by BobA. Troutt
A Cry in the Wind
By Bobby A. Troutt
Copyright 2011 Bobby A. Troutt
Table of Contents
Cotton Bloom
Ellie’s Cry
Blackberry
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
*****
A Cry in the Wind
Cotton Bloom
It was 1947, a hot and muggy day in Dink Hut, Arkansas. The hot spell had lasted most of the summer. It had been the hottest on record even though at times you could catch a cool breeze blowing off the Mississippi River inland. I’ll always remember that summer. It changed my life forever.
We were playing hopscotch. Mop, Mary, and Booger were my best friends. We played a lot together back then. Dink Hut had always been our home. It was the only part of the world we knew.
“Okay, Mary, it’s your turn,” said Mop as she handed her the stone.
“Watch this,” replied Mary. “I’m going to do it with my eyes closed.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Now Booger it’s up to you.”
“One, two, three,” giggled Booger as she hopped about.
“It’s your turn Cotton Bloom,” yelled Mop, “then mine.”
Cotton Bloom was my nickname. That’s what all my friends called me, but most of the time they called me Cotton for short. I am what they called light skin; it was almost white like an unbleached bit of Cotton. My mother is white and my daddy is a Negro. My real name is Jackie Raines or Jacquelyn.
“Okay, girls,” I shouted. “Here I go, one, two, one, two.”
When I turned to come back, I saw a shiny new quarter bounce on the ground in one of the squares.
“There you go, Cotton,” came a voice from above.
As I tilted my head upward, I saw a figure in the light but couldn’t make it out. But I knew the voice. It was Walter Bradshaw.
“Hello, girls,” he said as he squatted down to talk.
“Hello, Mr. Bradshaw,” we replied.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” he asked. “A nice game of hopscotch I see. Are you girls good at it?”
“Mop and Cotton are the best,” replied Booger.
“Oh, they are,” he said. “Do you think they are good enough to win some candy?”
“Sure!” they yelled.
“Okay,” he replied. “If Cotton Bloom wins, you all get some broken stick candy,” he replied. “If Mop wins, you all get jawbreakers.”
“Alright!” shouted the girls as they cheered them on.
Carefully, Cotton and Mop took their turns and tried hard to beat the other. But the competition was good between them. It ended a tie.
“Now, Mr. Bradshaw, what are you going to do?” said Mary. “They both won.”
“Do we still get the candy?” asked Booger.
“Well, I don’t know,” he replied as he lifted his hat and scratched his head. “What do you think, Cotton?”
“Well…,” I thought for a minute. “I—think…”
“That’s it!” Mr. Bradshaw shouted. “I’ll give you all a jawbreaker and a couple of broken stick candies.”
“Whoopee,” they all screamed. “Thank you, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re the best.”
“You’re quite welcome girls,” he said. “I guess I’ll be going.” As he started to walk away, he stopped suddenly and turned, “How’s Smooth doing?”
Smooth was daddy’s nickname. Reece is his real name.
“Oh, he’s doing fine,” I replied.
“Tell him I asked about him,” said Mr. Bradshaw. “He is in my prayers.”
“I will,” I replied as he climbed up into his old Chevy pickup and drove off.
“Bye, Mr. Bradshaw!” we shouted.
“He’s a nice man,” said Booger as she sucked on the broken stick candy.
“I’ll trade you my jawbreaker for a piece of your candy,” said Mary. “I don’t like jawbreakers.”
“Okay,” replied Mop. “I love them.”
“Here, you can have mine too,” said Booger.
“Mr. Bradshaw is very important,” stated Mary. “I’ve heard momma and daddy talk about him.”
“Me, too,” replied Cotton. “He and Daddy are good friends. They’ve been friends all my life.”
“That’s not been too long,” replied Mary. “You’re only eight years old.”
“It’s been long to me,” I said.
People say he owns about everything in Butler County. The county lay across the Mississippi from West Memphis into Eastern Arkansas. He was the richest and most powerful man around. Daddy said that Wilburn’s daddy was a judge for years. His daddy had made a lot of influential friends while he was in office; a lot of them owed him. My daddy said that the judge had a lot of friends in high places in Arkansas and Tennessee. I don’t pay it no never mind. I said, “All that matters to me is momma and daddy and what happens here in Dink Hut on Nubia Road.”
Oh, Dink Hut, I’ll never forget it. It was one of the colored sections of Butler County. Dink Hut may have been the poor side of a poor people county, but it was home to me. Daddy’s dream for me was to be a lawyer, a good lawyer and to help people. Be the best, make a difference. And that’s what I wanted too. I want to make him proud.
Sometimes we would go up to the Illinois-Louisiana Central trestle at noon and see who could guess the number of cars on the train. Some of the boys around Dink Hut love to frog gig along the banks of the Mississippi. We girls loved to tag along. The boys would catch giant mud turtles and take them back to Dink Hut. People would buy them to eat. That is how we got money for cold drinks and candy. While the boys played by the river, the girls made mud pies and played with dolls until the boys interrupted. It was also fun to swim in the small of the river where it cut into the banks, it wasn’t too deep there. We looked for crane nests and other water fowl. It was fun trying to find them in the tall marsh.
We loved living in Dink Hut, but we had no idea what lay ahead. I wish I could go back to those days and be eight again. I would love to play in the cotton fields and along the river bank.
Butler County was noted for cotton and tobacco. It was one of the poorest counties, but was run with an iron fist by one of the richest men, Wilburn Bradshaw. There were times I can remember Mr. Bradshaw driving along the old dirt road along the riverbank in his pick-up truck. He would stop and watch the children play. Sometimes he would haul a bunch of us up to the trestle to count cars, and then bring us back.
Daddy said once that Mr. Bradshaw was an only child. I thought that’s why he liked to play with us so. He never had anyone to play with when he was growing up. One day Robby and I were walking home from Mary and Mop’s. He was my first boyfriend. Robby was one of several white families that lived around Dink Hut. We were walking along laughing and talking when, out of nowhere, a voice called out to us. We quickly looked around; there in a swing on his porch was Mr. Bradshaw.
“Hey, kids, what are you doing today?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” replied Robby.
“What about you, Cotton?” he asked.
“Nothing much,” I replied, remembering I had to get home and watch after Daddy while Momma ran some errands.
“How is Reece feeling?” questioned Wilburn. “That emphysema can be bad.”
“He’s coughing a lot,” I explained. “The doctor came yesterday and gave him a breathing treatment. If he doesn’t get to breathing better, they will have to put him back into the hospital.”
Then Wilburn leaned forward and reached into this pocket and pulled out a brown sack full of broken stick candy.
“Would ya’ll like some candy?” he asked as he held it out in front of us.
“No, sir, not to
day,” replied Cotton Bloom. “I need to get home. Bye, Robby. Bye, Mr. Bradshaw.”
“Bye, Cotton,” shouted Wilburn. “What about you, Robby?” he said.
Then Wilburn reached into the sack and pulled out a piece and held it up.
“Sure, Mr. Bradshaw,” he yelled as he ran toward the porch.
Eagerly, Robby jumped up in the swing beside him, as Cotton disappeared down the road.
“Here you go, Robby,” said Wilburn as he handed him another piece of candy. Slowly the two of them swung back and forth in the swing, and Wilburn talked and talked. Robby didn’t really know what he was talking about. He just agreed and went along with him. The old porch swing popped and snapped; the rusty chains slowly twisted and untwisted. Then Wilburn reached over and eased his arms around Robby and gently hugged him, patting him on the shoulder.
“You’re a good boy, Robby,” he said. “I’ve known your mom and dad all your life. Why, I was there the day you were born, celebrating with him.”
“You were, Mr. Bradshaw?” asked Robby.
“Yes, yes, I was,” he replied as he took a deep breath. “Call me Wilburn, son. I would like that.”
“Sure, Wilburn,” he said as Wilburn handed him the sack of candy.
“Go ahead, son, eat all you want.”
“Gee, thanks!” yelled Robby.
Slowly, Wilburn began to move his hand over on Robby’s leg then gently he began to pat it. Then he jumped up.
“I bet you’re thirsty,” said Wilburn.
“I sure am,” replied Robby. “That candy makes you thirsty.”
“Come on in boy,” said Wilburn. “Let me fix you a glass of cold milk.” They went in and disappeared into the darkness of the house.
