A Bird On Water Street (19 page)

“Yup, dry as a bone,” Sheriff Elder said and smiled menacingly.

“Don't do it,” I whispered, trying one last time.

Piran looked at me with a glint in his eye and nodded. “Don't worry, I got it now.”

He spit, straightened up, and wound the ball. It flew from his hand like a bullet, straight at the target.

KASPLOOSH!!
Down went Sheriff Elder.

“Good arm, Quinn.” The Sheriff coughed as he came up and looked at Piran with a smile that wasn't altogether friendly. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head.
That's the boy whose sister married that troublemaker Eli . . .

“C'mon, let's get out of here.” I tugged at Piran, who walked away struttin' like a turkey. “I don't think that was a good idea,” I said.

“Ah, that was great!” Piran crowed.

The music was firing up, so we ran to the stage. Piran's dad was up there playing claw hammer banjo with his group, Dreadful Noise. They played “Wayfaring Stranger,” and then “Cluck Ole Hen.” I couldn't keep still when they got to “Arkansas Traveler.” I tried to buck-dance with the crowd growing in front of the stage, but my two left feet wouldn't let me do more than stomp around and kick up dust. Piran danced until the dust got to be too much.

“I gotta sit,” he gasped and pulled out his inhaler.

“I'll get us some colas,” I hollered over the music.

We watched the print skirts and overalls whirl by as the band played “Cold Frosty Morn.” Through the crowd, we caught a glimpse of . . .

“Oh man,” Piran groaned.

Speak o' the devil.

Eli was walking with Hannah. She was barely showing—you'd only notice if you knew she was pregnant, but of course everybody did. She and Eli ignored the stares and whispers and walked at the edge of the crowd. I couldn't take my eyes off them. From a distance, it looked like they were arguin'.
Maybe she does know about the pot.

“How are they doing?” I asked.

“She doesn't talk to us much,” Piran said, “but I heard through the grapevine that he's gone a lot.”

We looked at each other and I was sure we were thinking the same thing—
he's been at his pot field
. Something in me tugged.

Toward midday we figured we could probably pack some more food into our bellies. The burger stand smelled so good I could've chewed on the air. We both bought cheeseburgers and loaded them with ketchup, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and Mrs. Spencer's pickle relish. Our burgers were twice as tall by the time we left the fixings table and made our way back through the crowd. The ketchup squished out the sides of my burger and ran down my hands, but I didn't care.

“I bet I could eat this whole thing in three bites,” Piran said.

“I bet I could too, but I'm not gonna,” I replied. I only had enough money for one burger and planned on making it last as long as possible. I took tiny, little bites to prove it.

When I got home, I actually took a nap. I felt like a baby doing it, but being so full knocked me right out. I awoke several hours later with my stomach growling. Okay, maybe it was more upset than hungry, but I wasn't done yet.

O

Dad squirted lighter fluid on the coals, creating a four-foot high flame on the grill in the backyard. I helped Mom set up a card table and placed a rock on the pile of napkins threatenin' to scatter in the light breeze. Everybody on the south side of the river gathered in our backyard since we had the best view of Tater Hill, and they all brought food. We had to set up three card tables to hold everything.

Macaroni and cheese seemed to be the most popular dish to bring this year—yum! I was enjoying being full for a change and went back for a second helping. To top it off, I had a slice of my mom's blackberry pie, which had won first place at the fair, of course.

“It's my secret ingredient,” Mom smiled. Even Dad didn't know what it was.

She'd made three pies—one for the church raffle, one for the judging, and one for us, so there was plenty for us to judge for ourselves.

She deserved the prize all right.

Little kids ran around with sparklers while everybody set up their folding chairs facin' town. The men made bets on whether the volunteer fire department would catch everything on fire again this year. Grandpa Chase played a few reels on his fiddle while we all waited for it to grow dark.

About that time, Eli and Hannah made an appearance. They put out two folding chairs next to Mr. and Mrs. Quinn—obviously at Hannah's insistence. Nobody looked too comfortable about it.

I kept staring at 'em—watching Hannah. Even with her married to another man, I couldn't help how I felt. I wanted to protect her. So when Eli went for seconds, I went back for thirds.

I waited until Mr. Dilbeck got a hot dog and left—and we were alone. “Hey, Eli,” I said as I pretended to peruse the food.

“Huh? Oh, hey . . . Jack, right?” Like he didn't know who I was.

“Yeah. Hey, you see that article in today's paper about the marijuana bust over in Hell's Holler?”

“Yeah, so?”

“
Well, I overheard Sheriff Elder talking last month. They've been monitoring a growin' field over in Devil's Den too. He said they had cameras set up and were just waitin' for enough evidence to bust whoever is growin' there. Whoever it is, next time they show up, they're probably gonna get arrested.”

Eli stopped putting food on his plate and coughed. “Why you tellin' me this, Jack?”

“Because Hannah's pregnant. And she needs a husband who's around to take care of her.”

We stood there in frozen, awkward silence for a moment, until I couldn't stand it anymore. “Anyhow, I'll be seein' ya.” Even though he was smart as a bag of hammers, I hoped Eli got the message.

I went over and grabbed a folding chair next to Piran.

“Hi, Jack,” Hannah said as I sat down. I guess what they say about pregnant women is true—she glowed like a light shone from right inside her, and I knew I'd done the right thing.

O

Long before the actual show started, the battle of the bottle rockets began. Coppertown straddled the state line, so roadside fireworks stands were plentiful. Even in tough times, people splurged to celebrate America's birthday. Sitting in a bowl like it did, people shot fireworks back and forth from the houses on the slopes until the sky was lit up from every direction. It was like watchin' a tennis match with explosives.

