by Leah Pileggi
“And you’re learning to read.”
“And that, too.”
He said, “It could be a couple of weeks before he visits. I just thought you would want to know.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, since there weren’t nothing I could do ‘bout it one way or the other. Besides, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing after all.
Just before lights-out, I was laying awake but with my eyes closed. I took a visit to my secret room. First of all, I decided I’d let Charles out. But the Mouth, I left him locked away to rot. I said howdy to Emma, and she give me a squeal. I told her I was gonna have myself a visitor. And then I decided that while I was waiting for the real cat to come to live in the yard, I’d have that cat in there, too. Cat, this is Emma; Emma, this is Cat. And they snugged up tight together and went right off to sleep. And so did I.
It was the pistol shot that woke me up. And then the yelling and snarling, like human dogs fighting.
“Hit him!”
That was Miles, the big say-nothing guard, trying to yell but sounding like he was being strangled.
WHUMP.
Something hard hit some body part. By the light of the one burning oil lamp, I seen a pistol skip across the floor like somebody kicked it that way.
“Pull the wire!” Miles yelled in a strangled voice.
I could just see Len grabbing the knob that pulled the wire. Them bells I seen would be ringing in the other building. I ‘spected the other guards was already on their way.
I heard more whumping and some whimpering, and then the door of the block flew open and all the guards who weren’t on duty was in there in a hurry. By then every man was up and hollering.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“Mac tried to escape!”
“He’s all beat up!”
“Who got shot?”
“Nobody. The shot done missed!”
Harry Smithers and Mr. Corbin was next door to me now. They didn’t talk to me, but I had to ask somebody. I called over, “Mr. Smithers, you seen anything?”
“Seems that Mac thought he’d leave here tonight. Musta jumped Miles after using the clean-up cell.”
I asked, “Did you see him?”
“Nah. I cain’t see any more than you can. I knew somethin’ was up. Mac ain’t too brainy. He was throwin’ out hints all day.”
Mac was long gone by then. A couple of the guards was yelling for quiet, and the men settled back down. Me, I decided I’d sleep in my secret room that night, right between Emma and Cat.
SIXTEEN
November 5, 1885
I had me that visitor that Warden White Beard warned me ‘bout. Mr. Bradshaw. Esquire. A lawyer.
Henry took me on over to the Warden’s Building for the big meeting. We walked into a room that I hadn’t never been in before. It held only a table and two chairs, one on either side. The room had a window in the wall, looking into a room next door.
A man was setting in one of the chairs, wiping at his nose with a handkerchief. “Jake, I’m Mr. Bradshaw. From the governor’s office.” He stood up and stuck out his hand. I didn’t have no choice, so I stuck mine out and we shook. Next to my hand, his looked white like them sandstone walls. His suit was too big and hung on him like a sack.
He said, “You can sit down now, Jake.” So I did. Then Mr. Bradshaw turned and looked straight at Henry, and Henry backed on outta the room and closed the door. The window was behind me so I couldn’t see if anybody was watching us or not. I pretended a sneeze and spun around enough to see White Beard and then Henry just walking into the other room.
“So, Jake. I’m here to inform you that your father has signed some papers.” He dug around in a satchel on the floor by his feet.
“You seen Pa?”
He wiped that nose again. “Yes, I met with him last week.”
“He coming round to see me?”
Mr. Bradshaw wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I don’t think so, Jake.”
“That’s what I figured. Did he say anything ‘bout me being foolish?”
“Foolish?” He was sorting and resorting papers on the table. “Well, no, I don’t think he said anything like that.” And then he pulled out one particular piece of paper and turned it to face me. It was a real official-looking document. I read my name and I read Pa’s name.
“What is this?” I strained to read some other words, anything.
Dang if he didn’t wipe that nose again.
“Why don’t you just stuff that handkerchief on up there,” I said. That got him to look at me. He didn’t look mean. He looked kinda tired and worn-out like.
He said, “Your father has given up his rights as a parent, Jake.”