I recall I never did see much of Robby after that day. He began to stay to himself and didn’t have a lot to say. He never wanted to play with us like he did before. There was something wrong, I sensed, but I couldn’t figure it out. But not only Robby, but other children around Dink Hut started acting strangely. They seemed distant, so afraid. Some even moved away. I tried to talk to Robby several times. He would only drop his head and look away. “There’s nothing wrong, Cotton,” he would say, “I have a lot on my mind.” What was even stranger, I never saw Robby eat another piece of broken stick candy again. It was his favorite. Little did anyone know that a few years later we would be shocked to hear Robby committed suicide.
Summer moved on. Mr. Bradshaw came many times and visited my dad. He would always bring a box of candy and berets for my hair. We had it hard that year with Daddy and those bad spells of emphysema. Momma worked two jobs. I helped around the house and took care of him. His breathing was bad. He would get to coughing and couldn’t stop. It seemed like he was gasping for his last breath. It was scary. A lot of the time I would run to my room and start to pray, “Jesus, don’t take my Daddy.”
The doctor came by at least once or twice a week to see him. He would help him with the breathing treatments. “Smooth, I’ve got some bad news,” said the doctor. “It appears the emphysema has gone into the final phase.”
“What do you mean, Doctor Brown?” replied Momma. “Ain’t there anything else you can do?”
“No, Juanita,” he answered. “I’m afraid not. I’ve done all that I can do medically. It will continually get worse. Keep him comfortable and keep giving him the medicine. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
I listened at the door as Doctor Brown and Momma talked. Tears filled my eyes as I took off. I cried as I ran across the yard and down the road. Suddenly a pair of arms reached out and grabbed me.
“Now, now, now, Cotton,” Mr. Bradshaw said as he hugged me and held me tight. “What on earth is wrong?”
“It’s Daddy. It’s Daddy,” I screamed as I laid my head on his shoulder.
“What about Smooth?” asked Mr. Bradshaw. “Is he alright?”
“He’s going to die!” I cried.
“Oh, oh, now, little girl, come up here on the porch,” he said, “and tell me about it.”
Slowly, he turned with me. We made our way up the steps, to the porch, and sat down in the swing.
“Now, don’t cry, Cotton,” he encouraged me. “Your daddy will probably be alright. You may have misunderstood.”
“No, I didn’t!” I shouted as I jumped up. “I know what Doctor Brown said. I heard it.”
“Do not be upset, my child,” he said comforting me. “Why don’t you lean back and let me swing you a little. Everything is going to be alright,” he assured me. “I won’t let nothing happen to Smooth, he’s my best friend.”
The last thing I remember was the sound of the Illinois-Louisiana Central passing on the trestle. I heard the train whistle as it passed through the tunnels at Gentry’s Bend. What seemed like hours later, I woke in the arms of Mr. Bradshaw in front of my house. Momma and Daddy were sitting on the porch.
“Oh, Mr. Bradshaw is she alright?” cried Momma.
“Sure,” replied Wilburn. “She was crying and a little upset was all.”
“Are you okay, girl?” said Momma.
“Sure, Momma, I’ll be okay,” I replied Cotton.
“Thank you, Wilburn, for bringing her home,” said Reece.
“Are you doing alright?” he asked. “Can I do anything for you?”
“I’m fine,” replied Reece, “you know what I mean.”
“You have done a lot for us,” said Juanita, “and we appreciate your kindness.”
“Why, that’s alright,” replied Wilburn. “Smooth and I go back a long way, don’t we. We grew up together, didn’t we Smooth.”
“Sure did,” replied Daddy. “It’s been a lot of years.”
“It’s been a long time since we ran these hills and hollows,” laughed Wilburn. “I don’t know how many times.”
“Ain’t no telling how many times we set out to try to swim across that river,” interrupted Daddy. “Those were some good old days, long, hot and muggy summer days as this, right Wilburn?”
“That’s right, Reece,” replied Wilburn, “a long time ago.”
“Winter wasn’t too bad. I remember Momma making crackling cornbread,” said Reece.
“I remember it, too,” replied Wilburn. “You’d trim the fat off the meat, cut it up in little pieces, put it in an old black kettle, drop a little lard in with it, and cook it down until the grease is cooked out of it.”
“That’s right,” replied Daddy. “You had to keep it stirred, and when those cracklings started coming to the top, they were brown and crisp.”
“You couldn’t get it too hot,” said Wilburn. “Then you strained the lard and put it in a lard stand and let it set.”
“Those cracklings were ready to eat. I can taste them now!” shouted Daddy. “Glory be, Momma’s crackling cornbread sure was good.”
“You two hush up now,” said Juanita. “You making me hungry.”
“Listen,” hushed Daddy.
“What is it?” asked Juanita.
“It’s a rain crow,” interrupted Wilburn.
“Yep, that’s what it is,” said Smooth. “Hear it baby girl.”
I listened and in the distance I could hear it cooing.
“It’s a rain crow,” said Smooth. “It’s going to rain, Wilburn.”
“Yep, it sure is,” he replied.
“You know,” replied Reece. “They said it was pouring down rain the day they found Jessie Walker’s son drowned.”
“He was only ten years old,” replied Juanita. “Ain’t that a shame? That family has had it hard.”
“I heard he was a good swimmer,” noted Smooth.
“He was,” replied Cotton. “I’ve watched him swim a lot of times down by the river.”
“Things happen,” warned Mr. Bradshaw. “We don’t always have all the answers. I best be going on.”
“Thanks for bringing her home, Mr. Bradshaw,” said Juanita. “I hope she was no troub
le.”
“She was fine,” he replied as he walked on, waving goodbye.
I still remember that day. For some reason it was so sad. Why, I don’t know. I started to change after that day. I guess I had started growing up.
“Come here, girl. Get up here in my lap and tell me what’s wrong?” said Daddy. “You look like you have lost your best friend.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Daddy,” I replied.
“What’s wrong, baby,” asked Momma. “Are you still worried about your Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m tired.”
“Did we upset you talking about Jessie’s son?” Daddy asked.
“No,” I replied. “I think I’ll go to my room.”
“Okay, baby girl,” Daddy said. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”
“I love you too,” replied Momma.
“Love you too,” I replied as the screen door shut behind me.
“She seemed so quiet and so distant,” I heard Momma say.
“She’ll be alright,” replied Daddy. “She’s a kid.”
The lazy days of summer were slowly slipping by. The air at night was getting a bit nippy, as the leaves on the trees were beginning to change. I remember one day I was on my way over to Mop’s and Mary’s when I went by Mr. Bradshaw’s house. He was swinging in the swing like usual.
“Hey, girl,” he yelled. “Why are you in such a big hurry?”
“Oh…,” I hesitated. “I’m on my way to Mop’s and Mary’s house.”
“How about coming up here and swinging in the swing with me,” he replied as the old swing popped, snapped, and screeched.
I always did hate that sound, I thought. It was so haunting. Anyway, if he was so rich and powerful, I thought, why did he live in an old run down, weatherboard house that needs painting? The roof was patched and the old porch was falling in. It didn’t make any sense.
“I can’t,” I replied. I wanted to hurry over to Mop’s house.
“Oh, come on, Cotton,” he begged. “Let’s swing a little.”
Then he stepped down off the porch and brought out a bag of broken stick candy.
“Here you go,” he said. “You like candy, remember.”
“I hate it! I hate! I hate you!” I screamed.
“Hush up, child,” he said quietly as he placed the candy back into his pocket. “Shhh, now Cotton, lets not talk too loudly.” He had whispered something in my ear. “I sure would hate to see anything happen to Reece or Juanita,” he angrily said. “Strange things do happen.”
He took me by the hand, and we began walking toward the porch, then up to the swing. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper sack of candy again, placing it in my lap. I don’t remember much from there. I really can’t remember anything. As we were swinging, he took his hand and put it on my leg. He slowly moved it up and down, talking a mile a minute about something that didn’t make any sense. Then all of a sudden, the swing stopped, and he took me by the hand and we went inside the house.
I recall Daddy saying one night at supper that there had been a couple that tried to cross Wilburn. They disappeared and were never seen again. Some folks say that he took them out into the marsh and buried them. No one crosses Wilburn Bradshaw without paying for it. Too many strange things happen around him. I’ve known him all my life. He can be a good man when he wants to and mean when he gets rowdy.
That night, after supper, we all went out to sit on the porch. Momma and Daddy listened to the radio while Mop, Mary, and Booger played in the front yard. I quietly sat on the porch. I didn’t want to play. My mind and my heart were heavy, and my spirit was broken. I didn’t know what was wrong.
