The Journey of Little Charlie Read online

  I looked out on the porch and whispered to the other side of the curtain that divides the room, “Ma? You sleeping? It’s the sheriff!”

  Ma whispered back, “Tell him I’m right out my mind with grieving and ain’t talking nor thinking straight.”

  I heard her covers rustling, then she whispered, “If they here to arrest you, don’t put up no fight, Charlie. I’ll come visit you in jail soon’s I can. It might not be for a spell; all this kerfuffle’s got me so worked up I’m thinking ’bout going on o’er to May-May’s for a while.

  “But don’t worry, I’ll come afore too long.”

  She started doing a bogus snore.

  I opened the door.

  I was half ’specting to see shackles and a pulled six-shooter in Sheriff Jackson’s hands, so I was took aback when I opened the door and he’s holting his hat in his right hand and a burlap sack in his left.

  He said, “Evening, Little Charlie. Is your ma about?”

  I tolt him, “I’m sorry, Sheriff Jackson, but Ma ain’t in her right mind and I’m the only one that’s left to tend to her. If I was to go somewhere for any time at all, I’m ’fraid she’d die right off. The one time she come to and talked some sense, she said if someone took me ’way from here, her death would be on that person’s hands. Don’t matter how good a rep-a-tation the person has. He might as well jus’ go right in and stick Ma with a Bowie knife ’cause by taking me away he’d sure be killing her.”

  Sheriff Jackson said, “Calm down, son. I understand. I ain’t looking to do nothing to stab no one in the heart; I don’t even own a Tennessee toothpick.”

  He cleared phlum outta his throat, then says, “Little Charlie, I’m sore sorry ’bout what y’all’s gone through. ’Cluding what I done to you out in ’em woods.”

  He reached up to put his right hand on my shoulder and said, “Come on outside if you don’t mind, Little Charlie. You and me needs to do some straight talking and I don’t want to disturb your ma.”

  I still wasn’t too sure if this might be him getting ready to bushwhack me.

  He’d already snared me once; I wasn’t looking to get tricked again. There could be shackles in the sack and Petey could be hiding outside the door, peeing his pants for the chance to yell, “You’s under arrest, boy,” afore he used that rusty pistol to bust my skull open.

  I followed the sheriff onto the porch and was complete relieved when he put his hat back on, reached into the sack he was carrying, and pult out a roundish flat stone; ’twas ’bout two inch thick and as big as a smashed muskmelon. It would’ve been a perfect skipping stone if you was a giant.

  He set the sack on the porch and it made a peculiar thud sound.

  “I needs to talk to you man-to-man, Little Charlie.”

  Relief lightened my load ’cause I wasn’t ’bout to get hunged, but this was one ’em times I wish I wasn’t so big and tall; he was ’bout to say something that he wouldn’t say if I was the size I’m s’pose to be. I sure wasn’t looking forward to his next words.

  “Little Charlie Bobo, some the time, responsibility gets put on us when we think we ain’t ready for it.”

  I didn’t say nothing.

  “So that means you gonna have to be the man of the family now. It ain’t gonna be easy, but I done talked to lots of folk what sends their best and say they’s gonna give y’all a hand till y’all’s able to get back on your feet.”

  Pap says Sheriff Jackson’s one ’em people that take all the talk about not bearing false witness to heart. Says the man ain’t got many friends ’cause he don’t have no idea that a good lie tolt at the right time can go a long way to soothing folks’ ruffled feathers.

  Pap’s words was true.

  The sheriff slapped his hat on his knee and said, “Well, doggone it all, boy, they saying they’s willing to give y’all a hand, but knowing them folks, I wouldn’t depend on much more than a bowl or two of tater salad and maybe a couple of shoes for your horse.

  “What I’m saying, Little Charlie, is y’all ain’t gonna have much time to mope ’round and mourn; you best start looking to hiring yourself out. If y’all’s to fall behind on what you owe Mr. Tanner, I ain’t gonna have no choice but to evict y’all. Them Tanners don’t care one whit what kind of grieving y’all’s in the middle of. I sure wouldn’t want to do it, but my hands is complete tied.”

  He never looked at me the whole time he was talking. Then he looked up in my eyes and said, “But I don’t want neither one of y’all looking for no work on the Tanner place; don’t no one need to get involved out there.”

