Whisper Town (9 page)

“Give me an order then, with some of that sausage gravy.” Jeb dropped his hat on the stool next to him. He felt winded, as
though he had climbed the Ouachitas.

“I hear you’re without your good kitchen help. Shame about Fern’s daddy too.” She filled Jeb’s cup.

“I’m not helpless, Beulah. I can manage without Angel in spite of what everyone thinks.”

“I’ll get your biscuits,” she said.

“Mind if I join you?” Deputy Maynard took the stool on the other side of Jeb. “I’ll venture to say you’ll be seeing a lot
of Beulah over the next couple of weeks.”

Myrtle let out a cry.

Jeb stiffened and turned to see her flail one hand, which fell over her eye. She let out a spewing sigh and then fell back
to sleep.

“When Nebula’s away at her momma’s, I practically live here at Beulah’s.”

The diner biscuits smelled like the fresh crispy-topped ones his grandma used to make. He reached for the jam and placed it
in front of his coffee cup. “I make do.”

“We’re having meat loaf tonight,” Beulah said through the open space from the kitchen. “Bring those children by and ol’ Beulah
will see they’re fed.”

“I guess your children told you I come by this week about that apple orchard bi’ness?” George creamed his coffee.

“What business?”

“They forgot, I guess. I think those banker boys from Hope went sparking down on White Oak Lake and heard some stuff. Apparently
they heard some boys bragging about skinning cats down in the orchards. I didn’t want to scare your kids, but them boys was
up to no good, trying to weave spells from what I hear tell. Nonsense, but it give me the willies to hear it told.”

“Oz Mills told you?”

“His buddy Frank Pella. He come down here sparking one of those girls from down in the holler and then dropped by the next
morning to tell me what he’d heard.”

“Sounds made up,” said Jeb. Beulah delivered the biscuits to him with a bowl of gravy.

“Pella’s ornery, but I figured he had nothing to gain by telling tales.”

“If Oz has anything to do with it, it could skew the story.” Jeb gave thanks over his food.

“Excuse me.” A young man clad in a sweater and new trousers tapped Jeb on the shoulder.

Jeb recognized him vaguely. His daddy was a railroad man who had invested in land just outside of Nazareth. “May I help you?”

“That’s a colored baby, ain’t it?” he asked.

“She’s with me,” said Jeb.

“This is an eating establishment. You’d best take her out back to finish your vittles.”

Jeb glanced at Maynard, who looked down at his hands. “That baby’s not hurting you, fellow. Why don’t you go on about your
business?” He cleared his throat, hoping it would account for his heavy tone, the kind he used to use before he beat a man
to a pulp.

“Beulah, it smells in here. You want Lepinsky’s business, you best keep the trash out back.”

Beulah came out with a puzzled look on her face. “Something wrong with somebody’s food?” she asked.

“Lepinsky, that’s the name. I know your daddy,” said Jeb.

“Well, you should. You worked for my daddy once. He’d not hire you now, nigger lover.”

Jeb whirled around on the stool and jumped down onto the floor. His fingers curled, hard as baseballs.

George grabbed him by the arm. “Calm yourself, Reverend. Wade Lepinsky, now you know Beulah keeps her place in right standing
with the townspeople. Reverend Nubey here is a Good Samaritan is all. He and I had some business to attend to and we need
to finish up. You tend to what you came in here for and he’ll take the colored baby out the back way shortly.”

“George!” Jeb shot out. Maynard’s plump hands grabbed Jeb’s. He sat back on the stool while Maynard eyed the youth into submission.

“I’ll not eat a single thing in this place!” said Wade Lepinsky.

“Go on, then!” Beulah shooed Lepinsky out of the diner. She apologized to Jeb and filled his cup again.

“Things is going to heat up, Reverend,” said George. “People get funny ideas about such things and they’ll say and do things
you can’t imagine. I can’t be around all the time to pull your foot out of the trap, so to speak. You got to find a home for
this child.”

“I did, George. She’s with me.”

Florence Bernard started a song that was a round. She taught it to Angel and Fern, but they kept coming in on the wrong part
of the song. “Not like that.” She laughed and demonstrated the round again.

“I don’t think we’re ever going to get it, Florence,” said Fern.

“How long we been driving?” asked Angel.