“Come on, Cotton Bloom, and play,” yelled Mop.
“Yeah, girl,” spoke up Mary. “You never want to play anymore.”
“I don’t feel like it,” I said.
“Why don’t you play with your friends?” replied Momma. “I’ve got to get me a sweater on. The night air is getting chilly.”
Quickly, Momma stepped inside, then out onto the porch, slipping on her sweater.
“That’s so much better,” she said. “You know, Reece, I’m worried about Cotton. She’s not herself at all and all that stuff that goes on around Dink Hut, maybe something has happened to her.”
“Oh, she’ll be alright,” encouraged Daddy. “It’s nothing more than growing pains I’m sure.”
“Maybe you’re right,” answered Momma, “I hope so.”
“Come on, girl,” said Mop, Mary, and Booger as they took Cotton by the hands and pulled her out into the yard.
“Let’s catch lightning bugs,” cried Booger.
As the children ran about the yard catching lightning bugs, you could hear in the distance the cry of a whip-o-will. The girls screamed and ran toward the porch when they heard the cry. Suddenly there came a warning across the radio, the local station broadcasted that another child’s body had been found in the marsh.
“Well, it’s time to go in,” announced Momma. “It’s not safe around here anymore. Girls, I’ll take you home, get into the car. Cotton, you stay with Daddy. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As Momma drove off, Daddy started having a bad spell. Slowly Daddy made his way into the house, he began to cough and lose his breath.
“Daddy, Daddy,” I cried as he fell down into the chair.
I ran to get his breathing whatchamacallit.
“Here, Daddy, breathe,” I cried.
He was coughing so bad he couldn’t get his breath. I raced to the phone to call the doctor, but he wasn’t home. His wife said she would try to find him.
“Please hold on, Daddy,” I cried. “I don’t know what to do. Help me, Lord, please help me. Don’t let my Daddy die.”
Then, without a warning, he fell asleep. His eyes were still open. He didn’t even blink.
“Daddy, Daddy,” I screamed as I shook him. “Don’t die Daddy.”
All I knew to do from that point on was to crawl up into his lap, lay my head on his shoulder, and hum.
By the time Momma got back, Dr. Brown was there, Daddy was already dead. I was holding on to him screaming, “Daddy, Daddy, don’t leave me.”
After that summer that Daddy died, we left Dink Hut and moved to Momma’s sister in Baltimore. From that time on I was never called Cotton Bloom again. It was Jackie or Jacquelyn.
My life would be doctors, hospitals, and medicines of all kinds. From 1947-1949, I was in and out of the hospital. The doctor said it was the trauma of my Daddy’s death that was wrong with me. But it was more than that. A part of me died in Dink Hut, but what and why, I can’t remember. The preacher always said the Lord watches over us and takes care of us. But I couldn’t understand why so many bad things would happen. I remember having bad dreams at night, kicking and screaming. They would have to tie me to the bed. Night after night, dream after dream, I pulled my hair, scratched myself and stayed awake for days until I went off to sleep. Momma, Momma, Momma, I would cry. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, where are you I would scream. There was always this awful smell, like you would never dream, something awful like bad, horrible breath. I knew there was something wrong with me but I didn’t know what.
Finally, in the fall of 1949, the nightmares seemed to pass. It was over. I don’t know what the doctor had done, but thank the Lord it was over. I believed now I could go on with my life. I guess it took a lot for me to let go of Daddy. I loved him and missed him so. I wish every day he was here with Momma and me, talking about things of years ago. But, he’s not. I believe he has gone on to a better place. I hope and pray one day I’ll get to see him again.
I was able to go back to school that fall. While I was at home and in the hospital, I had a homebound teacher to come and help me stay up in school. Baltimore was a different world from Dink Hut, Arkansas. Momma and I lived with her sister, Cynthia. It helped a lot while I was in the hospital and al
l. I guess now Momma and I will get us an apartment. Aunt Cynthia doesn’t have much room with her family also.
One afternoon, after supper, I overheard Aunt Cynthia talking to Momma. She was telling her that she needed to pass me off as a white girl.
“Juanita, this may be the north,” she said, “but Jackie’s chances are far greater as a white girl than a Negro.”
“Jackie should be who she wants to be,” replied Momma.
“She’s just a child,” replied Aunt Cynthia. “She doesn’t know what she wants. Please do as I say, sister,” warned Cynthia. “You will thank me later.” Quietly, I eased back from around the door and ran on to play.
Momma never mentioned it to me for a while, but when at school, children began to tease me and make fun of my hair, she sat me down and we talked. From that day on, I became white, although I really didn’t understand it.
“You’ll understand later,” Momma would always say.
Not too long after that, we moved from Aunt Cynthia’s to an apartment. I graduated from high school, the class of ’57, at the top of my class, and received a scholarship to college.
I never would have dreamed that my life would take off so as it did in college. A whole new world had opened up to me—new friends, new adventures, and new relationships. There was so much to do and see. There were movie houses, drive-ins, hangouts like Pop’s Diner, dance halls, and so much more. Dink Hut never had anything like this.
When I went off to college, Momma moved back in with Aunt Cynthia. Momma’s health was beginning to take the best of her, like Daddy. Momma had developed diabetes. She had it for several years and didn’t know it. Her feet would swell so she could hardly walk, much less hold a job. I kept in touch with her and saw her on weekends.
The college life had a lot to offer if you wanted it all. But, I stood by what my Momma and Daddy always said, “Work hard, be strong, determined, dedicated to your dreams, and your dreams will come true.”
I loved law, but was also interested in medicine. I started off with a General Associate Degree, but by the end of my first year I knew I wanted to be a lawyer. Why, I didn’t know. There was something about it that drew me to it. Life is funny that way.
Boys, boys, boys, I had never seen so many in one place. Like Momma always said, there were more than you can shake a stick at. Some of them were nice, some good looking, some ugly, and some silly. I don’t really know what I like in a man. I’ve never really thought much about it. He doesn’t have to be the best looking boy on earth, but not ugly—I mean too ugly. He should be kind, friendly, and a little silly at times, and I have to love his smile.
Daddy had a pretty smile. I guess I would love to have a boyfriend or husband like him. As time went on, I dated some and partied a little, but not much. And then it happened all at once. I met him, my dream. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know how to act or what to say. I felt like I was sixteen again. I thought I was going to melt.
“Hey!” was his first word to me. He was so cute, too.
From that moment on, we were inseparable. At last, I had met Mr. Right. We met at school in the library. He had transferred here from another college in Tennessee. His name was James. We had a lot in common, both being from the south. Our relationship hit right off with a bang. We talked a lot about home. James wanted to be a teacher. I told him I wanted to be a lawyer. He would always kid me about being a crooked lawyer.
The summer of my second year of college, he proposed to me and I accepted. We were soon married. Afterward, we rented an apartment. We both worked and went to school. It was hard on us. Our money was tight. But, we always seemed to make ends meet.
We had been married about a year when things started to turn around. I had started having those bad dreams again. I didn’t know why. It seemed like everything went bad all at once. All James wanted to do in our free time was to stay in bed. That was all he thought about. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Between the dreams, the headaches, and James’ desire, I could scream, and I did. Time went on; it grew worse. So, I decided to go stay with Momma and Aunt Cynthia in Baltimore.
Momma needed me. She had become bedridden now. She had already lost one leg, and her sight was about gone. James and I talked it over and we both agreed it was for the best right now. We promised to keep in touch. I packed some clothes and moved in with Momma.
The days ahead were troubling. My mind was like a whirlwind with no way of stopping. One minute, I thought about Momma, the next James, and then finishing school. Maybe it was too much at one time. I had to let some of it go.
After a while, the dreams got a little better. They didn’t occur as often as they had. I haven’t heard from James since I left, and Momma was barely hanging on. It was about a week and a half after I had moved back in with Momma that she passed. It hurt so bad. I didn’t want her to leave me behind. She was all I had left.
“Momma, Momma,” I cried. “Please don’t leave me. Oh, God, why must she go? Why did Daddy go? Why, God, why are you doing this to me?”
For days, I cried myself sick for her. Momma was always our strength. She was a strong woman, but at the same time tender in her own way. After Momma was buried, I got myself together, and I decided to try to save my marriage. I packed my things and went back to James. But, when I opened the door, I heard a noise from in the bedroom. I hurriedly walked over and looked in.
“What’s this whore doing in my bed?” I screamed.
All the whore could do was cover herself with the sheet. All James could say was, “It’s not like you think.”
