Trouble in July (12 page)

Clint shoved the man out of the way. Shep still had not said anything, but he had put his hand into his pocket and was drawing his knife.

“You must be hiding that nigger out somewhere for Jeff McCurtain,” Clint said. He turned and glanced swiftly at the men around him. “Any men who’ll turn a raping nigger over to the sheriff ain’t no better than a nigger himself.”

Shep snapped open the blade of his knife with a quick jerk of his fingers.

The men tried to draw Clint and Shep apart, but both of them fought off all efforts to keep them separated. They were facing each other at less than five paces.

Shep crouched a little, gripping his knife in his fist. Clint threw his hat on the ground and advanced on Shep in a circular direction.

All the men in the yard crowded as close as they could, knowing by then that it was useless to try to stop them until they had fought awhile. Everyone was so preoccupied in watching the two men that nobody noticed Grandpa Harris when he pushed through the ring of men and ran into the center of the circle. It was too late then to do anything, because the moment he got there, both Clint and Shep lunged forward. The impact knocked Grandpa Harris from his feet and sent him crashing to the ground.

“First Clint, and then Shep, backed away. They did not know what had happened, but Grandpa Harris had not moved since he struck the ground. The men crowded around Shep and Clint, drawing them apart. When they were on the opposite side of the yard from each other, some of the others lifted Grandpa Harris and carried him to the porch. He was stretched out on his back.

“What happened to Grandpa Harris?” Katy said excitedly, getting down beside him.

“He ran into the middle of it,” somebody said. “I reckon he was trying to stop it. He ain’t bleeding that I can see. He’ll come to in a little while and be all right. Anyway, old men like him ain’t got no business rushing into places like that. If one of them knives had struck him, he wouldn’t be here now.”

Both Clint and Shep were shouting, but they were being kept far enough apart to prevent either one of them from jumping on the other. The men were talking to them, trying to persuade them to give up their knives for the rest of the day.

“Grandpa Harris ran right past me,” Katy said excitedly, “but I didn’t know what he was going to do. I could’ve stopped him, I reckon.”

Somebody drew her away while the old man was being lifted from the porch. They carried him inside and laid him on a bed. Katy stayed with him for a few minutes, but she wanted to see the men in the yard, and she came back to the porch.

Clint shook off the men who were trying to hold him and went to his car. He got into it and drove off alone.

The crowd moved across the yard, following Shep to the porch. He sat down on the steps, muttering to himself.

“That was a shame about the old man, Shep,” somebody said. “But I reckon he’ll come to after a while. Looks like he would’ve had better sense than to go busting right into the middle of a fight like that, though.”

Shep did not answer.

“Who is that old codger, anyway?”

Shep shook his head.

“It was an accident, anyway. It would’ve happened to anybody who happened to get in the middle of you and Clint Huff.”

Shep got up, looked around for a moment, and went straight to the corner of the porch where he had left his shotgun when he came home.

He did not say anything as he hurried to his car. The men knew that the hunt was on.

K
ATY
B
ARLOW, FLUSHED
and breathless, was so mad she could spit.

Tossing her hair out of her eyes and brushing it back from her face, she drew her lips tightly against her teeth. She wished she could turn into a man so she could do it all the better.

She thought of all the different ways she could spit if she were a man. She would spit between her feet, and over her shoulder, and straight into the air. She would even spit at Leroy Luggit’s face.

Leroy, up there squat on the seat in the cab of the logging truck like a devil on a throne, grinned down at her mockingly. While she glared at him fiercely, stamping first one foot and then the other, Leroy raised his hand slowly and pushed the goggles up on his forehead.

White circles around his eyes looked at her as mockingly as the scoffing grin on his face. He wore goggles to keep the dust out of his eyes while he was hauling logs from Earnshaw Ridge to the sawmill down in the Oconee lowland. With his goggles pushed up on his forehead, Leroy looked as if he were jeering at her with four eyes instead of only two.

“I’m spitting mad, Leroy Luggit!” she cried at him, stamping her feet in the road.

He laughed at her, throwing back his head and slapping the steeringwheel with both hands.

“I’ve never been so spitting-mad before in all my life, Leroy Luggit!”

