Tulsa Burning Read online

  I tried whistling to sort of keep my mind off things, but when I got close to Mrs. Mitchell's house, I couldn't keep the whistling up. I took to hoping she wouldn't be home. If she was gone, I could go inside and leave the milk. She could pay me the twenty cents later. She was there, though. I could see a lantern's light, and the automobile Isaac had bought her a few months before was parked near the door.

  "I'm coming," she called as soon as I knocked. "Oh, Noble," she said when she opened the door, "come right in out of the cold. You are such a good boy, bringing my milk through the cold night. You could have waited until tomorrow."

  I'd been feeling pretty low already, but her saying I was good made me just plumb miserable. I stepped inside and set the milk jar on the kitchen table. "No, ma'am," I said. "I sure enough am not good, and I ain't Noble either, and you shouldn't call me that." I stepped back toward the door.

  "Noble is your name, and Noble you are," she said, and she peered at my face real close like. "I know a thing or two about boys, the good ones and the ones too troubled to be good. I raised one of the good ones myself." She waved her hand in the direction of the fireplace mantel and the big picture of Isaac. "I've taught a great many boys, many of them good and some of the troubled ones too. Boys are the same, white or colored. I know a good boy when I see one, and you, Noble Chase, are undoubtedly one of the good ones. What, I am wondering, would make you think otherwise?"

  "It's nothing, I reckon," I said. "But it ain't easy deciding what's good and what ain't." I shrugged. "The world ain't a very good place as I see it, awful cold and hungry."

  "Are you hungry, child? Gracious! I should have asked already. I have a big piece of ham left over from my supper, and I baked bread yesterday." She moved toward her small icebox.

  "No." I took another backward step toward the door. "I ain't hungry a'tall. I just had me two big bowls of stew."

  "You're sure?"

  I nodded my head, turned, and reached for the door handle. "I'm awful sorry, Mrs. Mitchell," I muttered.

  "For what?"

  For a second I couldn't answer. I couldn't tell her what I done. Then I thought of something to say. "I keep forgetting and saying 'ain't,' and you asked me not to use the word. I'm awful sorry."

  She smiled at me. "It's all right. I've no doubt that you will learn, Noble. I've no doubt that you will grow up to be well educated."

  "I don't know, but thank you, ma'am." I stepped out into the night.

  "You will be good too," Mrs. Mitchell added. "Just as you are right now."

  I didn't have nothing to say, just let on like I didn't hear her and headed off into the cold night. When last winter was over, I told myself I wouldn't never use them black keys again, but I didn't throw them away, just stuck them way back on my shelf. Finally, in the spring Pa sold a calf, and Ma got the money hid away before he could drink it up. Now I was putting them keys in my pocket, thinking I might use them if I had to escape from Sheriff Leonard's place.

  "Come along, son," Ma called from the next room. "Dudley will be getting impatient."

  Dudley! So Ma had taken to using the sheriff's first name. What would be next? The idea made me sick, but the name made me smile. Dudley! I hadn't never heard his given name before. Dudley! That was awful close to Dud. That's what I'd call him in my mind and under my breath. Sheriff Leonard was a Dud of a man, well known for bullying poor people, especially the colored folks. No wonder Mrs. Mitchell warned me to be careful.

  I rolled my clothes into a bundle with my marble jar and horseshoe in the middle of it. Then I looked around one last time at the little room I'd always slept in. Ma waited near the front door. "Hurry," she said. "We can't be taking advantage of the sheriff's kindness."

  "We sure enough cannot, because there ain't no such thing as that man's kindness." I moved toward the door. "He'll expect to be repaid, Ma, and you know it as sure as I do."

  That made her as mad as a wet hen, and she whirled to look back at me. "Nobe," she said, but she got interrupted by a shout from outside.

  "Vivian, will you get that kid of yours out here! We got to get a move on. I ain't got all day to fritter away. I got law work to see to."

  Ma scurried for the door. "We're coming, Dudley, right this very minute."

  Sheriff Leonard had left the front-porch rocking chair. He set behind the steering wheel of his automobile, his door still open. The minute I set foot on the porch, Rex come running to me. I bent to stroke the dog's back. "Come on, boy," I said, "we've got to go for a ride."