“What do you call it?” I shouted.
“But—but, Jackie,” he cried.
“You get out of my house,” I threatened her.
Quickly, the woman grabbed her shoes and clothes and raced out the door. As I slammed the bedroom door, I grabbed a vase and threw it at him. I tore that room up. He slipped up under the bed and said, “I’m sorry.”
“You sorry, low down snake in the grass,” I cried. “I ought to kill you.”
Quickly, I grabbed my bags and headed back out the door. I left him with one leg in his pants, and his t-shirt hanging half way over his head. I moved back into the dorm at school in Baltimore and I filed for divorce.
“That’s all a man thinks about,” I thought as I was getting ready for class. Then came a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Sarah, my dorm mother, with a young woman.
“Jackie, this is Katherine. “She’s your new roommate. Katherine is from Boston.” “Everyone calls me Kat for short,” she replied.
“Okay, then, it’s Kat. I’m Jackie,” I said, “short for Jacquelyn.”
“Well, I’ll go,” said Mrs. Sarah. “Jackie, would you mind finishing showing Katherine, I mean Kat, around?”
“Sure,” I replied. “That will be fine.”
“Where are you from, Jackie?” Kat asked.
“Arkansas,” I replied.
“The south,” she said. “Okay.”
“How’s Boston?” I asked.
“It’s good,” she replied. “Lot of party scenes.”
“I haven’t been anywhere but to Baltimore,” I stated. “We moved here when I was little after Daddy died. What are you majoring in?”
“I really don’t know what I want to do. What are you going to major in?”
“I hope to be a lawyer,” I replied. “I kinda like the legal thing you know.”
“Yeah, I can see it,” she said. “You look like a lawyer.”
I laughed and threw a pillow at her. Then she laughed and threw one back at me. After that, Kat and I became best friends, like sisters, in a lot of ways. We were inseparable. She told me her life story and I filled her in on mine, divorce, Momma dying, and giving up Daddy. A few weekends later, I went to Boston with her and met her parents. They were nice, sort of uppity, but I didn’t care. Kat was not like that, she was down to earth like me.<
br />
We had been sitting around the dorm room a lot, studying for our finals. Time had somehow slipped away. Graduation was only a few weeks off. I felt like she had something on her mind. But, she held back from talking about it. So, I waited for the chance to confront her. There’s something she said she had wanted to ask me for a long time.
“Kat we are best friends, we’re sisters,” I said. “Why would you hold back?”
“Jackie, I don’t want to say something you might take wrong.”
“What is it, girl?” I laughed. “Come on, what on earth is it?” Tell me!”
“Jackie, are you mixed? Never mind,” she said “it’s not important.”
I had a feeling she was going to ask if I was mixed. I waited thinking she would bring it up later, but she never did. It doesn’t matter any way. My Dad was Negro, a good man, and my Momma was white. I loved them both and that’s all that mattered to me.
“Ya’ll look down on the Negro and the mixed, but we are just as human as you. God made us too.”
Not long afterwards, I graduated from college, Valedictorian of the Class of 1960, with high honors and a scholarship to Baltimore School of Law. Kat graduated, after changing her major, with a degree in education. After college, I never saw Kat again. We kept in touch for a while, but then things got so busy I guess we had little time for writing.
I entered law school in the fall of 1960. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. I had decided not to be called Jackie anymore, but introduced myself as Jacquelyn. It sounded so professional. I had quit passing myself off as white. I was black, mixed and proud of it. War was going on in Vietnam, and our boys were being sent over there a coming and a going. Rioting, protesting, and demonstrating had become a way of life. Drugs were taking over the young people. The Civil Rights Movement was stirring in the south. The southern states were bombarded with violence of hatred and protests. Things were changing. People were changing. It was a changing time for us all. Me, I was getting tired of school. I wanted to hurry up, get out, and move on with my life.
At the beginning of law school, I struggled. I worked hard to make it through. If there was one thing in my life I was going to do, it was to become a lawyer. That was my daddy’s dream for me. I made a promise. If God was willing and he gave me the chance, both of them would be proud of me.
Then it happened in the spring of my third year of law school. I met him. I had never felt this way before. I saw him at the park getting a hotdog. I didn’t know what was coming over me, but I felt like a little love sick girl. I walked by and noticed him looking at me. He was so handsome, so—you—know—I thought I was going to faint. Then he smiled as I waltzed by. “I love it, I love it, I love his smile,” I said. When he smiled, his eyes sparkled.
Slowly he turned and asked, “Would you like a hotdog?” First I acted like I didn’t hear him, then he said it again. “Would you like a hotdog?”
“Why not,” I replied acting nonchalant. “I guess one hot dog wouldn’t hurt.”
“Mustard and relish?” he asked.
His hair was so wavy. I couldn’t help but stare.
“Mustard and relish?” he repeated.
“Oh, what did you say?” I replied. “Mustard—uh yes, uh that will be fine. Mustard and relish, I’ll take both.”
“My name is John,” he said, “and yours?”
“John,” I replied.
“John,” he replied.
“I mean, uh, Jackie, uh Jacquelyn.”
“Hi, Jacquelyn,” he said with a pretty warm smile.
“Hi,” I replied dropping my hotdog.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m not,” I said. “I mean usually, I promise.”
“Here, let me get you another one,” he replied.
“That will be okay,” I cried as I hurried off so embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Bye!”
For the next two weeks I couldn’t get him off my mind. I’d close my eyes and picture him. I felt so silly. On my way to the library I made it my business to go by the hotdog cart to see if I would run into him again, but I didn’t.
Baltimore was so big, I thought. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. A month had passed, and I had given up all hope. I started cramming myself back into my books. Examinations were coming up, very important examinations, and I needed all the help I could get.
Then one day I was downtown shopping and decided to get a bite to eat. I went into this little old coffee shop for a quick bite and to look over some notes. I ordered and opened my tablet to look at them. As I began to study, I happened to look up. I couldn’t believe it. It was him. It was John sitting at a table looking over some papers. Quickly, I started to scoot down in my chair. About that time, the waiter brought my order. Suddenly John looked across the room.
“Jacquelyn,” he called. “Is that you?”
God, I was so embarrassed. My face felt like it was on fire. My knees got weak, and my voice quivered.
“Yes, a—John, it’s me,” I answered.
Then he got up, came over and sat down with me. I didn’t know what to say or how to act.
“Just be yourself,” he said calmly.
I melted. We began to talk.
“I want to know all about you,” said John, “everything. I don’t want you to leave out anything.”
“What about you?” I replied. “I want to know about you first.”
“I’m a counselor,” he said. “I was born and raised here in Baltimore. Uh—I love that new singing group that came to America.”
“The Beatles,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s them,” he replied. “They’re supposed to be on the Ed Sullivan Show tonight. I like children, reading, and golf. What about you?”
“I’m from Arkansas,” I replied. “I want to be a criminal lawyer. Both my parents are dead, and I had one bad marriage.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Arkansas,” he grinned. “Nobody comes from Arkansas. Where is that anyway?” he laughed. “I’m only kidding Jacquelyn.”
Then I laughed. His eyes sparkled so. He was a down to earth kind of guy, so different from a lot of the other men I had met. The time quickly passed.
“I need to get back,” I said.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
“Here’s my number,” I replied as I wrote it down on a piece of paper and then I stuffed it in his pocket. “Call me. Bye.” Then I pecked him with a kiss on his cheek and ran out the door.
From then on, John and I began our life together. I graduated from law school, one of only a few women, and black too, to graduate from Baltimore School of Law. We got married and lived in the suburbs outside of Baltimore. Life was great. I was studying for my bar exam, and he was helping me. John and I had as much between us, I thought, as two people could have. We laughed, cried and had mad spells too, but we always seemed to come back together. John was a lot different than James. John was gentler, caring, patient, and didn’t force himself. That meant a lot.
In the spring of 1966, I went before the Bar Board of the state of Maryland and passed. I was so happy I couldn’t keep from crying, and so did John. That night was ours. We were so happy. I wish Momma and Daddy could have been there. I believe they were. I believe they have never left me. It was early the next morning; John woke me up, pulling me out of bed by my foot.
“What is it,” I cried kicking at him. “What is it, John?”
“Come on, girl, I want you to get dressed,” he said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Hurriedly, he tried to dress me until I slapped his hands to stop.
“John,” I said, “I’ll do it. I can dress myself, thank you.”
