By GWHARGIS
| Author Notes | This is very short but it was the only real cut off place. This is a novella that is supposed to be dark and deals with people who are good and evil. |
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait are suffering under the abusive rule of their father. Huck knows all too well how bad things happen when you get in the way of their father.
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Some people are just born bad. My old Maw-Maw told me once, in confidence, that my daddy was born under a bad moon. I didn't know there was such a thing. I figured all moons was the same. Except when it was yellow or just a sliver. It used to bother me, her saying that. I would creep over to the window to peek out. Never could tell if I saw a bad one or not. The moon just looked like the moon.
But, back to my daddy. I'm thinking my Maw-Maw was right. He ain't never been anything but mean for as long as I can remember. He's ugly to Dewey, me, Momma, even the animals we got. Ain't nothing for him to kick one of our horses or cows, and all on account of him stepping in a pile of manure. It ain't their fault, piles that big are easy enough to spot, if you take the time to look where you're stepping.
I seen him go after my momma, a time or two. And, he's always saying the meanest things to her. Once he told her she couldn't cook a lick. Said everything she plated up was bad. He called it dust bowl food. All dried up just like her. Now, Dew and I eat whatever she puts in front of us. She cooks it, God blesses it and we eat it. Might not go back for seconds, but you best believe we are finishing the firsts.
I run back inside and grab my shoes, shoving my feet in them as quick as I can.
"Hurry up," Daddy bellows from outside.
I scramble up and run back out letting the screen door slam behind me. "Comin'".
He points to where the snake, Ben and the chicken lay. "Get those chickens back in the coop, and check for more snakes, they's usually more 'n one."
My eyes quickly flicker across the grass. The shovel is propped against the shed and I reach for it. I take it, step off the edge of the yard into the overgrown brush and pace about ten steps into the overgrowth. There I dig a hole about two feet deep. I walk back to where Ben and his lady are. Carefully, I scoop her body up and carry her back to her freshly dug grave. I place her gently into the opening. I look around making sure my daddy ain't watching and I bow my head. "You were a good chicken. You give us your eggs, never started no trouble and I bet you'd have been real delicious, too."
I scoop Ben up and place him right on top of his lady friend. I look at his rusty colored feathers that plumed on his tail. He was a handsome fella and I'm sure the other ladies are gonna miss him. I take a moment to say a few things about him as well. "God, take these two fine creatures and reward them for being good. She was a good chicken and Ben was a real good rooster. Amen." I smile to myself because to my own ears, my prayer sounded like something one of those traveling preachers would say.
The last one, makes my heart sink. It may sound petty, but I ain't gonna toss him in with Ben and the lady chicken. No sir, even in death he ain't gonna win. I shovel the dirt over the first two and tamp it down with my shoe. I dig another hole not quite as deep, then trudge back with the heavy snake looped over the shovel, toss him in and start to cover it with the dirt.
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Dewey is downstairs at the kitchen table when I come back inside.
"You get those chickens put up, like I told you?" Daddy asks as he noisily drags the chair out from under the table.
"Yes, sir," I answer quickly.
"Now, I got to spend money on another rooster," he grumbles.
The thought of Ben's senseless death needles me. "You needn't 'a kilt him."
He looks up sharply. "Didn't see you out there when that snake was tryin' to kill me. Ben got in the way. No, you were upstairs with that dummy sleeping or playing with yerself."
I feel my face flush. I hope my momma didn't hear what he said.
Dewey grins, but looks down when my daddy turns his attention on him. "What the hell are you grinning at, you imbecile?"
"God don't like that kind of talk, Matthew," Momma says softly but doesn't dare turn around.
"You and yer God, can kiss my ass. If there was a God, why'd he give us these two? No count, stupid," he mumbles, letting his words fall off.
I watch as Momma's shoulders start to shake. I know she's crying. She's a God fearing woman and I know she's breaking inside hearing him say things like that. But, being the good person she is, she'll get on her knees and pray for his wayward soul. I ain't. I think people like him, the kind who get pleasure out of hurting others deserve to burn in hell. Momma has taught me that forgiveness is the key to the pearly gates of heaven. She forgives my daddy every time he wrongs her. But, when is it okay to stop forgiving? When does God reach down and smite people like him? She says the meek shall inherit the earth.
I glance at Dewey. He's meek, so is my momma, but I don't see them inheriting anything. Maybe, inheriting the earth don't really mean what she thinks it does. Maybe, Ben and his lady chicken, inherited the earth and now they are becoming one with their inheritance.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck has had to bury the dead animals in the yard and witnesses his daddy making his momma cry.
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Dewey and I eat our eggs and sop up the yolk with some biscuits left over from dinner last night. Momma is nervously straightening the kitchen. She needs a break, and I know just what to say. "Momma, after our chores, Dew and I are gonna go catch some fish for dinner. We're gonna clean 'em fer you, too."
She nods, but her frown is still dominating her face. I'm sure my daddy's hateful words are still swirling around in her head. "That'd be real nice. Just don't bring any of them bony ones back."
"I'll toss those back, I promise."
Dewey puts his plate in the sink and runs out to grab his fishing box. I put my plate on top of his and start to turn away, but she grabs my arm. She pulls me to her, giving me a needy hug, so I hug her back.
"You're a good boy, Huck. Both you and Dewey are good," she whispers. "Don't listen to him. He's just bitter hearted."
"I know. I love you, Momma," I whisper back.
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There ain't no bites on either line that Dewy and I put out. Dewey looks miserable. "I'm getting hot, Huck." He glances up at the sky overhead. "I'm seeing double every now and again."
"Go sit under the bridge for a spell, or go walk over to the spring."
Dewey lays his pole on the ground next to me and starts trudging along the creek towards the bridge. I dig a hole about six inches deep and stick the base of the pole down in it. Then I pack the dirt around it tight. I'm laying there, eyes closed in a lazy kind of way when I hear voices coming from near the bridge.
I know'd right away who it is. It's Miss Lynn. She's the prettiest and nicest woman in all of Patterson County. She's the colored woman who works at Dobey Mercantile in town. Everybody likes her on account of her sweet smile. She don't never say anything bad about anyone. She just smiles and talks to you like you're her good friend.
She has two small children, her daughter, Hester, is about eight or nine years-old. And, I can guarantee she is gonna be every bit as pretty as her momma. You can just tell things like that sometimes. Miss Lynn's little boy is named Lionel, after his daddy. I can't tell much about him on account of all he does is stare at me. Miss Lynn says its cause I'm so white.
Quick like, I smooth my hair with a little creek water and lay both poles down, then I scramble up the bank, making as much noise as I can so I don't scare them.
"Hello, Miss Lynn," I say, then smile at Hester and the little boy. "You come fishin'?"
Miss Lynn giggles and puts her hand up to her mouth all shy like. "Oh, heaven's no. I don't know anything about that."
"You just out walking?"
She nods her head, then lifts up a metal bucket by the handle. "Someone said there are several blackberry bushes around here."
"Probably," I say and look from side to side. "You need any help, you just ask, alright?"
She smiles again and looks down, placing her hand on Hester's shoulder. "It was good seeing you, Huck. Tell your momma and brother I said hello."
I stand there while she walks off, and only make my way down the slope to the creek after she disappears from sight. I jump a little as I forgot Dewey was down there. "Miss Lynn said hello."
He sits up, drapes his arms around his knees. "I know, I could hear." He fiddles with a small hole in his pants, then looks at me. "You like her, don't ya'?"
"Everybody likes Miss Lynn."
He grins. "No, you're sweet on her, I can tell."
"Stop it, Dew."
"She's mighty pretty. Too bad she's colored."
"She got some white in her. Momma said so."
Dewey tilts his head. "You gonna try to kiss her?"
"Shut up, Dewey. Shut up all this nonsense or go home." I turn away, walking over towards the two fishing poles, before he can see my flushed cheeks.
Dewey comes out from under the shade of the bridge, wiping dirt off his backside. "Daddy would skin you alive if'n you were to kiss a colored woman. He don't care how much white blood she got."
"Dang it, Dewey, she's just a nice lady. I ain't gonna kiss her so stop talking about it, ya' hear?"
Dewey stares at his feet and I feel bad for yelling at him, but he just don't know when to let something go sometimes.
"Line's got something on it, " he says and points.
I spin around, grabbing the pole as whatever is on it starts to pull it towards the water. I hope it don't break. Sometimes a big old catfish will pull so hard the pole will just snap in two.
It takes both of us but we finally get him reeled in. And he's a big one. Dewey gently tugs one of his whiskers. "We gonna eat good tonight."
While Dewey is busy skinning the fish, I start to think about blackberries. They sure would taste good with a little cream poured over them.
"Dew, I'll be back in a few minutes. Once you finish cleaning that fish, you go on and take it home to Momma. I'll be a long in a little while."
I hurry up the hill and head off in the direction of Miss Lynn and her children. I hear them giggling and talking cheerfully as they pick the berries. "I see you found them," I say.
Hester nods, "Lionel ate more than both Momma or me."
I crouch down next to the little boy. "Don't go getting a belly ache," I tell him, and pat his head. His hair feels strange to me with its soft curls and tight nap that moves under my fingertips.
"Hester, honey, I think we have enough," Miss Lynn lifts the bucket filled with the berries. "It was good to see you, Huck."
Strange how certain people say your name and it makes you feel special. It's like that when Miss Lynn says my name.
I start picking berries and popping them into my mouth 'cause I got nothing to put them in.
Hester tugs her momma's arm and puts her hand to her mouth to whisper something. Miss Lynn laughs.
"What's funny?" I ask.
"Hester says your eyes are the color of the sky."
"Ain't she ever seen someone with blue eyes?"
"No."
"Well, Dewey's eyes are the color of clover. Green as grass," I tell her.
Miss Lynn tilts her head just so. "Mine are green, too. My momma says that my daddy had green eyes."
I swallow the lump in my throat as I look into her eyes. "Yours are a sight prettier than Dewey's."
Miss Lynn laughs softly. "Why, thank you, Huck."
Flustered I step back, nearly tripping on a vine that wraps around the base of a cypress. "Y'all have a good afternoon," I call out quickly, retracing my steps to the bridge.
I feel the sweat tickle its way down my neck. It ain't from the heat either. It's one of those sweats that you get when you stand next to a pretty girl and you catch a whiff of her fresh washed hair, and all you want to do is touch it, let that silken strand slip over your fingers.
