The Right Side of Wrong (15 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“Why Cody, that stuff that Little Ben sold us. Said it was good for Old Timer's disease and would ease her at night so she could sleep.”

“You talking about marijuana. You give her dope?”

“Sure 'nough. The medicine Doc give her ain't working, and it's dope, too. I bought some papers and rolled her a couple of cigarettes and she tried it. It works for a while, but I'll be damned if I can afford much of the stuff. You reckon I should have made her just chew it like tobaccer? You know she dips Garrets Snuff pretty regular, so it shouldn't be any different.”

Cody squinted at Harold. “You been smoking that dope, too?”

“Yeah, right smart since it cost so much and I didn't want to waste it. I've felt pretty good the last day or so. I don't know why they outlawed it.”

“Because it's dope, Harold.” Grandpa rubbed his bald head beside the car, standing in the half-open door with his foot propped on the edge of the floorboard. “What you did wasn't right.” Grandpa picked up the microphone on his Motorola and called for an ambulance.

The lights flickered as the power came back on, and a dim glow filled Harold's living room.

Miss Becky and Norma Faye were rushing around in there, and I knew then we'd finally eat our ice cream, but much later and that was all right.

I needed to get the stink out of my nose first.

Chapter Twenty-one

The Parkers hadn't been gone but a minute when a new sedan came over the creek bridge and rolled sedately down the straight mile of two-lane highway before reaching the house. Tom Bell heard the tires change tone when it slowed. He'd blown out the kerosene lamp on the porch and propped his chair back on two legs in contentment, waiting for everyone to come back.

His ear perked when the car slowed even more on the highway, and almost rolled to a stop down by the drive.

Its headlights were off.

It was dark on the porch, and impossible for anyone to see from below. Tom didn't move. The dim glow of the coal oil lights in the house gave little illumination to the outside.

Giving the car a quick glance, Tom slipped his hand into the small of his back and slipped his .45 automatic free. Instead of concentrating on the car below, he raised the pistol, aiming along the side of the house, to the porch steps on his right.

He waited.

The silent car idled below.

The wind laid for a moment. He heard the commotion at Lizzie's house.

A soft noise of cloth brushing against the side of the house told him someone was trying to take advantage of the sudden blackout.

With the pistol still pointed at the corner of the house, Tom spoke, softly. “Don't.”

He waited.

“If I was you, I'd slip back around the house and down the hill there to your friends in the car. If you don't, I'll kill you. This forty-five in my hand will blow holes in you big enough to pitch a dog through.”

Silence.

“I imagine your friend down there in the sunglasses is getting impatient. You better hurry, and I don't reckon you better come back here again. Tell him we'll be waiting.”

The wind picked up again.

A minute later, he heard several soft thuds as the prowler high-tailed it down the hill and back to the dark car. When he opened the door, the dome light illuminated the interior. The door slammed, and the car roared away, switching on its lights as it gained speed.

He'd seen enough to recognize Whitlatch behind the wheel.

Tom slipped the pistol back behind his belt and continued to lean against the wall, thinking he'd need to keep an eye on Ned's house for a while.

He also wished they'd hurry back. That banana ice cream still sounded good.

Chapter Twenty-two

We'd been shooting at frogs and snakes with our BB guns, but the sun settling over the trees shoved us on home before it got too dark. Pepper beat me over the hill from the pool. She's always been able to run faster, even though our legs are about the same length.

Uncle Cody was standing beside his El Camino. “Y'all go wash your faces, and put on clean shirts.”

“What for?”

He gave us a grin. “Well, there's a tent revival that Miss Becky is gearing up for, and your Grandpa's in town with Judge Rains. He ain't back yet, so y'all can either let me carry you to Pepper's house for the night, or you can go with me and Norma Faye to a powwow in Grant.”

The offer was like a chance to go to Disneyland. I'd never been to a powwow, and the idea of a revival or an evening with Aunt Ida Belle sounded as good as getting jobbed with a sharp stick.

With a whoop, we charged into the house, washed our faces, and changed shirts. Miss Becky was in the front bedroom, letting Norma Faye braid her hair up into a bun. Their backs were to us. “I'd a sight rather y'all go with me to hear the preaching tonight.”

We didn't say anything for fear that a conversation might suddenly turn into a change in plans. Norma Faye gave us a wink in the mirror over Miss Becky's head.

“You and Cody could go too.”

Norma Faye nodded like she was giving the idea some serious thought. She brushed at Miss Becky's long, salt-and-pepper hair that reached below her waist. “We could, but I've never been to a powwow, neither. I've been to tent revivals.”

Miss Becky sighed. “My mama took me to a powwow when I was little, but she died not long after.”

“I didn't know.”

“No, I reckon you didn't. We don't talk about it much.”

“You were born in Grant, weren't you?” Pepper stepped up beside them to look at herself. “That's where we're going.”

“Sure was, and we lived there until Mama died when I was six, then Papa brought us across the river here to Center Springs.”

We'd never heard Miss Becky talk about my great-grandmother.

