Tulsa Burning (13 page)

The sheriff dropped his hands away from my arms. "Mavis, darlin'," he said, "let me help you back to bed." He went up the
stairs fast.

I watched them moving back into her bedroom, then I run up the stairs too. I wasn't going to leave that house without my things,
especially my horseshoe and my marbles. Ma come into my room while I was rolling my clothes around the marble jar.

"Where you going, son?" she said real sad like.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Don't know yet."

"Nobe," she said, "this could have been a good place for us. Why couldn't you just behave?" She stepped toward me, but I moved
around her toward the door.

"Ma," I said, "that man tried to have Isaac Mitchell lynched tonight. Isaac couldn't help what happened to Lida Rose."

She shook her head. "Dudley says the boy was driving fast and crazy, said he laughed about what happened. That little girl
was his niece, his sister's child. Maybe Dudley done wrong, but son, a body can't blame him."

"This body can," I told her. "I was there, Ma, in the car with Isaac. He was driving fine, and Lida Rose run out in front
of him. Isaac sure wasn't doing no laughing, either. What you said makes me want to laugh, though. You think that man cared
a whit about that little girl? He just hates all colored people." I went out the door then. I turned back for just a second.
"Good-bye, Ma," I said.

"Wait," she begged, but I didn't, just ran down the stairs and out of the house.

That night I slept on the seat of the preacher's old truck, curled up with my head on my bundle of belongings. In the morning
I climbed out with the first light, and I went out to the edge of town to the little creek there. I was dirty and smelling
from all the sweat and smoke the night before, so I took off my overalls and got in the creek. I ducked down under the water
and come up clean and shivering on account of the air is still pretty cool first thing in the morning in early June. I dripped
dry, put on my clean clothes, and stashed all my things under a bush.

I put on my best black pants and my best shirt. I hadn't had them on since we buried Pa, but I figured it was time to wear
them again. I was fixing to go to the cemetery to watch them put little Lida Rose in the ground. I had me some time to kill,
so I just set there on a rock and watched the water moving real slow in that little creek. I wondered where the water was
going, and I wondered where I was going.

At first hunger was a starving critter gnawing at my insides. I hadn't had anything to eat since the beans at noon the day
before. After a while, though, I quit noticing the hunger pains on account of the aching in my heart. I just did not see how
I was going to stand what was about to happen. How could I watch them put that little girl down into the dark ground?

I went out to the cemetery what I knowed was way early, but I didn't have no watch and didn't want to take no chance of being
late. I was standing under a cottonwood tree near the fence when the first automobile arrived. It was Mrs. Mitchell.

I run out to her. "Isaac? Is he still in jail?" she called out before I could even get close.

"No, he's all right," I yelled. When I got close, I told her the whole story.

She was still setting in the car, and she leaned her head down on the steering wheel. "God bless you, child," she said. Then
she raised her head and looked me right in the eye. "No," she corrected herself, "you are no child. You are a man." I don't
expect to ever feel prouder or better deep down inside than I felt right at that minute, not ever again.

Other folks was coming by that time, some in wagons and some in automobiles. I guess just about every person in Wekiwa, Oklahoma,
and the surrounding territory drove down the road to that cemetery that June day. Mrs. Mitchell and me stood under that cottonwood
tree and watched them come. "I won't go close," Mrs. Mitchell told me. "I don't want to pain the parents."

I started to tell her that Daisy and Sim wasn't blaming Isaac none, but I didn't say so. I figured it would be better just
to wait and see what happened. Other colored folks did come, and stood back away a space from the whites.

When Cinda and her folks come, she came over to stand by me. "Nobe," was all she said, but she reached over and she took hold
of my hand. We was standing there, hand in hand, when the preacher come. His wife walked beside him, and the kids was right
behind.

The preacher stopped, put out his hand, and squeezed my shoulder. I figured he'd heard somehow why I had borrowed his truck
the night before. When the preacher's oldest girl, Mildred, walked by, she slowed way down and looked at me and Cinda. "I
thought you said he wasn't your beau," she said.