Dew is right. I do want to kiss Miss Lynn. I want to stand close enough to look into her eyes and watch that pale green turn dusky when I kiss her.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey go fishing and Huck realizes he has a crush on Miss Lynn.
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As soon as my feet step over the threshold of the door, Momma calls me into the living room. She's busy handed, shuffling things around and touching things, but not really doing anything. I'm sure she's still stewing over the blasphemous things Daddy said over breakfast.
"You alright, Momma?" I whisper my question, in case he's around.
She raises her eyes to look at me directly. "I'm fine, Huck, but your brother said you run off to talk to Miss Lynn. People talk around here. You being a young man and she's an unmarried colored woman."
"She's a nice lady. She was looking for blackberries and I just wanted to make sure she and her little ones found 'em."
Relief washes over her face. "Alright. That was a nice thing to do."
"Besides, supposin' she got lost in the woods, just her and them kids. I'd feel just awful."
She waves her hand and I can tell she doesn't want to talk about it anymore. "I know it's hot but I need some things from the store. Would you mind going for me?" She pulls a list from her pocket and holds it out for me to read.
One spool of white thread, flour, large glass canning jars, sugar, and spices for pickling.
"Get Miss Lynn or her momma to help you with the spices, alright, Huck?"
"I know." I fold the list and stuff it into my pocket. It's hotter than blue blazes and I know by the time I get to town, I'm gonna be a sweaty mess. Miss Lynn is gonna think I'm some common unwashed heathen.
Dewey falls into step beside me. I stop and face him, gently poking him in the shoulder. "You gotta stay here. Go make sure the chickens are fed, muck out the barn, and wash out those pots that Momma keeps in the shed for pickling."
"Why do you get to go to town and have fun while I stay here and clean up horse shit?"
"I gotta go pick up a few things for Momma. I'll be back shortly."
Dewey scowls. "No, you won't. You just gonna draw it out so you can spend time with Miss Lynn," he whispers angrily.
"Say that one more time and I'll knock your teeth out, Dewey."
He's still angry but doesn't push it anymore. He lowers his head and turns back towards the barn.
Guilt washes over me, any anger I feel is gone. "Dew, I'll try to bring you something back, okay?"
He doesn't turn around, just nods.
I feel bad leaving him home but there are some people in town who like to torment him. Before he got his sense knocked out of him, people liked Dewey. He was just a regular guy. He could carry on a conversation and was just as smart as the next fella. But he ain't like that anymore. Now, I gotta watch him, like a child. He ain't got good reasoning skills.
Once, we'd gone to town to get some food and staples for the pantry, and to get the mail. I left Dew outside the post office for just a few minutes. When I come out of there, Dew was no where to be found. I looked around , hoping he was just relieving hisself in the bushes around the side of the building. That's when I heard a ruckus from around the corner. Some trouble makers had lured him to the main fountain. Those boys had Dewey on his knees and draped over the stone edge with his head under water.
My guess, they are gonna drown him, so I race over and grab the biggest one of those fellas, Ben O'Reilly, to be exact. I ball up my fist and punch him right in the stomach. He makes this sour face and gags. "Get your hands off my brother!" I yell.
Since Ben is the ring leader, the other two boys look at him and don't let Dewey go until he nods.
"Jesus, Huck, we were just having some fun."
Dewey is coughing and sputtering, his green eyes wide with hurt and fear.
"That don't look like fun to me," I snap as I kneel beside him. "You okay?"
He looks away. My guess is he doesn't understand why the same bunch that just tried to drown him used to be his friends.
"You keep yer damn hands off my brother," I shout.
Ben starts to regain himself. "Might be a good idea to keep your damn brother way from here," Ben says, a cruel smirk on his face. He nods to his friends and kicks the bag of food over. They walk away, laughing about Dewey.
I turn my anger on my brother. "I told you to stay put. Why'd you go down to the fountain?"
Dewey wipes his wet hair out of his eyes. "They's my friends, Huck," he says softly.
"You don't got no friends anymore. Get that through your head. Me, I'm your only friend. I'm your brother, your fishing buddy, your everything. I'm all you got, Dewey."
I busy myself with gathering the items that spilled from the bag. I can't bring myself to look at him. He's had nothing but hurt since the day he was born, and I never wanted to be the one to hurt him, but I am.
"Come on, let's go home before something else happens," I say. I go to put my arm around his shoulder but he wrenches away. I deserve that. I surely do.
By GWHARGIS
So far, brothers, Huck and Dewey are living under the abusive hand of their father. Dewey gets left behind while Huck goes to town on an errand for his mother. There he gets to see his crush, Miss Lynn.
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Miss Lynn smiles real bright when she sees it's me coming through the door to Dobey's. Those bells that hang on the door always make me smile. "Well, hello, Huck. Seems I'm seeing a lot of you lately."
"I brought a list. Momma, well, she said to let you pick the spices for pickling. Said you'd know just what to get."
Miss Lynn goes over to the big case where the loose spices are. She's humming and it sounds real pretty. I'll just bet she has an angel's voice when she sings. I am just working up my nerve to talk to her when the bells on the door start ringing and in walks old Mrs. Finley.
She's an impatient sort of woman. Hedging closer to a person than she ought to and she tends to peer over her glasses more than she looks through them. It makes me wonder if she really needs glasses at all. Mrs. Finley elbows me to the side. "Lynn, I'm in a real hurry, so you need to stop what you're doing and take care of me."
Miss Lynn smiles warmly. "I'll be right with you, Mrs. Finley. I'm almost done."
I frown as Mrs. Finley gives me a once over. "He can wait."
"He's waited patiently enough. I'll be with you once I'm finished with his order, then I can spend as much time with you as you need."
I can tell by the huff she lets out that she don't like having to wait to be helped. She especially don't like having to wait for the likes of me. She turns and looks over her glasses at me, just studying me a little bit at a time. It's not a good feeling, I can tell you that. It's a lot like being caught with your under drawers down.
"Huck," she says.
"Mrs. Finley." I nod to be polite.
"How's your mother?"
"Fine."
"Your brother still injured?"
"Yes, ma'am. Always will be, I suspect."
"Tsk-tsk. Your daddy is a bad man. Yes, sir, I sure hope you don't turn out like him."
I look at my shoes before speaking. "I hope not, too."
"He's always been a mean spirited thing."
I look over at Miss Lynn, hoping she ain't listening. Sure don't want her thinking I'm anything like my daddy.
"Here you go," Miss Lynn says, handing me a brown paper sack that's heavy with spices. "Anything else, Huck?"
I remember my promise to Dewey. "I told Dewey I'd bring him something."
She nods, a big smile on her face. "Wait here." She hurries behind the curtain that separates the store and the rooms she shares with her children.
Once again, I feel Mrs. Finley's eyes on me. She's watching me, so I pretend to look at the different spices in the bag. "Mmm, these smell good."
After a few seconds, Miss Lynn comes back around the curtain. "Here you go. One for you and one for Dewey. My momma's lemon bars."
I know my face goes red and I stare at the treats with wide eyes. "I can't take your food, Miss Lynn."
"Please, if I ate everything my momma cooked, why, I'd be as big and ugly as a barn."
"Oh, no, you could never look ugly."
I hear Mrs. Finley's sharp intake of air, and I have to think quick. "Neither of you ladies could ever be ugly," I say hastily, smiling at Miss Lynn and then turning my attention to Mrs. Finley.
To my surprise, Mrs. Finley gushes like a school girl. But when I look back at Miss Lynn, she's giving me a curious look.
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"Dewey," I yell as I start down the path to the house. "Miss Lynn sent you something."
Dewey comes racing around the side of the house. His hair is dark with sweat and the wetness under his arms blossom out almost touching in the center of his shirt. "What is it?"
"Smell it. Don't it smell good?"
He lifts the napkin wrapped bar up to his nose. "Mmm. It smells like lemons."
"It's a lemon bar. I already ate mine. I couldn't wait."
"Should I eat it now?"
I look past him to see my daddy walking towards us. He's squinting and he looks extra mean right now. "Dew, did I tell you you could run off? Get back there and finish helping me with those damned screens."
Dewey tries to hide the lemon bar. "I will, I just wanted to eat what Huck bring me."
Daddy leans forward and the sour stink of sweat hits me. He snatches the treat right out of Dewey's hand. "Where'd you get this?"
"Miss Lynn."
He smirks. "Why would Miss Lynn give a white boy something sweet? What else did she give you?"
"Her momma made it."
Daddy flips the napkin off with his dirty finger, sticks his thumb right in the center and touches it to his tongue. Then he smiles at Dewey, and lets it fall to the dirt.
Dewey clenches his jaw and looks down. "What'd you go and do that for? It was for me."
"Tough shit. Get your ass back there and finish what I told you to do."
As soon as Dewey storms off, I start to go around my daddy. He catches my arm. "I know what you's up to, Huck. You always have liked the dark meat on the bone."
I swallow the angry words that are coming up my throat like steam. "That was mean what you did with Dewey's lemon bar." I look past him, at my momma who's standing on the porch. "Momma is waiting on her spices," I say.
"Bet Miss Lynn likes those pretty blue eyes of yours." His voice hisses in my ear like a serpent.
Wrenching my arm free, I start walking up the pathway. Daddy stands right where he was.
"Why don't ya tell yer momma who you's sweet on?" He laughs at his words.
Momma has this worried look on her face. She knows Daddy ain't never got nothing nice to say, and she sees the anger and misery on my face.
"I got everything on your list," I say. My jaw aches from clenching it, but I do my best to act like everything is alright.
It's what we do here, act like every thing's alright.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and his older brother Dewey are trying to survive the abuse from their father, Matthew Strait. Huck returns from the store in town with a treat for his brother, only to have his father throw it in the dirt.
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They tell me Momma was beautiful once. I've heard some folks say she was the prettiest girl in all of Patterson County. I ain't never heard anyone say my daddy was much to look at. Matter of fact, all I ever hear is how mean he is.
I find myself watching for signs of his mean streak in Dewey and myself. The worst Dew acts is when he throws a fit like a spoilt child. I can still remember before Dew got hit in the head. He was bossy and could be crabby, ordering me around like most bigger brothers do. He watched out for me. Now, it's my duty to care for him. After all, he saved me from the beating my daddy was ready to give me.
Now, Daddy was gonna beat me with a belt cause I did something wrong. It don't even matter what transgression it was, once my daddy sets his sights on you, you were done for. Dewey grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way of the belt that was whistling through the air at a high speed. Daddy dropped the belt, grabbed my brother by the arms and shook him. I darted away, thankful to be safe for now.
