Spencer's Mountain (30 page)

“Oh,” said Clay casually, “One of them good-looken women
did
try to kidnap me. I fought her off, but still she bit me powerful bad.”

After his wounds were dressed and he had changed into another pair of trousers, Clay escorted his family to church as usual. As soon as the service was over he loaded his family into the pick-up truck he had borrowed for the day and set out for Mr. John Pickett's farm. Olivia and the twins rode in the front seat with Clay while it was Clay-Boy's job to ride in the body of the truck and see that the younger children sat down so that they would not fall out.

Mr. John Pickett lived in a high bluff overlooking Rockfish River twenty miles from New Dominion. According to legend, his home had been designed by Thomas Jefferson; in the early days Mr. John's family had been people of means and influence. Now there was only Mr. John who lived alone in a house full of Federal antiques and pictures of his relatives. That he was rich was widely known. He even boasted of his money when he was drinking, but when he was sober he pretended to be the poorest man in the county.

He was sitting on the front porch dozing in the summer sun when he saw the pick-up truck stop at the front gate and a man and a woman and an army of small children start up the walk.

“How you doen, Mr. John,” the man called heartily.

“Clay Spencer, ain't it?” the old man said, peering down at the approaching group. “Who's that you got with you?”

“Brought the whole family,” said Clay.

“Y'all come on up here and find a place to sit,” said Mr. Pickett. “How you, Mrs. Spencer?” he said and shook hands with Olivia. “Sit down there, Clay. I didn't expect to lay eyes on you till hunten season. Birds is plentiful this year.”

“I'm glad to hear it, Mr. John,” replied Clay. “Mr. John, I come down here on a matter of business.”

“Sit down, Clay,” urged Mr. John. “Talk.”

“Mr. John,” said Clay, “I come down here to borrow a piece of money off you. I wanted you to know that right
off the bat. There ain't a thing I can offer you for collateral but what I stand for. That ain't much in dollars and cents, but I figure what I've got here in this woman and these babies is worth more than a million dollars. You know me and my family before me and I don't have to tell you we've been decent people because Mama and Old Papa brought us up that way. You know Livy there and never a soul wore shoe leather better than her mama and daddy. Well, we've got ourselves a passel of babies there and I want you to take a good look at 'em.”

Mr. John peered willingly at the group of smiling children who were seated quietly on the steps.

“That biggest boy there is my oldest,” continued Clay. “He's named after me, and I don't mean to brag, but he's just as smart as a pistol. That boy graduated from the high school up at New Dominion last May and he made the highest score anybody ever set up there yet.

“Next one there is Matt. He ain't but eleven years old, but that boy can do anythen with his hands. He's got mechanical ability I've never seen in a grown man. That boy is goen to turn out to be a master mechanic one of these days or I'll eat my words.

“That little girl sitten next to him is Becky. She's independent as mud and ain't scared of the devil. She says she wants to grow up and be a nurse and I'll be damned if I don't believe she'll do it.

“That one sitten next to her is Shirley. Named her after Shirley Temple, and if I could raise the money I'd send her to Hollywood, California, and get her in the movies. She's a little prissy, but she'll get over it in time to come.

“You got a piano in the house, Mr. John?” asked Clay.

“I did have once, but some chickens got in there and roosted on it one time when I was off somewhere and it don't play no more,” said Mr. John.

“Reason I asked,” said Clay, “is I wish you could hear that Luke there play a piece of music for you. That boy is a master hand at piano-playen. Nobody ever showed him how. It was just born in him to make music and one day he seen a piano, went up to it and started playen. I think that is a right remarkable thing, but it's the truth as long as I live.

“Sitten next to him there is Mark. Now that boy is goen into business one of these days. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't open his own store or fillen station or somethen. He's got it in him to make money, and there ain't a lazy bone in his body.

“That little feller down on the bottom step is John. We don't know what he's goen to be yet, but he's got a knack for drawen things. You ask him to draw somethen and he'll make you a picture of it plain as day.

