Standing at the Scratch Line (35 page)

“Sometimes I hate him!” Serena said vehemently.

“You shouldn’t say bad things about your father, child,” her mother said, rubbing Serena’s arm soothingly. “He just wants to make a good match for you.”

“I’m not going to marry someone just because he thinks it’s a good match! I want to travel. I want to see the big city lights. You realize, Mama, that we live only twenty-five miles from New Orleans but I’ve only been there about four times in my whole life. I don’t want to spend my life breaking my back on a farm. I want something better.”

Her mother’s body was shaken by a terrible fit of coughing. “You work the earth, you’re doing God’s work. You produce food for hungry mouths. Farming is hard, but it’s honest.”

“Didn’t you ever want something glamorous or flashy? Like sometimes you hear on the radio the stories about people in fancy cars going to shows on Broadway and big-time parties?”

“You got to be realistic about your dreams, honey. You a colored girl living in Louisiana. How you goin’ to get to them big cities? How you gon’ live when you get there? The devil lays out plenty of temptations in them cities.”

“I don’t know, Mama. All I know for sure is if he tries to make me marry someone I don’t want, I’ll run away and never come back!”

“Don’t say such things, child. You give me shivers in my heart. Don’t ever say that you’ll never come back.” Her mother started to cough again, but it soon ceased.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

“I know you didn’t, honey.” Her mother gave her a hug. “If your father tries to force you to get married, I’ll help you run away, but you must swear to come back and see me.”

Serena acknowledged her mother’s words with a nod of her head and returned her hug.

Her mother pushed herself erect with her walking stick. “Let’s go back to the revival.”

“I need to think, Mama. Plus, I heard that someone is going around stealing things out of people’s wagons. I’ll stay here and watch. Why don’t you send someone for me in an hour?”

“Alright, dear. I’ll tell your father you’re watching the wagon.”

Serena sat down on a blanket in the shade of the wagon, for the afternoon sun was now burning fiercely. She had been sitting no more than half an hour when she heard the sound of boots treading through the grass.

She was not overly concerned; there were other wagons in hailing distance through the trees. After all, it was a carnival put on by the Associated Baptist Churches, and most families had come for prayer, to barter homemade goods for needed stores, and to socialize. It wasn’t until the boots stopped near her wagon that she stood up. On the other side of the wagon she saw three of the DuMont brothers and wished she hadn’t stood up. The oldest brother, Chess, had been sweet on Serena for years until she had been forced to reject his advances publicly at a church picnic. She had attempted to discourage him politely, but since sensitivity was not his strong suit, he had ignored her protestations until she spoke her mind in front of other people. After that he turned sour, accusing her and her family of trying to humiliate him. At best, the DuMonts were a shady family living on the edge of the great swamp. They were “cut and shoot” people, known for brewing cheap corn whiskey, gambling, brawling, and trafficking in stolen goods.

“Well, if it ain’t Miss High and Mighty!” Chess said, putting a sliver of wood in his mouth and using it like a toothpick. Serena said nothing. She wasn’t afraid but she realized that she was in a dangerous situation. She could hear gospel singing—hundreds of voices strong—coming from the revival tent. She could not be sure that she would be heard if she screamed.

“All dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and ain’t in the revival,” Chess said as he rounded the wagon, followed by his brothers. “Looks to me like she’s waiting for somethin’ good to happen and she don’t believe it’s in church.”

Serena stooped, picked up the buggy whip her father used to keep the mules’ attention, and stood facing the three men. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she planned on fighting.

Chess looked in the wagon. “You just wanna whip me with that whip, Miss High and Mighty, or do you wanna whip me as you ride me?” His brothers laughed raucously. Chess took a step toward Serena, still pretending to be looking in the wagon. She unfurled the buggy whip and stood waiting for his next move. With a nod of his head, Chess gestured to Pug, the youngest of his brothers, to go around the wagon.

As Pug obeyed his older brother, Serena backed away from the wagon. Now the creek was at her back. The voices from the church got suddenly louder as the singers fell into a rhythmic chorus and response. Chess leaned against the wagon. “What you gon’ do, little lady? Can’t nobody hear you.” He took a step toward her. “It can be easy or it can be hard. It’s up to you.”

