The Butterfly (4 page)

"He was right."

Then we began to talk, and I tried to tell her how it scared me, that I had almost killed a man. "And you, don't it shame you, you were making up to two men tonight, within ten minutes of each other?"

"What's to be ashamed of?"

"It's blood."

"Listen, if I hear any more of this Morgan stuff —

"I tell you, it's in-breeding. It's what we both got to be afraid of. It's in us, and we ought to be fighting it. And stead of that —

"Yeah, tell me."

"We're not."

"Well say, that's terrible."

"Shining, shooting, and shivareeing their kin, that's what they say of people that live too long on one creek. I thought I was too good for that. But today, right up in that mine, I ran off five gallons of liquor that's against the law. This evening I almost killed a man."

"And tonight you'd like to have me."

"Stop talking like that!"

"What were you shooting him for?"

"You ought to know."

"You must be loving me plenty."

"I told you, quit that!"

"Have a drink with me?"

"No!"

"How about
you
going to reform school?"

One night when I got through the run I took a walk up the creek, and when I came to the church I kept on up the hollow, and pretty soon sat down by a tree and tried to think. We had had some trouble that day. Now the money was coming in she kept buying clothes, blue and yellow and green dresses, and red coats, and hats with ribbons hanging down the side, and every night we'd drive in town to the White Horse, and they wouldn't serve her liquor any more but we'd have some Cokes, and then she'd dance and carry on with whoever was there, and then I'd take her home. But in the daytime she got sloppier and sloppier, and one day when it got hot she took off her shoes. And this day she said it was so hot by the still she couldn't stand it, and slipped off her dress so she was in nothing but underwear and hardly any of that, and began dancing to the radio, swaying with the music with one hand on her hip and looking me in the eye. Well, in the first place, in a coal mine it's the same temperature all the year round, and that little bit of fire I had in there, what with the ventilation we had, didn't make any difference at all. So we had an argument about it, and I made her put her clothes on and cut off the music. Then she said: "Jess, did it ever strike you funny, one thing about this place?"

"What's that?"

"If a woman was attacked in here, there's nothing at all she could do about it."

"Couldn't she bite? Or kick? Or scratch?"

"What good would it do her?"

"Might help quite a lot."

"Not if the man was at all strong. She could scream her head off, and not one person on earth would hear her. I've often thought about it."

I made her get out of there and go down to the cabin and catch up on some of the work. But I was hanging on by my teeth by that time, and I was a lot nearer giving up the fight, and going along with her on whatever she felt like doing, even getting drunk, than I wanted her to know. That was when I took this walk up the creek, and past the church, and through Tulip, trying to get control of myself, and maybe pray a little, for some more strength.

And then, from up among the trees, I heard something that sounded like a wail. Then here it came again, closer. Then I could make out it was a man, calling somebody named Danny. And then all of a sudden a prickle went up my back, because I knew that voice, from the million times I had heard it at the company store and around the camp and in my own home. It was Moke, but he wasn't singing comical stuff to a banjo now. He was scared to death, and slobbering at the mouth as he called, and in between moaning and whispering to himself. He went stumbling along to his cabin, and I followed along after him, and watched while he stood in the door, a candle in his hand, and called some more. Then when he went inside I crept up and peeped through a chink in the logs. He was a little man, but I never saw him look so little as he looked now. He was sitting on the clay floor, in one corner, the banjo leaning against the wall beside him, his head on his arms, and shaking with sobs so bad you thought they were going to tear him apart.

I was shook up plenty myself, because if there was one person in this world I hated it was him, and after all Kady had said, and all I knew from before, I couldn't help wondering what he was doing here, and I knew it had to be something that meant me. So I could feel some connection when I came to my cabin, and from the back room I could hear a baby crying. I went inside, and at the sound of the door, a woman called to know if it was Kady. I said it was Kady's father. She came out then, and from the tall, thin shape she had, and the look of her face and color of her eyes, I knew she was a Tyler. "I think you're my girl Jane."

"And you're my father."

We shook hands, and I patted her hand, and then we sat down, and both of us wanted to give each other a kiss but were too bashful. "Can I call you Father?"

"I don't mind."

