Summer of Pearls (16 page)

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Authors: Mike Blakely

BOOK: Summer of Pearls
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“Yep. Where's Cecil and Adam? I want to show them.”
“They were here looking for you a while ago. They said they would wait for you at the hog pen.”
“Thanks, Esau.” I started up the lakeshore.
“That's a good boat,” he said, stopping me. “You work hard, and stay away from whiskey, and you earn a lot of good things like that.”
I paused before continuing up the shore. Esau had never lectured me or given me advice before.
“Ben,” he said, stopping me again. He grinned. “They looked mad.”
“Who?”
“Your friends.”
“Mad? About what?”
Esau shrugged. “Somethin' about the hogs.” He reached for his flask again as I turned away.
I SAW THEM SITTING ON THE RAILS OF THE HOG PEN, SCOWLING AND FUMING.
They had been a little edgy toward me lately, because of the way Cindy flirted with me all the time instead of with them. But I couldn't think of what I had done to make them this mad. I reasoned it was probably Cecil's doing for the most part. Adam usually didn't get mad unless somebody told him to.
Cecil jumped down from the fence when I got close, and Adam quickly followed. Buttermilk stood between them, wagging his tail. They ground their teeth and glowered at me until I was near enough for them to holler at.
“What the hell's going on?” Cecil demanded.
“That's what I want to know!” Adam added.
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Your girlfriend's daddy came up here and took two of our hogs. Said you told him he could do it.”
“She's not my girlfriend.”
“Well, whoever the hell she is, her daddy came up here and took
our hogs. What did you do, trade him a couple of hogs to feel on her or something?”
I was still in good spirits from buying my bateau, but that sort of talk was going to make me mad quick. “I sold him those hogs,” I said.
Cecil took off his hat and threw it on the ground. “You what?” Buttermilk grabbed the hat, thinking Cecil wanted to play. “Who gives you the right to sell our hogs without asking us? I thought we decided to fatten those hogs till fall. Now you've sold them cheap and run off with the money without even asking us.”
“Yeah!” Adam said.
“I didn't run off with the money. I just went to buy my new bateau from Charlie Ashenback. Come on down to the lake and look at it.”
Both of them fumed. Adam threw his hat on the ground.
“You used our money to buy your bateau?” Cecil shouted.
“No! I just used my own money for the bateau. I've got your money in my pocket.”
“Well, let's have it. I want to see what you sold those hogs for. And I'm going to ask that little bitch from Longview what her daddy paid, too, so don't try to short me.”
Now we were all about equally mad. “You don't have to talk about her like that, Cecil. She hasn't done anything to you.”
“I'll bet she hasn't done anything to you, either, and if she did, you wouldn't know how to do it, anyway. Now, give us our money!”
I looked at Adam as I scooped the money out of my pocket. “Here's your cut,” I said, getting ready to count out his share. “Oh,” I added, after putting the first coin in his hand, “would you loan me enough to buy a paddle?”
“Hell, no, he's not going to loan you any money!” Cecil shouted.
“Hell, no, I'm not going to loan you any money!” Adam echoed.
He probably would have if Cecil hadn't said anything. There wasn't a greedy bone in Adam's body. I counted the rest of his share into his palm as Cecil watched.
“Is that all you sold those hogs for? Is that our whole share? Damn, Ben, that farmer took your shirt!” He held his hand open.
“Cecil,” I said, before giving him his share, “I don't suppose your would loan me the money for the paddle?”
He answered by thrusting his open palm at me. I put the money in his hand in one lump sum, but I knew he was going to count it.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Wait just a damn minute. How come Adam got more than me?”
“Well,” I said, “the truth is I already bought that paddle. I thought one of you would be my friend enough to loan me the money.”
“That does it!” Cecil said. He kicked his hat toward the hog pen, and Buttermilk went after it again. “I'm about to kick your ass, Ben!”
