Tulsa Burning Page 9

"Ma," I said, real tired and low. "He might die."

  She softened a little. "Now, I am right sorry to hear that. I wouldn't wish that kind of heartbreak on no mother."

  "I got to go now, and take Isaac home."

  I was almost to the door when Ma reached out her hand to grab my arm. "Be real quiet coming and going. I don't want Dudley to know you was mixing in with the coloreds. He don't see things like you do, and we got to live here."

  I looked at her for a minute before I answered. I thought about the fire and the awful smoke. I remembered the man on his knees begging for his life. I knew I wasn't never going to be the same after what I had just seen.

  "Yes, Ma," I said, " I'll be quiet. I know how the sheriff sees things, and I know we got to live here." I started out the door, and then I turned back. "But I'll tell you one thing more. I'm glad you've decided to help Mrs. Leonard, but still, I ain't living here long. I done promised myself that." I closed the door behind me and tiptoed down the stairs.

  On the second floor, I could hear Sheriff Leonard snoring. I stopped and listened for just a minute, hating him. It was different than yesterday. I thought about how I couldn't turn loose of the hating even if I had wanted to, but it sort of scared me too, thinking how hating was what caused all that burning over in Tulsa. It started to turn around in my head that hate was a killer, even when the person doing the hating was on the right side.

  Mrs. Mitchell's house was dark. She was in there, sleeping peaceful and not knowing what awful thing had happened. I was glad Lester was with me. He could go knock on the door and tell her, but that's not how he had made it up in his mind to happen.

  I got out and went back to them. Lester was getting out too, but he turned to me. "Go wake her up," he said.

  "Me?"

  "She'd rather hear it from you than from me. Besides, I don't know as she knows I am in these parts. The shock of seeing me would just confuse the news about Isaac. You tell her I'm out here before she sees me." I didn't move, and he gave me a little shove. "I said go."

  If he'd done that any other time, I'd have laid into him. "You ain't any better than Sheriff Leonard or them white people that hurt Isaac," I said, "you're all just alike." With a sad heart, I went up to pound on the back door. I saw a lantern light come on in the house.

  "I'm coming," she called.

  I knew she'd figure it was some colored person with a sick one at home, asking for her help. I stepped up close to an open window and said real loud, "It's me, Nobe. I got to talk to you."

  I should of told her then, I said to myself, got it over with before she come to the door, before I had to look in her face.

  "Let me throw on a dress," she said, and she didn't even sound rattled. She was used to trouble in the night, but the trouble usually belonged to some other poor soul. This trouble would be staying right here in Mrs. Mitchell's own little house, right along with all the flower beds and window boxes.

  When she opened the door, I didn't try to break it easy, just blurted out, "It's Isaac. He got hurt over in Tulsa."

  She didn't scream, just sucked in her breath real hard. "How? How's he hurt?" She leaned out around me, trying to see what I come in.

  "He got hit in the head, real hard. He ain't awake. The doc says it's a concussion of the brain."

  "He's unconscious? Oh, no! Where is he?"

  "He's out in the truck. Doc said he might as well be here with you." She started to step around me, going to the truck.

  "Wait a second, ma'am. I got something else to tell you. Isaac's pa, he's out there too. He wanted me to tell you."

  She made that surprised sound with her breath again, but she went right on out to the back of the truck.

  "Martha," Lester said when we got to the back.

  "Don't talk to me, Lester Cotton," she said. "You don't come around your son for years and years, and when you do, you get him hurt."

  I thought Lester would explode into how he didn't get Isaac hurt, but he didn't. He didn't say nothing to defend his-self, just said, "Let's get him into the house." He did something then that surprised me. He lifted Isaac up in his own arms.

  I didn't see how he could do that, being pretty scrawny and all. "Let me help you," I said, but he shook his head.

  "I can carry my boy," he said.

  Mrs. Mitchell ran ahead and pulled back the cover on the bed in Isaac's little room. I had been in that room before, but it looked different now, sort of lonely. It had nice flowered wallpaper. There was a desk with some books on it, and on the wall was a picture of an important-looking colored man in a suit. I never had asked who he was.

