  Rich Evans glared at me on the way, as we passed under a cross nailed up above the doorframe.

  Soon as we were out all those dogs started snapping at us. This time Bill didn't call them off.

  "Listen, now," Bill said. "I knew this was coming. I've been talking to my brothers 'bout this Elmer thing, and we reckon a couple of things. Mainly we think that Elmer might be big, but he ain't got the power of the Lord with him like the pastor did." Rich and I backed up toward the car, them dogs still growling, showing teeth like big white spots. I felt like I was trying to back out of Hell. If Hell smelled of dog turds. "We'll be stuck with the Devil one way or another, and way I hear it, he's still a white fella. Elmer'll have those cousins of his up here, eating with us, chasing our daughters -- you don't want to let them overrun the town. You give them people an inch, they'll take a mile. They're making their play for power, I tell you, all that marching and carrying on. It's like we never fought in no war, the way they got this country."

  That boy might as well have been Jefferson Davis reborn, 'cept he was about five times dumber. "You're a damn fool, Bill Weaver," I said. "All the boy wants is a name."

  "How 'bout the Devil? Or God hisself? I didn't see either of them standing in the way of that rope." Bill smirked.

  "Oh come on now," I said. One of them dogs was close enough to snap at me and grab a mouthful of my trousers. I pulled away, and felt the pants rip up my side. One of the dogs lunged for Rich. He kicked the dog but it just got meaner, snapping and snapping, and he yanked open the door of the car, trying to jump in and kick the dog away at the same time.

  "You a coward, Bill?" I said. Kind of a funny thing to say, since I was sliding up the hood of that car to get away from a dog that was a lot smaller than Elmer.

  "Ain't afraid of no one," Bill said.

  "Then give me a name, and you can deal with Elmer all you want."

  Bill laughed. "Get in your car, fellas, before the dogs get you."

  Rich Evans yelled, "Come on, Hal," he said. "Before these good old boys realize what they've done."

  "Damn it, Bill Weaver!" I said from the roof of the car. "Afraid of Elmer Thornton. I didn't think I'd see the day."

  Bill Weaver hesitated. I could see him turning something over in his mind. "Fine then, Hal Fletcher. Tell him my daddy did it. Old Tom Weaver, who is now in Hell at his own lynching party."

  I reached down and opened my door, kicked the nearest dog in the throat, and jumped in the car. Rich bolted down that hill, screeching round the turns, up on two tires, just about flying into the trees. He finally stomped on the brake and wheeled into the trailer park at the bottom of the hill.

  Rich put a hand to his forehead. "I've never been so scared in my life, Hal Fletcher. Your good old boys." Rich put a hand to his heart. "Can't take that."

  "Rich, you all right there?"

  "I'm fine," Rich finally said, though he didn't sound it.

  "Devil's favorite tool is fear," I said. "Don't worry. We got our name now, and Elmer will wrestle."

  Rich Evans dropped me off outside my house a ways. I needed the walk, I told him. And I did -- there was plenty to sort out before Elmer took on old Scratch tomorrow.

  "I still plan to whup you in the race," I said to Rich.

  "I bet you do," he said. "Be safe, Hal. Watch out."

  "Don't mind the sheet-heads, Rich," I said. "They's dumber than the wood they burn."

  Didn't look like it was much comfort for him.

  Walking home, for a minute there I found myself entertaining old Scratch's question. Did Job deserve it? That Bible made it pretty clear that he didn't, so unless it left something out, he was a good fellow. But Scratch managed to talk the Lord himself into that big nasty joke on Job. I was taught that the Lord God was a just God. Was it possible that, deep down, Job needed a little punishing?

  "Shut yourself up, Hal Fletcher," I whispered. "Don't you think about what that bastard said. That's just pure idiot, right there."

  I was so busy with that talk that I didn't really look up, not till I was in view of the house.

  Reese was on the porch with a basket of rolls. That wasn't so strange -- she was always going off with rolls or cookies to Jon's, or Pastor Tucker's, or her grandma in the nursing home. No, what was strange was who she was handing the rolls to.

  Elmer.