Given up his rights as a parent. “Then whose son am I?”
I asked.
He looked past me, like he was hoping for some help from the other room. “Well, now, I think you know that the governor’s office already sees to it that you get your meals. And when you’re released, you’ll be placed with a foster family.”
My head was so confused. “I’ll have to change my name to Foster?”
Mr. Bradshaw almost laughed. “I know this is all new. I’ll try to explain it.”
So he did. I didn’t have a pa no more. Not Pa, not the governor. But the governor would make sure I was okay and that I got to keep eating and having a place to stay. And when I got out, I’d go live with some family the governor picked for me to live with. Didn’t know why they’d want to do that, take in a kid who’s been in prison.
He set the legal document on his stack of papers. When he went to pick it all up, a letter slipped out of the stack. A letter with scratchy writing on it. He glanced at it, then he tucked it with the rest of the papers into his bag. He said, “Your pa thought it was best for you, seeing as he didn’t know if he could feed you once you got out.”
Made sense, seeing as he never much fed me before.
“That everything?” I asked.
“Well, yes, unless you have any more questions.”
“Seems I’m better off not askin’,” I said. But then I did have a question. “You met the governor?”
He started to wipe that nose again but set his handkerchief on the table and just sniffled. “Well, no. I just follow orders.”
“How come he let them send me here at all? They said I had to know between good and evil when I shot that pistol. But I don’t even know I shot it. I don’t remember nothin’ but the sound of the gun goin’ off.”
Mr. Bradshaw looked straight at me like he seen a ghost. I didn’t care how sick he was. I didn’t care if I shouldn’ta asked a question like that.
“You got a answer to that?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m just … I don’t know, Jake.”
“Well then, I reckon I’m done.” I stood up. Henry come in just then. Mr. Bradshaw stood up slowly and looked emptied out.
Walking back to the block, I told myself maybe it was best anyways, ‘cause I read some words on that letter. I read the words “bad father.” And maybe that was right. So maybe I’d be better off without no pa at all.
Next day I forgot all ‘bout that anyways. I had myself a cat.
It seemed like Cat most liked to follow me when I weren’t paying him no attention. So me and Henry was walking along. I whispered, “Cat’s with us.” Henry started to turn around. I whispered louder, “Don’t turn around!” We picked up our pace, and I shook my boots so the laces would come undone.
We was finally facing the gate. Henry unlocked it and we walked on in.
No Cat.
So I walked matter-of-fact back on out, pretended I was tying my boot but really I was making sure it was untied. Cat followed, but kinda far back. Finally me and Henry was inside the fence, and the only thing hanging out was my boot on my foot. I shook it and the laces jumped. And so did Cat. Pretty soon, we was all inside the yard.
SEVENTEEN
November 23, 1885—My eleventh birthday
Franklin Palmer, a squat
ty quiet old man in for some money scheme, give me a wood pig he carved, curly tail and all, that fit right in my hand. We men was all out in the yard. Cat, too. He was setting on my shoulder, having decided he liked riding as much as pouncing, when here come Mrs. Ayres with a big old pan filled with a birthday cake. Everybody gathered round, and Mr. Wu had his banjo and Slim had his mouth organ, and they all played and everybody sung to me. That made Cat jump down and scoot off.
And then the men kinda punched me around and lifted me up on their shoulders, laughing.
“All growed up there, Jake.”
“You’s taller today.”
“Big man now.”
Henry was there, too. “You don’t have to work the hogs tomorrow, Jake.”
“What for?” I asked.
“‘Cause it’s your birthday, I guess. They just told me you aren’t going over tomorrow.”
Then I heard why.
“I’m working the hogs for ya tomorrow, Jake,” said Mr. McDonough, a inmate who come from the country of Scotland. “Butchering day, do ya know.”
“But why ain’t I goin’? That’s my place.”
“Well,” said Mr. McDonough, “Mr. Criswell there said it wouldn’t do ya good ta see what ya’d see there.”
“I know them hogs better’n you ever will,” I said. “And I’m goin’.”