"I used to call you Pappy."

"You remember that?"

"I remember a lot, and how sweet you was to me, and how much I loved you, and how tall you was."

"Why not call me Jess?"

"Isn't that fresh?"

"Kady does, but of course she
is
fresh."

"It's so wonderful about her."

"...What about her?"

"Everything."

She looked down at the floor, and you could see she was awful happy about something, and then she said: "You know about Danny?"

"Who's Danny?"

"Didn't she tell you?"

"Is that Danny in there crying?"

"He won't cry after he's fed. Kady took the truck and ran into town for a lot of things he's got to have, because all you've got here, that he can have, is milk. But she'll be back soon. And as soon as he gets a little something in his stomach he'll be sweeter than sugar."

"What's Moke got to do with him?"

"Have you see Moke?"

I told her what had gone on in the hollow, and she doubled up her fists and said: "I hope I don't see him. I might kill him."

"Hey, hey, none of that kind of talk."

"Moke took Danny."

"First my wife, then my grandson."

"Say that again, Jess."

"He is, isn't he?"

"I wasn't sure you'd remember it."

"I don't forget much."

"What Moke did, and how today I caught up with him, that's part of what's so wonderful. Last week, on account of Kady being gone and my mother not much caring one way or the other, little Danny was mine, and it was heavenly, because maybe I'll never get married, but still I had one of my own. Then when I came home from the store one day he was gone, and Moke was gone, and I went almost crazy, but I knew it had to be Moke that took him, because he was so crazy about him."

"Moke loves somebody?"

"Oh, he gets lonely too. And there I was, fit to be tied. Because Kady, that was my whole life before, was gone I had no idea where, and now with Danny stolen it was more than I could stand. But my mother said if Moke took him, he had to have some place to bring him to, and he still had his shack up in the hollow, and maybe it was there. So she drew it out for me how to get there, and I took the bus over from Blount, and even before I got to it I could hear Danny laughing and Moke playing to him on the banjo. So I wasn't going to take any chance on a fight with Moke. Maybe he wouldn't let me have Danny, but then he'd know I was around, and might run off again, somewhere else. So he said something to Danny about a drink, but I noticed there was no well out back."

"He gets water from a neighbor."

"I thought he might, and right away he came out with a pail and started across the clearing. I went in and grabbed Danny and ran down the path, and when I got to the road I made a man with a wagon give me a ride, because he said he was going as far as the bus line. But then, as we passed this cabin,
who should I see but Kady put back, hanging out clothes!
Jess, I jumped down, and ran over to her, and I wasn't crazy any more, I was the happiest person on earth, because I had my two darlings back, my little baby, and my sister that I'd loved ever since I could remember."

"How does Kady feel about it?"

"She loves it."

I didn't love it, and if Kady did, that wasn't how she told it to me, the last time she had mentioned Danny. But when she came in with the stuff she'd bought, her eyes were like stars, and she went in the back room with Jane without even a hello to me. I sat there trying to tell myself it was all right, it was just what I'd been praying for. If she could love her child, and stop all this drinking and dancing and carrying on, it was the best thing all around, and I could get some peace from her, and not be teased into having thoughts about her that made me so ashamed I hated to own up to myself they were there. It didn't do me any good. If she'd had a child, and she hated it, that squared it up, and I didn't have to remember it. But if she didn't hate him, it was between me and her, and would be, always. I sat there, while out back Jane explained how to mix this and how to cook that, and pretty soon they began feeding the baby, and his crying stopped and Jane began talking to him and telling him how pretty he was, and all of a sudden Kady was sitting beside me and picking up my hand.

"Want to see my baby, Jess?"

"I guess not."

"He's a pretty baby."

"So I hear."

"And he's your grandson."

"I know."

"It would make me happy, Jess."

"It wouldn't me."

"Then if that's how you feel about it, I won't try to change you. I'll take him away. There's a reason I can't go back to Blount just yet, but he and Jane and I can stay in a hotel at Carbon and you won't be bothered."

"I didn't ask you to leave."

"If my baby's not welcome, I'm not."

"You've changed a lot, that's all I can say."

"Didn't Jane tell you why?"

"Not that I know of."

