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  “Yes mam.”

  Grandma Duck’s final order came as she fixed her eyes on Emma, “An Bama, you keep this lil’ ol’ Charlie-lookin devil outta my sight!”

  The paintless wood-framed house, weathered gray with age, had an arched, rusty tin roof and no porches. The ground around it was feet-packed hard and bald. All the grass had been trampled away. The water well was in the backyard. The old house had four medium-size bedrooms. Two were on either side of the hall which led through the kitchen to the back steps. For the married son and his wife, the brothers rounded up enough scrap lumber to build a shack with a separate entrance onto one of the back bedrooms.

  All the bedrooms, except Grandma Duck’s, were overcrowded with beds and single metal cots, with only narrow trails for passageways. Elzado slept in the bed with Bama and two aunties. Sally and Emma slept in the kitchen on two single canvas fold-up cots shared by four other children.

  Little by little the Barnes girls were subjugated to being the family Cinderellas. Once the inside work was caught up, it was on to the washing board and tubs. Then the garden had to be hoed and the hogs slopped.

  With free time on her hands, Grandma Duck taught Emma to tie her shoelaces and button the back of her dress. For a teacher’s aid, she used a thin board that she had driven a nail through at one end. Every morning when the children were getting dressed, Grandma Duck called Emma up to her and pecked her hands with the nail-board while she desperately tried to button her four back buttons. The pecking ended when they were all buttoned. She got the same lesson while tying her shoelaces.

  When Grandma Duck let her go, with bloody hands Emma ran crying to her surrogate mother. Bama took her to the well to wash the blood away and dried them gently with the tail of her dress. Standing behind the well, Bama held her closely, stroking her hair and consoling, “Sshhh, hush now. Don’t cry Emma. It’s gon be awright,” while crying herself. “You know whut Emma?”

  Her lips still quivering, “Naw, whut Bama.”

  “One a these days when I git growed up I’m gon have a great big o’ house to live in wit room enuff for everbody. When I do, I’m comin back afta y’all.”

  “I wanna go wit you Bama.”

  “If you hush cryin, I’ll cum back an gitcha real quick.”

  “Awright,” wiping her nose with her arm.

  “You be a big girl an go play now.”

  “They won’t play wit me Bama.”

  “How cum?”

  “They call me Charlie-lookin devil an won’t play wit me.”

  “Well, play by yosef.” Looking toward the back door, “I gotta go befo Grandma miss me.”

  There was hardly elbowroom on the cot with the three of them sleeping in it. Emma scooted as close to the edge as she could, trying to get out of the puddle of piss that hadn’t seeped through yet. Reaching back, she tugged some of the raggedy, wet quilt they shared over her cold back. In an effort to squirm farther away from the wetness, Emma slung her arm and leg over the side and lay sleeping, exposed to the chilling night air.

  When it felt like somebody was turning her over, she opened her eyes to see who was tucking in the flimsy quilt. It was her mother! In the second it took to wipe the sleep from her eyes to get a better look, Lillie had disappeared.

  Emma untucked the quilt, jumped off the cot, and tiptoed over to Sally’s cot. Shaking her vigorously, “Sally! Sally! Sally wake up!! Wake up Sally!! Mama cum back! Wake up Sally!! You said she—”

  One of Sally’s cotmates interrupted, “Emma, ef you don’t go back to bed Grandma gonna whup you!”

  The many trips Sally made to and from the well drawing up and toting wash water had taken their toll. She was dead asleep. Emma crawled back onto her cot. She got a whipping the next morning from Grandma Duck anyway when her bunk rats ran and told, “Emma peed the bed.”

  A few days after Bama, now eighteen, took some jars of Grandma Duck’s watermelon rind preserves to the county fair, she ran off with a soldier and got married. Her leaving didn’t even put a dent in the overpopulated household. Grandma Duck’s two oldest daughters stayed neck and neck producing another baby apiece and the two youngest had come up with three between them. Seems like every time they had a revival, her daughters got full of the “spirit” and had another one on the way.

  After Bama absconded, Grandma Duck tightened the screws of vengeance down on Emma six more notches. She got a “whuppin” almost daily from her and the “grown folks” were unleashed to fill in the gaps.