  "Don't be thinking you'uns is bringing that mangy critter," the sheriff called.

  I froze there beside my dog. "Please, Ma," I begged, "I can't leave Rex."

  She looked at me, then back out toward the sheriff. She sighed. "Dudley," she called, "the dog means a powerful lot to the boy."

  The sheriff heaved his great bulk real quick like from the automobile. "You heard me, woman. I said the dog ain't going!"

  "Then don't be waiting for me." I got up, stepped off the porch, and headed toward the barn. Rex trotted beside me.

  "Suit your own self then," shouted the sheriff. "I wasn't crazy about having no scruffy kid like you around anyways, but don't be thinking as you'll hang around this house. Charlie Carson's likely done got plans to put his brother-in-law on the place."

  "Nobe, honey," Ma called, "be reasonable." I looked back to see her twisting her hands together. "The new folks will likely feed Rex," she said, "and you know yourself that dog will be happier right here than in town."

  Ignoring them both, I just kept walking. "Dudley, please," Ma said, "I can't leave the boy out here all alone with nothing."

  I didn't turn and look, so I never saw the sheriff take his gun from the holster he wore. I did hear my ma scream, but by then the bullet had found its target. Rex fell down to the ground. For a second, I was too addled to realize what had happened. Then I moaned and dropped down beside my dog.

  "Rex," I pleaded, "don't be dead. You can't be dead, boy." Rex did not move. His eyes stared straight ahead. I put my hand on Rex's side and felt no breath coming out of him. I could feel hot tears gathering up behind my eyes, but I fought them back. I would not cry! I just wouldn't! I hated them both, my ma just the same as the sheriff. I wouldn't never let either of them see me cry!

  Ma pulled on my arm. "I'm sorry, son, so sorry, but we're obliged to go."

  "I'm going to bury him, Ma. You can go on with the sheriff if you want to, or maybe 'Dudley' will just decide to shoot me too. Don't matter. I'm not leaving until I bury my dog." Without ever looking at her, I got up, went to the barn, and come back with a shovel.

  "Please, Dudley. The boy's been hurt a great lot." Ma's words carried to my ears as I carried Rex and the shovel toward the cottonwood tree. I hated the syrupy sweet tone in her voice, pleading with the man who just got done shooting my dog.

  Don't think about the sheriff now, I told myself. Hate was a bitter taste in my mouth, but I knowed I couldn't fight the man and his badge. There wouldn't be no way of beating him. Not now, but the day would come. It had to! That was the minute I started living for revenge! I put all my energy into digging the hole. When the grave was dug and Rex was covered, I went to the big black automobile. Ma and "Dudley" had been standing under the shade of an oak tree. They come and got into the car. It didn't surprise me none that Ma got up front with him.

  I crawled into the backseat. I didn't speak a word to either of them, and I didn't look back either. As the big automobile pulled away from the only home I had ever knowed, I just kept my eyes on one thing, the clenched fists I held in my lap.

  Chapter 3

  THE THREE-MILE RIDE into the town of Wekiwa did not take long. Sheriff Leonard drove fast, and even with the windows down, the smell of his cigar made me feel even sicker than I already was. Everything about the man made me sick, and I figured I'd better work at blocking out the conversation between him and my ma, else I might puke right there in his sheriff's automobile. I just kept repeating to myse
lf, I'll get revenge. Someday I'll make Mr. Dudley Leonard sorry he ever heard of Nobe Chase.

  We stopped in front of a large white house. I thought about how I'd seen the place a hundred times, but since I never had any notion I'd end up living there, I had never paid it any real mind. Things sure had changed. Now I leaned toward the side window, wanting to get a good look. There was big shade trees in the front yard and a swing on the big front porch. The house was trimmed in yellow and had yellow shutters at the windows. There was a white picket fence around the place.

  "It's beautiful," Ma said from the front seat. I thought so too. It didn't seem right, a man like the sheriff living in such a beautiful place. He come around to open the door for Ma and to take the box of things she held on her lap.

  "Come on inside," he said. "Mavis will be anxious to meet you two."

