Five Smooth Stones (115 page)

The room was well filled, though not crowded, and suddenly he realized how quiet it was. What should have been the steady loudness of human voices was, instead, a low hum, and there were no familiar bursts of sudden laughter, deep from the men, shrill and exclamatory from the women. There should be some laughter; there was always its sound in a place like this at the end of the day, but now there was none.

He heard his name and turned to see Haskin leaning over the counter. "I was just tellin' Lawyer Willis we'd be mighty proud if you-all would have dinner with us. It ain't going to be fancy but it'll be good. Y'all like chittlins?"

"Sure do."

"Hog jowls?'" said Brad, and David turned wide surprised eyes toward him.

"You? Hog jowls? You told Peg? She'll dee-voce you."

"Well," said Brad defensively, "if you're going to eat part of a pig, you might as well—"

"Go whole hog? Forget it. I'll tell Peg you've gone native."

Haskin laughed. "He sure has. Ain't nothing we've had so far he don't eat like it was some fancy kind of restaurant food."

"It's probably a hell of a lot better," said David. "You fix those chittlins crisp?"

"Gracie does. That's my son's wife. Widow, I should say. She stays with us, her and the boy, keeps the house."

"Tell Gracie two more for dinner."

David found a seat on an upturned nail keg near the counter and sat quietly watching the people come and go, most of them hurrying now. Six thirty. He remembered the "emergency" seven o'clock curfew ordinance. That, he thought, was asking for trouble. Not even the strictest parents he had ever been acquainted with expected young people to stay at home after seven o'clock on a hot midsummer night. Could these people make their kids understand that right now it was important that they obey? Had Hummer gotten anywhere, really gotten anywhere, with them last night and this morning? Had someone else done a better job?

Almost in answer to his mental questions he saw the plump silhouette of a man entering the front door. It was unmistakably Garnett, the bald head tilted to one side like a fat bird's, the narrow, fleshy shoulders and, now that the light was no longer behind the other man, he could see the too quick smile.

"Lawd! If it ain't young Champlin!" If it had been on a woman his mouth would have been the best feature of the round face. Now it was smiling broadly. "How ya doin', man!"

David had been sitting with elbows on thighs, hands hanging slack between his knees, and he did not change his position. He said, without smiling, "Hi, Garnett. What are you doing here?"

"Didn't no one give you the word? I'm here with Hummer, with the Reverend Sweeton, he'ping him out. Man, we really got something going here. Too bad you ain't been in on it."

"Never too late. I'm here now." He saw the quick distress in Garnett's face, wanted to chuck him under the fat chin and say, "Wassa matter, baby? You-all hurtin' someplace?"

Garnett's laugh was nervous, close to a giggle. "Sue-Ellen's in town. Bet she don't even know you're here yet—"

"I know." He wished he didn't, and it would relieve his mind no end if he was sure Garnett would win his bet.

Garnett's stubby fingers gripped his shoulder, then massaged it, and he was glad when Brad came over and said: "Hello, Garnett. Let's go, David. Mrs. Haskin has already gone over and we're to go on in. Haskin will be along in a few minutes."

David wondered if Garnett would have the nerve to follow them to the house. Then Brad turned toward the front door and waved a hand in greeting, and David saw Hummer Sweeton and Les Forsyte entering. Garnett duck-waddled over to them, listened to something they were saying, nodded, and went out at a faster waddle.

Sweeton and Les joined them and they started for the house, which stood behind and a little to one side of the store. They passed through a rear door and into a yard that ran, on their right, to Main Street. Cyclone fencing enclosed this loading area, and on the Main Street side, a wide double gate served as entrance for laden trucks. There were a side door and small narrow porch at the side of the house that gave directly on this loading area. He could see the battered warehouse across the street even better from this point, its walls plastered with torn and peeling posters, and painted with soft-drink and patent-medicine ads.

The Haskin house had a large front living room that was entered directly from the front porch, a dining room behind it, and beyond that the kitchen and back porch. From the exterior David could tell that, like the Towers house, other rooms had been added on through the years.