"Didn't she tell you why Moke took him?"

"She said he was lonesome."

"He loved Danny, and specially after the way Belle began fighting with him, just before I left. He was crazy about him, and then when he found out he was to be taken away, he went off with him."

"Who was going to take him away?"

"Jane ran into Wash."

"The father?"

"Yes."

"Or it might be shorter just to say rat."

"He's no rat."

"He skipped like a rat."

"His father made him. And then, a week ago, Jane ran into him on the street, in Blount. And he asked about me, and Danny, and was friendly, and pretty soon Jane came right out with it and asked why he didn't marry me, and give his little boy a name, and stop being —

"A rat."

"Anyway, Jess, what he said was wonderful."

"What was it he said?"

"He said he was always going to, soon as he was twenty-one, whether his family liked it or not. He's only twenty, Jess, one year older than I am. But now, he said they would give their consent too, before he was twenty-one. Because an awful thing happened to them. His sister, the one that married into the coal family in Philadelphia, had to have an operation, and now she can't have any children any more. And now they know if they're to have grandchildren, it's got to be through Wash. And now they feel different about Danny. And so do I. I'm so ashamed how I treated him before."

"Well, it's all fine."

"Are you glad at all, Jess?"

"To me, a rat's a rat."

"Not even for my sake you don't feel glad?"

"I rather not say."

Tears came in her eyes and she sat there making little creases in her dress. It wasn't one of those she'd been buying, but a quiet little blue one, that made her look smaller and younger and sweeter. I said she should stay on till it suited her to go and I'd go to Carbon, but she said she'd go, and I hated it, the way I was acting, and yet I couldn't help how I felt. And then Jane was there, putting something in my lap, and looking up at me was the cutest little child I ever saw, all pink and soft and warm, with nothing on him but a clean white diaper. Kady reached over to take him, but I grabbed him and went over to one of the settles by the fire and sat there and held him close. And for a long time something kept stabbing into my heart, and I'd look at him and feel so glad he was partly mine that I wanted to sing. His diaper slipped down a little and I almost died when I saw a brown bug on his stomach, or what I thought was a brown bug, just below the navel. I reached for it with my fingers, but Jane laughed.

"That's his birthmark."

"I thought it was some kind of a moth."

"It's his butterfly."

"It almost scared me to death."

They went in the back room with him again, but I called Kady out. "I take it back, everything I said. He's so sweet I could eat him."

"But if you'd rather I went —

"I couldn't stand it if you did."

"I can understand how you feel."

"But I don't! Not any more. It's all gone, the devilment that's been in me, and the onriness, and all what I've been thinking about. I want you to be happy. And if the boy wants to marry you, he's not any rat, and I want you to have him."

"I'm so glad, Jess."

"Me too."

"I want to be your little girl."

"And I want to be your pappy."

"Kiss me."

I kissed her, and she kissed me back, and it wasn't like those hot kisses we'd been having, but cool and sweet like the kiss Danny gave me just before they took him away.

Why she couldn't go to Blount right away she didn't tell me till one day when all four of us were sitting out under the trees and I spotted a big car coming up the creek from the state road. Then she owned up she had wired the boy, and yet she wasn't going back till he came and got her. So she and Jane ran in the house with Danny to get slicked up and in another minute there he was, kind of a tall, dark boy in slacks and blue shirt. He didn't put on any airs with me at all, but shook hands quick, and went around the cabin looking at it, and said it was just like the one his uncle had on Paint Creek, where he used to spend part of every summer. So then it turned out his father had got himself a mine, but his family were mountain people, like us. So that went with his bony look, and made me feel still better about him. Then when Kady came out and he took her in his arms, I had to begin fooling around with my shoe for fear they'd see the tears in my eyes. Then when he saw Danny for the first time in his life, in Jane's arms laughing and trying to talk as she brought him out, he went over and bent over and looked and bent down and called him old-timer and shook hands just like it was somebody he was being introduced to and could say something. Then he tried to brush off the butterfly, just like I had, and we all laughed and had some Coca-Cola and were friendly. But when they went in to get supper he said he'd have to leave for a little while. "If you're going back to town, I'll ride along with you. There's some things I ought to get."