  I got out and followed with my bundle under my arm. I still kept my fists clenched tight. The screen door opened into a wide hall with shiny wood floors. The entire place smelled good. Then I seen why. A table stood beside the stairs, and on the table was a vase with white roses in it.

  "Mavis is up in her room," the sheriff explained. "She don't never come down unless I carry her. I'll take you there first. Then you can take your things on up to the third-floor bedrooms." I was following behind, and he turned back to me. "My wife ain't strong," he said. "She's not never to be troubled! Do you understand me? She'll be asking how you feel about living here, and you're fixing to tell her you're pleased as punch." He leaned back down the stairs to be close to me, and I could feel his hot breath on my face. "I've got me a leather whip my papa used to use on slaves back in Mississippi! It ain't been used much lately, but I been thinking of getting it out and practicing." He grabbed at my shirt. "You understanding me, boy?"

  I wanted to spit at him, but instead I nodded my head yes.

  "Speak up," he said, low and mean. "Don't be shaking your fool head at me. Say 'yes, sir' when I ask you a question."

  "Yes, sir," I said, and I swallowed back the vomit that come up into my throat.

  In the upstairs hall I seen an open door. "Is that you, Dudley?" a voice called from the room. "I'm so glad you are here!"

  "It's me, darlin'," the sheriff called. "I've brung Mrs. Chase and her son with me. They're just busting to meet you."

  "Wonderful," said the voice. "Bring them to me, please."

  I followed Ma and Sheriff Leonard into the room. In the middle of the room was a great big bed with four high posts. Spread out up high over the posts was a kind of lacy cover. For a minute I was so taken with looking that bed over that I forgot to look at the woman in it.

  Then I noticed her there in the middle of the bed, propped up against some big pillows. No wonder the sheriff could carry her downstairs. I never saw such a big bed or such a tiny woman. She held a hand mirror in front of her face. "Mercy," she said, "my hair's a fright today." She pushed at wisps of faded red hair until they went behind her ear. Then she put down the mirror and gave a nervous little laugh. "But that's no way to greet folks, is it?" She held her hand out to Ma.

  "How'd you do," Ma said. She took the hand and bowed over it slightly. "I'm Vivian Chase, and this here's my boy, Nobe." Ma reached back to pull me closer to the bed. "Say hello, son."

  "Hello," I said. The tiny woman smiled at me. There was something real warm and sweet about her smile. She smelled good too, and I could see a can of talcum powder on the table by the bed. If I could have, I would of smiled back at Mrs. Leonard, but I just didn't have no smiles inside me. I could feel her studying my face, real interested in what she saw there.

  "Mercy, you remind me of my younger brother." She leaned closer to me. "He was lots younger than me, just a baby when I left home, but my, how I loved him." She turned toward the sheriff. "You see the likeness, don't you, Dudley? This boy's so much like Joe."

  "Don't know as I do," said the sheriff.

  Mrs. Leonard waved her hand toward a framed picture on the wall. "That's Joe," she said.

  The young man had on a soldier's suit, and his nose and eyes reminded me of myself, except that he had a real happy look on his face, lots happier than I figured I had ever looked.

  "We lost Joe in the war. He died in France," she said softly. "Broke our hearts, didn't it, Dudley?"

  I glanced real quick at the sheriff. His lip turned down for just a second, and a flicker come to his eyes that looked even meaner than usual. He sort of shook his head fast, and he got a fake sad look on his face. "Sure did, sugar. Broke our hearts."

  I could see two things right then. Sheriff Dudley did not like his wife's younger brother, probably felt glad when he died. I could see too that the sheriff's wife was the boss in this house. I decided right then that it would be fun to watch that man hop when she said jump.

  "Your brother was a fine-looking young man," my mother said. "That picture does put a body in mind of Nobe." She shook her head. "It's a terrible shame he had to die that way."

  Mrs. Leonard smiled at Ma, then went back to looking at me, but she spoke to her husband. "Just look at this boy, Dudley," she said. "Surely you can see how like Joe he is."

  The sheriff sort of shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, now that I look close, I reckon you're right."