He backed off and laughed, then whistled at my naked body.
“That’s enough,” I replied with a smile.
We drove back tow
ard the city. He said, “I have two surprises. One surprise and one question. The surprise I will do last, but the question I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for a long time.”
“What’s that,” I replied thinking what on earth is he going to ask.
“Well,” he said hesitantly. “I want to have some children. Not a bunch, you know, maybe one or two, a boy and a girl. What do you think about it?”
I didn’t know what to say. We had never talked about it. My heart fell into my stomach, and I began to get sick. He noticed something was wrong.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t have to have a baby today. I was talking about later on, maybe.”
“Oh, it’s okay, honey, I must have eaten something that upset my stomach. Let’s talk about it later, okay.”
“Okay,” he replied. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m sure,” I answered.
I didn’t want to hurt him, but children I didn’t want, I didn’t know why. Finally, we arrived downtown in front of one of the tallest buildings I have ever seen. It was the law firm of Browns, Burns, and Cartwright of Baltimore. As we made our way in and up to the twenty-second floor, John told me not to say a word until he told me to. I didn’t know what to say anyway. I was dumbfounded, surprised, and shocked even more. Finally, we walked in. John hushed the secretary to be quiet.
“Is he in?” John asked.
She smiled and shook her head. We stepped toward a door, with a sign Hillous Brown Attorney-at-Law. We opened it and walked into the giant room.
“Well, John,” he said, “it’s good to see you again. I suppose this is the lady you have told me so much about.”
“Yes, sir,” John replied. “This is Jacquelyn, my wife, and this is my grandfather, Hillous.”
“Surprise!” shouted John.
“Your grandfather,” I cried. “You never told me—uh, I’m glad to meet you, sir,” I said.
“I’m sorry I missed the wedding. I had to fly out on the West Coast on a high profile case that took longer than I anticipated. Jacquelyn, John tells me he believes you will make a great lawyer.”
“He did,” she replied.
“Yes, and I believe he could be right. I have looked over your file and it’s very good,” stated Hillous. “I’m very impressed.”
“Well, thank you, sir,” I replied half scared to death. “I’m going to kill you, John.” John just laughed at me, “Sorry, sir.”
“So you want to be a lawyer?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes, sir, I do,” I replied eagerly. “That’s what I always wanted to do. It was my Daddy’s dream.”
“Do you believe you can take it, rubbing elbows, going head to head with some of the other top-notch attorneys across the country?”
“Yes, sir, I believe I can. I’m a fighter,” I replied confidently.
Then he sat down in his chair. I waited and wondered if he was going to offer me a chance. He thumbed through my file and quietly studied it over.
“Tell me a little about yourself, Jacquelyn. Where are you from, things you have done, what practicing law means to you, and justice?”
I nervously began to answer his questions trying to choose the right words. As I spoke, he didn’t seem too impressed. John sat quietly by my side.
“Okay, okay, Jacquelyn,” he said as he interrupted me. “I don’t think you’re quite what I’m looking for here at the firm,” Hillous stated. “I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think she’s got the courtroom gut. We here at the firm have some major high profile cases and they get rough sometimes. It takes a lot out of you and your marriage if you’re not careful.”
“But, Granddad,” John said.
“No buts about it, John. I’m sorry!” he replied. “It’s been good to see you again. You do have a beautiful lady there.”
The more I sat and listened to his bullshit, the madder I got. I suddenly jumped up and let him have it. I didn’t care if it was John’s grandpa, uncle, or brother. I flew in on him like a sitting hen protecting her eggs. I floored him, up one side the room to the other. John was standing back, calling my name.
“I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last lawyer on the face of the earth,” I screamed. “You can take your high-falutin law firm and put it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
All John could say was, “Jacquelyn, Jackie, Jacquelyn.”
Then I looked around and saw John and his grandfather dying laughing.
“She’s got spunk and fire,” Hillous cried. “I like that.”
“You ought to see her at home,” replied John.
“What’s so funny?” I started to cry.
“Nothing, baby,” replied John. “I think you passed the test. You get the job.”
“What test?” I asked. “I got the job!” John. Then I grabbed him, then his grandfather.
“You’re hired, girl,” replied Hillous. “A fit like that in the courtroom ought to win a lot of cases. She’s got what it takes, and she’s sensitive. I like that.”
That’s how I got my first job.
“Why didn’t you tell me your grandfather was the head of the firm at Browns, Burns, and Cartwright of Baltimore?” I said.
“I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to wait until the right moment to tell you,” he replied.
“Dad wanted to do counseling work instead. That didn’t go over well with grandfather. Then I came along and he wanted the same for me, but I was like dad. I wanted to be a consultant. Not long after I got out of college, I was drafted and went to Nam and served a year and a half. When I came home, he offered to send me to law school. But I didn’t care about that. I bummed around for a year, trying to make sense out of my life and the world. Then when Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident, it helped put me back into perspective. I didn’t want to study law. I wanted to be a consultant, and that’s where I’m at today.”
“God, I can’t believe it, John, I’m going to work for Browns, Burns, and Cartwright of Baltimore. Can you believe it!” I shouted. “I love you,” I said.
“I love you too,” he replied.
“Let’s have a baby,” I whispered.
He said, “Now! We’ve been married for almost a year. Maybe it’s time to start our family.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Let’s go for it.”
“Alright,” he shouted as he reached over and hugged me.
“What about your younger brother?” I asked.
“The last time I saw Peter was at Mom and Dad’s funeral. He took off across the country on a Harley. It’s been about five years ago now.”
At work, I started off with some small cases while we tried to have a baby. Nothing seemed to work. It bothered John a lot but he never said much about it. Still I could tell. He was moody and more to himself. I believed the baby would fill the vacant spot. He still had nightmares of Vietnam, waking up in his sleep yelling. Things began to change. Things were nothing like they were when we first got married.
Then one day it happened out of the clear blue. I got my first high profile case. It was a Civil Rights issue. A black child had been murdered in Alabama. I was so happy. John was tickled and happy for me. I asked Hillous if he was sure I was ready. He nodded his head yes.
“I believe you’re ready, Jacquelyn. Go for it!”
I remember I was nervous and tried hard not to let the firm down. The trial went on for two and a half weeks and ended in a guilty plea. The three white men received the death penalty. They were members of the KKK. From there, it didn’t seem to stop. When I came back home three weeks after the trial, I received a phone call from Hillous.
“Jacquelyn,” he asked. “Would you want to go to New York?”
“Sure, yes, sir,” I answered. I couldn’t believe it, my second big case.
“Come by the office tomorrow for your briefing, and be on the plane that evening.�
�
That night, I was in the Big Apple. I went over my briefs, studying everything back and forth. I had to be sure when I went into that courtroom that I was prepared. The state and federal government were working together with me against New York kingpin mafia leader, George Benny Feliciano. He was charged with racketeering, money laundering, and the assassinations of eight people. The case was rough and scary. The trial went on for four weeks. We worked around the clock to get a plea of guilty. Finally, the verdict came in; I held my breath and prayed. The foreman of the jury read, “Guilty of each count.” What a relief. I was never so glad to get out of New York and be back home in Baltimore.
After the New York case, it seemed like my career skyrocketed. I was up there finally rubbing elbows with the big boys as Hillous would say. But, things at home weren’t so good. John was irritable because I was gone a lot. We didn’t have time, it seemed like, for each other. He was still wanting a child. I kept reminding him I couldn’t right now; my career had just started. Besides, we have tried to have a baby. It didn’t work.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I had never gotten you that job at the firm.”
“Well, thanks a lot, John,” I cried. “I guess you wanted me to stay home all the time and have babies, and the heck with my career.”
John took off to one side of the house, and I took off to the other side. It wasn’t long after that I started to have the dreams again. In my dreams, I kept smelling this foul odor, and I kept seeing the inside of this old house. But, I didn’t know where it was or who I was with. At times, I would hear a crackling sound with a pop and squeak. It was in this room. I heard footsteps coming toward me. Night after night, the dream occurred. I remember a glass of milk sitting on the table.
By the end of the week, John and I had made up. He apologized to me and I to him. We both decided that if the good Lord blessed us with a child, we would leave that up to him. As for my career, he said he would try to bare it. Besides he knew how it was. He knew my career meant a lot to me; I had worked hard to get it; I deserved it.
Within three days of our makeup, I was on the plane to Kansas City. A little girl had been raped and murdered, supposedly by a high government official. Within two weeks, the prosecution rested their case, and the jury found the official guilty. He was sentenced to life in prison. Shortly, I was back on the plane headed for Baltimore.