“We lived in a little holler on a creek, not far from a good spring. Papa was in Tulsa that day with some of the tribal elders, and my sisters and I were helping Mama make soap. It was our job to keep the fire going under the wash pot.

“I don't know what happened. Maybe a coal rolled out, or Mama's dress blew into the fire. She wore dresses that brushed the ground and they were forever getting dirty, or muddy, or snagged on something.

“Anyways, all of a sudden that cotton material caught a-fire and blazed up all at once. I imagine she'd spilled some lard on it, or had been wiping her greasy hands on it all day long, because that's what we used to make soap back then, wood ashes and fat, but before we knew what was happening, she was a-fire.”

Norma Faye listened and slowly twisted three thick stands of hair into a bun.

It was like Miss Becky was telling a story she'd had bottled up for years, and she didn't want to stop, all the time looking through her reflection, back to a time long ago.

I imagined it might be a magic mirror, and shifted to look into the past with her.

“If you catch fire, you're supposed to drop on the ground and roll around, but Mama panicked and ran toward the house. Maybe she wanted to get to the water bucket beside the door, but her hair caught, and her's was longer than mine, because she was younger and wore it down a lot. She was a-screamin' and a-screamin.'

“Before you know it, she was all a-fire, and she fell on the ground and rolled around in the dirt, because that's all our yard was, but it was too late. Sister threw a quilt on her to put her out, but it didn't do no good.”

Norma Faye put down the brush and picked up a thin black hair net that she stretched over Miss Becky's hair.

“Mama's clothes finally went out, and Neva Lou ran to get help, and left me, Geneva, and Wilfred there by ourselves. He was a little baby. Mama was black on one side of her face and moaning, and I didn't know what to do for her, so I covered her up with a different quilt and bathed her face with cold water, but every time I did, her skin came off on the rag. It was red raw underneath.”

The house was totally silent. Norma Faye rested her hands on Miss Becky's shoulders. Great aunt Neva Lou was the only sister Miss Becky had left. Geneva and Wilfred both died before I was born.

“Us kids wrapped her up right there on the ground and waited with her all by ourselves that night, while she shivered and moaned. We kept giving her water when she called for it, but she was out of her head. Help finally came the next morning, but it was too late. She died that afternoon, not long before Papa got back home. I cried for days after Mama died. It wasn't long after that Papa left us with some relatives and didn't come back until I was a teenager. I swore then I'd never leave any family for no reason at all.”

All of a sudden, her eyes widened. “Well my lands, now why did I go and tell that story when y'all were excited about a powwow. Y'all better get going. Cody!”

I was startled when I heard him right behind me. “Yes, ma'am?”

“These kids don't know what to do. I don't want them to insult anybody. You make sure they mind their manners, and take some dollar bills for the drum out of that red lard bucket in the china cabinet.”

Pepper swelled up. “We know our manners.”

Uncle Cody pulled her toward the door. “You do around here, but powwows have rules, and they're important. Now, clam up because she's probably just a hair away from making y'all go to that revival with her.”

***

It was dark when we arrived in the little community of Grant, but the powwow was already going strong. Big generators roared and thick cables stretched across the grass, powering floodlights that brightened a pasture full of happy people. They were far enough away to keep the noise from covering the songs and events. It reminded me of only a few months ago at the Cotton Exchange in Chisum where they used floodlights for the lawmen and firemen to help Uncle Cody and Mr. John.

The whole shebang was set up not far from the lone country store that was doing a booming business. I imagine Neal Box would have loved to have something pop up like this near his store a couple of times a year. This part of Oklahoma was no different than where we lived in Center Springs, except it had Indians everywhere, and for once, a lot of them were dressed the way I expected Indians to look. Kids my age were all decked out in feathers, bells, and buckskin, waiting for their turn to dance.

Despite the warm weather, a fire burned bright in the center of the pasture. Between the parked cars and the fire, a circle of men surrounded a big drum and were beating the whey out of it with what I took for leather-covered war clubs. I liked the beat, but it didn't sound like what you heard on television when Indians were singing and doing their war dance.

BOOM boom boom boom BOOM boom boom boom.

This one was more of a strong, steady beat I felt deep in my chest. It almost made my lungs tickle, and I was glad my puffer was in my back pocket. They were singing a traditional song, but I didn't know the words, because they were in Choctaw or Comanche or something.

Then I recognized one phrase that Miss Becky taught us.

Chi hollo li.

Some of the men at the drum were dressed like white people, but a few wore khakis and were shirtless. You never saw a grown man without a shirt on in Center Springs, and at first it didn't seem right for them to be half naked, but the Indians looked more like what I imagined.

The drums and music touched something deep inside me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt really, really good. When I caught Pepper's eye, I knew she felt the same thing and her eyes lit up in excitement. While we walked from the car to the crowd, the drummers quit.

People clapped and the men started a different song, but it sounded the same. “Why are they singing the same one again?”