“Three hours. We ought to be coming up on the state border in the next couple of hours. We can cut across the corner of Texas
and drive straight into Oklahoma. I vote we ladies find a nice inn for women and stay overnight. Get a fresh start. I promised
Jeb we’d do as little night driving as possible.” Fern read a road sign aloud that advertised home cooking.

“We’ve still got plenty of food if you both want to stop along the road and have a bite to eat,” said Angel.

“What a good idea,” said Fern. “Look at that sun setting. It looks like glass melting on those mountains. This stop will give
me another chance to go over the map again too.”

“I brought that apple pie. Let’s eat it for supper,” said Florence.

“I like the way you think.” Angel pointed to a filling station. “We could gas up and then eat our supper beneath that tree.”

“Apple pie supper sounds like heaven, doesn’t it?” Fern turned the wheel and parked them next to the gas pump. “Angel, open
your door and ask that filling-station attendant the name of this town. But don’t tell him where we’re going. I think it’s
best not to give out our destination.”

“Fern, you’re a smart cookie,” said Florence. “I’m glad to be traveling with you.”

Angel opened her door. The attendant looked to be about thirteen with a home-done haircut and a streak of grease across his
jawline. Angel asked him the name of his town and he answered bashfully, “De Queen.”

“About how far are we from Oklahoma?” Fern asked him.

“You almost there now,” he said. “Next town after this is Broken Bow. But you won’t find no gas after dark. It’s good you’re
filling up now.”

Angel shut the door.

“Ladies, we want to stop for the night in Broken Bow?” asked Fern.

“It’ll be dark when we get there, Fern, but I’m up for it if you are,” said Florence.

“I wonder how Jeb’s doing?” Angel asked.

“If I know Jeb, he’ll have the whole town lined out and a potluck organized or some such goings-on,” said Fern.

“He’s got his hands full,” said Angel. She got out of the automobile to fetch the pie. It didn’t do any good to worry, she
decided. Jeb needed to learn a thing or two about what women went through to keep up a place. He was probably cooking up a
pot of beans right this minute, she figured.

“Reverend, is that you I see clambering around in the back room?” Beulah tied on a fresh apron for the evening.

“I came in the back way so as not to bring you any more trouble.” He hefted the laundry basket through the doorway. Myrtle
was screaming to high heaven. Willie and Ida May sidled in behind him.

“Three blue plate specials?” She pulled out her pad.

Jeb pulled up three chairs and closed the door to keep out the cold night air.

“Did he burn supper?” Beulah whispered to Ida May.

“Charred like something from hell,” said Ida May.

C
HICKASAW PLUMS HUNG ROUND AND RED
dened by the October sun, which grew hotter in Oklahoma than Arkansas, like God had turned up the burner on the Okies. A cedar
waxwing cried
sreee, sreee
in the lilting limbs, hunting for berries and pinecones the size of blueberries.

Fern’s Chevy coup careened around a dusty turn that followed the river.

Angel noticed how change came into the Red River Valley as the mountain forests gave way to grassland, like the earth had
torn off her skirts to run naked in the sun. They passed through places like Broken Bow and Idabel that blended from one town
into another, delineated only by a hand-painted sign marking where the city limits commenced. She counted more than one abandoned
automobile along the road, travelers driven by the need to leave the doldrums of the south only to be taken as far as the
last tank of gas would allow.

“I hope we find another filling station in the next town,” said Angel.

“Stop, you’re making me nervous.” Florence had claimed the whole rear seat for herself, setting up a basket of crochet twine
that spooled across her lap and fed into what looked to be a doily.

“I’ve never left Arkansas until now. It’s different in Oklahoma. I never knew how different until now.”

“It feels like home. You ever feel choked by going home?” Fern asked Florence.

“I like being at home. Never was much of a gadabout.” Florence kept to her stitching.

Angel did not know how to define home. “How you mean ‘choked’?”

“Back in Ardmore I’m one of Frances Coulter’s children.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” said Angel.

“It’s kind of a costly privilege.”

“Home never had much meaning to me, least not until Jeb took us in. My home is wherever Willie and Ida May are, I reckon.”

“You ought to remember that lots of youngens are going hungry nowadays,” said Florence. “Jeb’s done a good thing, taking in
you and your brother and sister.”

“My aunt Kate says she thinks my sister and her family moved into Oklahoma somewhere. What town, I don’t know.” Angel stared
at a family gathered on a front porch.