Dewey's head was shaking back and forth as Daddy shook him. Then he pushed him, making Dewey stumble and hit the ground. While Dewey was trying to collect himself, Daddy grabbed the shovel and brung it right down on Dewey's head.
Odd as it sounds, Dewey didn't make a sound, just slowly reached up and touched his head. When he pulled his bloodied fingertips away, a long drip of blood rolled down his forehead.
Momma gently touches my arm, trying to draw me out of my ugly memory. "Everything, okay?" she asks.
"Where's Dewey?" I put the box of jars and the spice sack on the counter.
"Round back."
I find him out back, digging in the yard, the screens propped up against the shed.
"I'm sorry you didn't get to eat the lemon bar. Weren't really that good, to be honest," I lie, hoping to make him feel a little better.
He looks up sharply, eyes rimmed with red. "I hate him, Huck. Hate him right down to his guts."
"You don't need to say that, least not out loud."
"I wished he'd a killed me." His words come out in a misery driven torrent.
My stomach knots up. "No, no, you don't mean that."
"I do. I wish either he'd killed me or that copperhead would have killed him. He got no purpose here."
I look around, checking that Daddy ain't close by. "He's a mean one, sure enough."
"He ain't just mean. He's like the pus in a wound, turning everything rancid."
"He'll get his one day," I whisper the words like a coward, but I feel them in my gut.
Dewey looks me in the eye. "No, he's gonna hurt someone real bad. I know it."
The sound of Daddy hocking up some snot comes from around the corner of the house, making me step back a ways from Dewey. "Hush up now," I say softly.
Dewey nods, but the hate-filled look is still in his eyes.
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For two days, Momma is canning and putting up vegetables and making pickles and jellies. I had to go back to the store cause Daddy caught his foot on a box of the jars sitting on the floor, got so mad he picked up the whole box and tossed it into the backyard. It made a hell of a noise.
Dew and I got to spend a few hours picking up hunks of glass and lids out of the grass. We made a pile on a piece of slate. The sun caught it and it looked like one of them kaleidoscopes. Nothing but pretty colors shining off of it. Most people would see a pile of broken glass, but not me and Dew. Momma taught us to see beauty in small things. These colors dancing in the changing sun, Miss Lynn and her sweet smile, my momma when she smiles sometimes. I see it sometimes when she watches the birds out the window. I see the ghost of the girl she was.
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Miss Lynn, calls me to the store as I'm leaving the post office. "Huck, you have a minute?"
My pulse quickens. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be right there." I put the letters and mail into the empty flour sack that I'm carrying, and rush over to the store. It's late afternoon and the sun is starting to settle behind the trees. The shadows are getting long and soon enough, I'll be getting home when the street lights start coming on.
"Is there room in that sack for these?" Lynn holds up three or four jars. "I found them in the top of the closet and I don't have any use for them. I thought your momma might like to have them."
"That sure is nice of you," I say. I try not to gawk at her, but I sneak a quick look at her.
"Just tell your momma if she has any apple butter that won't fill a jar, I'd love to have it."
I grin. Momma's apple butter is known all over the county. "I'll sure tell her."
Miss Lynn wraps some brown paper around the jars so they don't clang together and break before I get home. She is setting the last one in but stops, she looks over to the window, a slight frown on her face.
"Everything okay, Miss Lynn?"
"I thought I saw someone peeking in the winda', that's all."
"I can look around, if'n you want," I offer.
She smiles, shaking her head. "That is very nice of you, but you've got a long walk home, and it'll be dark before you get there."
I tell her thank you again and gather up the bag of mail and jars and start for the door. I watch as Lynn turns her attention back to the window. And I wonder just what or who she saw peeking in.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and his brother, Dewey, are doing all they can to survive under the abusive hand of their daddy. But their father seems hell-bent on ruining any chance they have of a good life. Huck returns to town to get more jars and gets to see the woman he is quickly falling in love with, Miss Lynn. While he is there, she swears she sees someone peeking in the window of the store. Huck offers to check around but she tells him to hurry home before it gets dark.
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I tell my momma exactly what Miss Lynn says. "She said she'd be grateful for any apple butter you can spare. I'll gladly take it to her if you need me to."
Momma pats my arm. "I'll fix some up next week. You sure seem awful eager to get back to town. You're gonna wear the soles off your shoes before long."
I look around the kitchen, hoping she won't press the subject. "Just think it would be a nice gesture seeing as how she give you those extra jars."
A board on the floor creaks and my daddy walks into the room. He looks like he's been in a scuffle. "He wants to go sniffing 'round that colored bitch."
"Matthew, what happened to you?" Momma says.
"What this? This ain't nothing," he says, laughing with an ugly devil edge to it. He looks from me to her and then claps his hands together making both of us jump. "What's for dinner? I've worked up a powerful appetite."
He walks towards the table, his eyes locked on mine, his smile never waivers. "Saw you in town earlier. Called out to you but you must not have heard me."
"No, I guess I didn't."
He nods. "Had your arms full. I was gonna offer to help you carry some, but you looked to be in a mighty hurry."
"I was trying to get these extra jars home to Momma. It was getting dark."
He looks at the tablecloth and flicks a crumb away. "Heard there was quite a ruckus at Dobey's, I'm guessing you must have just missed it. Some winda's got broke and I believe someone tried to break in the back door."
I know better than to react. But my heart is throbbing in my throat, cause I'm fearful what happened to Miss Lynn and her kids. I feel his eyes laying heavy on me. He's waiting. He's enjoying himself knowing I can't do a thing about this. When I give him nothing, he looks over at Momma. "Terrible," he says quietly. "Times are changing 'round here."
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I toss and turn the better part of the night. The heat of the evening and the news about Miss Lynn and the scoundrel who tried to break in the store, and Dew is talking in his sleep. Jabbering about Ben and the chickens. I'm guessing he's still upset about what happened the other morning. Then clear as day, he yells out, "Hit him!"
I feel a shiver run along my spine. He ain't talking about the snake. I know he's talking about my daddy.
"Hush, Dewey." I climb out of my bed and creep over to him. His eyes are half lidded, not open all the way but enough. "Dew, hush up. You been dreaming."
"Huck?"
"I'm right here," I whisper. "You was dreaming out loud."
"I dreamed you killed Daddy. I was watching you."
"It was dream, Dew. Just a dream. Your head got things mixed up."
He rolls on his side to face me. "You gon' hafta do it, Huck. You know that, right?"
I feel some sick working it's way around my belly. "It was just a dream, Dew."
He nods, but I can still see the look in his eyes, even in the pale moonlit room, the hatred is there. "I think about it a lot, Huck. Don't you ever think about what it'd be like if he just disappeared?"
"No. And, you shouldn't neither." I don't believe the words even as they tumble from my mouth. I know Dewey can hear the lies.
"You think I'm gonna go to hell for that?"
"No. Just so long as you fight those feelings. You hear me, Dew, you gotta fight those feelings."
Dewey pulls himself up into a sitting position. He's quiet for a for a little bit, then opens his mouth, "I dug a big hole in the woods. Threw in some sharp sticks." He peers over at me. "I can't fight it much longer. I know it's wrong, but I can't."
Quickly, I slip my arm around his shoulder. "You gotta try."
He makes no sound, but leans into me and quietly weeps.
Neither Dewey nor I speak about his dream or his confessions last night. He wakes in a good mood and to my delight, so do I. Hate is an ugly feeling. It'll consume you like a fire, if you let it. For the first time, in as long as I can remember, I wake with knowing I'm not alone. He feels it, too.
But, feeling and doing something about it, are two very different things.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and his brother, Dewey, are trying to survive under the abusive hand of their father. Huck has developed a crush on a local woman, and his father has taken a sudden interest in that. Huck listens as his father tells about some trouble at the woman's store and home.
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Momma tells us that Daddy has gone hunting. He don't care much if it's a particular season or not. When he decides to go hunting, he just picks up his gun and disappears. He'll come back with deer, rabbit, even brought home a bear cub once or twice.
She seems happy when we sit to eat our morning meal together. She puts two hard cooked eggs on the plate for each of us and then splits a slice of ham between Dewey and me.
"I'm needin' you to go pick some blackberries down near the creek," she says, pausing to pick a bit of egg shell from her mouth. "I think I'd like to make some blackberry preserves and maybe even a cobbler."
My mouth waters at the mention of the cobbler. "Hurry up and finish, Dewey," I say, shoveling a big hunk of ham into my mouth.
Eager to get out before our daddy gets home, we hastily feed the chickens, feed and water the horse, milk the cow and while Dewey gathers the eggs from the coop, I muck the yard. We're both sweating but the thought of walking through the cool creek bed keeps us going.
"Come on, let's get going," I urge. I rummage through the shed until I find two metal pails.
Dewey wipes the sweat from his brow then grabs one of the pails from me. We hustle down the road until we get to the trail that cuts through the woods. It's a good mile walk to the creek, but it's a damn sight cooler under the canopy of branches and leaves.
"You remember how you says we gonna go climb that mountain?" Dewey asks.
I nod.
"Where is it? There ain't no mountains round here, least not for a long way off."
Some things float right on by Dewey, but then he'll surprise you sometimes. I never thought he'd stew over something like this. "Well, remember Momma says the righteous will go to the mountain. So, maybe those mountains won't appear until we're supposed to see it. She wouldn't lie to us, now would she?"
He shakes his head, but the thinking frown remains on his face. "That mountain they talk about in the Bible, probably ain't even in Patterson. How we gonna know where to go?"
I shrug. "God's gonna make a path appear. He done it for Lot, for Moses. Seems like the kind of thing God would do, don't you think?"
He lets a half smile come to his mouth and my answer seems to satisfy him, at least for now. But his questions have got me to thinking now.
********************************************************************************************
Today is a good day. We find plenty of ripe blackberries and fill both pails to the brim. We eat ourselves silly before trekking on down to the creek, and pulling off our shoes. The cold water nearly takes both our breath way.
It don't matter that the dampness of the creek bed seeps through our pants as we sit there relaxing. Dewey lays back, arms folded behind his head. For a good long time he's quiet, maybe dozing off, while I sit there and watch the water as it moves over the smooth, slippery green rocks and ripples near the shore.
"I think I could stay here forever," he sighs. His eyes are still closed and I can see the peaceful look to him. He's filled up with sweet juicy berries, and his feet are being caressed by cool water.