Into this tableau stumbled her little brother, Amos. He came out of the bushes on the opposite side of the creek, breathless, as if he had been running. The DuMonts froze on seeing the boy. Amos looked questioningly to Serena. He could feel that there was something wrong. “Get out of here, Amos,” Serena said calmly. “Go get Pa!”

“Get that kid!” Chess shouted to Pug.

Pug started around the wagon, but Serena cracked the whip, narrowly missing his face. Pug staggered backward out of range. Chess growled with frustration and sent his other brother, Eddy, after Amos. Much to Serena’s consternation, Amos remained on the opposite bank, watching the action.

“Get Pa, now!” Serena screamed at her brother. By the time Amos turned to run, Eddy was slogging across the creek. Amos had not made it into the bushes when he ran smack into the man in the brown military uniform. Amos was so surprised and scared by the apparition that appeared out of nowhere, he was briefly stricken immobile.

“Go on your way, soldier,” Eddy warned as he came out of the creek. “Leave the boy to me. You just mind your own business!”

The soldier laughed. “You Little Eddy DuMont, ain’t you? Eddy, Eddy, I do believe you have mistook who you talkin’ to.” There was no humor in the laugh and there was an evil smile on the man’s face.

“Amos, go get help!” Serena screamed at her brother.

Amos, still confused, looked up at the man in the uniform. The man patted him on the shoulder and said, “Go on, Eddy won’t bother you. Will you, Eddy?” Amos took off through the bush. Eddy ran to intercept, but King cut him off. “Eddy, you don’t want to make a liar out of me, do you?”

“This here soldier boy is a Tremain,” Chess declared. “It looks like we gon’ get easy pickin’s all the way around! This is mo’ like it! You done picked a bad day to stick yo’ nose into our business, Tremain!” Eddy pulled a long knife blade from his sheath and waved it in front of King.

“Do as they say, mister,” Serena warned. “You can go now. My folks’ll be here any minute. They won’t hurt me now.”

King laughed and touched his hand to his hat to acknowledge Serena’s offer. “You got spunk, woman. I like that!”

“Do you like this?” Eddy made a sudden lunge at King, blade first.

The soldier easily dodged the knife thrust and grabbed Eddy’s arm, which he twisted then broke with a loud snap. Eddy screamed and the knife fell from his grasp. Still holding Eddy’s broken arm, the man stepped in close and savagely punched him several times on the side of the head above his ear. Chess was halfway across the creek when the soldier snapped Eddy’s neck and let his lifeless body slump to the ground. Then the soldier picked up the knife and waited for Chess to come out of the creek.

“An Arkansas toothpick, I do believe,” the soldier commented lightly, referring to the knife. “Come on out of the creek, Chess, and show me how you use this!”

Chess had seen how easily the man had beaten and killed his brother and he was chilled. The man killed like a professional. Chess was ready to quit and run, but Serena was standing on the bank watching everything. Family pride caused him to move forward, despite his fear. His knife was out as he cautiously moved across the creek. He tried to call upon his rage to carry him through. “You’s the dog that helped kill Lester!”

King walked to the edge of the creek, waiting for Chess. “I’m King Tremain! You missed me the night you shot at me outside the Beau Geste. Try yo’ luck now.”

“You’s a dead man, Tremain!” Chess shouted as he rushed his opponent, but King Tremain met Chess with a shoulder and knocked him sprawling back into the creek.

King started to laugh. “You better say joe, ’cause you sho’ don’t know. I’m gon’ kill you without stainin’ my uniform.”

Chess stood up, water streaming down his face. “I know about you, how you’s supposed to be so tough! Yo’ name’s LeRoi Tremain. You ain’t no king! I heard all about how you been tryin’ to take credit for killin’ my older brother, Lester. Shoot, he’d eat you for lunch without breakin’ from his regular chores. I’s sorry I missed you at the Beau Geste! You ain’t no king!”

“I may not be a king to you, but I’m gon’ decide whether you live or die, won’t I?” King said, moving along the edge of the creek. “I’ll be a king for the short time you got left! There ain’t no mercy for back-shooters!”

Chess called out to his brother. “Pug, come on down here and help me get this big nigger!”