“That must be the Dilbecks' house,” somebody said. “They always buy the big ones.”

“That must be the Pritchards over there,” somebody else laughed. “Those are some piss-poor fireworks!”

Finally the main show began. Booms echoed off the storefronts in town and throughout the valley. We
oohed
and
aahed
and named every one our new favorite. Occasionally the wind blew our direction carrying the burnt smell of gunpowder—it didn't smell nearly as bad as the clouds from the Company though, so it didn't bother us. The smoke created light gray patches against the dark blue sky. For the grand finale, the VFD launched blooms of green, red, and blue along with a rocket that shot up with a high-pitched whistle and showered the sky with long white sparkly tails.

I couldn't help but watch how they reflected in Hannah's eyes.

Everybody declared it the best show ever, although it was much smaller and shorter than in previous years. Piran and I agreed the year the VFD accidentally lit the entire box of fireworks at one time was still the winner. It was amazing that nobody had gotten hurt.

The crowd slowly broke up as people grabbed blankets and chairs and meandered home. My shoulders were still warm, my middle was round as a barrel, my conscience was clear, and my eyelids were too heavy to keep open. I rolled into bed with a grin that wouldn't wipe off and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

r

Chapter 28

Bird!

When Piran and I headed to Old Brawling Town Creek to fish later that week, it was hot as fire—the kind of heat that zapped all the energy right out of you. The fish must have felt it too, because they went deep and we didn't catch a one.

We sat staring at our slack fishing lines, our feet hangin' in the water.

“Think your grandpa would let us borrow some tubes from the bait shop?” Piran asked. “We could go tubing down the river.”

“Maybe.” I yawned but didn't move.

“Ow!” Piran yelped and slapped his arm. “Somethin' bit me!”

“Probably a mosquito,” I said.

“Chick-a-dees and now mosquitoes,” Piran complained. “We never had bugs before.”

“I told you things are changing. First come plants, then come bugs, and then come the critters who eat the bugs—like frogs.” I smiled.

Piran scratched his bite. “Well, I don't like it,” he huffed. “It's too hot out here. Let's go see if we can get some movie money out of my dad. At least the theater would be cool.”

O

On the way into town, I was thinking about what other sort of critters, along with the frogs, would be moving in to eat the new bugs, when we passed Crazy Coote again.

“Gonna break the strike, yessiree,” he said, looking at me. “That's a what they're gonna do.”

We walked wide around him, Piran scratchin' his bug bite the whole time.

“Stop it,” I complained.

“Why? It makes it feel better,” Piran said.

“I don't know, but my mom never let me scratch when my arm was broken.”

Downtown, everything glared white in the hot sun. People ran quickly into the few businesses that were still open to get to the air conditioning. Dilbeck's Pharmacy was packed. Even grown-ups walked out with ice-cream cones.

We stared in the window at the long counter with its chrome and red vinyl seats.

Piran said, “Maybe I should ask my dad for ice cream money instead.”

Suddenly I saw a fluttering motion reflected in the glass. I turned around to see a small brown-and-white-striped bird land on the lamppost across the street.

I was so surprised, I pointed and yelled, “A bird!”

“On Water Street?” Mrs. McCay stopped and looked. “Of all places, law' me.”

The town came to a standstill as everybody stared. Word spread fast and people even came out of their businesses to see. As we watched, the tiny bird chirped the prettiest little song. It sounded kind of like, “Sweet, sweet, sweet, as ever it may be.”

Mrs. McCay smiled. “It's a sparrow.”

“Really?” I asked. It was like the picture I drew for Mom at Christmas, but without the purple.

“I'd think somethin' with such a nice name would be prettier than that,” Piran said.

“It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen,” Mrs. McCay replied.

I looked closer at the bird's round lines and delicate fan of feathers as it opened its wings to fly away.

“Me too,” I decided.
It's the prettiest thing ever—just the way it is.

O

Mr. Quinn was deep in conversation when we entered the post office.

“They're building a new carpet mill in Dalton,” Mr. Harmon said. “They need electricians, carpenters, machinists, the whole lot.”

“Just fifty miles south of here?” Mr. Quinn replied. “That's good news for the miners.”

“Well, it won't pay as good,” Mr. Harmon said. “Heck, nothing could replace mining pay back in the good old days.”

“Even so,” Mr. Quinn said. “The men need jobs.”

I couldn't believe my ears—I had to tell Dad! I charged out the door, making the bell clang and clatter behind me.

I ran as fast as I could through town to the picket line. The closer I got, the more I could hear somethin' was going on
.

r

Chapter 29

Scabs

The miners were in an uproar when I got to the Company. Everybody was on their feet, shouting and stabbing their signs into the air. I searched for my dad in the crowd.

Tom Hill shouted through his bullhorn, “They've sold the entire plant to a business in South America.” He read an announcement from the Company lawyers. “And they've hired temporary workers to break it down!”

As a busload of ragged-looking men worked its way through, the crowd went wild. The miners cursed and shouted, “SCABS! SCABS! SCABS!”

I'd never seen so many people so angry. It made me nervous.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I noticed Eli Munroe sittin' toward the back of the bus, trying to crouch down out of view.

I wasn't the only one who spotted him.

“Traitor!” somebody yelled and threw a rock at the bus. It ricocheted off and hit me square on the forehead. I flinched at the sharp pain. I looked down at my hand. Blood covered my fingers. Somebody grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the mob.