  After Lester laid Isaac down, he turned and walked out of the house. Didn't say a word to Mrs. Mitchell or to me. I stayed while Mrs. Mitchell washed Isaac's face, and I told her what the doctor had said about the drops of water. Then I told her that if there wasn't anything I could do to help, I'd be going on my way.

  On the way out, I thought about explaining that Lester didn't get Isaac into trouble. I stopped at the door and opened my mouth, but I didn't know how to say what I wanted to say. Instead I said, "Who's that in the picture?"

  "Booker T. Washington," she said, but she didn't look up, just kept wiping at Isaac's face. "He was an educator and a leader of our people." Her voice got real sad, and she said, "Isaac always looked up to him."

  Truth be told, I wasn't much interested right then in Mr. Booker T Washington, but I was stalling for time. "Is he dead now?" I asked.

  "Yes, Booker T Washington is dead," she said, and she sort of moaned.

  "There's something else, Mrs. Mitchell, ma'am, something else I got to say to you."

  She looked up at me then. "Say it, Noble."

  I took a deep breath and started. "Well, Lester, he didn't get Isaac into any trouble. There was terrible trouble between colored people and white people in Tulsa. Preacher Jackson saw it all start. He saw Isaac get hurt, but he didn't see him after. The preacher come into Daisy's and told us about it. I borrowed his truck, and Lester went along to help. He sure was a help, got a guard to chase him so I could take Isaac to the truck. He took lots of chances, him being colored and all. He could have got killed. There was a lot of colored folks killed and the whole colored section burned."

  She nodded her head. "I was wrong," she said, "and I will apologize to Mr. Cotton. However, you shouldn't trouble yourself over his being unjustly accused. Mr. Lester Cotton is far from an innocent man in the great scheme of things."

  "Yes, ma'am," I said, and I went on out. When the lights from the truck hit the side of the house, I saw Lester. He had taken a chair from Mrs. Mitchell's front porch. He was setting in it, leaned back against the wall, right under Isaac's window. I figured he'd set there until daylight, and I wondered if he'd sing.

  On the trip back to the sheriff's, I kept thinking about how Isaac and me met up the first time. It was before I started selling milk to Mrs. Mitchell. I was pretty little, maybe eight or nine, and Pa had just given me a licking with his belt. I had places on my back that were still bleeding and stinging something awful.

  I went down to the creek, took off my overalls, and got in the water, even though it was just spring, and the water was still cold. I had climbed out and put back on my overalls. I was setting on a rock in the sun, trying to make my teeth quit chattering, when Isaac showed up.

  He had walked up behind me without me knowing it until he said, "Hello." I whirled around to look at him, standing there with a fishing pole in his hand and a big smile on his face.

  I must have kind of jumped when he spoke to me, because he said, "Don't be afraid. I won't eat you or anything."

  "I ain't scared," I said, sort of tough like. "I ain't scared of nothing."

  "Wow," said Isaac, "is that right? You're a lot braver than I am. I'm scared of lots of things." He laid his pole on the grass and set right down on the big rock beside me.

  Isaac had just finished high school, and he was fixing to go to college somewhere off in another state, but he told m
e that his mother had just moved in down the road to be the new teacher at the colored school, and that he was spending some time with her.

  Isaac made me laugh with a funny story about a bear named Fuzzy Wass He, and then he asked me what happened to my back.

  At first I didn't want to tell him, but he had such a kind face. "My pa used a belt to give me a licking," I said.

  A sort of angry look came to Isaac's face, and he said, "He shouldn't be allowed to do that."

  I shrugged. "I reckon pas can do whatever they've a mind to with their own young'uns."

  "I'm afraid you're right," he said, "but it shouldn't be that way. What does your mother say when he beats you?"

  "Ma don't say much to hinder what Pa sets his mind to," I said.

  Isaac just shook his head. "Say," he said, "is this a good fishing place?"

  "Never tried it," I said. "Don't know how to fish."

  "Well," said Isaac, "it's time you learned."

  We fished all afternoon. Mostly I held the pole, with Isaac giving me instructions. We caught three good-size fish and one little one.