Henry shook his head. “The warden said not to take you. I’ve got to follow his orders.”
I said, “I want to see the warden.”
“Jake,” said Henry, “I can’t just take you over to see him whenever you want to.”
I had to go to the hog butchering. It was my job. “Well, then, I want to see the governor.”
Henry’s pale eyebrows near ‘bout jumped off his face. “Now, Jake. What’s so important?”
“I got me a job, and I intend to do that job.”
Henry said, “Mr. Criswell says you’ve been doing a fine job, Jake. And you’ll go back day after.”
I weren’t taking the day off, but I didn’t know exactly how I was gonna do that. But then Henry helped me out. He musta walked on over to see the warden at some point later in the afternoon, ‘cause the next morning at breakfast he said, “You’re gonna help out over at the Warden’s Building this morning, Jake.”
“Doin’ what?” I asked.
“Don’t rightly know,” said Henry. “But that’s the warden’s orders. Let’s go.”
Right after me and Henry stepped out of the block into a cool-aired morning, I seen a group of men heading out the gate. I didn’t have more than a second to get my plan lined up in my head. As me and Henry walked across the yard, I hit on a subject that always got Henry riled up. “How’s that tooth?”
He started right in, his hands flying. “That barber didn’t know what he was doing,” he said. He glared out to the hills, stomping along and holding on to that bad side of his face, shaking his head and getting burned up all over again. I slipped out the gate with the men. And I reckon by the time Henry realized I weren’t walking with him no more, I was halfway to Mr. Criswell’s place.
I started out running fast as I could but had to slow down when my breathing was tough. And then I heard Henry coming behind. “Jake! You can’t run, Jake, you’ll get yourself in trouble.”
The hogs was up ahead.
“And you’ll get me in trouble, too, Jake.”
I didn’t think ‘bout that part, but I wasn’t turning back. I flew past the hog pen and around the shed, with Henry not ten steps behind me.
I stopped dead. And then everything I seen was real clear.
There stood Egg, his tiny soft eyes looking up at Mr. Criswell. Mr. McDonough threw a rope around Egg’s snout and held him tight in place. The pistol in Mr. Criswell’s hand pointed right between Egg’s eyes, and then, pop. Almost before Egg hit the ground, dead, Mr. Criswell and Mr. McDonough was lifting up that hog. And I seen the steam coming off the tub of water over red hot coals.
And then Mr. Criswell seen me. His face didn’t change, but his eyes said a whole bunch of things. Why you here? What did you see? You’ll be punished. You already been punished.
I understood then why Mr. Criswell did not want me at that butchering. But I seen it all anyways. I stepped ahead to where the scalding process was happening. I would not run away.
I done everything he told me to do that day. Got myself burned by some hot water but ignored that. Learned ‘bout cutting. Learned sausage making. Learned ‘bout cleaning up. Learned my job.
Henry had run on back as soon as he seen I was working. Got myself three days of bread and water. I didn’t care.
EIGHTEEN
The men stopped poking fun at me after that. Got me a head nod now and then once they all heard I could take it.
Charles come around the next week.
“Heard you helped butcher,” he said, leaning on his rake.
I thought about the shiny sharp knives laid out in a row.
“I done it, I guess.”
“Pa said I had a couple of years before I could help with that. How come you got to help?”
So I told him the whole story. He laughed when I told him how I set up Henry and then run like hell. He stayed mighty quiet when I told him ‘bout my three days of bread and water. And then he got kinda misty-eyed when I talked ‘bout Egg. Or maybe that was me.
We raked some, mostly just looking busy. Then Charles said, “Pa’s bent over ‘cause of me. It was my fault.”
I kept working, but I was all ears.
“Pa brought home a horse named Hatty. Mean thing, I thought. But he said she was a good price, and she wasn’t mean as long as you didn’t sneak up on her right side.”
Charles looked straight at me. “She was blind in her right eye,” he said, pointing at his own.
I nodded.