  Grandma Duck walked into the kitchen; Emma knocked over her glass and buttermilk spilled all over the oil-cloth covering on the table. “Git up frum that table an clean up that mess you made. You trifling heifer!” Hovering over Emma, watching her wipe the tablecloth with a dishrag, the mean-spirited old woman yelled, “You ol’ Charlie-lookin devil you! Don’tcha lemme ketch you settin at my table no mo til I tell you. Frum now on, you eat out on them back steps.” Her finger wagging in Emma’s face, “You hear me?!!”

  “Yes’m Grandma, I hear you,” she bristled and flashed a quick, defiant look.

  Enraged, Grandma Duck grabbed the iron skillet from the stove and drew it back, “Don’tcha be a-standin there rollin them eyes at me. You betta gitcha ol’ Charlie-lookin sef outta heah befo I bus yo brains out,” she shouted.

  On an errand to the store Emma was hailed down by one of Grandma Duck’s church member neighbors, “Emma.”

  “Yes mam?”

  “Stop by heah chile,” beckoning her to the porch. “Heah, take this quarter an brang me a small box uv KC Baking Powder when you cum back. An you stand there an wait cuz you got some change comin.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Now git!”

  When she delivered the baking powder, the woman handed her a dime and thanked her for doing the errand. On the way to the house, mad and frustrated, Emma kicked the road, “I sho wisht she hadda give it to me on my way to th’ store.”

  She quickly crawled under the house and hid her dime on one of the rafters, then went in. With an overabundance of anxious errand runners on standby, it took a while for her turn to rotate around again. Until it did, she checked on her dime two or three times a day.

  Inside the store, “What else you need today, Emma?”

  “An Grandma wants a dime’s worth uv Rough On Rats.”

  “Gotta rat problem, have ya?” walking around to the other counter.

  “Yessir, Mr. Riley. They be gittin priddy bad.”

  After scooping the yellow, mealy-looking rat poison from the barrel and putting it in the small paper sack, he weighed it. Looking at the scales, “Well, that looks like a whole dime’s worth. This’ll sure git ‘em. You tell Duck I said be careful with that stuff.” Folding down the sack, “An don’t git any on yore hands, you hear?”

  “Yessir, Mr. Riley. I ain’t.”

  When Emma hit the straightaway for home, she started running to keep from being too late. Closer to the house she started walking again. Before she left for the store, supper was on the stove and everybody was sitting out in the yard waiting for it to cool. She was glad to see they were still there.

  As soon as she walked in the yard, Grandma Duck asked, “Didja git everthang I tole you?”

  Not slowing down, “Yes’m, I got it.”

  “Take it on in there an set it down an cum on back outta th’ house.”

  “Yes’m.”

  The oblong pan of cream corn Grandma Duck had cooling on the stove top was still plenty hot as she dumped in the whole sackful. Hearing somebody coming, there was no time to get a spoon and she burned her fingers while stirring it frantically.

  Out on the yard, Emma casually played her way up to Sally and Elzado. Without raising suspicion, she had to tell them before Grandma Duck called suppertime. “Sally, les you an me an Elzado go over by the well ‘n play.”

  When they got to the well, she motioned for them to squat down behind it so Grandma Duck couldn’t see them.

  “Whut is it Emma?” Sally
asked.

  “I got sump’n to tell y’all.”

  Glad to be in on the secret, Elzado wanted to know, “Whut is it?”

  “Y’all bet not eat none a that corn we scraped.”

  “Why Emma?”

  “Never mind why, I’m tellin y’all, don’t eat none.”

  “But why Emma?”

  “Cuz it’ll kill y’all, thas why.”

  “Whut’d you do to it?”

  “Never mind Sally. Jes don’t eat none uv it. An y’all bet not tell nobody neitha.”

  The threesome sat down on the back steps waiting for the others to finish eating. All the while, Emma glanced nervously through the screen door and couldn’t sit still. Puzzling it over in her mind, Frum the way that man wuz tellin me bout how much poison Rough On Rats is, they oughta be keelin over dead in their plates any minute now.

  Everytime she quit watching, Sally or Elzado asked anxiously, “Whut they doin Emma?”

  “Nuthin yet.”

  When Grandma Duck’s army finished she called, “Sally, Elzado, y’all cum on to th’ table ‘n eat.”

  They were too scared to eat and sang back, “We ain’ hongry Grandma.”