  He stood in the light of the porch, and when he took the rolls, he bowed his head real polite -- and then I watched, slack-jawed, as he took Reese and gave her a kiss. Just a little peck on the cheek, but I saw Reese turn red, and it wasn't no embarrassed red -- I could see it in her face, that face I raised up from a baby -- I could see that she liked it.

  I was frozen to the spot. I only got my senses when Elmer started back down the steps and started to open the door to his car. "Hold on now!" I shouted. "Hold on! What're you doing?"

  "Daddy!" Reese shouted. Elmer looked back at me. Reese blushed again, but she just said, "Elmer just took me to the store, seeing as how Susie's got the car."

  "Is that right?" I asked, and repeated myself, making sure Elmer could tell what I was talking about. "Is that right?"

  "Yes sir, it is," Elmer said. "Reese called me up and said she wanted to make cookies for the match tomorrow, but she needed herself some eggs, so I took her down to Food Lion --"

  "Come here, boy," I said. I was about to face down a man the size of a truck, when I'd been quivering in my boots over Bill Weaver's dogs. "I saw what you did. I saw you put your hands on her."

  "Hands?" Elmer said.

  "Daddy, it wasn't no more than a peck on the cheek," Reese said.

  "Don't you tell me nothing!" I said. "What do you think you were doing to my daughter? What reason do I have to trust you?"

  "I was being flirty, sir, nothing more," Elmer said, polite as you please. "I apologize."

  "Apologize to my girl," I said. "Apologize! You smooth-talking son of a --" I cut myself off. "Do it."

  Elmer looked back, still polite. "Reese, I am sorry, I was out of line there."

  Reese nodded. "That's all right, Elmer."

  "You come in here," I said, "into my house, eating my food, sitting on my couch, with your demands and your --" I was fuming so bad. This boy, of all boys, kissing my girl. "It's true. We give you people an inch and you take a mile," I muttered, I thought under my breath.

  Elmer grabbed my shirt. He growled, "You've gone too far, old man."

  I stared up into those black eyes and thought, He's going to kill me. And the part of me that actually had some sense came back for a minute and said, Hal Fletcher, you've done it now, you've ruined it all for the whole town, you dumb --

  Elmer dropped me. My rear hit the ground and I stared up at him. He shook his head. "Trash," he said. "I picked up trash. I'd better go wash my hands." He stopped on the way to the car. "You got my name?"

  "I --" What in the world does a man say? "I'm a fool, Elmer, I'm real sor--"

  "You got my name?"

  He wasn't listening to me. Wasn't going to either, save for two words.

  "Tom Weaver," I said.

  Elmer got in his car, brushing past me without a word. But then, before he pulled off, he rolled down the window and said, "Thank you for the biscuits, Reese."

  I sat on the ground, not moving as his car tore off.

  I sat there thinking about what a fool I was. My problem with the boy was never that he was black. I might have though he was lippy, rude and mean as a blind dog but -- well, I'd been the
worst kind of fool: an old fool being over-protective of his grown daughter.

  Reese stormed in and slammed the door. I remembered what old Kevin had said. The Devil had done his work well in Wadesville. Or we'd done his work for him.

  And I reckoned that if the Lord picked on Job, who didn't deserve it, then Wadesville was in for trouble.

  I tried to talk to Reese the next morning, before we went to the wrestling match. She was sitting at the table, and I could tell she was upset. She'd baked three batches of cookies but saved herself a little bowl of the dough and was eating it plain.

  "You don't want a tummyache tonight," I said. She looked up at me, then back down at the dough. "Reese," I said, but what was there to say? Still, I tried. "Reese, I was one hell of an idiot last night. I'm sorry."

  She ate another spoonful of the cookie dough, and then she started crying. "Damn it, Daddy."

  "Language," I said.

  "You're one to talk." She got up. "I've got to get dressed. If you want a use for yourself, pack up some of those cookies."

  All around the church yard, there were tables with lemonade and cookies. Old Scratch was in the center of the lawn, just smiling and drinking lemonade. I wondered who'd been polite enough to share that with him. "Fine lemonade," he said. "I'll remember this one when I come into my kingdom."