The year was 1970. John and I were watching the news when it came across that John’s favorite group, The Beatles, was breaking up. Vietnam was still going on, and Hillous, John’s grandfather, had passed. John and I rekindled the flame and played catch up.
“I like it this way, John,” I told him.
“It’s good, Jacquelyn,” he replied. “The Lord may not bless us with a child. That’s okay, I still have you.”
The next few months we spent all our time together. It was the best time we had had in a long time. We shopped, sailed, went to the movies, and made love. Life was good until one day the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” yelled John. “It’s for you, honey.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s Wilburn Bradshaw from Dink Hut.”
“Wilburn Bradshaw,” I cried. “What in the world would Wilburn want with me?”
I took the phone, wondering what on earth he was calling for.
“Hello,” I said.
“Is this Jackie Raines who grew up in Dink Hut and her daddy’s name was Reece?” he questioned.
“Why yes, it is,” I replied.
“This is Wilburn Bradshaw your daddy’s best friend,” he boasted. “Remember me.”
“Yes, Mr. Bradshaw, I do remember you. How can I help you?”
“I got your number from your office. I hope you don’t mind,” he stated, “but, I’m in need of some legal help and from what I hear, you are one of the best.”
“Well, thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence,” I said. “But, there are better lawyers out there than me.”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I would love to have you represent me, if you would, being your daddy’s best friend and all. He would be so proud of you, Cotton. Everyone in Dink Hut is proud of you. You remember our motto, we help each other.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, “I remember. I haven’t been in Dink Hut since me and Momma left after Daddy died,” I stated.
“I miss Reece,” he said. “We grew up together. I helped Reece out a lot, he was like a brother. By the way, how is your mother?”
“Momma passed a few years ago,” I replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know, or maybe I did, but forgot. You know how it is when you get old.”
“What is your legal trouble?” I questioned him.
“Well, I don’t like to get into that until I have your word you’ll represent me,” he stated. “I don’t like discussing business over the phone.”
“Well, I don’t know, Mr. Bradshaw, I’m pretty busy,” I replied. “I don’t…”
“Will you at least think about,” he pleaded. “Think about it. I’m willing to pay you well, whatever your price. Your daddy would have been proud, plus you will see your old home place and your friends. Ah, Mop and Mary are beautiful women now and they have some wonderful children.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “Let me think about it. Give me your number so I can get back with you.”
I took his number and hung up. I remembered the whole thing seemed so strange, but I would love to go back home and visit, especially to see Mop and Mary and their families. I studied on it for a few days and even talked it over with John. John mentioned he still had some vacation time; we could go on vacation.
“I don’t know, it seems strange,” I replied. “Why me? There are lawyers in Arkansas just as good as me.”
“Maybe his confidence is far greater in you,” John said. “You know you are a very good lawyer. Who is this Bradshaw man anyway?”
“When I was growing up,” I exclaimed, “he was the most powerful and influential man in Butler County. He had a lot of friends in high places, they say, in Arkansas and Tennessee. He did help us a lot. He and Daddy grew up together. There were times when I don’t know how we would have made it if it wasn’t for Mr. Bradshaw.
“Maybe you owe him one,” replied John.
“I guess,” I said still wondering, “you’re probably right. We did have a motto in Dink Hut, and that was to help each other.”
“So call him,” replied. John. “I want to see this Dink Hut anyway.”
The next thing I knew, we were on our way to Dink Hut. I was excited to see home again. I wished Momma and Daddy were there. John had never been to Arkansas. He was about as excited as I.
We had a layover in Nashville. While we were there we went to see the Grand Ole Opry at the Ryman. Of course there was no show until Saturday night, but we did get to catch a tour of the building. It was a breathtaking experience to stand on the stage where so many famous people had stood before—Opry stars whom you had listened to on the radio on Saturday night when you were growing up. John was fascinated with Nashville, Music City Row, Country Music Hall of Fame, and the Wax Museum. We even bought a t-shirt that read Grand Ole Opry Wabash Cannonball Express.
Shortly, we were back in the air and landing at Little Rock International Airport. From there we rented a car and headed for Dink Hut. We could have flown into Memphis but we were on vacation, and we decided to go back that way. John wanted to stop off at Graceland. He loved Elvis and his music.
The first thing I did when I got to the Butler County Courthouse was to talk to Mr. Bradshaw. He filled me in on his side of the story. Evidently, they were accusing him of molesting two boys. But, he said that one of the boy’s parents was saying that to get money off him because he had threatened to take their property for old notes they owed him. The boys are good friends, and they are using the friend to b
ack the boy up.
“They want money,” he yelled. “They don’t want to pay their notes.”
I told him I would be getting back with him, but I wanted to check on something.
As I motioned for the guard to let me out, he spoke up and said, “I’m real proud of you, Jackie.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Bradshaw,” I replied.
Immediately, a chill ran down my back and I felt sick at my stomach. I brushed it off. As I thought about it, he could be telling the truth, but in the back of my mind I wondered. I went to talk with Mr. Edwards the D.A. about talking to the witness and his family. I found out they had moved here about twelve years ago. They were originally from Dink Hut. The D.A. was asking for life without parole. He believed there were more indictments than this, but didn’t have the proof. I did find, though, about seven years ago, Mr. Bradshaw was accused of the disappearance of a woman. But, there was no hard evidence to hold him. He had so many alibis and places he was when the woman was killed, they couldn’t charge him.
I began to try to put the pieces together. I didn’t understand why Mr. Bradshaw didn’t tell me about the incident a few years ago. Maybe he forgot; he did seem awfully nervous though. Maybe he didn’t think it was important. I made my way back to the motel to rest. It seemed like I got tired awfully easy, and I stayed sick to my stomach. John went out and got us a bite to eat, and we watched TV a while until I fell asleep.
Early the next morning, I began to work on the case. That evening, I had promised John we would go up to Anderson. It was the county seat in Butler County. Then we went back to Dink Hut. It seemed like this whole thing was making me sick. I didn’t want to let Daddy down. I guess I owed it to Mr. Bradshaw. There was something that kept drawing me to it, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. As the day passed, I did some checking and talked to some people. I started working on my witness list. Things started to pull together.
That evening, we drove up to Dink Hut. The next day, I took John up to the old trestle. We waited there with our picnic basket for the noon train. Sure enough, the train came through. It sure brought back some good old memories. After lunch, we went down to the river and skipped stones.
“It is a wonderful place,” he said. “No wonder Mark Twain loved the Mississippi so.”
On our way back, we stopped off at Mop’s and Mary’s house. It was all boarded up and nearly falling to the ground. I didn’t know where to begin looking for them. But, I decided when I got back I would ask around. Then I took John to where I used to live. The house was about gone; it was shabby looking and all grown up with weeds. The porch had fallen in, and Momma’s and Daddy’s old chairs were no more than kindling.
“Very impressive,” John sarcastically said. “With a little work…”
“John, it’s been a long time,” I said. “Besides, when I lived here it was a beautiful home.”
“I know,” he replied. “I was only playing.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It is a little run down. Oh, look what time it is. I’ve got to get back. I’m supposed to be in court in a few hours. Mr. Bradshaw goes up for arraignment. The D.A. believes that he’s got enough to bind him over to the grand jury. Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll get out at the courthouse, John, go on.”
As I hurried up the steps of the courthouse, there were two women standing at the door. One of them turned to me and spoke, “Cotton Bloom.”
My eyes shot open and so did my mouth, “Mop,” I cried, “and Mary.” My eyes began to water as we all hugged. “Why look at you girls!”
Mary said, “What you say, girl, look at us, look at you, big lawyer and all.”
Then we all began to laugh and hug each other all over again.
“Just look at baby,” replied Mop. “You’re all grown up.”
“It is so good to see you,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”
“What do you mean a long time,” replied Mop. “It’s been a lifetime ago.”
“We wanted to keep in touch,” said Mary, “but you know how things are in Dink Hut.”
“Where is Booger?” I asked. “How’s she doing? I want to see her.”
The girls both dropped their heads when Mop replied, “She’s gone.”
“She’s gone?” I questioned. “Gone where, moved?”
“No, Cotton, she was found in the marsh about seven years ago.”
My legs almost gave out on me. “Oh, my God,” I cried.
“Are you alright, Cotton?” replied Mop.