We ain't heard one single gunshot the whole time we been here. That means our daddy ain't hunting in this part of the woods. Life is his friend right now, and, to be honest, I feel happy, too. We ain't got a care in the world.
"How 'bout you, Huck? Couldn't you just stay here forever?"
"I could, except for one thing."
Dewey props himself up on his elbows and looks over curiously.
"We won't get no blackberry cobbler or preserves if we don't go home."
Dewey grins. "I forgot." He stands up and tugs his shoes back on. "Momma sure does make good cobbler."
"That she does."
We take our time walking back. Most of the way we walk in silence, listening to the squirrels squabbling and the birds chirping to each other. Life sure is tolerable right now. How long it remains tolerable is up to Daddy.
Whether we live and breathe is up to him. Whether we get a bite of cobbler is up to him.
But right now, this morning, he can't take that from us. It feels good to be able to enjoy things that he ain't sullied. He surely would ruin things if he could, but this morning, will be Dewey's and my secret.
*********************************************************************************************
The day continues in a carefree way. Daddy ain't harassing us or Momma when he gets home. Why he even compliments Momma's cobbler. She gushes like he's just said the word love to her.
Later that night, I whisper to Dewey in the darkness, "Put the pilla' over yer head."
Even with the pilla' held tight against my ear, the sounds of the rusty bed springs start squawking from the room next door.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and his brother, Dewey, are doing everything they can to survive the abuse of their father. Huck has developed feelings for Miss Lynn, a colored woman who runs the store in town. But his father is starting to pick up on Huck's interest and that puts Miss Lynn and her children in a very dangerous spot.
***********************************************************************************************
I dream that I'm picking blackberries. Miss Lynn is there, but her children ain't, which is odd, but the brain tends to slap bits and pieces of things together in a dream. But, there I am, standing on one side of the blackberry bush and she's on the other. Our hands keep reaching for the same berries. At first, we just laugh it off, but after a few times, I just summon up all my courage and take her hand in mine and pull her around to my side. She doesn't resist, not in an obvious way. She just looks all shy. Her green eyes sparkle and she dips those thick black lashes down like a curtain.
"You sure are pretty, Miss Lynn," I say. I'm pretty brave in my dream, guessing most people are. I press against her and my heart beat speeds up as she melts her flesh against mine.
"Huck, we can't."
"Why?" I whisper, my hand straying upwards on her back.
"It's wrong," she whispers, but her eyes are on my mouth, her tongue darting across her own full lips.
"Ain't wrong if you love someone."
"You love me?"
"I have always loved you. You're something special."
She smiles and relaxes in my arms. "But, if we was to get caught," she says, not bothering to finish her fears.
"I'll keep you safe, I promise."
Miss Lynn gently lays her head on my shoulder. "I love you, too, Huck."
I sit upright with a jolt. Blood pounds in my ears and every single part of me is on fire. I check to see if Dewey is awake, but thankfully he's sawing logs with his mouth open. I roll onto my side and try to catch my breath. I wait out the fire in my loins until I can close my eyes. That dream had been so real. More real than any other dream I've ever had. I take it as a sign from God. Colored or not, Miss Lynn and I are destined to be together.
The floor boards in the hall creak as someone starts past our room. I stare at the shadow that pauses, the door handle rattles and the light squeak of the hinges sing out as it opens. I close my eyes, pretend to be sleeping. The door closes again.
It was him. Momma would have come over and touched my brow or tiptoed over to adjust the covers on Dewey.
I used to think that maybe Momma loved Dewey more than me, on account of the fact that she doted on him. Even before his accident, she used to call him Dewey green eyes, and I was just Huck. But she don't call him that anymore. Now she calls him Simple Dewey, sweet simple Dewey. I wonder if she'd still call him that if'n she knew about the pit with those sharpened sticks in it. Wonder what she'd think about that. Once you learn too much about somebody, the picture you have of them in your heart changes. Sweet turns sour and light turns dark.
The stairs creak, like a faint whisper telling secrets. I steal out of my bed and go to the bedroom door, opening it just a fraction. It's enough to see out into the hall, but not enough for the hinges to tell on me. The front door opens and then closes. I listen for footsteps in the living room. It's silent. I know it ain't Momma. She wouldn't go outside, not in the dead of night. A few minutes pass and he don't come back inside. He's snuck off, up to no good, you can be certain of that.
Momma says nothing good comes from people who are out after dark. But, nothing good comes from Matthew Strait, anytime of the day. That is a fact.
********************************************************************************************
He is sitting at the breakfast table when I come downstairs. It's been hard waking up since Ben got killed. I miss him. You sure didn't sleep once Ben got to crowing.
"Grab something quick to eat, you got chores to do, boy," he snarls.
I nod, no sense wasting words on him.
"Where's that dummy brother of yours?"
"Getting washed up."
"Well, go tell him to get his sorry ass down here now," he says, slapping the table with his open palm.
He sure is surly this morning. Maybe his mischief making didn't go as planned.
I dash up the stairs to find Dewey bent over the sink, splashing water on his face. "Hurry. He's full of piss and vinegar right now. We best get to doing chores."
Dewey looks at me through the mirror. "Shoot, I was hoping he'd be gone like yesterday. I'll tell you one thing," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "One day, he ain't gonna be sitting at that table ordering us around. That's for damn sure."
Dewey's changing, getting a hard edge to him. Like a dog who gets kicked one time too many, he's gonna turn on his master.
I clap my hand on his bare arm. "Well, he's down there now. Get yerself dressed."
Sweet simple Dewey is fading, fading right before my eyes and there ain't nothing I can do to change that. Maybe I ain't supposed to change it. This could be how it's supposed to be.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and his brother, Dewey, are trying to survive against the abuse from their father. Huck is falling in love with a colored woman, Miss Lynn. But when his father gets wind of this, Huck knows his beloved Lynn is now in danger.
*************************************************************************************************
We hurry out to muck the stalls. Even though it's early, the air is heavy and damp. We are both dripping with sweat as we head to the coop to gather the eggs. It's a surprisingly good haul. Twelve good eggs and two rotten ones. I toss one of the rotten ones up in the air then catch it in my hand. I watch Dewey as he pushes the wheelbarrow loaded with hay to the horses. I wait, and as he bends down to grab an armful of hay, I toss the rotten egg right at his backside.
"That's what hell smells like," I announce after he yelps.
He reaches around and pulls his hand back with the putrid yolk on his fingers. "Why'd you do that?"
"It's just a little rotten egg. It ain't that bad. Just wipe it off."
"It ain't on you, Huck."
I extend the remaining bad egg out to him. "Here. Throw this at me, and we'll call it even."
"I don't want to. I just don't want to smell like this all day."
I shrug, refusing to feel bad about this. "Go change. Let Momma wash your drawers."
He scowls. "I ain't got nothing to change into," he snaps.
"Well, go put my other pants on."
"I don't wanna." He's near to crying, the way he does when he gets all flustered and frustrated.
I grumble to myself as I walk over to him. I wince, cause he smells something awful. "After we're done chorin', we can go down to the creek, take a bar of soap and we can wash up and clean your pants. Deal?"
He nods, but I can see his lip trembling.
******************************************************************************************
The air ain't moving and each step we take is like pushing a heavy curtain as we walk towards the creek. We're both bone tired, and Dewey is still stewing over what I done, I'm guessing. His face is set in a sour look.
"You're scaring me, Dew," I say, once we're far enough away from the house. I ain't worried about him getting even with me. No sir, I'm scared he's gonna try to stand up to Daddy.
"You ain't the one who needs to be scared."
"I ain't scared of you. I'm scared you're gonna try to do something stupid and Daddy is gonna finish you off."
Dewey puffs his chest out. He's changed a lot in the past year. He used to be all smiles. Now, he stews over things. He wants to fight someone. Some men are like that. I believe Dewey could hold his own in a fair fight. He's tall and thin, but has the kind of muscles that come from hard work. I seen him wrestle a cow to the ground, lift two bales of hay like they were a loaf of bread. I know he can rough someone up, in a fair fight. That being said, my daddy ain't never fought fair. He's mean and sneaky to the core of his soul.
"You ain't got worry about me, Huck. No you ain't. I'm gonna finish his sorry ass off. If he comes for me, he damn well better kill me this time."
"Stop it!" I yell. "Just stop talking about it."
Dewey stops walking and turns to face me. His hair is plastered to his forehead. "You don't think about killing him?"
"No."
"You're a damn liar, Huck."
"Shut up. Lets just get washed up."
He roughly grabs my arm to keep me from walking away. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want him gone."
"Let go."
"You know he was the one trying to break into Miss Lynn's, don't ya?"
I look up sharply.
"Busted her winda's for spite."
"How do you know that?" I ask.
"I got ears, Huck. Heard him telling Momma the other night. Said if she told on him, he'd tell everyone about her secret."
I watch him suspiciously. "What secret?"
Dewey shrugs, smiling faintly. "She just begged him not to."
I don't ask him anymore. He looks past me towards the creek. "Come on, little brother," he says, then starts whistling as he starts down the bank to the water.
************************************************************************************************
There are two kinds of people who get into the water. I just jump right in, hiccupping and gasping as my body tries to regulate itself to the cold. Dewey is the opposite. He rests on the shore, sticking his legs in first and sliding in slowly and deliberately. When he makes his way over to where I'm bobbing in the icy water, I grin at him. "This feels like heaven," I say, teeth chattering.
Dewey takes the bar of soap and lathers up his hair, then his face and continues washing various body parts until he's satisfied. He hands it over to me.
I watch as he dips below the surface and the soapy suds pan out around him. I wait until he comes back up. "Why you think Daddy hates Miss Lynn?"
"Cause she's colored. He says she's uppity."
"Shoot. She's the nicest person I ever met."
Dewey frowns. "You can't go falling in love with her."
"I ain't. But tell me why not. And it can't just be cause she's colored neither."
"She's too old fer ya'."
"You know how old she is?"
Dewey shakes his head. "No."
"So, she might not be too old."
Dewey scrunches his face up. "Damn, Huck, she got two kids, two colored kids. They got a daddy somewhere. What you think he'd do if'n he come back to town and found you, some lilly white boy, all cozied up to her?"
"I'd stand up to him."
Dewey smirks. "The hell you say."
I look down, embarrassed at the feelings I have as they come tumbling out of my mouth. "It just feels right when I'm near her. I can't explain it. I never felt like this before."