“Oh, settle down,” I said. Then Cecil's fist hit me right in the forehead and knocked me to the ground. When I looked up, he was standing over me with his fists waving in front of him. Buttermilk was jumping around with excitement, wagging his tail.
“All right, Cecil,” I said. “If that's the way you want it.”
He rushed me when I got up, but I ducked his wild punch and hit him in the lip with the top of my head. I pushed him away and got my fists up. His lip was bleeding.
“Damn you, Ben, I'm really gonna kick your ass now!”
“That's right, Cecil,” Adam said. “You show him!” Adam loved a good fight, even if he wasn't in it.
Cecil rushed me and I slipped in a quick punch to his nose that buckled his knees and landed him on his rear end.
“Cecil!” Adam yelled. “What are you doin', boy? Git off your ass and
git him!”
Now, old Buttermilk didn't know too much English, but
git him
was his favorite phrase. He took two springs toward the pen and landed among the hogs before Adam even realized what he had said. A great surge of pork crashed against one side of the fence, and logs flew as if they had been blasted. I tried to jump in the way of the last two hogs
left
in the pen, but with Buttermilk behind them, they thought little of running over me, their scissorlike teeth gnashing in my face.
“Damn it, Adam!” Cecil yelled as he got up. “Don't ever say
git him
when Buttermilk's around!”
The dog had caught one of the pigs by the ear and had it almost immobilized.
“Ben, fix the hog pen! Adam, go catch that hog!”
Adam sprinted for the pig Buttermilk had caught and I started stacking the logs back. By the time we got the single hog back in the pen, the mayhem had started down at the pearling camps. All five remaining pine-rooters had stampeded the tent city. We could hear pots and pans clanging, women screaming with terror, children shrieking with joy, men swearing, dogs barking.
If not for Buttermilk, we never would have recaptured any of them. The steady diet of mussels and garbage had slowed the hogs down a little and made them easy for the dog to catch. People tried to herd them, shoo them, and tackle them, but Buttermilk was the only successful hog-rassler. With his help, we managed to catch three, but two escaped to the woods.
There was a big panic for the first few minutes of the hog scramble, then everyone in camp pulled together to catch the strays. Many grown men ran from popping tushes while their wives stood their ground with shovels or frying pans. Nobody blamed us boys. I guess we and our hogs had done the camp more good than harm over the long haul.
When all the hogs had been tied or run into the woods, a group of men helped us carry the caught ones back up to the pen. Billy Treat was among them. He had pulled his supply wagon up at the pearling camp about the time the stampede broke out.
“Hey, no hard feelings,” I said to Cecil when we got the last tush hog in. “I'll pay you back for the paddle.”
He had dried blood all over his mouth and chin. He smirked and waved at me in a peculiar way as he walked off.
“What was all that about?” Billy asked, coming up behind me.
“Nothin',” I said.
“I thought you two were friends.”
“I thought so, too.”
Billy grunted. “What was the fight over? Girls or money?”
The men were returning to their camps, leaving Billy and me alone
at the pens. When I looked at him, I couldn't help grinning a little. He was sharp, that Billy Treat. You had to like a guy like that. “A little of both,” I said.
He grimaced. “Well, don't worry, he'll get over it.”
We stood there together for a few quiet seconds, looking out over the camps and the boats and the lake.
“I heard you bought an Ashenback.”
I nodded,
“Well, where is it? Let's see it.”
I felt better almost instantly. I was dying to show off my bateau. “Come on, I'll show you,” I said. I forgot all my troubles as I walked with Billy toward Esau's place. My partners and I had lost two hogs, but they hadn't cost us anything but time and a little sweat. Now that I had the Ashenback, I wasn't worried much about money. I had my mind on my bateau, and that girl, Cindy, from Longview.
To make conversation, I asked Billy how the business was going, and he told me all about it. He mentioned Carol Anne's name several times, but it barely fazed me. It seemed as if I hadn't been in love with her in a long time.