  I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you, sir, I ’preciates the advice.”

  He helt up the stone.

  “The Lord sure do work in mysterious ways, Little Charlie. If your pa had struck that blow a foot higher or a foot lower, wouldn’t nothing have happened; he’d-a come home and et supper same as any other day.”

  The stone Sheriff Jackson was turning o’er and o’er had one big chip right out the middle of it that showed its insides was made out of streaks of white and brown.

  “The judge put it all together, Little Charlie. He said it was misfortune and bad luck on a unimaginable scale. This here stone was imbedded in that maple. Wasn’t no way to tell by looking at the tree, but when Big Charlie struck that first blow, this was right under the bark.”

  “How’s a stone gonna get under the bark of a tree, sir, ’specially one that big?”

  “Near’s the judge figgered, this stone sat in the tree for forty-two year, three month, and four or so days. You’s too young to remember, but that’s how long ago the Tornado of Eighteen Hunnert and Sixteen come through and jus’ ’bout blowed Possum Moan and most of the Tanner plantation right off the map.”

  Grandpap use to tell stories ’bout what they called the Big Blow. Said so many crops was blowed away that lots of sharecroppers starved and even the Tanners got sunk so low they had to sell off some slaves.

  Sheriff Jackson said, “The old folks what seent it say God took a notion to scratch his forefinger along the earth, meddling with humans jus’ for a laugh. But didn’t no one find it funny. We lost nineteen souls and the Tanners had thirty-six darkies kilt on one day.

  “There was whole passels of folks what weren’t never the same afterward. If the chance come up, go sneak a look at the backs of Alda Santos’s hands and arms. She wasn’t but four when it happened and there’s still dirt that got blowed into her so hard that it went under her skin and ain’t coming out till the worms chaw through and reclaim it.”

  I wasn’t ’bout to sneak no looks at Miss Daponte; ’twas well knowed that ’long with being the strongest woman in Possum Moan, she was also the orneriest one.

  The sheriff said, “Same thing occurred with this here stone. We figgered it got blowed into that maple when the tree was young, got itself stuck and’s been sitting there for near half a cent’ry. Sat there so long that as the tree growed, the bark crawled right o’er top it.”

  So that ’splains it.

  That’s a perfect sample of the luck of the Bobos; a million and nine trees out there in ’em woods and Pap had to go pick the only one that was toting a invisible shield.

  The sheriff shook his head.

  “Strong’s your daddy was, when he laid into that maple, the head of the ax must’ve hit the stone, which caused ’em sparks you seent, then it ricocheted back like a bat shot outta the bad place.

  “I guess the history books has got to be rewrit; it’s took forty-two year, three month, and a day or two for the Finger of God to steal its twentieth soul.”

  I heard a long slow breath come outta me.

  The sheriff hummed and hawed ’round as though he had more to say. Finally he jus’ bust out with, “You got to understand your size is confusing to folk, Little Charlie. Your pa looked like two full-growed men joined into one, and you look like a man and a half. It’s easy to forget you ain’t nothing but a boy. And a good boy too.

  “I’m truly ’shamed th
at I wasn’t more considerate of you at this time of your mourning. I ’pologize for all I put you through. I hopes you can ’cept my ’pology.”

  “Yes, sir, I do. Pap always says you’s a good man.”

  The sheriff handed me the stone.

  “We gouged this out the tree and thought you might want to keep it.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t gonna be rude and look no gift horse in the mouth, but I didn’t know what the sheriff ’spected me to do with a stone that had took part in killing my pap.

  I guess me and Ma could drive a couple of nails into the cabin walls and set the stone on ’em. That way if anyone ever come to call on us, we could say, “Bet you a dollar you can’t guess what this here stone done.”

  And we’d win the dollar every time.

  Then the sheriff picked up the burlap sack and pult out something flat and shiny.

  It took me a second to see ’twas Pap’s ax-head. The striking edge had folded back on itself.

  “Folks knew your pa was a powerful man, Little Charlie, but didn’t no one know jus’ how powerful. We fount this ten feet off the ground wedged in a oak. We wiped the blood off and figgered it’s yourn too.”