Dewey puts his palm on my shoulder. "You need to put Miss Lynn out of your head and your heart."
"That ain't as easy as you think," I mutter.
"It's as easy as it is to stop thinking about what I want to do," he says, then snaps his fingers. Without another word, he swims towards the shore.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait, brothers who are trying to survive under the abuse of their father. Dewey is growing more determined to fight his father. While Huck is falling in love with a beautiful colored woman who lives in town.
***********************************************************************************************
Momma is sitting in the living room when we get home. There ain't no sign of Daddy, and for that, I'm thankful. Momma tells us that Daddy has gone fishing. That can't be true because the only spot that is calm enough to catch anything is right where Dewey and I were. We would have passed him coming or going in either case. "How long he been gone?" I ask.
"Couple of hours," she says, sighing. She looks towards the window and tilts her head just so. The afternoon light bathes her face in a delicate light. Every once in a while, I can see a real pretty side of my momma. Today is one of those days. Her hair is pinned at the nape of her neck and she looks real soft and sweet.
"You look real pretty today, Momma," I say.
Startled, she puts her hand to her face and blushes. "I'm a mess, Huck."
"No, you ain't. You're real pretty and you deserve a better lot in life."
"I got a good life, Huck. I got you and Dewey. Your daddy takes care of us."
"You deserve better."
She draws in a slow breath and rises to put her arms around me. "Hush now. God gives us what we can carry."
That don't sound like a good and merciful God to me. Dew never deserved to be hit with that shovel, Momma don't deserve to lay with Matthew Strait, and I sure don't deserve to be in love with someone who will never truly be mine.
Of course, I can't say this out loud. God is the only thing my momma has. She can't have any hopes and dreams left. Living with a man like Matthew Strait kills your spirit.
"I know, Momma, I know."
*************************************************************************************************
I'm snapping beans on the porch when Daddy comes walking up the path just before sundown. He ain't coming from the direction of the creek neither. He looks to be coming from town.
"Catch anything," I ask, dryly.
"Won't nothing biting."
"Hmm."
He starts up the steps then stops midway and looks at me. "You look like you got something to say."
"No, I ain't got nothing to say. Just snapping these beans."
He looks me over with a devil's smile on his ugly face. "Smarter than you look."
I bite the inside of my cheek. I want to confront him. I want him to understand that I know he's a liar. I knowed he ain't been fishing. The lying son of a bitch don't even have his pole with him. When his hand is on the screen door handle I finally speak. "You forget to bring our fishing pole home, Daddy?"
He twists towards me, that smile still on his face. "There's different kinds of fishing, son. You'll understand that when you're older."
**********************************************************************************************
Dewey eats in silence. His eyes stay on his plate and he don't look at me nor Momma.
"What's wrong with dummy?" Daddy asks, his mouth half-full of chewed up food.
"My name is Dewey," he says.
"So, you can speak," Daddy laughs.
"I ain't a dummy. I know lots of things."
Daddy grins at me, then smacks his hand on the table, rattling the dishes. "Well, well, well. Please tell me what else you know."
Momma looks over at me helplessly. "Matthew, please, not tonight. We're all hot and tired. Let's just eat our dinner in peace."
"No. Now, Dummy, I mean Dewey has something to say and I want to hear it."
Dewey still won't look up but he puts his fork down and places both hands on the table. "I know about coyotes."
"Fascinating." Daddy sighs. "Tell me more."
"I will. They stick together. Tight like family. When they howl, they're talking to each other. Late at night, when the world gets quiet, that's when they talk."
Daddy leans in close. "You're a regular smart guy, Dewey."
Finally, Dewey raises his green eyes and stares into my daddy's eyes. "You want to know the best thing about coyotes? They hunt in pairs. Whatever they's hunting will see one, right out in the open, growling, teeth bared, but they won't see they second one. And that's the one that gets 'em. It's the one they don't see that comes in for the kill." Dewey smiles slightly. "Bet you didn't know that, did you?"
I can't finish what's on my plate. There ain't no room for food in my gut because now it's filled with dread.
I watch as Daddy sits back, resumes eating. He's gonna let this go tonight. He's tired. But I know him, and he's gonna come after Dewey. Matthew Strait don't let nothing go.
Tonight I'll lay awake all night, listening for his footsteps in the hall. And if he don't come after him tonight, I'll listen out for him tomorrow night. He ain't used to Dewey challenging him. Dew was just a little thing when he hit him and he gloated on the fact that Dew was scared of him.
Momma says that the meek shall inherit the earth. Up until lately, Dewey has always been meek. Now he's like a wild dog or a coyote. He's starting to hunt. He don't want to inherit the earth. He just wants Matthew Strait's flesh between his teeth.
**********************************************************************************************
He slips out again. After the house is asleep, Matthew Strait goes slithering down the walk and becomes one with the starless night. I let my eyes close. At least, tonight he ain't gonna come after Dewey. Tonight, Dewey and I are safe.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait, are trying to survive under the abuse of their father, Matthew Strait. Dewey is starting to confront his father while Huck is trying to hide his feelings for Miss Lynn.
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After we get through with chores, I leave Dewey outside while I fetch some water for us. It's almost as hot inside as it is out here. The days are turning to dog days. The heat sapping our strength, and wilting everything around. I think about fall. That's my favorite time of year. The days are shorter, but there is usually a nip in the air and the smell of rotting leaves and smoke from chimneys makes me smile. I think even the animals are happier in the fall. There ain't so many biting flies and their thirst is abated sooner rather than later. Momma cooks up squash and bacon, and makes pies with apples that are juicy and tart.
I carry two mason jars of water out to where Dewey is sitting on a hay bale. He's humming like he ain't got a care in the world. "Here," I say, handing him one of the jars.
"Thanks," he says, rubbing his thumb across the sweat that's collected on the outside of the glass.
"That was real stupid, challenging him last night."
Dewey shrugs and takes a long drink. "Won't no challenge. Just telling him some interesting facts. That's all." He stares off into the distance.
I look into the colored part of his eyes. The cool green of his eyes makes me think about Miss Lynn and how much I miss her. I look down at the tepid water in my jar. "He's gonna come after you. You know that, don't you?"
Dewey shrugs, but shifts his gaze to me. "Oh, Huck, I'm counting on it."
**********************************************************************************************
Momma is dusting in the living room. She hums like Dewey, don't even know she's doing it half the time. "Momma, can I ask you a question?"
She puts the rag she was using down and nods. "Of course."
"You believe in love at first sight?"
"No. Not really. Real love takes time. What you're talking about is infatuation. That ain't real love."
I move a bowl from the shelf as she starts to dust again. "How do you know what real love is?"
"I guess you just know." She clutches the rag in her fingers tightly and looks at her hands. "You know when a part a you dies at the thought of losing someone. When an ache won't go away when you are apart."
"Who'd you lose, Momma?"
She looks stricken. Her eyes go wide and she has a fearful look to them. "Hush now. Please, let's not talk about this anymore."
"Is this your secret?"
She frowns, still clutching the rag. "Life is made up of secrets. This one is a secret that you can't ever tell no one. Especially not Dewey. You've got to promise me you ain't never gonna tell your brother."
"I promise."
"Sit." She goes to the window, looking for either Dewey or Daddy, then comes back over to where I wait. "When I met Matthew, I was, well, I was with child." She shakes her head, her hands going to her face, covering it in shame.
"That's nothing to feel bad about, Momma."
"It was another man's child. Matthew is your daddy, not Dewey's," she whispers.
Her words fall like an axe. My heart aches for Dewey, who would never know that he didn't carry Matthew Strait's blood in his veins. He would live his life sharing the burden of the Strait name when that curse was mine alone. "Who was he? Dewey's father, I mean."
She looks up with eyes tired and solemn. "He was the love of my life."
"Why did you marry him, though?"
"God had other plans for me. I got you, Huck. I was blessed with you and your brother."
"Where did Dewey's father go?"
She wipes her hand across her eyes even though no tears have fallen. "Matthew told me that he just said he'd never loved me. He just left without a word."
"He left you with a baby in ya', and didn't bother to say goodbye?" I ask. I feel angry that my poor momma went through. "He won't much of a man, was he?"
"Matthew got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. He said my child would have his last name and then nobody could call him a bastard. Matthew kept my name clean. He made an honest woman out of me."
I feel my hands shaking. Poor momma, so swept up in what could have been, she was willing to forget what it was now.
"Never tell your brother, Huck. I don't want him thinking he's a mistake. God don't make mistakes."
I feel her take my hand in hers. "I promise, Momma. I'll take this to my grave."
She smiles, squeezing my hand gently. "You're a good boy, Huck. I've known it since I first held you in my arms. You're gonna change the world one day."
Her kind words make me feel a hair bit special. It takes a little of the sting out what I know.
************************************************************************************************
Dinner is almost ready. The dishes and silverware rattling in the kitchen as Momma gets ready to load them up.
"She's one uppity negra," he says. "One day, yes siree, she's gonna get what's coming to her."
"There are other stores, Matthew. Just don't go in there if'n she can't be civil to ya'." Momma says.
"She needs to learn her place."
I wait on the stairs, listening to him threaten the woman I love.
"She accused me of breakin' her windas. Then said I tried to break in her house. Said she seen me, in the middle of the night. Now, you tell me, when was I in town after midnight." He isn't asking Momma, no, he's daring her to answer.
That's where he slipped off to the other night. He's after Miss Lynn. The next time I hear him creeping out, I'm gonna follow him. I'll do whatever it takes to protect Miss Lynn. I'll keep her safe, then she'll know what kind of person I am.
By GWHARGIS
So far, brothers Huck and Dewey Strait try to survive under the abuse from their father, Matthew Strait. But as time goes on, Dewey is getting bolder and Huck knows there will be a confrontation sooner than later.
***********************************************************************************************
I stand by the stairs, listening to my daddy spew his venom about Miss Lynn. Dewey comes in the front door and looks over at me. I put my finger to my lips to hush him. He rolls his eyes and brushes past me.
"I'm starving," he says as he enters the kitchen.
"You finish fixing that coop?" Daddy asks.
"Yes."
"I sure as hell hope you did a better job than the last time."
"Yes. It's better than anything you coulda' done."
I wince and clear my throat. Dewey is all but begging for Daddy to come after him. I rush into the kitchen and stop midway between both of them. If something is gonna happen, they're gonna have to get through me. I look at Momma, who's nervously watching both. "So, Momma, what's for dinner?"