  "We'll put this little guy back," Isaac said. "Let him grow."

  It come to me just at that minute, watching Isaac slip that fish off the hook, that here was a fellow that would always be kind to little critters and little people. He had the kindest big brown eyes that I had ever seen. I knew Pa always said you couldn't trust a colored person, and Isaac was the first one I'd ever talked to. I was old enough, though, to know that Pa was wrong about lots of things.

  Isaac gave me the fish we caught, and he gave me the fishing pole. I was real proud to take the fish home for Ma to cook. I told Ma and Pa that I had met a fellow at the creek who helped me catch the fish, but I didn't tell them the fellow was colored.

  All that spring, I'd slip out and meet Isaac at the creek for fishing. Sometimes we'd go to his house. He taught me how to play baseball and marbles. I got so good at marbles that I could beat him fair and square. Isaac would always laugh when I beat him and say, "I taught you too well."

  After Isaac taught me to play, I won lots of marbles from the boys at school. I liked to look at them because they reminded me of Isaac.

  Before too long, Isaac had to leave for college. I walked out to the main road with him to wait for the bus. "Why do colored folks always set in the back of the bus?" I asked him.

  "Because that's the law the white men made. It isn't right, but it will change some day." He reached down and put his hand on my head. "Lots of things in life aren't right, Nobe, but most things get better with time."

  I remember that when Isaac got on that bus, I felt so lonesome, lots more lonesome than I had ever felt before. I stood and waved at the bus until it disappeared in the dust.

  That's how I got to know Mrs. Mitchell, by going over there with Isaac to eat. She started right from the beginning to call me Noble instead of Nobe.

  Ma found out somehow about me spending so much time with Isaac and his mother. She didn't like it much, but she didn't tell Pa. Ma never did anything to stop Pa when he beat me, but she'd spare me if she could. Sometimes after I got back from eating with the Mitchells, Ma would ask me what we had. She'd want to know too what kind of dishes we used, what the furniture looked like, and how things was arranged.

  Ma was real interested when I talked about things like Mrs. Mitchell's flowers or the nice starched tablecloth on the table. She never had heard of colored folks having nice things. She didn't think it was right, but she wanted to hear about it anyway.

  I stopped the truck in front of the drive to our old place. No one had moved in there yet, so I drove up in front of the old house. The moon was big and round in the sky, and it put a sort of soft light all over. Things looked pretty good in that light. I knowed if I looked real close all around that I would see that little fellow, the one with yellow hair and quick blue eyes that were always on the lookout to see if he could keep from getting hit.

  I knew I could see Pa out there beside the barn too, but I didn't look. I just set there in that truck, and I prayed. "God," I said, "don't let Isaac die. I reckon he's the truest kind of Christian there is. If you let him die, don't expect to be hearing from me again, because I just won't have no use for you if you let that happen." Then I thought to say, "In the name of Jesus," like the preacher does in church, before I said, "amen." I felt real glad about adding that part about in the name of Jesus, because from what I heard about Jesus, I figured Isaac was more like him than any other man I had ever met.

  Chapter 8

  I SLEPT LATE the next morning. When I started down the stairs, I could hear Ma and Mrs. Leonard on the second floor. Ma was helping Mrs. Leonard practice her walking, and I stopped to see if they needed a hand.

  They were outside the bedroom door, Mrs. Leonard close to the wall and holding tight to Ma. "You're doing so good, Mavis," Ma said. Then she looked up to see me. "Oh, Nobe, there you are. I saved some breakfast for you on the back of the stove."

  Mrs. Leonard leaned against the wall and looked at me. "Mercy," she said, "when I look at you, I almost call you Joe."

  "I hope seeing me don't make you sad," I said.

  "Mercy, no." She smiled. "It's a blessing, a pure blessing, to lay eyes on you."

  "Ma," I said, "I aim to go out to the Mitchells' after I'm finished working. I sure am anxious to hear about Isaac."

  Mrs. Leonard was moving again, and Ma held tight to her arm. "I was just telling Mavis about you driving to Tulsa last night to help that boy." She smiled at me, kind of embarassed, like she wanted me to know she was sorry for fussing at me. "Mavis thinks it was a real brave thing for you to do."