  “Suit y’all’s sef. But don’t be ramblin roun in this kitchen afta while lookin fur nuthin to eat.”

  “No mam Grandma, we won’t.”

  Emma fixed her pan, minus the corn, and sat between them on the back steps and ate. Disappointed, she wished she had her dime back. In a few minutes Grandma Duck called them, “Sally, y’all git in heah ‘n clean up this kitchen.”

  “Yes mam Grandma, we comin.”

  After supper, as usual, the rag buckets were lit to smoke the mosquitoes away. Grandma Duck and her swarm sat outside in the cool of the evening. With the kitchen cleaned, Sally, Emma and Elzado joined them.

  Over the noisy playing of the smaller children, Emma heard Grandma Duck cry out, “God, I’m so sick,” as she held her stomach.

  Then another, “Me too.”

  And another, “Mama, my belly’s crampin me to death.”

  One by one, they began sweating, moaning like sick cows, and vomiting all over the yard.

  Nudging Sally, “C’mon,” Emma said, “les play lak we sick too.”

  They lay down on the ground and rolled around holding their bellies, groaning and giggling. Elzado wasn’t putting on a very good act mimicking the others, and drew Grandma Duck’s attention. With stern eyes, she looked at Elzado for a minute and knew she was “jes puttin on.” Then she looked at Emma, then at Sally. Then back at Emma again.

  Pointing her finger at Emma, “Ain’ nobody dun this but that ol’ nasty, stankin Charlie-lookin devil! That heifer dun sump’n to our supper.”

  “No mam, I didn’ Grandma,” Emma defended quickly.

  After Grandma Duck puked again, she hollered, “Sally, run down yonner an tell Doc Hines I say cum rat away. An don’t you tarry!”

  As Sally turned to go, “Take Elzado witcha.”

  “Kin I go wit ‘em Grandma?” Emma asked eagerly.

  “Naw. You set yo tail down over yonner where I kin see you. You lowdown heifer.”

  By the time Sally and Elzado got back, that Rough On Rats had Grandma Duck and her gang’s bellies swole up like balloons. When Doc Hines got through pumping them out, he had enough shit to fill up a wagon.

  In a few days when Grandma Duck recuperated, Emma took her “whuppin” with a smile. Even though things didn’t go as planned, it was a whole dime’s worth.

  “Sally wuz always so quiet an shy; it sho surprise everbody when she got saved at the revival. She kept it a secret long as she could, but the spirit wuz in her an kept gittin bigger an bigger til she got shamefaced an run off wit that jackleg preacher who filled her wit it.”

  Sitting together on the back steps, “Emma, les run off,” Elzado urged. “Bama an Sally been gone so long. They ain’ never comin back afta us,” she said forlornly.

  “I know they ain’t.”

  “Well, les run off then! I’m tired uv doin all th’ work an me an you gittin all th’ whuppins, specially you. Grandma hates you! Look at my back, Emma,” pulling down the neck of her tattered dress to bare the rows of freshly inflicted coat-hanger welts.

  “I know Elzado,” she said looking at her shoulders, “mine looks th’ same way, but you too little to ru—”

  “Naw I ain’t too little! I’m big is you is, an I do much work as you do.”

  “I know that, but you still jes ‘leven, Elzado. Hush, I hear somebody comin.”

  Emma, at fifteen, had blossomed. Though her five-foot-five frame was slim, it bore the signs of womanhood, and her long dancer legs were striking. She kept her wavy, reddish, dark-brown hair in a braid that hung midway down her back, exposing an interestingly beautiful face. The tiny moles dotting her cheeks were unignorable and accentuated the dark, intense eyes and pouted lips.

  Unlike her sisters, Emma took her caramel-colored complexion and good grade of hair from Charlie’s light-brown Cajun-Negro side of the family. Bama, Sally and Elzado, with their kinky black hair and dark-mahogany skin, resembled Lillie and the rest of Grandma Duck’s offspring.

  Grandma Duck was crowding seventy. She wasn’t as agile as she used to be, but just as hateful. Because she’d gotten too short-winded, she delegated “Big Auntie,” her oldest daughter, full authority to do all of her “personal whuppin” while she oversaw to make sure it met her satisfaction.