“Let’s go in,” I said. “I’ve got to sit down.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” asked Mary. “Let me go get you a drink.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I have some stomach problems is all. I’ll be alright.”
I finally got over my sick spell, and they filled me in on Booger. I hated so bad for Booger. I got so angry. I asked them where they lived because I had someone I wanted them to meet.
“You’re going to defend Mr. Bradshaw aren’t you,” they said as they both looked up at me so cold.
“Yes, yes, I am,” I said. “Why?”
Then they turned and headed out the door.
“Mop, Mary, what’s wrong? Wait a minute,” I cried as the door shut in behind them.
I glanced at the clock on the courthouse wall. I had fifteen minutes to get in the courtroom. As I entered the courtroom, I apologized to the judge.
“I’m sorry, your Honor.”
“Apology accepted, counselor, this time. Try not to let it happen again.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied as I opened my briefcase and took out my papers.
Mr. Edwards began to state his case to the court with an overwhelming amount of evidence. I reviewed my findings in the case with several witnesses verifying the whereabouts of Mr. Bradshaw at the particular time of the incident. Carefully, the judge evaluated the evidence on both sides; he took into credit the witnesses and their accounts of the facts. The judge ruled for Wilburn Bradshaw to be bound over to the grand jury, bail denied. As they took Mr. Bradshaw away, I assured him I would be talking to him a little later, and I would do what I could to help him.
I called John and he came and picked me up. I had told him there used to be a diner not far from the courthouse that had good food. I didn’t know how it was now; it had been so many years.
As we drove, we talked, “Over, there,” I cried. “There it is. Pull over.”
We made our way into the café. The café had changed a lot, but there were different owners now. We took a table and looked over the menu.
“I don’t know about all this,” John said. “I believe I’ll just have a hamburger.”
“Oh, no,” I insisted. “I will order for you.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“I’ll buy if you don’t,” I replied. “Two bowls of white beans, ham hock, some hot water cornbread and two large milks.”
“Milk,” he yelled. “What about tea? What is hot water cornbread?”
“It’s time that you started eating black people’s cooking,” I replied.
“Jacquelyn,” he said. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me,” I replied. Then I tilted my head and batted my eyes.
“I love that smile,” he said. “But you pay if I don’t like it, plus buy me a hamburger. Deal?”
“You got it, and if you do like it you buy mine. Deal?”
“Well, how did it go in court?” John asked.
“They bound him over,” I replied. “It seems they have a strong case.”
“How does it look?” replied John.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I really don’t know. It doesn’t look good. Hey, guess what. I ran into Mop and Mary at the courthouse earlier.”
“That’s good. I bet they were glad to see you.”
“Yeah, they were,” I said. “I was glad to see them too.”
“What’s
the matter?” John inquired. “You seem troubled.”
“They also told me that Booger was dead. They found her in the marsh.”
“Dead,” he replied. “Wasn’t Booger the one?”
“Yeah, they said they found her in the marsh about seven years ago,” I cried. “That’s the same time Mr. Edwards told me they charged Mr. Bradshaw with the murder of a woman?”
“Do you think there’s a connection?” John asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But, I am going to do some checking into it. Oh, by the way, I told Mop and Mary I had someone I wanted them to meet. I want them to meet you.”
“Sounds good,” he replied as the waiter sat down the food in front of us.
“What do you think, John?” I asked.
As John started to eat, he slowly shook his head. “Not bad,” he replied. “Not bad at all. This is good.” After lunch John asked, “What’s next?
“I want to go back to the jail and ask Mr. Bradshaw some questions about Booger.”
“Okay,” he replied, “then what?”
“Pick me up later at the courthouse, and we’ll go over to Mop’s and Mary’s,” I told John.
When we arrived, I got out, and John drove on. I started off by talking to Mr. Bradshaw about the case going to the grand jury and his chances. He didn’t seem to be afraid. He was confident that we could pull it off. He wasn’t worried. I asked him why he didn’t tell me about being charged with the murder of a woman seven years ago.
“Oh, that,” he said. “That was nothing. I didn’t think it was important. By the way, they dropped the charges. They didn’t have enough proof. Why did you ask, Cotton?” he said. “That has nothing to do with this case. These people want money, money off of me.”
“Do you know who that woman was?” I questioned.
“It was some Pruitt I believe,” he mumbled. “That’s been so long ago.”
“It was Minnie Pruitt, Booger, Mr. Bradshaw, one of my best friends,” I cried. “Don’t you remember her?”
“Yes, I do now,” he said. “The best I can recollect she was real small, long cornbraids and she wore the same necklace all the time, a little silver heart with a diamond stud in one corner.”
“That’s right,” I replied. “I gave her that necklace when we were children growing up. I’ll tell you one thing, Mr. Bradshaw, you better not be lying to me or playing games. I tell you that.”
I called for the jailer to open the door. As I was leaving, he reached into his pocket and brought out a brown sack of broken stick candy.
“Want a piece?” he said.
I quickly stormed out. The next evening, John and I went over to Mop’s and Mary’s house for supper. As we started up the porch steps, they all came out to meet us. Mop suddenly stopped as they all stared.
“He’s white,” said Mop.
John laughed.
“Hush your mouth, girl,” replied Mary. “We can see he’s white.”
“John, this is Mop, Mary, Mary’s husband, Billy, and Mop’s brother, Jimmy. Everyone, this is John.”
“Not bad, girl,” said Mary. “How’s he in the…”
I paused for a moment and then said, “He’s got some black in him.”
“Come on in and make yourself at home,” said Mary. “I need to talk to you, girl, and check this zebra situation out.”
“Yeah, come on in, John,” greeted the others. “Have a seat. Dink Hut is a little different from where you’re from.”
“A little,” replied John. “Thank you.”
As the men sat around talking, we girls slipped off to the other room. They were dying to hear about John and life in Baltimore.
“Cotton, what do you mean marrying a white man?” said Mary. “Ain’t there no brothers around for you?”
“Hush up, Mop, let her talk. Well which one do you think is the best in…” asked Mop.
“John’s a good man,” I said. “I love him. He can’t help he’s white and I’m mixed. And the answer to your question, I’ll never tell.”“He’s a good looking thing for a white man,” said Mop.
“Mop!” shouted Mary. “You act like that’s the only white man you’ve seen.”
“The only one that looks like that,” Mop replied.
“Mary, I think you like him,” I said. “Wait and see.”
“Hush up, girl,” Mary cried. “I’m staying with the brothers.”
“He’s white, but he’s black in a lot of ways,” I replied.
“Uh-huh, sissy, you’ll tell us anything,” said Mary.
“Close your mouth, girl. I don’t believe you said that,” Mary shouted.
“Is he?” they asked. Then they all laughed.
“What are your girls laughing about in there?” yelled Billy. “It’s time to start the grill.”
Mop and Mary talked John’s head off, asking all kinds of questions about everything under the sun.
“You ever eat soul food?” asked Mary.
“This is my second time,” replied John.
“Now, Mary,” I replied. “John, Mary is a little old fashioned.” Then they all laughed, “and a little white too.”
Shortly, Billy and Jimmy brought in some fresh grilled barbecue ribs and chicken wings.
“I bet you’ll like these,” said Billy as he sat the ribs and wings down on the table with the other dishes Mop and Mary had fixed.
“Lookie here,” I said, “turnip greens, fried chicken, cole slaw, pinto beans, fried taters, and hot water cornbread.”
“Turnip greens,” cried John, “no turnips.”
They all started to laugh. Then Billy asked everyone to bow their heads for grace. “Amen,” said Billy.
“Dig in,” yelled Mary. “Here, pass me the turnip greens, here’s the beans.”
It was a feast to remember. It felt like home again, I thought. A good feeling, something I needed. I couldn’t eat too much because of my stomach. But, it sure was good.
“Oh, come on, girl, you can eat more than that,” said Mary. “When you were growing up, you used to shovel it in.”
“I’m not young anymore I’ll have you know,” I replied.
“Pass those ribs,” cried Jimmy.
“Here you go,” replied Mop.
We talked on and on like we were family who hadn’t seen each other in years. Which we were. We had so much fun; John fit right in. He had his faults, but he was good to me. The night tarried on, and we had to leave. I had court early. It was the first day of the trial. Billy and Jimmy asked John to come back in the morning. They wanted to take him fishing.
“Sounds like fun,” he replied.
“See you in the morning, John,” yelled Billy.
“Okay,” replied John. “Bye everyone.”
“If you ever want to get rid of him, Cotton, let me know,” shouted Mop.