Mrs. Haskin, a heavy, quick-spoken, smiling woman, greeted them, and as they passed through the kitchen on their way to wash up for dinner, introduced them to her daughter-in-law, Gracie. Gramp would have called Gracie "a fine woman, sure fine." When Gramp said "fine" about a woman he had generally been referring to figure and build. The word came back to David now. Gracie was a "fine" woman, and besides being fine she was, in spite of her youth, a comfortable woman. Few women as young and good looking as Gracie gave a man the feeling that she was mothering them, that even while he was looking upon her with more or less lustful intent he was at the same time resting his head on her shoulder.

A child stood beside her, and when she told him, "Say 'Good evenin' to the gentlemen," he hid his face in her skirt, then freed one round brown eye to peek at them. Haskin had entered the room now, and he picked the child up and carried him on his shoulder. "He's shy but he'll come out of it once he knows you. Name's Shadrach. Ain't that a shame! His mamma's grandmaw insisted on it and didn't none of us have the stren'th to fight the old lady. Pore li'l helpless chile. We calls him Shad."

They sat in the living room before dinner, David on the floor. He tried not to let his face reveal the inner uneasiness that kept him nervously turning a coin over and over in his fingers. He found he was not listening to the others, was listening to—no, for—something else. He knew when he spoke that he was rudely interrupting something Brad was saying, but he could not hold back the question. "What're you people doing about this curfew?"

"We're observing it," said Hummer. "If some of them young folks wants to break it and get in trouble, that's something we can't help. But at the church meeting this morning and in Salvation Hall this afternoon the word went out. Observe it, we says."

"Many at the meeting?" asked David.

"Lord, Lord, there was plenty. I mean
plenty
people."

"Older people or young folks?"

Les Forsyte answered, concern in his voice. "Mostly older. A lot of women. I'll say one thing, though. I had the feeling we've got them with us. And that's a lot in this matriarchal society."

"If only a small number go along on this work-stoppage deal, you just might face charges of vagrancy—and jail sentences."

"I thought of that," said Brad. "But a man in jail is still a nonproducer."

"And he's a damned vulnerable one," said David.

"Don't think that'll happen," said Hummer. "Nossir, don't think it will. And, like I say, the word's gone out to observe the curfew. 'Wise as serpents and harmless as doves—' " He smiled, and David smiled into the deep eyes, the trust in them, and the faith.

Haskin was on his feet headed for the door. "We're closing early," he said. "I'm going back over to the store and give the kid a hand. Don't you-all wait for me when dinner's ready."

David said to Sweeton, "There's a woman here now, name of Sue-Ellen Moore—"

"You know her, son?" Hummer smiled. "She's sort of hard to handle. But I'm not worrying myself about her, not now."

"If I were you I'd worry about her twenty-four hours a day," said David.

"We're not about to get in a fuss with any other organization. We gave her a job with us, training those young uns, teaching 'em how to protect theirselves, how to march so's the line'll be harder to break up, things like that. The whites give her twelve hours to get out of town, and can't none of us go for that. She's still here."

David would have felt a lot better without Hummer's last words. "Out of town" was where he would like Sue-Ellen to be permanently.

Gracie came in, telling them dinner was ready. While they were filing into the dining room, Haskin reentered the house, hurrying, his face dark and set.

"Town's crawling with po-lice," he said. "Plumb crawling with 'em. All of a sudden. Regular po-lice and special deputies with badges, and I swear to God I saw a trooper's uniform back of the old warehouse. They don't need all them po-lice just to enforce a curfew."

"Set down, Jim, set down," said Hummer. "They just looking for trouble, not finding it. They like a man squared off for a punch, and when he lets fly the other man ain't there."

"All of you set down," said Mrs. Haskin. "Eat your dinners. Worry don't do nothing but rile up the stomach." She hurried into the kitchen, and after they were seated Haskin, his face still showing the lines of worry and anxiety, said, "Pass your plates, folks."

"Daddy Jim." Gracie had entered from the kitchen. "You ain't asked the blessing yet."

"Lawd! So I ain't—" and there was sudden quiet in the room.