  All I could say was, “Me and Ma gives our thanks to you and the posse for the trouble y’all went through to get these, Sheriff Jackson.”

  I put the stone under my right arm and helt the ax-head in my left hand. I give the sheriff a handshake and went back inside.

  Soon’s I opened the door, Ma got more ’thusiastic with the loudness of her snoring.

  I turned the ax-head o’er and o’er, wondering what to do with it. Best I could come up with would be to hang it right next to where I was gonna hang the flat stone.

  That way if a caller ever did come, I could raise the bet up and make me two dollars.

  Sheriff Jackson must have the gift of prophesizing, ’cause I’ll be blanged if the days after Pa’s burying didn’t see me and Ma get two bowls of tater salad and four new horseshoes for Spangler.

  Then no visitors or nothing in the days after.

  That’s one the reasons I was so surprised when early one morning afore we headed out for the fields, there was a pounding on the door like we’d stole food from someone.

  A door getting banged on hard makes you jump right up and answer, even if you don’t want to.

  I opened the door and looked down at the man who’d been a-knocking. It took me a second to rec-a-nize him and when I did, all my breathing and thinking come dead to a stop.

  The last time I seent this man was a year ago when he was clenching on to a blood-dripping whip whilst standing o’er the shredded-open back of Mr. Tom Foster, the poor farmer that works the plots next to ourn.

  I would’ve knowed who this was right off ’cept now that I’s seeing him up close, he wasn’t nothing but a scrap of a person, not much taller than Ma. He always ’peared to be gigantic when he was tearing strips offen someone’s back or barking orders from atop his horse or when he was getting whispered ’bout in folks’ gossip. His legs was so bowed that most of his tallness was going sideways ’stead of up.

  Me and the man both looked at one the ’nother in surprise. I couldn’t move a finger whilst Cap’n Buck, the Tanners’ o’erseer, eyed me head to toe, like he’s sizing up a horse he was ’bout to buy.

  Everyone say the man is not to be messed with, so I showed my best manners.

  “Morning, Cap’n, sir. Something the matter?”

  He looked up at me and said, “By Gawd! If you ain’t the spit and image of your pa. Same pale skin, same sandy-brown hair, and same puke-green eyes. They tolt me you was huge but I didn’t have no idea. How old is you?”

  “I’m jus’ ’bout to turn thirteen, sir. Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing that caint be fixed. Where’s your ma at?”

  “She ain’t up to no visitors, sir. My pap died not long ago.”

  “I heard. Don’t much go on ’round here that get past me, but for the past two weeks, I been engaged in bringing a couple of coffles back from the markets in Charleston. That’s why it took me so long to find out Big Charlie Bobo done kilt hisself. I come soon’s I heard. I needs to see your ma.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but she ain’t taking no visitors yet. I’ll pass your good wishes on to her.”

  The cap’n snorted. “Oh, really? I’ll tell you what, I’ll pass ’em myself. Where she at?”

  I wondered what Pap would do, but it wouldn’t-a happened to Pap; the cap’n wouldn’t never come a-banging on our door if Pap was here.

  I musta outweighed him by near eighty pounds; if I punched him right on top of that big head of his, I knowed he’d be out for the count.

  But I had other things to think on. This man had a rep-a-tation knowed even beyond Richland District. Some say he’s knowed ’bout all ’crost the state.

  One day last December, Pap come home in a turrible state after he spent a afternoon working on the Tanner plantation. We’d needed supplies bad and was out of credit at the store and hadn’t had near nothing to eat in days, so Pap had axed Miss Tanner for some work. He’d tolt her he’d even help in the field with the slaves.

  She said she’d never have no white man working next to slaves but that Pap should go see the cap’n and have him give Pap some things to do. She even give him some old fatback they was gonna give their slaves.

  When Pap got home, he looked turrible. He give Ma the pork and tolt her he wouldn’t be eating ’cause he seent things that had ruint his appetite.

  He’d said, “That blackheart Cap’n Buck, someone who does ’em things for reasons other than duty, ain’t got no soul. I won’t never go back there, I don’t care if we gots to eat rocks; nothing’s worth having to see what I jus’ seent. Nothing.”