“Get in that house, girl,” said Mary.
“Bye, everyone,” I cried.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I couldn’t get Booger off my heart. Finally, the night brought the morning and morning brought the trial.
“All rise,” directed the Bailiff. “The commonwealth state of Arkansas vs. Wilburn E. Bradshaw, honorable Judge George Thomas Clark presiding. You may be seated.”
The jury was selected out of Butler County instead of Shelby County in Memphis. As I began to listen to the testimony of the witnesses, the haunting memories of things in my past slowly began to flash back. The sluggish, marred memories created a giant puzzle in my head. I couldn’t make the connection. They appeared out of nowhere. I began to remember my dreams.
Days passed as the trial lingered on. I had begun to battle things of my past, things I had forgotten about. I was confused, getting mixed up. There was a time or two the Judge asked me was I alright, but I brushed it off. We recessed for the weekend. Thank the Lord, I was so overwhelmed.
Mop and Mary had invited us over for a fish fry. I was
glad. I felt safe with John and them. I needed some family. I felt like I was falling apart. They were frying the fish Billy, Jimmy and John had caught. John caught two. He was so proud. I had to tell him to stop smiling.
“These are some fine fish, Billy,” said John.
“Yep,” laughed Billy. “You can sometimes catch a good mess out of the river if you know where to fish.”
“Did you say these are catfish, Jimmy?” asked John.
“Yes, sir, mud cat,” replied Jimmy. “You have to skin these babies.”
“Up north,” said John, “they’re already cut up in little pieces and battered.”
“What do you want to do with these hogsuckers, Billy?” asked Jimmy.
“Run them down to Big Hand’s house. He’ll eat them,” replied Billy.
“Don’t you eat them?” said John.
“Some people do,” replied Billy, “Not me. “Hogsuckers have too many bones. Big Hand loves them. Do you remember, Cotton, Smooth loved turtle and hogsuckers.”
“Yeah, I remember,” I replied.
My stomach hurt, my thoughts were going a mile a minute. It wasn’t long till we said goodbye, and we headed back to the motel.
The trial went on for a week with no sign of closing. I had noticed that some of the things the victims had stated triggered thoughts in my head—the brown sack of broken stick candy, the glass of milk, the inside of Bradshaw’s house, and the pop and creaking of the porch swing. I never remembered being in his house, but some of the things sounded so familiar. What is going on with me, I thought. I’ve got to pull myself together. Mr. Bradshaw was worrying me to death to take the stand. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But, he kept on pleading with me until I finally agreed.
As he made his way up to be sworn in, he reached in his pocket and took a pinch of some sweet tobacco to relax him. After the bailiff swore him in, he sat down. He seemed a little nervous and his hands were shaky, but his boldness made him confident looking on the stand. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was sick at my stomach and about to lose it. Mr. Bradshaw sat and faced the jury. He looked out across the courtroom. He appeared to be thinking to himself. As the questions were asked, he answered with confidence. He gave the jury an account of his whereabouts.
But when I approached the stand, I suddenly stopped and turned. The judge watched, and the jury sat motionless.
“There’s that smell,” I said.
I eased up to Mr. Bradshaw and smelled him. Then it all started coming back to me. I screamed as I backed off from him. In anger, hurt, and embarrassment, I approached him and screamed, “You molested me when I was a little girl!”
“Order, order in the courtroom,” shouted the judge. The bailiff ran over to me to calm me down. The courtroom was in shock. Then one by one, others in the courtroom began to stand.
“Your honor, he molested me when I was a child.”
“Order, order in the courtroom, or I’ll have it cleared. Mr. Edwards and I want to see you both in my chambers,” said the judge. “Take a short recess.”
All the pieces of my nightmare had finally come together. The last thing I remember was collapsing in the judge’s chambers and hitting the floor. When I awoke, I was in the hospital. I was still so upset. John was there by my side. Mop and Mary waited outside. John and I talked. It seemed like hours. I never knew. As a child I had blocked the trauma out of my mind all those years. Coming home helped me to find the answers.
“Hey, girl, are you alright?” said Mary.
“We were worried about you,” said Mop.
“Sure,” I replied. “I’ll be fine now.”
“You really got it stirred up in there,” said Mary. “That’s the way to go, girl.”
“You should have seen Mr. Bradshaw’s face,” stated Mop. “He didn’t know what to say. He slumped down in his seat and dropped those shoulders and head.”
“Yeah, girl, you should have seen the judge’s face too,” said Mary.
About then, the doctor came in.
“Okay, let’s look at you,” said the doctor. “I think everything is going to be alright with you and the baby.”
“Baby,” she replied. “What baby?”
“Your baby,” he said. “You are a few weeks. You’re going to be fine.”
“Thank the Lord!” shouted John. “He is still answering prayers.”
Mop and Mary started to cry as they came over and hugged me.
“We love you, Cotton,” they said.
“I love you both, too,” I cried. Then we all cried together; even John teared up.
In a couple of days I was finally released from the hospital. It was time to go home. The next day, I had an appointment with Judge Clark and Mr. Edwards in the judge’s chambers. He asked me if I was alright, and I told him I had never felt better. He and Mr. Edwards began to fill me in.
The state had rested its case. From the testimony of the others that came forward, there was enough evidence for the jury to convict him without a shadow of a doubt—even the dead woman they found in the marsh seven years ago. It took the jury only one hour of deliberation to unanimously make the decision. Mr. Bradshaw went up for sentencing the next week.
“Mrs. Brown,” said Judge Clark. “I promise you he’ll never bother another child.”
Then Mr. Edwards stepped up and congratulated me on doing such a wonderful job handling the situation under so much pressure. He also said the police went back to Mr. Bradshaw’s house for another search. This time, they found a trap door in one of the rooms. There they found souvenirs of his victims, toys, panties, other articles of clothing, and a locket with a heart on it.
“That’s Booger’s,” I said.
It had an inscription on the back ‘Love, Cotton Bloom.’
“I gave it to her when we were growing up,” I replied.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” said Mr. Edwards. “We also found a journal and a book of names of his victims.”
There were so many victims through the years. I wondered if he worked alone.
“We found in the journal,” said Judge Clark, “where he wrote down about his childhood. Evidently, his daddy, Judge Bradshaw, who was the judge around here for years, ran moonshine in the 20’s and 30’s out of the Ozarks. He also dealt in money laundering, and ran a house of ill repute over in Memphis. There he gained political pull with judges and police. They gave him favors which set him up in three states. He had quite an operation. After the judge died, Wilburn Bradshaw inherited it all, money, favors, and power. But to beat it all, his daddy molested him when he was growing up. He offered him broken stick candy to have his way with him.”
“What about his mother?” I asked.
“He was the only child. His mother died when he was ten.”
“I’m glad it’s over with,” I said.
“I bet you are,” replied Edwards.
“We’re all glad; the whole town is,” said Judge Clark.
As I stepped out of the courtroom, I was finally free. I was ready to go on with my life, holding back nothing. I’m free, thank God, for the first time in my life. It felt so good. As John pulled up, he looked at me out the car window.
A few days later, Mr. Bradshaw hung himself in his cell. We said our goodbyes.
“Are you ready Jackie?” John asked.
As we started to leave, I heard someone calling my name. It was Mop and Mary.
“Cotton, Cotton,” they cried. “We are going to miss you.”
They grabbed me in their arms and hugged me not to let me go.
“I’m going to miss ya’ll.
“We were on our way to see you,” said Mary.
“It’s time for us to go home,” I replied.
“I’m going to miss you,” cried Mop.
“We’ll write or call,” said Mary.
“Hey, girls, why don’t you come up and visit with us sometime and we’ll hang out and
do some crazy things.”
“Sure,” they replied, “and see Baltimore.”
After all the hugs and kisses to John and me, I started to get in the car. “Bye,” I yelled.
“Oh, wait a minute,” said Mop. “We’ve got something for you.”
Then she handed me Booger’s locket.
“We want you to have it,” said Mop.
“Booger would have wanted you to,” replied Mary.
Tears filled my eyes again as a big knot hung in my throat.
“Thank you, sisters, so much. I love you,” I whispered.
I turned and got into the car. I sat quietly and solemnly as we drove out of Dink Hut. It was a long trip, but finally, we made it home. Thank God. The months passed and Mary and Mop kept in touch. We had our baby. It was a boy. He was such a blessing. I named him John Reece after the two men I loved the most in my life. And I nicknamed him Bowevel!