She could see no resemblance in him then to the man who had met her at Flowery Branch bridge only a short week before and had given her a large bag of orange-flavored gumdrops that he bought especially for her in Andrewjones.

Katy thrust one foot forward, placing it carefully on the step of the truck; then she leaned as close to Leroy as she could reach, and spat with all her might at his face.

Minute after minute went by while they stared each other in the eyes, but it seemed to Katy as if everything in the world had stopped. She was as surprised at herself as was Leroy at what had happened. She had never spat in a person’s face before in all her life. She had never even dreamed of doing a thing like that. It made her tremble to realize what she had done.

Slowly he began to wipe his face with his shirtsleeves, one arm passing over his face after another, while the skin up to the roots of his hair became scarlet and swollen with a rising surge of blood.

Katy made as if to spit at him again. Then she heard him shout at her as he jumped from the truck.

“You hell-cat you! You black-haired hell-cat, you!”

She moved backward towards the side of the road, spitting at him with each step she took.

“I told you I was mad, Leroy Luggit!” she screamed angrily. “Nobody’s got a right to talk to me like you did a little while ago! I won’t stand for it! Do you hear me, Leroy Luggit!”

She kept moving slowly backward, still spitting with almost every step she took.

Leroy glared at her with flaming anger. His scarlet-colored face was wet with perspiration which seemed to ooze from every pore in his skin.

“You may think you’re mad,” he said between gritted teeth, “but it’s nothing to what I am!”

“If you do anything to me, Leroy Luggit,” she said threateningly, “I’ll tell Papa on you.” She retreated guardedly. “I’ll tell him what you did to me at the bridge, too. You just wait and see if I don’t!”

“I ain’t scared of him or nobody else,” he said, sneering.

He continued to advance upon her step by step.

“I’ll tell everybody in the world on you!” she cried desperately. “I’ll tell Sheriff McCurtain and Judge Ben Allen and Mrs. Narcissa Calhoun!”

“No female is going to spit in my face and get away with it!” he shouted at her.

With a swiftness she did not know she was capable of, she reached down and scooped up a handful of dust. The dust was yellow and powdery, and she had trouble keeping it from flowing between her fingers. She gripped it with all her might.

Leroy swung his arms at his side threateningly. Katy’s grip on the dust tightened.

“You ain’t been raped,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. “Hell, no! You’re bragging! Or else you turned on that nigger boy because he wouldn’t lay out with you. You ain’t been raped, Katy Barlow.”

She spat at his face as hard as she could.

“You shut your mouth, Leroy Luggit!” she cried at him.

“They ought to do something to you for lying about it. Females like you ought to be beaten till you can’t see straight. I’ve got a good mind—”

He drew an arm across his face, wiping away the perspiration with his shirtsleeve.

“You’re nothing to be scared of, Leroy Luggit,” she said, trembling as she tried to hide her fright. “You can’t scare me with that kind of talk.”

“You’d better be scared,” he said, going towards her, “because I’m going to beat the life out of you.”

She waited alertly where she was, her eyes fixed on Leroy’s hands. He came closer, and when he was only four or five feet from her, and when she dared not wait any longer, she threw the handful of dust into his eyes and, turning, ran like a young fox through the patch of Jimson weeds beside the road.

As she ran she could hear him cursing her, but she did not dare look back over her shoulder until she felt she was a safe distance away. When she saw him standing in the road, she stopped and turned around. He stood where he had stopped in his tracks when the dust blinded him, digging at his eyes and cursing her at the top of his voice.

Katy shuddered as she looked at him. She knew he was angry enough to hurt her if he could have got his hands on her, and he was strong enough to do anything once he had her in his grasp. She was glad she had thought of scooping up a handful of dust and throwing it into his eyes. He might even have killed her right there in the road before he had finished. While she was thinking about it, she began walking slowly backward until there was an even greater distance between them.

While she watched him try to rub the dust from his eyes, the things he had said to her earlier, the things that had made her so angry, began coming back to her and reminding her of his scornful attitude. The words he had spoken rang in her ears maddeningly.