  Pap had said something ’bout cat-hauling and I interrupted and axed what that was.

  Ma tolt Pap to hesh up.

  No matter how much I begged ’em, Pap nor Ma never would tell me what sort of things Cap’n Buck had did. Nor what goes on when cats is getting hauled.

  “Growed folks’ business” was all they’d say, and I knowed that meant to let the whole thing be.

  But it wasn’t nowhere near that easy for Pap to be quit of it. Not only didn’t he eat for a couple of days, it was weeks afore he slept through a whole night without terrorfying me and Ma by waking up screaming and begging someone to stop. ’Twas as if this cat-hauling had got done to Pap hisself ’stead of someone else.

  The mystery of all ’em things going through my mind chased away any thinking ’bout taking a poke at the cap’n’s head.

  “But, sir, it don’t make no sense talking to Ma; she ain’t in her right head.”

  He looked up at me and the feeling that he was fixing to do something rough jumped offen him.

  I could feel myself blushing and tensing up to fight back.

  He said, “I ain’t one to repeat myself less’n I’m dealing with someone what’s deef or someone what’s dumb as a bucket of rocks, boy. And since you’s hearing everything I say clear’s a bell, you’s clearly a member of the second group. So for the third and last time, I’m axing, where she at?”

  He didn’t wait for a answer. I stood aside as he come into the house. He didn’t even pull off his hat.

  A most peculiar smell that set my eyes a-stinging followed behind him.

  He went o’er and, without as much as a “Howdy do,” pult aside the sheet that divides the cabin in two at night.

  “Morning, Miss Bobo.”

  Ma had the cover o’er most her head, only a knob of gray-and-brown hair was poking out at the top. But the way her hands was gripping tight on the covers and shaking give ’way that she was only pretending to sleep.

  The cap’n sat at the foot of Pap and Ma’s bed and said, “I’m sure sorrowed to hear ’bout Big Charlie’s run-in with that ax. I was shocked when I heard, but I’m telling you the whole thing is a sign.”

  Ma pulled the covers down and cleared her thr
oat.

  “Oh! Cap’n Buck. A sign, you said, sir?”

  “Oh, yes, I ain’t certain of the chapter nor the verse, but I knows somewhere in the Bible it say something ’long the lines of ‘When the trees starts to fighting back ’gainst the woodsman, it’s a definite sign that the end is near and that the apocky-lips is nigh upon us.’ ”

  He put his hand next to his ear and said, “Yes, ma’am, Miss Bobo, if you listen careful, you can hear it. Does y’all hear the knocking?”

  Me and Ma, not hearing nothing, ’changed a quick worried look.

  The cap’n said, “Be that as it may, that ain’t why I’m calling. Me and Big Charlie has some unfinished business that needs tending to right away.”

  The cap’n’s knowed to be mad as a hatter, but even someone crazy as him had to know all Pap’s business here on earth is through.

  Ma was looking jus’ as confused as me. She said, “Business, sir?”

  “Yes, ma’am. ’Bout a month ago, me and Big Charlie made some plans to go north. All I was waiting on was getting the word to go.

  “Well, wouldn’t you know it, the word come jus’ ’bout two weeks ago whilst I was in Charleston. So now I lost me a week and a half and time’s pressing on me hard. You ain’t got no idea how disappointed I’m feeling now that Big Charlie won’t be coming north with me.”

  “He never said nothing to me ’bout going north, sir. And of course now …”

  “Well, ma’am, Big Charlie tolt me the only way he could go was if I paid him half his wages ’fore going and half once we got back.

  “I tolt him he’d lost his mind, but, as it does so often, my kind and generous nature overpowered my common sense and I give him one-tenth of his share up front. And now, unfair as it may be, I’m left to rouse up someone else to travel with and ain’t got the time to do it proper.

  “All that said, I’ll respectfully leave you and your boy to your mourning soon’s y’all scramble ’round and fetch me the fifty dollars I give your husband.”

  The walls of the cabin started crowding me.

  Ma was horrified. She sat bolt upright and whispered, “Fifty dollars! Sir, I can assure you Charlie ain’t never come home with that kind of money. Nothing close to no fifty dollars! Why, you’s free to look through the house if you wants, but we ain’t never had the such in here.