"Fish stew," she says, forcing a smile to her face.
Dewey wrinkles his nose.
"I put lots of potatoes and carrots in it, Dewey. You can pick out the hunks of fish and give 'em to Huck. He likes the fish."
Momma waits until Dewey and Daddy sit before she starts filling the shallow bowls with stew. She places a bowl in front of each of us.
Dewey immediately starts pushing the potatoes from side to side, then starts lifting the chunks of fish out and putting them in my bowl. He leaves a little trail of broth from his dinner to mine.
"Dammit, boy. You're making a mess. Just eat the damned fish," Daddy snaps.
"I don't like it," Dewey whines.
"You think I give a shit?"
Dewey puts his spoon down and starts breathing real shallow. He has this far away look in his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing, Dummy?"
For a minute, Dewey just looks sort of confused, like he did when those boys in town shoved his head in the fountain. "Why are you so mean to everybody?"
"Dewey, sweetheart, just eat the broth and the vegetables," Momma whispers.
"Eat it all, Dummy," Daddy says. There is an edge to his voice even though he said it no louder than Momma's whisper. "Or is that too mean, making you eat your dinner?"
Dewey looks over at me.
"Just eat it," I mouth.
But Dewey has other things on his mind. He's getting bolder each day. It's like watching some odd dance. He and Daddy trying to out do each other.
"You like surprises, Daddy?" Dewey asks.
Daddy greedily shovels a spoonful of the stew in his mouth. A trickle of broth dribbles out when he speaks. "What the hell are you blabbering about?"
"I asked you if you liked surprises."
Daddy grins, but there ain't nothing friendly about it. "Yes, yes I do."
"I'm building something just for you. You're gonna be so proud of me when you see it."
Daddy throws his head back and laughs. "Well now, that'll be a change. You and your brother are weak. Made from weak seed."
My eyes dart over to Dewey. A twinge of resentment fills my heart.
"Ain't none of y'all got nothing to say?" Daddy says.
"The house is only as strong as the wood it's built with," Dewey mutters.
"What was that?"
"You heard me, I know you did," he says softly.
Daddy reaches over and pokes his finger into Dewey's chest. "You and me, we gonna have a talk. Real soon."
Dewey doesn't answer. Momma quickly goes to the sink and stands there white faced and nervous. She knows there is a confrontation coming soon. And, she's gonna be burying one of them.
I kick Dewey under the table. Poor Momma, she should, at least, be able to eat her meal in peace. Dewey takes a spoonful of stew and puts it in his mouth, then levels his gaze at me. I feel the sharp pain of his foot as he kicks me back. I can't look at anyone. I feel like all its gonna take is one false move and a war will start.
Daddy finishes his stew and stands up, shoving his chair back so hard that it teeters on two legs before settling back on all four.
"Matthew, I've got berries and sweet cream for dessert," Momma says, a desperate sound to her voice.
"I need some air," he snaps. "I'll be back later."
My first thought ain't about what kind of mood he's coming home in. No, it's where he's off to now. I get this terrible feeling that he's going to cause trouble for Miss Lynn. He heads straight through the living room and goes out through the front door, letting the screen door slam as he leaves. I look out through the front winda'. The sky is getting all purple, like a fresh bruise.
I look back at Momma. "You want me to follow him?"
"Just let him be," she says, then turns her attention on Dewey. "What's gotten into you? Didn't that whack on the head teach you anything?"
Dewey looks at her wide eyed. "When are ya' gonna learn he ain't worth the space he takes up? He ain't never been worth a dang. I hate him. I will always hate him. I wish he was dead."
Momma's hand flies up to her mouth. "Dewey, you don't mean that. I know you don't."
"I never meant anything truer in my life, Momma."
She unties her apron and drapes it over the chair. Without saying anything, she leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs.
"Why'd you say that?" I whisper.
Dewey frowns. "Why is it wrong for me to say out loud what everyone is thinking. Tell me why it's okay to carry hatred in our heart but wrong to say the words."
I don't have an answer. I don't suspect no one would.
**********************************************************************************************
I wake to Momma shaking me. "Wake up, Huck, I need your help," she says. There is an urgency to her voice.
I pull myself up and shake my head to clear the cobwebs from my mind. "What's wrong?"
"It's your daddy. He's pretty beat up."
"What happened?" I ask, grabbing for my drawers and yesterday's shirt.
She wrings her hands and hurries to the door. "I don't know. Says he don't know what it was exactly, but something got him pretty good."
She heads back downstairs, and as I follow close on her heels, I wonder who or what bested Matthew Strait and why.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait are trying to survive under the abusive rule of their father, Matthew Strait. Dewey is becoming bolder with his actions and Huck is falling in love with a beautiful colored woman in town.
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Daddy is sitting in a kitchen chair, hunched over like he's reading something close up. But, Matthew Strait don't read, and I ain't real sure he knows how to. He says people who like to read just think they are smarter than everyone else.
"What happened to ya'?" I ask.
His shoulders flinch and he straightens up a bit. "Dammit, why'd you bring that idiot down here?" he growls at Momma.
"Stop it, Matthew." She starts rummaging in the cupboard for odd bottles and wraps.
"Who gotcha', Daddy?"
"Some wild dog." His voice is tight and he don't offer anything else.
"Did he bite ya'? I don't see any bite marks."
Without warning, he tries to take a swing at me, but he winces in pain and sinks back into the seat.
Momma shakes her head and I let it drop. "Huck, will you see if'n we have any ice? If so, put some in the dish towel and bring it here. That cold will keep the swelling down, Matthew."
I place three or four ice cubes on the cloth then roll it together and hand it to her. "Here ya' go, Momma."
She tries to gently press it to the worst of the scratches on his face and neck, but he continues being his surly self. "Get off me, woman," he snarls.
Momma shakes her head and nods for me to go back upstairs. I hold my smile until I get to the top of the stairs, then I break out in a ten penny grin. Somebody fought back. And, since, he wasn't bragging, they bested him.
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Once again, someone is shaking me awake. This time it's Dewey.
He's leaning in so close I knock my head into his just by turning my head. "Daddy got it for sure last night," he says. As the fog burns off of my eyes, I can see him grinning. If he'd grinned any harder, his whole face would have split in two.
"I know that," I mumble as I press my palm to his chest to move him back.
"The hell you say," he sputters. "Something got him, but good, Huck."
"Dewey, I know. Momma came and needed my help last night. He says it was a wild dog, but it sure didn't look like it. Not a bite on him."
"He's too wrapped up in his own bullshit to tell the truth."
I sit up and wipe the crust from my eyes. "Makes ya' wonder who did it, don't it?"
Dewey looks towards the door. "Probably sniffin' 'round the wrong woman. I'll bet it was an angry husband."
I nudge Dewey and smile. "I'd like to shake his hand. How about you?"
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He looks worse now than last night. There is a map of rusty looking scratches running the length of his forearms and his neck and face. There is a bright pink goose egg near his temple, that I didn't see last night. I look away before his catches me staring. "Morning, Momma," I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
Dark circles seem to swallow her eyes and she looks tired. I wonder if she lay awake, trying to piece his story together. He ain't never telled the truth. Why would he start now?
I reach for a jar in the cabinet and pull the buttermilk from the icebox. I watch as Momma brings a cup filled with coffee to him. He takes a sip and grimaces. "Bitter as hell," he mumbles, pushing it roughly aside. The hot liquid sloshes over the rim and stains her tablecloth.
Momma nervously goes to grab it. "I'm sorry, Matthew. I can add a little milk to it. Would ya' like that?"
I snatch the cup and toss the remainder in the sink. "Stop talking to her like that. She took care of you last night when nobody else would have. You treat her right, ya' hear?"
Both look up in surprise, but he recovers quickly. "Well, well. Mighty brave talk for someone who wouldn't have the nerve to say that if'n I weren't injured. We gonna have a come to Jesus meeting. Yes, sir, once I heal up, I'm gonna tear both you and your brother's hides up."
I look at him, covered in scratches and at the mercy of his family. Matthew Strait don't scare me anymore. His threats are hollow. Someone has upped him and I know it's possible. Last night was the beginning of the fall of Matthew Strait.
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Dewey is outside mucking the yard, and, to my surprise, he's whistling.
"You finding gold in those piles of manure?" I know why he's so happy. It's the first time either of us has seen Daddy on the receiving end of a beating.
"This is better than gold, Huck. It shows we can do it."
I roll my eyes. "Not this again," I say.
Dewey stands up, looking down on me. "You bet this again. We owe it to Momma."
"She loves him," I say weakly.
Dewey spits to the side. "The hell you say. He does awful things to her at night. I hear her crying and begging him. You don't. My bed is right up against the wall. I hear the ugly things he says."
"Ain't none of our business what goes on in there."
"If you love her, and I know you do, Huck, you wouldn't want her going through this hell night after night."
I look down. I know she deserves better. I done told her that myself.
He brushes his hair back to expose the scar that Daddy gave him long ago. "You think I'm ever gonna forgive him for this? Callin' me dummy 'cause a what he did. He done this to me. Maybe I am a dummy. I try to remember things, but it just gets turned around in my head. I'll never be like you, Huck. You're smart, real smart."
"No, I aint."
"Momma don't send me to do errands."
I stare at the ground.
"She calls me simple. Simple Dewey. I know what simple means, Huck. She might as well call me dummy, too." He looks at me, his eyes dark, like a storm cloud that ruins a sunny day.
"So, you got a plan?" I ask quietly.
"I do." He doesn't offer any more.
"Are ya' gonna tell me, or do I gotta guess?""
He watches me, like he don't trust me, then licks his lips and leans on the shovel.
"You ain't got no plan."
"Hush up. Are you in, really in?"
"Just tell me." I stamp my foot impatiently.
"One night we follow him. We get him on the road when he's heading back. I plan on hitting him in the head with this shovel. An eye for an eye, just like those fancy preachers say."
"You're gonna sneak up on him? Cause, he aint gonna just let you hit him."
Dewey makes an ugly face. "Hell, Huck, I don't care if a tree falls on him. I just want that son of a bitch dead."
"You can't sneak up behind him. You ain't no coward, Dew, and I ain't neither."