"I reckon I was wrong," Cinda said. "I'd be tickled pink to say Nobe Chase is sure enough my beau if he'll have me."

My face got hot, and I figured it was red, but I didn't care. I looked right at Cinda, and I felt myself smiling real big.
The smile vanished when Daisy and Sim come. They was right behind Roscoe Jones's furniture truck, and I knew Lida Rose was
in a box in that truck. The whole place got quiet, watching Daisy and Sim get out and start toward the empty grave where everyone
waited.

Some folks looked at them, real sad. Others closed their eyes and bowed their head.

I noticed Mrs. Mitchell was looking, and so I did too. Just when Daisy and Sim got close to us, I heard Mrs. Mitchell whisper
sort of loud, "I'm so sorry. Isaac and I are so awful sorry."

Daisy stopped walking then, and she dropped Sim's arm. She moved over to Mrs. Mitchell. "Come with us," she said, and she
pulled at Mrs. Mitchell's arm until she moved between Daisy and Sim. They walked that way to the grave, Mrs. Mitchell between
them two heartbroke people, and them holding her hands.

Tears started running down my face, and I didn't even try to wipe them away. I just followed after them, with Cinda still
holding my hand. I looked around at the people then. I hadn't seen Sheriff Leonard, his wife, and my ma come into the cemetery,
but they was there. Mrs. Leonard was in a big wooden chair with wheels on it like crippled folks ride in. I figured they must
have drove in the big gate on the other side, and sure enough the black automobile saying "Sheriff' was there.

I looked at the motorcar and at the sheriff, and I waited. I waited for that old familiar feeling of hate to fill me up. That's
the man that killed old Rex, I told myself. He's the selfsame man that plotted to get Isaac hung. He ain't got one decent
bone in that puffed-up body. I just stood there thinking all the bad thoughts I could about the sheriff, and I waited for
the hate to come.

It didn't come, and I was just plumb flabbergasted. What was happening to me? I felt tired and sad, just too tired and sad
to have anything left inside me for hating.

The preacher started to speak. "Friends, we're here today to lay a precious child to rest." Just then he got interrupted.

"Preacher," Daisy said, "I got something that's burning to be said." I could feel that crowd holding their breaths, listening.
"It's about Isaac Mitchell." She leaned her head in Mrs. Mitchell's direction. "Most of you know this is Isaac's mother, Martha.
Well, I want all of you to hear me say that young man did not do one thing to cause the death of our baby. I seen the whole
thing, standing in the door to my Café. Lida Rose run right out in front of him. There's not a person here, including mighty
Sheriff Leonard, who could have done anything different from what Isaac done. I don't want any more talk about punishing him.
He's hurting enough. Let's just have peace!" She did start to cry then, but she got out one more word, "Please."

The preacher opened his Bible. "There's nothing better for me to say than what this woman has just said." He did say something
though, and he read from the Bible. I wasn't listening on account of I was too busy starting to understand what was happening
inside me. I looked back at the sheriff, and sure enough, I knew I was done hating him.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Sheriff Leonard wasn't never going to be a person I liked, and I sure planned to keep my eye on him.
But I wasn't going to waste no more time or energy on hating him or trying to get even. Maybe I was just too tuckered out,
or maybe it was Daisy and Sim walking with Mrs. Mitchell between them that sort of broke my heart and let the hate seep out.
Maybe it was a little of both.

When the preacher used the shovel to get the first dirt, I caught Cinda's eye. She looked at me like she knew what I was thinking.
What I was thinking was that I was glad I didn't have to use that shovel to cover over the grave of Lida Rose Harrison, who
had made me her pretend brother. I decided right there that if I ever had me a little daughter, I would name her Lida Rose.