  It was plain enough that he'd done some work in Wadesville. I saw folks glaring at each other. Jon and Susie were sitting next to each other, but they weren't touching. Couple of folks had their Bibles out, but none of them was reading, and mostly they all looked as pissed-off at their neighbors as they did at old Scratch.

  Pastor Tucker was watching Devil warm up on the lawn. Pastor had a look in his eye like he was afraid and angry at the same time.

  "Where's your boy?" Devil asked.

  "The Lord will provide," the pastor said.

  I thought he might have gone a bit crazy. Elmer had his name and had every reason to hope this town went to hell. There was little chance he'd show. But he did. His car, same one I'd seen last night, came rolling up the street, followed by a couple more. Elmer got out, and some other black boys followed him. I could only assume they were his cousins; they were almost as big as Elmer.

  Elmer wasn't wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, and across his chest he'd painted something -- a long line of chains that stretched across him and wound down his arms. There was another chain painted on his forehead.

  "Well," old Scratch said. "Someone got dressed up."

  Elmer walked right between the tables, right up to old Scratch. "You ready to do this?" he said.

  "I believe so." Devil looked around at all of us.

  "Listen up!" Elmer slapped his hands against his chest. "Listen good, folks. You done nothing for me, you hear? Nothing. You covered up my daddy's death and you shut me out of your lunch counter and you called me whatever name suited you and now you're expecting me to save you." He turned to the Devil. "Least this fellow's honest about who he is. As far as I'm concerned, you can all go to hell with him." He traced the chains across his chest. "These represent the chains y'all put on me. On all black folk. Take a good look. You need me now, but as soon as you're done, you'll put me back in chains."

  Old Scratch looked pretty amused. Everyone else was hanging their head or whispering to the person next to them. What was Elmer doing?

  "Devil," Elmer said. "Come on. We gotta give them a little show."

  "Well, you got done up so pretty, how could I resist?" the Devil replied.

  Elmer smiled and moved in like he was about to grab the Devil in a wrestling pose. Old Scratch was up in his own pose right away, but as soon as Elmer got close, old Scratch grabbed him and tossed him. Elmer hit the ground and curled up into a ball like a baby.

  "Elmer!" I shouted, and the pastor and Jon Jefferson and all of them shouted it too, and Reese loudest of all. He wasn't moving. Devil got down, getting grass stains on that white suit of his, and he grabbed Elmer in a half-nelson. He was nasty about it, too -- I saw the Devil's fist smack Elmer in the side of the head when he grabbed him. But Elmer didn't move. Devil yanked Elmer up by the neck like he was tossing a log. He threw Elmer across the yard.

  Elmer didn't fight it. He hit the bushes in front of the church and bounced off, back onto the lawn, flat on his face. He stayed there.

  The Devil cackled. "Woo! It's like sticking a pig! I woulda worn a better suit if I knew I wouldn't break a sweat." He came up to Elmer and prodded Elmer's back with his white shoe. "You need a minute there, boy?"

  From where he was laying on the ground, Elmer said, "Come and get me, Devil."

  The Devil got on Elmer and yanked his leg up into a hold. Wasn't nobody talking, but we were all counting.

  It was one of Elmer's cousins finally said it. "Three. He's down."

  "Damn it to hell, Elmer!" I heard Rich Evans shout. Everyone else was shouting something too, though I, this time, was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

  Old Scratch stood up. "I believe Wadesville is mine." I could feel his gaze heating up, darkening, little bit of fire coming into it. Devil was coming into his own now. "You're going to do what I say, and the Lord's not gonna help you."

  Elmer stood up. "I'm off to wash off these chains, folks."

  "Elmer," Old Scratch said. He turned around. Devil smiled that politician smile and said, "I guess it's a lie, ain't it?"

  "What's that?"

  "Well, I gave a . . ." and the Devil said you-know-what, right there to Elmer's face, ". . . an inch, and he didn't take the mile."

  Damned if Elmer didn't laugh! "Whatever you say, Devil," Elmer replied.

  His cousins, though, weren't laughing. One of them grabbed him by the arm. "Elmer," he said. "Elmer, you going to let him talk to you like that?"

  "Like what?" Elmer said. "That was as fair a match as you'll ever get from a whiteman."