“Oklahoma’s kind of a scrubby place, isn’t it?” Florence dropped a stitch. “Maybe everyplace has turned scrubby in this godawful
Depression.” When she rattled on so, her voice softened and she kept saying, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

The Chevy coup made a rattling noise. Fern floored the gas pedal. The car made one final clattering sound, then died.

The Red River meandered around Tyler Road, trickling slowly to stretch what was left of the river beneath a bridge. Rain had
been in short supply in Oklahoma. So was a good filling-station mechanic.

“Look yonder,” said Fern. “I see someone coming down the road.”

Jeb left Myrtle with Belinda, but felt as though he were leaving her with the influenza. Myrtle had cried from three until
just before dawn. Willie escaped out the door with Ida May, choosing to walk to school instead of waiting for Jeb, whom Ida
May called “the Devil hisself” since Miss Coulter had left for Oklahoma.

By the time Jeb walked up to the front steps of the church, a number of automobiles were parked around the front as though
they had been left in various states of pursuit. Jeb reached for the doorknob, but the door opened. Greta Patton held the
door for Jeb. Her eyes batted and she would not look at Jeb.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Patton,” said Jeb. “What brings you around?”

“It’s a delegation,” was all she said.

Inside, several women and men either stood or sat around the altar at the front of the church. Jeb took off his hat and acknowledged
each one, as best he could, with a nervous smile.

Will Honeysack stood up in the middle of the group and said, “Jeb, I was about to come and get you. I’m sorry we’re springing
this so sudden.”

“It was my fault, Reverend,” said Floyd Whittington. “I got late at the store. I was supposed to come and ask you to join
us for this meeting early.”

Jeb read the expressions of each one: Will and Freda, Arnell Ketcherside, although his wife was most likely cutting hair for
Faith Bottoms at the Clip and Curl, Floyd and Evelene Whittington, and Sam and Greta Patton. “Board meeting,” he whispered.

Jeb recalled the first time he had awakened to some of these faces the night he had taken refuge from a storm in the church.

“I brought coffee, Reverend,” said Freda, “if you’d like a cup.”

“Will, what’s this all about?” asked Jeb.

“It’s not my idea, Jeb,” said Will. “Some of the church members are complaining about the Nigra baby you been keeping.”

“She’s a real handful, I’ll admit. But no trouble to anyone else.” Jeb tossed his hat on a pew and approached the elders’
group.

“We’re not sure about that,” said Arnell. “Folks get funny ideas about whites mixing with coloreds.”

“You make it sound like a cake batter, Arnell. Will, you know I’ve tried to find a home for Myrtle. I can’t set her out with
the garbage.”

“It ain’t right, Reverend. They have to keep to their own kind. Word is spreading that we’re the mixed church.” Greta moved
closer to her husband.

“Isn’t that good news, Greta?” asked Jeb.

“You’d best watch yourself, Reverend. Powerful people are watching.” Sam kept his voice low.

“Sam, we can’t let the church be a weapon against a child. I appreciate all of you coming by today, but we still haven’t solved
the problem of where Myrtle should go. Have any of you stopped to think that God laid her in our laps for a reason?”

“God is not full of mischief,” said Evelene.

“Can’t prove it by me. Evelene. You think this baby’s not the handiwork of the Creator? Have you looked into her eyes?”

“Don’t use this baby to tug on our heartstrings, Reverend,” said Sam. “The last thing we need is guilt. I ain’t responsible
for the whole slave trade of the Civil War.”

“God used the slave trade to bring the Nigra to Christ,” said Greta.

“Or maybe he used the sins of our fathers to show us the blackness of our souls,” said Jeb.

“Sounds like you’re taking sides, Reverend,” said Sam.

“Who created sides anyway? Not God,” said Will.

“Two sides, Will, if you don’t mind my interjecting,” said Jeb. “Love and hate.”

“I say this meeting has come to a close, Will. We can see where the minister stands.” Arnell picked up his hat.

“Don’t let it end this way,” Freda pleaded. “We’re not enemies. Reverend can’t help that someone dropped this baby on his
doorstep.”

“Fellers, I’d like to say something,” said Jeb. “I’m the minister of Church in the Dell, last I checked. I’ve got a little
authority on these matters. Next time you want to call a meeting, mind asking me first, just so’s we don’t get the cart before
the horse?”