“It's different, Top.” Uncle Cody stopped. “The songs sound alike when you don't know the words, but I doubt they'll sing the same ones twice, unless there's a request, which reminds me, there are important rules that you need to remember.”

For the next five minutes he explained how powwows worked, and what we were allowed to do. There were a lot of don'ts.

“We're not settin' anywhere, so that'll keep you two from getting in trouble with the older folks who can't stand up for long. We'll stay back here, but don't get any closer than that ring of benches, and as a matter of fact, if y'all do find yourselves away from me, ask permission if you can stand behind anyone or anything.”

Half a dozen little kids chased each other past us. Uncle Cody reached out and ran his fingers through one little girl's hair as she dodged around him. “When anyone stands for songs, you stand too.”

“Like the national anthem?” Pepper's head was about to spin off, because she kept trying to take in everything at the same time.

“Kinda. There are Prayer Songs and Memorial Songs we stand for, out of respect.”

Frying foods, wood smoke, and cigarettes mixed with a sweet smell of boiling caramel candy gave a carnival feeling to the dry air. I soon learned they called it Burnt Sugar.

Cub scouts were everywhere, building little campfires that extended in all directions. Grownups were putting up tents for the night. There were even authentic teepees.

My nerves jangled in excitement. Uncle Cody and Norma Faye walked slow, holding hands. He was dressed in a blue shirt and khakis with his .45 on his hip. She wore jeans and a short sleeved shirt. I noticed, because women back then usually wore dresses.

Norma Faye rubbed the back of my head. “Y'all look like we're at the circus.”

Pepper was almost dancing, and it was the first time since the Incident down by the Rock Hole that she really and truly acted like her old self. “I've never seen anything like this!”

I tugged on Uncle Cody's arm, taking his attention from the crowd. “I can't believe Miss Becky said it was all right for us to come out here. This doesn't seem very religious, from the way she believes.”

He and Norma Faye exchanged glances. “Well, y'all know how she is about church, but that little woman knows a lot more than we give her credit for. I think she wanted y'all to understand where we come from and how our people are.”

Pepper pointed. “Why are they putting money in front of that guy there?”

“It's a sign of respect. They're honoring him for some reason…”

Cody's explanation was cut off when a body flashed out of the crowd and slammed into me.

My first thought was Cale Westlake was here and wanted to finish the fight!

Cale tried to beat me up nearly a year earlier, not long after I moved to Center Springs. He was a couple of years older than me, and had it in his head that Pepper was supposed to be his girlfriend. When we got crossways at a dance, he and some of his toadies waylaid me out behind the school gym.

I couldn't believe my bad luck in running into him in Oklahoma. I braced my feet and twisted, trying to throw him off before his buddies showed up and started trying to beat the snot out of me. I heard Pepper screech, and then she ran into us, knocking me off balance and nearly throwing me to the ground. Hair flew in my face, and I butted heads with someone.

In the back of my mind, I wondered why Uncle Cody hadn't stepped in to help, but I figured he was letting me and Pepper handle our own battles.

And then I heard him laughing.

Pepper shrieked. “Son of a bitch!”

“Pepper!” Norma Faye scolded. “Watch your language.”

I finally got free and ran back a couple of steps to get some space. My fist was doubled up when I spun around to find a target, but all I saw was Pepper hugging a girl. Behind them, Uncle Cody and Norma Faye stood by with their arms around each other, beaming while Pepper rassled with her right there in front of everyone.

The people walking around us weren't upset over two kids fighting. They passed with big smiles on their faces.

Something was wrong with the fight, because Pepper wasn't mad, and the person she had her arms around wasn't trying to hurt her. Then the other girl let go, pulled her long black hair out of her eyes, and held up her right hand toward me with a big grin.

“How!”

“Mark!” This time it was me who charged with tears in my eyes, and I wrapped my arms around my best friend in a big bear hug.

***

Ten minutes later Uncle Cody handed each of us an ear of roasted corn and we found a place to stand out of the way. Norma Faye sipped a Dr Pepper through a paper straw standing in the neck of the bottle. “What have you been up to?”

We hadn't heard from him in months and it bothered Pepper most of all, because she had a crush on him.

Mark's grin split his face from ear to ear. “Not much. Missing
y'all
mostly.”

He and Pepper standing so close their shoulders brushed. It should have bothered me, but he'd become my best friend in the short time we'd known each other. Uncle Cody took him for a haircut when he lived with us, but in the months since, it had grown back to his shoulders, thick and black.

“Where you living, son?”

“Still with my aunt and uncle, up near Frogtown. They're somewhere hereabouts.”

“I didn't think there was anything left of Frogtown these days.”

“There ain't. We ain't got no store or nothin'. Just a few shacks and that's all.” Mark was much thinner than when he lived with us, and he was wearing clothes a size too large.

Uncle Cody chewed his bottom lip. “You've lost weight.”

Mark worked his way down the ear of corn from one end to the other like a typewriter. He chewed for a moment. “They don't have much money, so we eat mostly beans and a few ‘taters every now and then.”