“Why don’t you stop being a slut and get yourself a man who’ll keep you, Katy?” he had said. She even remembered how he had looked when he said it. His face was solemn and earnest, but he had the manner of scorn about him. “I can’t afford to take chances with you any longer. I’d be a fool to drink water out of every tin can I found lying beside the road, anyway. That’s what I mean. You’re nothing but a cotton-field slut.”

The blood rose in her face as the words came back to her.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for letting people lynch a little nigger boy that’s as innocent as the day is long. If I thought you was telling the truth about it, I’d be out there with the rest of them tracking him down. Lynching would be too good for him, if there was any truth in it. But you don’t see me out there doing it, do you?”

She had believed for a long time that she and Leroy were going to be married. Only a few weeks before that they had talked about renting a vacant house on Earnshaw Ridge and buying some bedroom and dining-room furniture on weekly payments at the store in Andrewjones. They were afraid that her father would not give his consent, because she was so young, but they had several plans for running away to be married. At that very minute at home there was a dress she had been making secretly; keeping it hidden from her father in a cardboard box under her bed. The dress was only half finished, but in the bottom of the box there were six napkins she had cut and hemmed and two towels that she had embroidered. Wrapped up in a piece of cloth in one corner of the box was the money she had saved with which to buy muslin for their wedding sheet the next time she went to the store. Tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away in order to be able to watch Leroy.

She had waited for nearly two hours for him to come along the road. It was almost sundown when she finally heard the noise of his logging truck as it rumbled over the wooden bridge at Flowery Branch. Then she jumped up and stood in the middle of the road waving to him. She thought at the time that he looked glad to see her. She had almost cried with joy when he smiled at her.

“Hello, Katy,” he had said.

“Aren’t you going to get out, Leroy?” she had asked impatiently, wanting his arms around her.

He was silent then. It frightened her.

“Leroy!”

She smiled at him bravely, trying to hide the fear that had come over her.

That was when he had shaken his head, leaning back in his seat. He had scorned her.

She looked down the road at him now, digging at the stinging yellow dust in his eyes. He had torn off his goggles and thrown them away. He seemed to think she was somewhere near, because he was still shouting curses at her. “You’re nothing but a cotton-field slut,” he had said.

That was what had hurt her almost as much as being scorned. Her face felt hot and dry when she remembered it.

The sun was going down, looking as though it had suddenly grown tired after the long day. Towards the east the country was beginning to look cool and peaceful. There was a small dark cloud drifting towards the sun on the horizon. In a few moments the cloud began turning crimson and gold as the sun’s rays struck it. For an instant the whole western sky looked as if the world were on fire; then the sun sank out of sight, leaving the cloud dark and lifeless. The air moved a little, for the first time that day, and the branches on the trees swayed, rustling the heavy green leaves.

Katy had forgotten about Leroy momentarily. She turned quickly and saw him down the road fifty yards away. He had straightened up, and he was no longer cursing her. He watched her walk through the knee-high weeds and circle through the field towards the road.

She knew he was through with her. She could tell by the way she felt, by the way he had looked at her, by the way he had spoken to her, and by the way the air she breathed seared her parched throat. She was sorry she had allowed herself to hide beside the road and catch Sonny Clark when he walked past, that she had permitted Mrs. Narcissa Calhoun to spread a story of rape over the country, that she had stood on the front porch and exposed herself to the crowd of men in the front yard. Leroy knew the truth about all of it. That was why he had scorned her. He was through with her.

He was looking up the road at her then. She began walking backward away from him. Leroy slapped some of the dust out of his trousers and opened the door of his truck. He was still looking at her when he climbed inside.

After Leroy had gone, she began to feel alone. Before she knew it, she had begun to cry. Fighting her way to the side of the road, with cool streams of tears blowing over her burning skin, she reached out and grasped her arms full of weeds and bushes. She had to have something to hold onto. Then she sank to the ground, putting her face down against her knees, and wrapping her arms around her head. She had never felt so lonely before. She sobbed, wishing her mother were alive so she could go to her. She felt if she could lose herself in her mother’s arms she would be able to endure the pain that was so intense she could not keep from screaming. For a long time she cried brokenly, hugging herself with her arms, and tried to keep from thinking of the things she had made and kept in the scarlet-colored cardboard box under her bed.