  "You going to let him call you that in front of everyone?"

  Elmer paused. "Ain't nothing no one else hasn't said." He fixed me with his gaze. "What, you want I should wrestle everyone ever called me that?"

  God bless her, Reese chose that moment to speak up. "Elmer Thornton," she said, "respect yourself."

  Elmer got a real uncomfortable look on his face. Nobody spoke until finally, one of Elmer's cousins said, "You got blood on your ear, Elmer."

  Rich Evans jumped on that. "Lucifer, you were too rough. That's out of line, messing with his ear."

  The Devil snorted. "You ever seen a wrestling match? Little blood on the ear comes with it."

  "All I'm saying is the match is suspect," Rich Evans said. "We want a clean fight. A rematch is the only way to tell."

  Elmer didn't say much. The Devil straightened his hair and picked grass from his elbows, half-watching Elmer. "What is it, Elmer? You gonna call rematch? For them?"

  Pastor Tucker was looking back and forth from the Devil to Elmer, back and forth, back and forth. One of Elmer's cousins grabbed him and whispered in his ear. I heard a little piece of it. ". . .crazy son of a . . . least the mayor tried to 'pologize . . ."

  Elmer looked around, glowering at everyone in the audience, his cousins included. "You take it back and I'll move on."

  The Devil laughed. "You think I'm gonna take something back? Me?"

  "Damn right you are."

  "Tell you what, Elmer. I'll throw you a few favors. Maybe some women. You got your eye on one? Need money? You've earned it." Devil smiled.

  "You think I need something from you?" Elmer spat. "You gonna give me respect, Devil, that's what you're gonna give."

  The Devil sighed. "Pastor Tucker had some mighty faith, Elmer. You don't." That damn smile again. "Let me be, son. You got no reason to help these folks."

  Elmer moved into the ring, but not before shooting one more hard look my way.

  None of us could really tell what he was going to do. I reckon Elmer was angry, so angry that he was ready to take it out on the Devil. Would it happen? I didn't think so; anger was the Devil's too
l, after all.

  But there's a righteous wrath in the Lord. When I saw the boy go back in the ring, I didn't see Elmer but I saw Jesus his own self, with a whip o'nine-tails, driving the moneylenders from the temple.

  Suppose Elmer looked at the Devil and saw all the white folks he ever knew, bringing him and his down like they weren't even people.

  Elmer rushed in and grabbed old Scratch, tossing him down to the grass. Scratch was up in a second and they circled, then locked in on each other, circling, circling, gripping each other like a single being of rotating black and white. Devil pushed Elmer back, but the boy dug in his heels and wouldn't be moved, and then he pushed the Devil back, and then they were on the ground scrabbling for a position -- and then Elmer broke away to get up --

  This went on. And it went on. It got dark and the street lamp lit up the grass, trampled near to dirt now. Elmer'd proved himself as far as we were all concerned. But he kept going. Elmer pulled old Scratch down to the ground and clutched that Devil's hands, pulling him close and lifting the Devil off the ground. Old Scratch kicked and kicked, but Elmer had him in the air. The Devil gasped for breath and Elmer shouted, "Vengeance is mine!" and he slammed the Devil to the ground and for three breathless seconds we all stared as the Devil's arm flopped around like a snake under the hold Elmer had on him.

  It was Pastor Tucker said, "Three."

  Devil sat there, heaving. Pastor Tucker got up and put his arms around Elmer, who didn't respond at all, even though Pastor Tucker clutched him close, one big old man with one big young one. "God bless you, Elmer Thornton," he said. Then he turned back to the Devil and pointed a finger. "Now get out of my town."

  Old Scratch, he sat there and he laughed. He laughed and laughed. "Hal Fletcher," he said after another bout of laughter, "I'm gonna give you that answer."

  I didn't respond.

  "Job, you see, was a man who took himself too serious." Old Scratch stood up. "He deserved a little pranking. Everyone does, I reckon."

  And the Devil went off down the street, laughing and carrying on.

  Elmer was heaving, still out of breath, still in the pastor's arms. I reached a hand to help him up. He looked at me, a glower fit to skin cats.