Dewey looks toward the house, and I turn to see my daddy watching us from the winda'. "I'll do whatever it takes, Huck."
| Author Notes | This is really long for me. Couldn't find a stopping point. |
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait are just trying to survive under the abusive hand of their father. Dewey is getting bolder in his plans for revenge, while Huck is quickly falling in love with a beautiful colored woman in town. Their daddy, Matthew, comes home claiming to have been attacked by a wild dog, but deep down, Huck knows it isn't the truth.
*************************************************************************************************
"I need you to run into town and get me some honey. I was thinking about frying up some chicken tonight for dinner." Momma leans over to put the clean pot from breakfast away. Sweat is staining her shirt and I watch her wipe her brow.
"Why don't you go sit on the porch for a bit, Momma. I'll bring you a glass of cold water," I offer.
She waves her hand and refolds the dishcloth. "You be careful, if'n there is a dog on the loose, take a stick with you."
I get ready to ask her if she truly believes the whole wild dog story, but I guess she has already answered that question when she said "if'n".
After getting her settled on the porch with her glass of water and her Bible, I take the money she gives me and head on down the path. Once I'm far enough down the road, I start looking for any signs of the supposed attack. Ain't so much as a rock kicked up on the road. There ain't no damned dog. Matthew Strait made the whole thing up.
I can smell the honeysuckle that grows by the road. I yank off a big piece and close my eyes as I imagine the smile Miss Lynn will have when I give it to her.
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The bells chime as I push open the door to Dobey's. I don't see Miss Lynn or her momma, when I walk up to the counter. I can hear the baby, Lionel, crying from behind the curtain. There are boards nailed up over two of the side windows. Something terrible must have happened here. I sure hope Miss Lynn and her kids are alright.
I lay the honeysuckle on the counter and ring the little brass bell on the counter.
Miss Lynn's momma steps around the curtain. "We closed," she says gruffly. She is usually friendly but right now she just looks angry. "Now, go on and get."
"Momma needs some honey," I say.
"Are you deaf, boy?"
"Is Miss Lynn here? I brought her some honeysuckle. It smells real sweet."
Miss Lynn comes flying past her momma, takes her hand and smacks the honeysuckle off the counter. "You get out. I don't want you coming here no mo'. You understand me?"
I feel like someone has hit me in the gut with a white hot poker. I ain't never seen her like this. "What's wrong? What'd I do?"
"You're Matthew Strait's boy. You gonna be no good just like your daddy."
Her momma comes over, wrapping her arms around Miss Lynn while she starts to sob.
"I don't understand. Just tell me what he did. I'll make it right. I'll pay for the windas'. I'll work it off. Please, Miss Lynn."
She swoops at me, fingernails digging into my forearm. "You think I'm crying over some damn windas'? Some broken glass?" She pulls me around, behind the counter and pushes back the curtain. "You can't fix this, Huck. He hurt my baby girl. Oh, God, he hurt my little girl." Her grip on my arm falls away and she just stands there, shoulders heaving and tears rolling down unchecked.
I look to see Hester, lying on a cot, a sheet tucked around her and I see the stains on that sheet. Blood stains dotting the white.
Lynn kneels on the floor, still crying. "Can you fix this?" She ain't asking me. She ain't even looking at me. To her, I don't exist anymore.
"I will. I'll kill that son of a bitch. I'll make it right. I promise. I love you Miss Lynn. I'll make it right," I whisper with a rawness in my voice that I can't contain.
Miss Lynn's momma takes my arm and pulls me out of the room where Hester is. She hands me the honey and ushers me to the door. She studies me for a moment and watches me wipe my eyes.
"I do love her. I'll make this right."
"You go home and ask your momma why you can't be in love with her. It ain't got nothing to do with her color neither. You just ask your momma, Huck."
I run, my legs burning and sweat rolling down my body like rain. I near rip the screen door off the hinges when I toss it open to find him. "Where is he?" I yell.
Momma comes out of the kitchen, eyes wide and I know she's frightened.
I can't look at her. Not now, because I know she's gonna make up excuses for him. I won't hear it, not after what I seen. "Where is that sorry, yellow bellied excuse for a human being?"
"Calm down, Huck," she urges, reaching out for me.
"He hurt Miss Lynn's little girl, Momma."
Her eyes widen, and she starts shaking her head. "No, no, Matthew wouldn't hurt no little girl."
"It's true, Momma, I seen it with my own eyes," I choke on the words as they leave my mouth. I can't help but cry. He's ruined another child's life. Miss Lynn ain't never gonna love me back. He's ruined everything."
"She's lying, Huck. Matthew wouldn't do that."
"It's how he got them scratches. Little Hester was fighting him off and Miss Lynn hit him. She shoulda' killed him. She'd a done the world a favor."
My momma's hand flies up and I hardly feel the sting of her slap. "You stop saying that, you hear me. That man saved my good name. He could have walked away, leaving me to raise Dewey alone. He didn't."
"Just cause he saved your name don't give him the right to destroy other people's lives, Momma. He hurt Dewey. Was your good name worth that? He hurt little Hester, how about that?"
She rubs her hands together, but won't look me in the eye. "He's my husband. I'm obligated to stand by him."
I push past her, sickened that she's chosen her place beside him. "Where is he?"
"Out back with Dewey," she whispers.
| Author Notes | This chapter is going to be in two parts. This story is coming to a close so maybe three or four more chapters. Let me know what you think about me publishing it. I'm on the fence. Thank you for any input. |
By GWHARGIS
So far, brothers Huck and Dewey Strait are trying to survive under the abusive hand of their father, Matthew Strait. While Dewey is getting bolder with his hatred, Huck is falling in love with a beautiful colored woman in town. Now, Huck has discovered that his father has assaulted the woman's daughter.
*************************************************************************************************
Momma stands in the kitchen, wringing her hands. I'm not sure whether it's because she's afraid of me calling him out or she can't come to terms with the idea of Matthew Strait hurting a child. I feel my own anger washing over me in waves.
"Miss Lynn's momma told me to ask you something," I say. I keep my words measured, trying to control myself.
She looks up, eyes wide and she swallows nervously.
"She told me to ask you why I can't love Miss Lynn."
She makes a face, as if she is trying not to cry. "Not now, Huck," she moans, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Tell me. Why can't I?"
Her shoulders sag, like the weight of the world is bearing down on them. "It don't matter."
"Tell me, Momma. It matters to me."
She hangs her head and her words come out in an angry stream. "Miss Lynn is your kin. Lynn Dobey is my half-sister. Are you happy? My daddy stepped out on my momma, with a-a colored woman.
Bile bubbles up in my throat. "She never said nothing," I whisper. How I must have looked like a fool to her.
"Lynn don't know. It was a long time before my momma figured it out. But those green eyes, just like your brother's. My daddy's green eyes. No secrets made under the cover of night stay hidden in the light of day, Huck. Daddy confessed. He give Miss Lynn's momma some money to keep quiet."
I lean back against the wall, every terrible sight I've seen, and every horrible thing I've heard is whirling in my head. But the one thought that stands out is, it's time for Matthew Strait to be judged for the awful stuff he's done. I look over at her. She looks like a beaten woman. All the lies and secrets she's had to keep. All of the misery she's endured and watched us endure is evident on her face at this moment.
"I ain't never seen you like this, Huck. What are you gonna do?"
I can't answer her. I can't make her a part of what is forming in my head. She needs to leave. If she's here, I'll back down. I can't back down. I owe it to Dewey, Hester, Momma and Miss Lynn. Just thinking about Miss Lynn makes my guts hurt. It's like a knife is being twisted in my belly.
"I need you to go into town, Momma. You need to stay there until dusk."
She shakes her head. "I can't. Suppose you or Dewey need me? And Matthew will be wanting his dinner shortly."
I walk around behind her and untie the apron. "Go, Momma. This is for the best."
She clutches at me, her hands shaking. "What are you gonna do, Huck? Don't do anything foolish."
"You ain't got no part in this. Walk out the front door and keep walking. Understand, Momma, keep walking and stay away."
She walks slowly to the front door, turning only once to offer a small sad smile in my direction.
There is one thing we both know as she walks out of the house, and that is our lives are going to change forever this day.
**********************************************************************************************
Dew is sweating, swinging the hoe down hard onto the dry rocky ground. He hardly looks up as I come around the side of the house.
"Matthew Strait!" I yell.
Daddy is bent over, looking at the lines Dewey's made in the earth.
"Take the hoe from this dummy and dig the lines straight," he says.
"Look at me when I talk to you."
He straightens up, squinting at me like it's the first time seeing me. "My goodness, Huck, you sure are brave to talk to me like that. Someone go to town and become a man?" He laughs, tossing his head back.
Dewey stops digging, his eyes meet mine. He can sense it. His green eyes flicker to where Daddy stands.
"What you done to little Hester, was just plain vile. You're an evil son of a bitch."
Daddy smirks. "She'll be spreading soon enough. That's how they are, Huck. Colored girls start early, and it don't matter with who. I just helped her get started a little sooner." He looks from me to Dewey, a sick smile growing on his face.
"You're a pig."
The smile fades. He's done playing. "I'm gonna kick your tail, you keep on flapping your jaw," he says, then turns back to criticize the work Dewey is doing.
Dewey is still watching, waiting for the right moment, waiting on me.
"Do it now," I say.
Daddy turns his attention back on me. He cocks his eyebrow. "Go tell your momma to start dinner. I'm hungry."
I shake my head. "She ain't here right now. It's just us three."
Dewey smiles. "Just you and two coyotes," he says, laughing after the words come out of his mouth.
"Shut up, dummy," he growls.
Dewey takes a swing, clipping him on his shoulder.
"You bastard," Matthew shouts. "I'm gonna take great pleasure whooping you again." He lunges for the hoe, but Dewey is quicker.
Dewey tosses it to me, throws back his head and lets a howl out. The sound runs through me. I feel the animal inside of me wake. The wildness that has been feeding on the anger and humiliation all these years is alive. I become a coyote, like Dewey. I crave the scent of Matthew Strait's fear. I don't just want to kill him, no, I want to chase him. I want to see the stain of pure fear as it spreads from his eyes to every part of his body.
He crouches, hands out, looking from me to Dewey as we start to circle him.
I twirl the hoe in my hand, then toss it to Dewey.
"I mean it. Go get your momma," he snaps.
Dewey growls, like a wild dog. "Just you and two coyotes. You really shouldn't have hit me. I forget 'cause of it. I forget a lot of stuff, but ain't never gonna forget that. No sir, I wake up every morning and remember that. Each time I sharpened a stick, I thought about what you done to me."