  "I do," said Mrs. Leonard. She let go of Ma's arm and reached out to take mine. "What's right is right, and I told your mother she ought to be real proud of you for seeing what had to be done."

  "Thank you, ma'am," I said, and I helped Ma get her back to bed.

  "You're a deal stronger than you was at first," Ma told her while she fluffed up the pillow. Just then we heard the sheriff on the stairs.

  "Vivian," he shouted. "Where's that boy of yours?"

  "We're all in here," Mavis called.

  The sheriff's big form filled the doorway. His face was red, and I knew he was mad. "I've got plans for you today," he said. "You can whitewash the fence, keep you out of trouble."

  "I got to be at the Café before long," I said. "I'll do the fence tomorrow."

  "You'll do it when you get off." The sheriff folded his arms across his chest and glared at me.

  "Dudley," said Mrs. Leonard, "the fence can wait. I'm sending Nobe on an errand for me after he gets off work." Ma's hand was still on the pillow. I saw Mrs. Leonard reach over and give Ma's hand a quick squeeze.

  I stood real still, wondering what would happen when the sheriff demanded to know what errand I was going to do, but he didn't ask, just let his breath out in a sort of sigh.

  "Well, tomorrow, then. I don't want you with time on your hands and hanging out with coloreds."

  "Dudley, I wish you wouldn't be so pigheaded," said his wife. "But you don't have to worry about this boy. He knows what's right."

  The sheriff looked at her real close, like he was trying to figure out if she was making fun of him. I stared down at the floor, so as I wouldn't grin.

  "Nobe," Ma said, "you ought to go down and eat your breakfast."

  I was glad to have a reason to get away from the sheriff. I slid past him and down the stairs, but I heard his heavy steps behind me. I got the plate from the back of the stove where Ma had put it to keep the biscuits and gravy warm.

  The sheriff came into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove, then settled at the little kitchen table.

  "Sheriff," I said, real sweet like, "ain't it likely the whole town is running amok without you to watch it?"

  "Don't get smart with me, boy. Set yourself down here to eat," the sheriff said. "I come home special to talk to you."

  I lost my appetit
e when he said that, but I did like he said. I took a bite while I waited for him to talk. "I want to know what's going on with that colored kid," he said.

  "Isaac Mitchell?"

  He grunted and nodded his head. "Heard you went up to Tulsa to bring him home last night."

  It was my turn to nod.

  "Well," he said. "What's going on?"

  "Isaac's hurt. He's unconscious, or at least he was last night. He's at his mother's. That's all I know."

  He grunted again, and he stood up. "You see here, I won't put up with no trouble out of the coloreds in this town. You might just pass that on to your darky friends!"

  "I don't think Isaac's got starting any trouble on his mind. He sure didn't look like it last night, unconscious in his bed."

  "You just pass on what I said. Hear?" He stood up.

  I nodded and bolted away from the table and through the back door. "Nobe," my mother yelled out from upstairs, "you didn't eat your breakfast." I didn't look back in her direction.

  It was too early for me to go to work, but I went on over to the Café anyway. I was mostly hoping Lester would be there and that I could find out about Isaac.

  Lester wasn't there. "He comes in at eleven today," Daisy told me. She had lots of questions about the Tulsa trip, but I gave her pretty short answers. I guess I just wasn't much interested in a discussion, and I sure didn't want to let on about Lester being Isaac's pa. I went on back in the kitchen

  Lida Rose was in there, and she had on a new red dress. She jumped up from her chair so I could see it well. "Mama ordered it for me from the Sears catalog," she said, "but they've got a little red hat that would just go with it over in Hill's window. Ain't that lucky? Mama might buy the hat for me too."

  "You look mighty pretty," I told her, and she did. She was the prettiest little girl I'd ever seen in that new red dress! She went back to playing with paper dolls.

  "This is the little girl," she said, holding up a small doll. "She is an only child like me, but she hopes her mama and daddy will get her a baby brother or sister for a surprise."

  "What's her name?" I asked.