The blessing was long and earnest, and while Haskin's voice went on, David glanced across the table from under lowered eyelids and saw the solemn dark eyes of Shadrach fixed on him. He opened his own eyes wide, then closed one in a broad wink. Shad covered his mouth with a chubby hand; the eyes danced, then closed dutifully at a whispered reprimand from Gracie, sitting beside him.

It was then that David heard the sounds.

***

The sounds were not loud, but they were sharpened and made meaningful by a mind alert with apprehension: the steady thud of feet past the front of the house muffled but clearly audible, the same sound from the direction of Main Street barely distinguishable. Placing the heels of his palms against the table's edge, he pushed back his chair. "Trouble," he said, and walked quickly into the dining room. He heard Brad say, "David, what—" but did not slow down. When he reached the living-room window Brad and Haskin were just behind his shoulders, and he could hear the others hurrying from the dining room to join them. He thought, This is it again, Champlin! God! Here you go again—

Only the area in front of the house was clearly visible, but by twisting his neck he could see the dusty end of Calhoun Road, and the portion of Main Street in front of the stockade. Several white men were walking briskly along the sidewalk on the other side of Main Street. They wore khaki pants and white shirts and each had a revolver holstered on one hip. Four more were walking in Calhoun Road, two-by-two, in opposite directions. On these men the badges pinned on shirt pockets were clearly visible. He remembered seeing two of them in Heliopolis just before he was jailed.

"The store," said Haskin hoarsely. "We can see better from the store—"

David started on an uneven run for the side door, and when they reached the small side porch Brad's sudden grip on his arm threw him off balance so that he grabbed one of the roof supports to steady himself. He turned and was looking into Brad's eyes, icy, imperious.

"Stay out of this!" Brad's voice matched his eyes. "Stay out of it, damn you! We need you,
understand? We need you.
Don't be a damn martyr!"

"Turn me loose, Brad! For God's sake, you think I'm crazy?" The other men were ahead of them now, running across the rear yard. "Let's go, man, let's go!"

Haskin, just before he reached the rear door of the store, called: "Gracie! Gracie! Lock them doors and pull the shades! Keep the chile inside, y'hear! Keep the chile inside!"

(Oh, God, yes! Oh, God, yes! Keep the chile inside, Gracie; keep the small limbs and soft face inside; keep the young eyes and ears inside so they can't see or hear, so the chile won't wake screaming in the night because of what they've seen and heard.)

The front door of the store was already open, and a youth David knew must be Haskin's nephew was standing on the porch outside. There were the sound of sirens, and the edgy, shrill note of a police whistle. David and the others stood on the porch watching, stunned. Men in the uniforms of city police and sheriff's deputies were spotted every few yards on both sides of Main Street, and on the sidewalks men in khakis and green shirts were walking slowly, in couples, talking; even, God help him, laughing expectantly.

Hummer Sweeton was standing beside David now, and his eyes were those of a man who feels a deep inner sickness. He did not speak when David gripped his shoulder. Even in the shock of the moment David noted the thinness of that shoulder, the bone beneath too little flesh. He tried to keep his voice light when he said, "There ain't nothing we can do about it, Reverend, not just now—"

Hummer nodded without speaking, then after a moment said, "I know, I know. I been here before. But I didn't think —" and let the words trail off.

Les Forsyte said, "Nobody told us—but somebody must have tipped them. Some son of a bitch must have got the word out."

David did not answer because he was listening now to the sound of chanting in the distance. The heavy, humid heat that now held a threat of rain suddenly became almost too oppressive to bear, and he was conscious of the sweat that trickled down his temples and formed in beads on his forehead.

Now the source of the chanting came into view, at the far end of Main Street, rounding the curve that marked the end of the pavement and carried the street westward: a massed, orderly phalanx of marchers, six abreast, and when it reached the paved portion of the street the sound of marching feet became the background of the chanting, giving it reality, supporting it. When the last row of marchers rounded the curve, reinforcements from a large building on the west side of the street fell in line with ordered precision.

Sue-Ellen was marching in the front line, arms linked with those of a young boy and a girl. Just before the marchers reached Third Street the lines became uneven and the parade halted. Two young men, older than the bulk of the marchers, came out of the ranks and trotted down each side, straightening lines. There were few adults in those lines; at least two-thirds were young teen-agers.