"You scared, Matthew?" I call out.
"Of a boy and a dummy?" he says, forcing a laugh.
"Of the coyotes," Dewey whispers.
"Go on, get out of my way." He acts like he's gonna stand up, but he don't. He's stays crouched, still watching us as we circle around him. A dismal breeze kicks up, and I smile. The scent of his fear is carried right to me.
"You might want to make yourself right with the Almighty," I say.
"God don't want him," Dewey says quietly. "Don't nobody want Matthew Strait. 'Cept maybe the devil."
| Author Notes | Another chapter that was too long to post whole. Will finish up the other half early next week. |
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait are just trying to survive under the abuse of their father. But Dewey is growing bolder and Huck has found out that his father has assaulted a little girl. They send their momma to town and decide to confront their father now.
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Dewey watches me, waiting for me to signal him or make the first move. I look into my daddy's eyes and see nothing. There is no remorse, no anger, nothing but emptiness. He ain't never loved anyone or anything and for that I feel sorry for him. Love is what keeps you going, keeps you alive. He reminds me of that copperhead. One purpose in life. If it comes down to it, and it's me or the snake, I'll kill the snake. I'll kill him before he hurts anyone else.
I hold up the hoe, turning it one way then the other. "Come on and get it," I say.
Daddy tires to run between us, take us by surprise. I'm guessing he figures if he can get to the house, he can get his shotgun and finish us both off. But Dewey throws his foot out, sending him sprawling on the ground.
"You stupid piece of-," Daddy snarls but gets cut off when Dewey kicks him in the side.
"Don't you call me that no more."
"I shoulda' pushed your momma down the stairs when she come crying to me 'cause she was knocked up."
Dewey doesn't blink. "Maybe you shoulda'."
Matthew lays in the dirt on his back, staring up at us. "Go on, do it. If you're gonna kill me then do it. Neither one of you got the balls to do it. Two pathetic momma's boys," he says, a tired laugh follows it and he looks from me to Dewey. "Which one of you is gonna be the hero?"
Dewey looks over at me, then glances towards the woods. "Can't kill you just yet. Wanna show you what I made for you."
Daddy sneers. He's waiting for one of us to back down. He don't understand how fed up we are of him. He don't know that we're coyotes and they don't leave wounded, they kill.
"Get up, Daddy," I say, prodding him with the toe of my shoe.
"I ain't going nowhere with the two of you."
Without warning, Dewey bends down and grabs his ankle. He starts dragging him through the dirt.
"Stop it. Let go of me. Huck, stop him!"
I answer with a ragged howl.
I stay back, watching this like it's a dream. I'm in it but I'm not really me. I stare at the drag marks that his body is leaving. I follow it with my eyes and watch as the dirt is suddenly wet. He pissed himself. Matthew Strait is finally afraid. He tilts his head, looking at me with such confusion in his eyes. His reality is hitting him now. His sons, a boy and a dummy, are going to kill him.
Dewey keeps dragging him, through the overgrown brush and further into the woods. Matthew cries and hollers as the brambles and saw grass tear his skin. "We're almost there, Daddy," Dewey says. He's got sweat dripping like a faucet into his eyes and onto his shirt.
"What's your momma gonna say? You ain't got the balls," Matthew hisses, but his voice shakes with fear.
Dewey grabs him under his arms and nods for me to help him lift Daddy to a standing position. We hold him on the edge of the pit, letting him admire all of Dewey's hard work. "I sharpened every one of them. Just for you."
I look over at Dewey. There ain't no backing down now. This is where it ends. A pit in the middle of the woods will be the final resting place for Matthew Strait. With a nod, we heave him over the edge.
There is no scream, no sounds of a tortured soul getting what's coming to him. Just the chirping of the birds as the sun settles closer to the horizon. I close my eyes and start to pray. "Dear God, I know what we did ain't right but," I stop when Dewey elbows me.
"No! We ain't saying no words over him. We done what needed to be done. Saying a mouthful of pretty words ain't gonna save his wretched soul nor ours."
Dewey's right. No amount of praying will change this.
***********************************************************************************************
Dewey stands there, long after our deed has been completed. He don't smile or gloat, hell, he ain't said anything at all for several minutes.
"You okay, Dew?"
He don't look at me, keeps his eyes on the man in the pit. "You know, I thought it'd feel good once he was dead. Thought I'd be so happy. But, I still ain't happy. This didn't change nothing, really."
"You still believe it was the right thing to do, don't ya'?"
He nods, his shoulders lifting slowly under the weight of his thoughts.
"Doing what needs to be done don't mean it's gonna make us happy."
Dewey takes his foot and pushes some dirt into the hole. "What are we gonna tell momma?"
"He went fishing."
"What happens when he don't come home?"
"We can worry about that later. Now, let's get this hole filled in."
It takes almost an hour to fill in the pit. Dewey looks down at the shovel and heaves it into the brush.
I put my arm around him, and lead him out.
"Huck, you think coyotes feel bad after they kill?" he asks.
"No. Coyotes do what coyotes do. It's as simple as that. He made us coyotes, Dewey. He may not have known he was doing it, but this was still his doing."
Dewey sniffs, and I see a tear trickle down his cheek. I'm real glad he's crying. He ain't lost his soul. He feels something, and that means he still got his soul.
I feel nothing, not for what we done, not for that man. I'm glad he's gone.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Huck and Dewey Strait, are just trying to survive under the abusive rule of their father, Matthew. When Matthew attacks a child, they take matters into their own hands and kill him.
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After about a week, Momma stops asking us to check down by the creek. She settles into his absence like she knows he's gone for good. Dewey starts to smile again. He tells us stories about the animals and the things they do while he's working in the yard with them. We all seem happier.
Only once did the sheriff come by. He listened while I told about Daddy going fishing and not coming home. He was silent for a few seconds and I waited, holding my breath. I figured I was wearing it on my face. Guilt is in the eyes. Momma says that the eyes are the window to the soul. I'm guessing if that law man was really looking, he'd see I knew more than I let on.
But he didn't. He just clapped his hand on my arm and smiled knowingly. "Bad things can happen when you go off on your own. Maybe the creek was running high that day. He just may have gotten swept off and carried out to the river."
I nod, every muscle in my body rigid. "Yes sir. You might be right."
"Well, if he does come back around, you be sure to let me know. I've got some questions for him."
"What kind of questions?"
"Someone broke some winda's down at Dobey's. Lynn Dobey said she saw your daddy running from the scene."
I nod again, knowing there was more to the accusation than the broken winda's. "I'll be sure to let you know, um, if'n he comes back around."
Momma stands by the winda', watching as the sheriff walks down the path to leave. She chews on her thumbnail while I come inside. "He lookin' for your daddy?"
"Yes. He thinks Daddy got swept off to the river. Said Lynn Dobey reported him for trying to break into the store. He didn't mention Hester."
Momma purses her lips, still unable to come to terms with the man Matthew Strait was. "I hope the little girl is doing better. I want you to take this to Lynn." She goes to the hutch in the corner and pulls out a loose wrapped package. "Tell her we're praying for little Hester."
She folds back the paper and I can see the white crocheted pattern. "You did this?"
"Started it the day after your daddy didn't come home."
I shake my head. "Miss Lynn ain't gonna take it from me."
"You tell her its from me. She ain't got no ill will toward me."
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I set out the next morning after chores are finished. People look at me, maybe a little friendlier to me. Some even smile as they pass by. No one asks about Daddy. It's as if he never existed. The man who heaped nothing but misery on everyone he met, ain't even acknowledged as missing.
Before I can put my hand on the door handle, Miss Lynn's momma comes out.
"I ain't gonna try to come in. I got something for Hester." I hold out the brown paper package for her to see.
"Lynn ain't gonna take it." She folds her arms around herself, her face set stubbornly.
"It's from my momma. She made it for Hester," I say.
"This is from Lil. Your momma made this for Hester?" Her face softens and she smiles happily.
"Yes ma'am. She told me about Miss Lynn's daddy."
The older woman looks around quickly. "Hush now, child. You wait right here. I'm gonna go take this to Hester."
She casts one more honest smile then retreats inside closing the door on me.
I stand outside, swatting at the mosquitos and listening to the crows cawing to each other. I glance up at the noise of the door opening again.
"That was real nice of your momma," she says. It's Miss Lynn.
She's just as pretty as she ever was. I make myself look at her different now. She's my kin. I need to remember that. Put that wanting ache away for now. "I'm real sorry about what my daddy done. But, I want you to know I ain't nothing like him."
Lynn bows her head. "I know. I was just so angry. She's my baby girl, Huck. I shouldn't have lashed out like I did."
"He ain't gonna be hurting anyone else. I promise you that."
"How is it that you can make that kind of promise?"
"He went fishing. Never did come home. Sheriff thinks he got swept down the creek. Probably drowned since the creek was running high."
Lynn is quiet. She ain't gonna say nothing. Nobody is. "Well, you take care of yourself, Huck."
She slips back inside and I shove my hands in my pocket as I start the walk home.
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The leaves are starting to turn. Hints of orange and gold are beginning to peek through the thick green canopy overhead.
Momma brings out some warm apple cider to where I'm sitting on the porch. "I'm not sure what I'd have done without you and Dewey."
"You're stronger than most women, Momma."
She looks off towards the tree tops. "He wasn't a very nice man, was he?"
"He weren't much of a man at all," I mutter.
"Huck," she says, pointing to the side of the house. "That looks like his fishing pole there, don't it? I'm thinking it might make good kindling."
I wait for her to ask me what it's doing here, but she doesn't. She turns to go back in the house but pauses by the door. "I was right, you know."
"'Bout what?"
"About you changing the world," she leans down and kissed the top of my head. "You ain't never gonna get the recognition for it, but I thank ya', I surely do."
Maybe Momma knows, not the particulars of that afternoon, but she knows. I wait until she lets herself back inside and I close my eyes. I try to open my heart and pray. I can't say the words out loud, but God knows what's in your heart. "Please, God, show me that you understand. Take this terrible burden from me. Take it from Dewey."
I keep my eyes closed and feel the cool evening breeze kiss my cheek. The purple of dusk start to steal from the shadows and the pale stars appear one by one in the darkening sky. Then I hear it. The faintest sound traveling in a sad haunting whisper on the wind, a coyote howls.
The End
| Author Notes | The Coyote Boys is finished. Thanks to everyone who stuck with me on this. I promise a fun one next. Maybe even Miranda. |
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