  Big Auntie was still sitting at the kitchen table while Emma and Elzado cleaned off the dirty supper dishes. She was just as ornery as Grandma Duck, and Emma decided now was as good a time as any. She had been wanting a chance to talk to Big Auntie away from all the others.

  As she raked the leftovers into a bucket for the hogs, “Big Auntie?”

  “Whut!”

  “I wisht you’d make them ol’ boys a yourn stop meddlin me.”

  “They be meddlin me too,” Elzado chimed in.

  Big Auntie barked, “You shet up Elzado an git outta this kitchen!” After she left, Big Auntie asked with indignation, “Meddlin you how?”

  “They puttin they hands up under my dress, pinchin my titties an stuff.”

  Big Auntie pushed her chair back abruptly and stood up. “You jes shet yo lyin mouf!” she shouted angrily. “They ain’ dun no such a thang! You lowdown cow, none a my boys wouldn’ even look at you!”

  “They did Big Auntie!”

  “I tole you to shet yo mouf! I been seein you sassy-wigglin yo behind up an down in that hall lak you got sump’n sumbody might want!”

  “Naw I ain’t, Big Auntie!”

  “Why you ol’ Charlie-lookin devil you!” coming around the table to get at her. “You bet not spute my word!”

  They clashed together and the noise of their battling soon brought Grandma Duck. Emma was fighting Big Auntie like a tiger cat and had her down on the floor. Grandma Duck rushed in, hitting at Emma until she grabbed the butcher knife off the table.

  Holding them at bay with the long-bladed knife poised in a striking position, she threatened, “If y’all cum up on me, I’m gon stick y’all’s hearts out. I ain’ gon take no mo whuppins!” easing her way out the back door.

  Chapter 2

  Mutherless chillun sees a hard time, when they muther is dead

  Mutherless chillun sees a hard time, muther’s dead

  They don’t have noooo place to go

  They jus keep runnin frum door to door

  Mutherless chillun sees a hard time, when they muther is dead.

  “Motherless Children” Song

  Emma didn’t stop running until she got to the railroad trestle. She stayed under it all night long, and as soon as the dark lifted at dawn, she got on the railroad tracks and hoofed it the twenty miles to Gilmer. Son Buddy was not hard to find. He was still living in the back room of the same hotel. He’d been working and living there for so long, he was practically a landmark.

  He could offer Emma no refuge. His quarters were too small fo
r two people; besides, the manager of the hotel wouldn’t allow it. However, he did know that the owners of the dry goods store were looking for some live-in help and offered to take her there.

  “Thas awright, Son Buddy. You needn’ do that. Jes tell me how to git there, I’ll find it.”

  Emma walked up to the lady behind the counter, “Mam?”

  “Yes, can I help you?”

  “Yes mam, I wuz by the hotel a while ago an the porter over yonner say the folks who own this store wuz lookin for somebody to work. Is you th’ one?”

  “Yes, I am. Well, that is, me and my husband,” smiling. “We need somebody who can live-in. It’s just me and Jim and our three-year-old boy. We’ve been dropping him off at a woman’s house, but we’d rather somebody be at home with him while we’re gone. We spend most of our time here in the store,” adding, “and usually when we get home, I’m dead on my feet and need some help with him at night.”

  “I kin do it Miz …”

  “Swift. My name’s Mrs. Swift and that’s my husband Jim over there,” pointing to the man behind another counter.

  “Miz Swif, I kin do it.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Emma.”

  “Emma, do you know anything about taking care of smaller children?”

  “Oh yes mam, I growed up in a house full uv ‘em.”

  “Where you from Emma?”

  “Big Sandy,” dropping her head.

  “What brings you to Gilmer?”

  After taking a long breath, “I run away frum home Miz Swif.”

  “Why on earth did you do that?”

  “Cuz they whupped me all the time for nuthin.” With tears streaming down her face, Emma showed Mrs. Swift her scarred back.

  Mrs. Swift gasped, “Lans sake! Why would they do a mean thing like that?” she exclaimed.

  “Well, Miz Swif, afta my daddy kilt my mama, me an my other three sisters had to live wit Grandma. She already had other chillun uv her own an didn’ want us to begin wit. An afta the two biggest got grown an left, Grandma got meaner an meaner to me an my baby sister. We didn’ have nobody to go to or take up for us or nuthin an got whuppins all th’ time.”