“That little girl there is Pattie-Cake and it's too early yet for her to do anything but kissen and huggen and she's pretty good at both.

“The baby is Donnie and there's two more down in the truck. I'll bring 'em up here for you to take a look at if you want to see 'em.”

“You got yourself a mighty fine family, Clay,” agreed the old man.

“Thank you, Mr. John,” said Clay. “If they're turned out to be a bunch of throwbacks, maybe I wouldn't care so much, but every one of these babies is thoroughbreds. That's why I got heart and craven to see 'em amount to somethen in this world and that's why I'm aimen to send that oldest one there off to college. I figure if he can get a start in life he can help Matt, and Matt can help Becky, and it can work right on down the line. I'll tell you another thing, Mr. John. It ain't just for my family I'm tryen to see this thing work. I figure it'll be a benefit to the whole country because if just one little boy or girl can go on to make somethen of theirselves then that'll clear a path for the other deserven ones to follow.”

“I sympathize with you, Clay,” said Mr. John.

“Well, sir, I hope you sympathize enough to put up a little cash money.”

“Clay, I don't lend money to everybody.”

“I know that, Mr. John.”

“And I ain't got as much money as I let on sometimes when I've had one or two drinks.”

“I ain't asken to borrow a lot, Mr. John.”

“How much you figuren you're goen to have to lay out to get that first one educated?”

“Well, sir,” said Clay, taking a notebook out of his pocket. “Here's how she adds up. My brother, Virgil, down there in Richmond is given him his food and his board. The boy is goen to find himself a job of work at night so he can take care of his streetcar money and books and supplies like that. That leaves the sum of two hundred and thirty-five dollars that's got to be paid in cash money to the college on the day he starts. I don't know what a one of these things is, but there's a sixty-dollar payment for what they call a College fee, five dollars for a Contingent Fee, twenty dollars for a Student Activities fee, and ten dollars for a Laboratory fee. There's something else called a Tuition that comes to a hundred and fifty dollars a year, but they'll take seventy-five dollars now and we've got till February to raise the other seventy-five. What I'm asken you to lend me, Mr. John, is the sum of two hundred and thirty-five dollars.”

Mr. John took off his hat and scratched the rim of gray hair that bordered his bald skull.

“Dependen on whether I can scratch it together, Clay, how you aimen to pay me back?”

“Me and the old woman have put considerable thought to that. We've worked it out so we can save ten dollars a month. I'll bring it down to you the first of every month, same as I did when I bought that power saw off you. If I die or anything you'll still get your money because the company carries a five-hundred dollar life insurance policy on every man that works there and Livy here will see that it's paid in full out of the insurance.”

Olivia nodded her agreement and took heart from the expression on Mr. John's face, for he seemed about to agree to the loan.

From time to time Clay had been conscious that someone or something had moved behind the curtain that hung over the window facing the long porch. When he had finished his plea to Mr. John Pickett a voice spoke from behind the curtain.

“Mr. John,” it said. “You come in here. I want to have words with you.”

Mr. John looked sheepishly at Clay and Olivia. When
he did not speak for a moment the voice came again. It was young and it was female and it pouted.

“You hear what I'm tellen you, Mr. John?”

“I hear you, Minnie-Cora,” he answered. “You come on out here and meet some nice folks.”

“I don't reckon I can do that, Mr. John,” the unseen Minnie-Cora answered, “seein' that I ain't got a stitch of clothes on. This hot weather and all I can't stand nothen to touch my body. You come on in here, Mr. John. I want to see you on some personal business between you and me.”

Mr. John shook his head and smiled at Clay and Olivia. “I reckon it's about time I sprung a little surprise on you-all.”

He caught sight of the shocked expression in Olivia's eyes and realized that it was well past time for him to spring his little surprise.