“So that’s Pug. All grown up?” King laughed. “Come on down here, Pug, and die with your brother. If I have to come in that creek after you, Chess, and get my uniform wet, you gon’ to die slowly.”

Pug started around the wagon, but there was fear in his eyes. Serena cracked the whip in front of him. “Don’t do it, Pug! Don’t go down there!” she warned. “My people will be here in a minute. You don’t have to get in any more trouble.” Serena had gone to school with Pug. He was a bit of a bully, but he wasn’t mean like Chess.

“Don’t listen to her!” Chess shouted. “You better get over here right now. You don’t want me dealing with you when we get home!”

King started down the bank of the creek. “You ain’t gon’ see home again, Chess. You can’t threaten him with what’s gon’ happen ten minutes from now, ’cause you’ll be dead.”

Chess backed out of the creek, protesting. “Whachoo talkin’ about? A whole crowd of people gon’ be here soon.” He gestured with his knife to King. “I’ll settle up with you later.” He turned to leave, but King was across the creek in two strides.

King brought Chess to bay near the wagon. For the first time, Chess exhibited some fear. “You must be crazy! Whatchoo so riled about?”

“Let’s just say I don’t like back-shooters!” King feinted a thrust with his knife and closed in on Chess. Chess slashed back, but his arm was blocked and King was grappling with him.

Pug ran to assist his brother, but King was too quick for him. King head-butted Chess hard across the bridge of his nose. When Chess reeled backward against the wagon, King kicked at his knee and Chess crumpled to the ground with a yelp of pain. King turned just in time to meet Pug’s charge. He ducked Pug’s knife thrust and slashed the boy across the face. Pug fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his cheek. He scrambled back to his feet and took off running.

King turned to Chess. “Looks like it’s just you and me.” Using the wagon, Chess had pulled himself erect. King attacked without warning. He parried Chess’s defense and got a grip on Chess’s knife arm. It was over within seconds. King simply overpowered his opponent and drove Eddy’s knife deep into Chess’s stomach, twisting the blade slowly in the process. When King stepped back, Chess fell, rolled down the bank, and lay bleeding on the edge of the creek. He tried to sit up, failed, and slumped back into the mud. He coughed a couple of times and then lay silent.

King threw the knife on the ground beside Chess. He touched his hand to his hat again as he nodded to Serena. There was no expression on his face. He started to walk away, but Serena’s words made him pause.

“That was cold-blooded murder! That was the coldest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“If I was really cold-blooded, I’d go get that young Pug who ran off,” King commented easily, as he adjusted his uniform.

“He’s just a boy—”

King interjected. “When you’s killin’ varmints, you wants to make sure to get all of them!”

Serena protested. “The DuMonts are scum, but they aren’t animals. They are still human beings.”

“If you was a virgin, you still one now, ain’t you? Maybe I even saved your life. I wouldn’t complain if I was you.”

“You didn’t do that for me. You was planning to kill some DuMonts before you ever saw me.”

“But this way it’s legal, ain’t it? Unless, you gon’ press charges against me.”

“What if I was, would you kill me, too?”

“You’s way too fine to kill and got too much spunk to mess with,” King saluted her again and began walking away. “I’ll see you again,” he called over his shoulder.

As Serena watched him leave, she heard people running through the trees toward her. King did not hurry his stride in the least. He disappeared behind some wagons and was lost from sight. She heard Chess moan and looked down at him. He had lost a lot of blood. She had never seen a man injured so seriously before. Yet her indignation did not let her feel sympathy for Chess. She thought if anybody deserved to be killed, it was Chess.

Her father and six or seven other men appeared in the clearing around the wagon. He rushed to her side and began babbling questions at her. One of the other men saw Chess lying by the creek and called everyone’s attention to him. Her father left her and followed some of the men down to Chess’s sprawled form. Someone asked her if she was alright. She nodded that she was fine.

Suddenly, she was watching everything from a distance. People spoke to her in muffled voices and seemed to be moving in slow motion. She felt slightly delirious. Her heart pounded in her chest and blood rushed in her ears. Hands assisted her to a seat. She could not identify faces. She could not concentrate on anything except whether she would see King Tremain again. He was so different from anyone she had ever known. There was something intriguing about him that she couldn’t identify, but there was one thing that was certain: he wasn’t a man who was destined to live on a farm.