Folks started walking away then. Wasn't nobody making much noise, just talking real soft to one another. I saw Widow Carter
and Oily. I left Cinda and went over to them. "Mrs. Carter, ma'am," I said. "I been wondering if maybe you might take me on
to work on the place." I got sort of nervous then, and I stopped to get a big breath. "I'd be hoping to go back to school
in the fall, but I could still work before and after and all this summer."

"I expect you'd be good help," she said.

Her saying that gave me courage to go on. "Well," I said, "the thing is, I'd be needing a place to board too. Sheriff Leonard's
throwed me out, not that I could stay there anymore anyways."

"We've got plenty of room." It was Oily speaking up, just like a regular person, and he was smiling.

The widow smiled too. "You'd be good company," she said. "Your mother too. I asked her before, but she told me things was
settled with the Leonards."

"Well," I said, "things are sure enough unsettled now. At least, as far as I'm concerned. I'm thinking Ma might be staying
where she is."

I thanked Mrs. Carter, and we said our good-byes. I told them I'd be over to their place in the afternoon. When I turned away
from them, I was surprised to see Daisy waiting for me.

"Nobe," she said, "I reckon I won't be seeing you for a while. Me and Sim aim to keep the Café closed, sell it if we can.
We're going to move over toward Oklahoma City, where Sim's people live." She reached out and took my hand, and she pressed
something into it. "Your pay," she said.

It was a ten-dollar bill. "This is way too much," I said and held it out to her.

She wouldn't take it back. "We want you to have it," she said. She reached out and hugged me. "I hope we meet again someday,
Nobe," she said. Then she pulled back and sort of nodded toward the grave. "We've ordered her a stone from Tulsa," she said.
"It will say, 'Bloomed on earth to blossom in heaven.'" She touched my cheek, turned, and walked away.

I stood there thinking about Lida Rose's stone. Then I looked down at the ten dollars in my hand, and I knowed what I would
do with that money.

I looked around then for Sheriff Leonard, his wife, and my ma. They was pretty near to his big automobile. I hurried in that
direction. When I was close, I called out, "Ma."

She turned to look at me, and then she walked toward me. "Ma," I said again, and then I told her about how I would be living
at the Widow Carter's. "She said she'd like to have you too," I said.

"Mrs. Leonard needs me," she said. "Mavis has come to count real heavy on me. I can't leave her now." She didn't look at me,
just down at the ground.

"Well," I said, "just thought I'd mention it." I was sure hoping it was the sheriff's wife, not the sheriff, that had come
to depend on my mother.

Ma looked over her shoulder. The sheriff had his wife in the motorcar, and he was going around to the driver's side. "I got
to go, son," she said, and she did. I didn't watch her go.

Chapter 11

SO I SPENT THAT SUMMER working in Widow Carter's fields. It felt real good. I missed Lida Rose, Daisy, and hearing folks talk
at the Café, but being outside again felt good. We cleared a section that hadn't ever been plowed before, so I was back at
picking up rocks, heaving them at the fence line, or toting them if they was too big to throw. It made me smile, thinking
that I was glad to be back fighting Oklahoma rocks.

Some days, just about dusk, I'd go out in the big field of alfalfa hay, and I'd just stand there smelling the sweetness of
that hay and waiting for the stars to come out. It made me feel good in my soul.

Two real important things happened later that June. The first thing was the letter from Isaac. It come after I'd been at the
widow's for a couple of weeks. I was so excited about reading what Isaac had to say that I didn't even notice the first line,
the Dear part. I just went to reading the main part.

I
wanted to let you know that I am okay. I am in a town
called Langston, over by Guthrie. There is a college here just
for colored people, and the town is all colored too. They've
asked me to teach at the college this fall, and I think I will
like that.

I will be coming back to see Mama. No one is going to
make me afraid to go home. I will be coming to see you too.

The note from Lester did not contain a blessing. He did
not say one word about being proud of me or loving me. He
just said that it was time for him to move on down the road
and that maybe he would see me again someday. 1 guess I
should be pleased because he certainly never wrote me a
good-bye note before. However, 1 am not pleased, but you
know all about that.