“You see, it get's kind of lonesome for an old man liven on here in the sticks by hisself. That boy of mine come over here whenever he want money and he don't do a blessed thing but sit and fidget the whole time he's here. And you know yourself, Mrs. Spencer, that an old man like me need somebody around to do the cooken and fixen. Why I could of died and laid over here for three or four weeks and nobody never would of known about it the way I was liven. So I didn't do nothen but up and get myself a little wife.”

Clay was the first to recover from the news. “I'm glad to hear it, Mr. John,” he said. “A man wasn't meant to live alone no matter how many years he's got on him.”

“Mr. John, I'm waiten on you.” Minnie-Cora's voice sounded plaintively from inside the house.

“It's what they call one of them May and December weddens,” explained Mr. John in a pleased way.

“Then there has been a wedden?” asked Olivia and her voice was considerably relieved.

“Why of course there's been a wedden,” answered Mr. John. “I'll tell you how it come about,” he said, but Minnie-Cora's voice interrupted him.

“You tell 'em how it come about some other time. My Dr. Pepper's empty, and if I don't get a fresh one with some
ice in it pretty soon I may just put on a piece or two of clothes and go on back over to my daddy's house.”

“You be patient, honey,” the old man said indulgently. “How it come about was like this. One day Percy Cook come down here looken for a bull of his that had got out of the pasture. Percy and me got to talken and I got to tellen him how scared I was that one day I'd pass on and lay over here for a week or more with nobody to go and fetch the undertakers. Percy agreed that it would be right smart of a shame and he claimed he had so many young ones around the place he'd never counted all of them and why didn't he send one over here to watch out for me. I said I'd be much obliged and the next day that gal in there showed up. Well, it didn't seem decent for a man and a woman to be liven as close as we was without benefit of preacher so one day we just got ourselves over to the preacher and we been man and wife every since.”

“We are not goen to be that way long if you don't haul yourself in here, Mr. John Pickett,” called Minnie-Cora. “I have spoke my piece for the last time, and you can just like it or lump it.”

“I reckon I better see what the little lady wants,” said Mr. John. Using his cane to raise himself, he came slowly to his feet. “You-all excuse me a minute or two.”

When he had gone in the house Olivia cast a disapproving look in Clay's direction, and when he saw it the delighted grin that had covered his face vanished. The children stood stiff and starched on the top step of the porch where Clay had arranged them. Clay called to them and said, “Y'all can go on down in the yard and play if you want to.” But then Olivia said in a tight voice, “Stay where you are. We've been put here for collateral and we'll stay till we get an answer.” The children remained where they were.

“Mr. Pickett, I'm still waiten in here,” Minnie-Cora's voice came suddenly.

Mr. Pickett's voice floated down the long hall. “I'm on my way, Sugar,” he said. “I heard you say you was out of Dr. Pepper, and I went in there to the kitchen to get you a fresh one.

“I don't care nothen about no Dr. Pepper,” said Minnie-Cora, making no effort to keep her voice down. “I just wanted you in here so I could have a word with you.”

“All right, Sugar,” Mr. John said, “What you want?”

“Them people are after money, ain't that it?”

“They come over here on a matter of business, that's right.”

“Well, you tell them to take their business somewheres else.”

“Sugar, I been thinken about letten Clay Spencer have the money. I knowed his Daddy and I know him and he's a man of his word. The money will come back to me in time.”

“I'm tellen you not to let it go, Mr. John.”

“Sugar,” Mr. John's voice came floating out on the porch. “You are not the boss of me.”

“I don't care about bein' no boss,” said Minnie-Cora. “All I'm announcen to you is if you let any money out of this house I am setten my sails with it.”

“Sugar, now you listen to me,” Mr. John said, and then his voice became low and pleading and those on the porch could not hear what he said.

The next thing they heard was Minnie-Cora shouting, “I don't care. You said you'd name me in your will so it's already my money. Let 'em have it and don't you ever come messen around me again.”

Olivia bristled. “I reckon that ain't fit talk for my children to hear,” she said to Clay and rose. “We're goen back to the truck. You can stay here if you want to.”

“Honey,” said Clay, “he ain't said
no
yet. There's still a chance for us.”