“Well, I forgot all about that bad eye.” He hung his head. “I come runnin’ outside when Pa rode up not two weeks later. Grandad was ailin’ and I wanted to tell Pa. But I ran at that right side as I was shouting, and Hatty reared back and threw Pa straight to the ground.”
I didn’t say nothing, partly ‘cause I didn’t know what to say but mostly ‘cause I’d seen something Charles didn’t. While Charles was spilling his whole story, Mr. Criswell come out from around the barn, and there he stood, close enough to hear every word.
“Now, Charles,” said Mr. Criswell.
Charles’s mouth snapped shut.
“I didn’t have a good grip on that horse, Charles, so if anybody’s at fault, it would be me.”
Charles turned around, a couple of tears leaking out from the corners of both eyes. “Pa, you looked like you were dead.”
“But I wasn’t. And here I am. And so I walk a little hunched over, and I kinda nod when I laugh. Nothing I can do about that. Now go get that bucket of molasses from the barn and treat these tired old hogs.”
Charles run off, and when he come back with the bucket, them tears was all dried up or wiped away. He handed the bucket to his pa and then kinda leaned into him real quick, and Mr. Criswell put an arm around his shoulder and give him a big old squeeze.
We all three pretended we was busy again, but there weren’t much left to do. It felt in the air like we was all waiting for something. And then I knew. After a big breath in and out, I said, “I reckon it’s my turn for confessin’.”
Mr. Criswell said, “Jake, your situation is really none of our business.”
“Well, I guess I’d like to tell anyways. Feel like I owe it to y’all.”
And then I’m thinking that I ain’t thought ‘bout the shooting since the trial. I’m not sure I ever really thought through the whole thing at all.
“It was Mr. Bennett got shot. And he died.” I felt a tight pull in my gut, seeing Mr. Bennett lying there in my mind. “They say I pulled the trigger, and maybe they’s right. But thinking back, I don’t much know how it happened.”
In a real quiet voice, Charles asked, “Who was Mr. Bennett?”
So I s
tarted at the start.
NINETEEN
“Me and Pa didn’t have no work right then. We was kinda drifting around Soda Springs. And then Pa remembered he had a cousin Calvin, removed a few times, who lived in them parts. Thought maybe he could find him hanging around the Whittier Saloon.”
“Rough place,” said Mr. Criswell, shaking his head.
“Well, we found the place and wandered on in. Pa had a couple of whiskeys. He asked the men if they knew cousin Calvin. None of the card-playing guys heard of him. And none of the pool-playing guys heard neither. Pa had a few more whiskeys, and by then he’s pretty much falling down and slobbering. He starts slinging words at a guy who just come in. That was Mr. Bennett.”
Charles took a step closer.
I went on. “This here Mr. Bennett owned the place. ‘I don’t like your type,’ he says. So we’s leaving. But then I see Mr. Bennett is ‘bout tipping over, hisself. He’s had a few whiskeys, too. Mr. Bennett shoves Pa, hard. ‘Get on out,’ he says. But see, we’s already getting out. Pa didn’t answer back smart or nothing, and we was heading for the door. Mr. Bennett shoved Pa again, and Pa fell down. Next thing, Mr. Bennett was reaching for something, yelling, ‘I’ll kill you, you sorry excuse for a human being!’ And then, pop, Pa’s pistol went off. And I guess somehow it was me made it happen.”
My mouth was getting dry. I licked my lips and kept going.
“Mr. Bennett grabbed at hisself sorta under his arm, and I seen blood oozin’ out. Then he dropped to the ground. I’m just standing there, stuck. I ain’t never seen a man bleed like that. Somebody was shouting, ‘I done it, I shot him!’ but I don’t know who that was, ‘cause it sounded like me but it weren’t me. I mean I didn’t know what was going on.”
The three of us just stood still. Then I had to finish up telling the whole story.
“They took me and Pa to the jail, accused us both. But Pa said he didn’t do it, and one man was looking right at Pa when the shot went off anyways. So Pa got dropped off the jail list.”