I'm still thinking about how I want to speak out for
colored peoples rights. I wont ever be angry and full of hate
like Lester, but I am thinking of using my real name, Cotton,
when 1 start my new job in the fall. I hope it wont hurt my
mother too much.

I can never, never thank you enough for what you did
for me.
I
had said my prayers and was prepared to meet my
maker. Believe me, though,
I
was certainly not disappointed
when you caused a change of plan. In my heart you are my
brother. Know that you have the blessing of your older
brother!

I noticed the first line then. He had wrote, "Dear Noble," and that was something he had never once before called me. I put
that letter in the drawer of a chest in the room where I slept, and I knew I would keep it always.

The other thing that happened was that my ma showed up at the widow's door with her basket of belongings in her hand. We was
eating supper, the widow, Oily, me, and two hired hands. There was a knock, and Widow Carter went to the door. She come back
with my ma.

"Look who's here, Nobe," she said.

I got up and went over to take the basket from Ma. I wanted to hug her, but it never was the way in our family, hugging each
other. "What happened?" I asked.

"The sheriff tried—" She stopped and looked down at her feet. "I'll go back to visit Mavis when I can, but I can't live in
the same house with that man. I should of listened to you, son."

I wondered how Ma had got out to the widow's place. I knowed she didn't walk, because there wasn't a lot of dust on her feet.
I didn't ask, though. It seemed like Ma didn't want to talk much.

"Here's your place, Vivian," Widow Carter said, and she put a plate for Ma on the table. The fried potatoes sure did taste
good that night!

Basil Bailey and Willie never did make it back to Wekiwa that summer, so me and Cinda didn't go up for any more airplane rides.
We did get to go to a picture show over in Tulsa, though. The widow had some shopping to do over there, and she drove me and
Cinda to see the show.

I was real excited about seeing a real picture show, but when we got there, I didn't feel so good. What was showing was
Zorro.
Of course, I went to thinking about Lida Rose, and my heart started feeling like someone was squeezing on it real hard.

For a minute I stood there, thinking maybe I wouldn't go in, but I did. The thing was, I had figured out by then that there
wasn't no way to avoid that hurting inside. I never knew when something would come along to set it off. I figured I might
as well learn to live with it.

I did think about Lida Rose seeing the real Zorro riding around, but I had me a good time too. It was purely nice to set there
with Cinda in the dark, holding her hand and getting lost in the story.

The picture show took some of my money, but I had enough left for what I had planned. I bought a bag of cement mix. I borrowed
one of the widow's wagons and a couple of horses. I took the cement, some boards, a big bucket of water, and my marbles. I
took a couple of other things too, and I drove over to the cemetery.

I went to my pa's grave, built a frame with the boards, mixed the cement, and made him a stone. I took the other two things
I had brought out of my pocket, the two keys to the telephone box. I dropped them down into the wet cement on account of I
had decided I would never use them again.

Then I took my prize marbles, and I spelled out Pa's name, Melvin Chase. It looked good there in marbles of lots of different
colors. I wrote the years of his life too, 1884-1921. For a long time I just stayed there beside his grave.

I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn't find no words for what I wanted to say. I started to think that maybe Pa was in heaven
after all. It would sure take God to understand a man like him. I figured if Pa was up there, he'd likely be able to look
down and know the words that I wished I could say.

When it was just about dark, I left the cemetery. Our old place wasn't really on the way to Widow Carter's from the cemetery,
but I went out of my way. I wanted to see the old place and the ghosts that I knew would be there.

Sure enough, I saw them both out by the barn. I didn't look much at the man. I guess I was thinking I'd already spent a good
bit of time with him that day. It was the little fellow I wanted to see. He had the same blond hair, and he had on the same
worn-out striped overalls. He had the same terrible lonely look on his face, too. That look plumb broke my heart.

I didn't get down from the wagon, and I didn't drive close. I just set there on that wagon seat, and I called out, "Don't
be so sad, little fellow," I said. "It gets better. I promise it does."