  Mrs. Leonard turned back to me. "Joe was always smiling, though, and you're a sad young thing," she said, and she shook her head. "Of course you are, burying your father just today." She patted my hand. "Well, we will just have to work at making you happy again, won't we, Dudley?" She turned to her husband who came to kiss her cheek.

  "That we will," the sheriff said, just the same as if he meant it. The easy way he lied didn't surprise me none, but it made a cold shiver crawl up my spine.

  My eyes traveled over to the sides of the bed. There was a case full of books, and books stacked on the floor too. One book laid facedown and open on Mrs. Leonard's lap. I could see it said Huckleberry Finn on the cover.

  I reckon Mrs. Leonard saw me looking at the books. "They fill my days," she said, holding up the book. "Do you like to read, Nobe?"

  "Can't very much," I said.

  Ma spoke up right quick. "He don't mean he can't read, just that his eyes are weak, won't hold up to much reading." She patted my shoulder. "Nobe's a smart boy, done real well on the county exam, he did."

  "Maybe he needs glasses." Mrs. Leonard leaned toward me and studied my face like she might figure out my eye problem by looking close. "We'll have to see what can be done about your eyes, Nobe."

  "Do you reckon we ought to let these folks get settled in their rooms now, darlin'?" the sheriff asked.

  "Oh, my mercy, yes," she said, "but Vivian"—She stopped and put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear, I forgot to ask if I may use your given name? Forgive me for being so bold."

  Ma stepped up closer to the bed. "Why, sure, you can call me Vivian," she said.

  "And you must call me Mavis." She clasped her hands together and put them against her thin face. "Oh, we are going to be so happy in this house now."

  Another shiver traveled up my spine. I figured I might as well get used to them shivers. This was a place bound to produce them.

  "You'uns follow me," said the sheriff. Me and Ma trotted after him out of the room and up another flight of stairs. "That one's yours, boy," he told me when we was at the top. "You'll be expected to work around here to pay for your keep, but Mavis doesn't want you to start until tomorrow. Says you ought to have the rest of the day off."

  I ducked into the small room, closed the door, and leaned against it, glad to shut out the sound of the conversation between Ma and the sheriff. I stared at the bare white walls, the cot, and the small corner table.

  I took my marble jar and horseshoe out of my bundle and put them on the table. There was a shelf in the corner, so I put my roll of clothes there. I kept the silver dollar in my pocket. It hadn't brought me no good luck so far, but I wanted to keep it close to me, to remind me of Cinda.

  Windows made up the walls o
n two sides of the room. I pushed back the curtains and looked down at the street below. A big lump come up in my throat. I was used to looking out at a barn and a pasture with sunflowers in it. Here I couldn't see nothing but town, almost the whole town of Wekiwa, Oklahoma. Right across from me was the post office, the jail, and Daisy's Café. I went to the last window in the row, and I could see the sidewalk for Hill's Grocery and Dry Goods Store just right of the sheriff's house. On the other side of Hill's was the blacksmith shop and the drugstore. Except for the Last Chance Baptist Church and the Wekiwa School, both off to the left of the sheriff's house, that was all there was to the town.

  I stayed there at the window for a while. Down the street I saw a boy I recognized from school. He come out of the grocery store, and he carried a box piled high with groceries. He put the box in a wagon parked in front of the sidewalk. Then he went back for another box. I watched him carry out three boxes. All the time my mind was working.

  Maybe living in town wouldn't be all bad. I started wondering if the chores Sheriff Leonard had in mind for me would take all day. It didn't seem likely there would be that much work around the place. There ought to be time for me to work somewhere else too. If I was to ask the sheriff, though, he'd most likely say no to the idea of me getting a job just to spite me.

  I opened my door and listened. No talking come from Ma's room. I wondered if she had gone back downstairs to Mrs. Leonard's room. Maybe I should go down there and talk to the sheriff's wife about getting a job. It was good, knowing that the sheriff did pretty much whatever his missus wanted done.

  The bedroom door was open. I could hear Ma's voice even before I got to the door. She was talking about me. "Oh, yes, he's a good boy, never gave us a minute's trouble." Her words took on a sad sound. "His pa was awful hard on him, though. You might of heard that Melvin was turned to the bottle." It was quiet then, and I knowed that Mrs. Leonard was talking in her soft way.