“I bet she moves like a skipping stone,” Billy said, examining my bateau.
“Yeah, you want to try her?” I asked.
But before he could answer, I heard a voice as sweet and smooth as wild honey call my name.
“Hi, Ben,” Cindy said, strolling by on the lakeshore.
I felt myself blush. “Oh, hi,” I replied.
“That your boat?”
I nodded.
“I still want that ride.” She stopped and flipped one side of a mussel shell over with her bare toe. “See you at our party tonight.”
I watched her walk down the shoreline until I heard Billy whistle quietly.
“That's who the fight was over?”
“Yeah,” I said, groaning with embarrassment.
“I'd fight you for her myself if I was fifteen years younger.”
I scoffed, because I knew Cindy had nothing on Carol Anne.
“My God, Ben, why are you turning so red?”
“I don't know.” I cringed and waded into the water next to my bateau. “Shoot, I don't know anything about girls,” I said.
“Yeah, neither do I. I guess that's what gets us so all-fired interested in them. They're a mystery, and no man can resist that.”
I glanced up at him and caught that sparkle in his eye, like when he talked about pearls. “You must know something about them,” I said, a little accusingly. “You sure got you one.”
He was looking at the sky. “All I know is to behave like a gentleman. That's all there is to it, Ben.” He smiled, still looking skyward. “That throws them. They don't encounter much of that.”
I looked to the north to see what he was staring at, but found nothing in the sky where his eyes led.
“It's a rare thing, Ben.”
“What is?”
“True love. Rare as a pearl.”
I felt awkward listening to him philosophize. Fourteen-year-old bayou boys don't have much use for that kind of talk. But nobody was listening, and he had complimented my bateau, and besides, I idolized Billy. I decided to humor him a little. “How rare is that?” I said.
He looked at me suddenly, as if stunned to think he might have gotten through to me or something. Then he stroked his chin and dredged deep into his reservoir of philosophies. “Have you ever seen the moon through a rainbow?”
I wrinkled my face. He was looking at that place in the sky again.
“Rainbows don't come out at night,” I said.
“No, but sometimes you'll see the moon in the daytime.”
“But if there's a rainbow, that means it's been raining, so there are probably some clouds in the sky. They would cover up the moon.” It was a strange conversation, because I didn't really even know what we were talking about.
“True. But a rainbow also means there's some sun shining. That means clouds are clearing. Conditions would have to be just right, Ben, but it could happen.” His gaze fell from the sky and landed on me. “It
might happen one day out of ten thousand. That's how rare a pearl is. That's how rare true love is. It's one in ten thousand. Like the moon through a rainbow.”
Suddenly I wasn't embarrassed anymore. I was thinking higher thoughts with Billy Treat. I was imagining the full moon through a rainbow. It was like a pearl! I turned to that place in the sky over the lake. I could almost see it there, perfectly round and shimmering through the bands of light-borne color. When I looked back at Billy, he was walking toward his wagon.
“Just remember you're a gentleman,” he said, looking over his shoulder and shaking a warning finger at me.
But Billy had misjudged me. I was no gentleman.
 
 
The party drew almost everybody in the tent city to the camp of Cindy's parents. The hogs were roasted and carved on spits over banks of orange coals. Catfish fried in huge iron kettles. The fiddlers and banjo-pluckers circled the campfires. Pots of brewing coffee filled the air with a fine, rich aroma. With all the campfire and tobacco smoke, the mosquitoes found few opportunities to probe for blood, preying mainly on the men who went to sip whiskey in the dark.
Cecil and Adam avoided me, still mad about the hogs, envious of my bateau, and jealous over Cindy. Most of the other Port Caddo kids went home after dark, so I was left to shift for myself. After I ate some pork and cornbread, I didn't have much to do, but I kept wandering around, hoping to bump into Cindy, and yet avoiding her wagon for fear I would bump into her. I was about ready to give up and go home when it finally happened.

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