Against the Grain

By Mary Margaret Jensen

Sandy, a middle aged woman, is reminiscing over what happened in the small farming community of northwestern New Mexico the year she was ten. Besides being the observer of the interactions, she played a role along with others, some innocent and some not so innocent, in the shaping of events.

Tobus, her mother's cousin, yearned to find a girl to marry. Since he stuttered and had a slight mental disorder, he was fair game for taunting.

Charley, the country store owner, delighted in making sport of Tobus until Ruby, Charley's sixteen year old daughter, suddenly took an interest in Tobus.

Afraid of Charley's reaction to their intent, Tobus and Ruby married in secret, But since they dared not make known that they had wed, they had to live apart. Yet in that Ruby was the store clerk, they had the opportunity to talk when Tobus made trips to the store. Soon Charley began objecting to the attention Tobus was giving Ruby and threatened him.

For a solution to their predicament, Ruby wanted for them to run away, and she thought she had Tobus convinced. But her plan went awry. The evening she had set for them to leave, Tobus hanged himself in the neighbor's barn.

The reprecussions of Tobus' death intensified the already ongoing feud between Great-Aunt Ada, Tobus' mother and Charley. But despite the distaste one had for the other, each was destined to become the grandparent to the same baby.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Apr 2, 2007
• ISBN: 9781426941399

Mary Margaret Jensen

Mary Margaret, a widow and mother of three grown children, was born July 2, 1925 in San Juan County, New Mexico. She married Don Y. Jensen, a World War II veteran, March 4 1946. From 1946 to 1980, the couple operated the Crystal Trading post on the Navajo Reservation Mary Margaret, a widow and mother of three grown children, was born July 2, 1925 in San Juan County, New Mexico. She married Don Y. Jensen, a World War II veteran, March 4 1946. From 1946 to 1980, the couple operated the Crystal Trading post on the Navajo Reservation. In 1980 they moved to Farmington, New Mexico where Mary continues to live. In 1980 they moved to Farmington, New Mexico where Mary continues to live

Book preview

1

This afternoon Hepher and I closed the sale on our two farms, the old Hallford and Blake places. No sooner than we got home from signing the deeds at Lawyer Cone’s office than Hepher said he was going out to change the irrigation water. I asked him what for. He smiled and told me he guessed it was out of habit.

It was then I told him I was going to the old house, the old Hallford house, to have a last look around. Pausing on the path, I turned to watch Hepher walking toward the alfalfa field in his gum- boots, a shovel over the right shoulder, appearing much the same as Papa had years ago when he left the house to irrigate.

Since the renter is gone and the old house is empty, I’m free to roam and reminisce. And I’ve brought along a pad and pen in hopes of capturing a feel of the past so that I can set it down.

The old house is unchanged from my growing up days, and the lay of the land is much the same as when it was first cleared.

This is the farm my great-grandparents homesteaded when they came to New Mexico from Kansas in a covered wagon. They cleared the land and built this house. Grandpa and his siblings, Papa and his siblings, and I and my siblings all grew up here.

During our married life, Hepher and I have watched many of the small farms being divided into lots, but still we managed to keep both our farms intact. But the fingers of time have reached out and taken hold.

As I sit on the front porch now and look out across the street, I see rows of houses on the other side. The lane has become a paved street, but it was a dusty road that I walked many times as a kid. And the houses stand on what were once fields of flourishing alfalfa and corn belonging to the Manns.

Who will ever know of those who tread here and worked these fields if I don’t set down their story?

We all know with the changing of times, the use of the land changes too. Of course it is useless for Hepher to change the water, for within a short time the earth-moving equipment will come in and start digging out the alfalfa roots. And if I do set down on paper my recollections of the olden days, how long will my words last?

The day of the small farmer in the Animas Valley has been fast disappearing. When the petroleum and coal industries came to develop the natural resources the population increased. The rise in employment lured in new-comers and brought the need for more housing.

To Hepher, farm land has always been precious, but to our three sons it held less significance, for they could see the small farms in our area weren’t too profitable. Rather than try farming, they got college degrees and left for the city.

Even Hepher hasn’t made our entire living off the land. He took an outside job with El Paso Natural Gas Company. After Papa and Mama sold the farm to us and moved into town even Papa went to work for a gas company.

Not all the changes in the county have been progressive. We no longer have the service of a freight train. In 1968, the train stopped running between Durango and Farmington. Now it is difficult to locate the old track bed for the rails and ties have long since been taken up.

Throughout the years, many of the old-timers have drifted on in search of a better fortune elsewhere, but for everyone who left, several new-comers have come to take their place. Yet how are these new-comers to know the history of those up there in the cemetery, those who moved on, and those who are descendants of the old-timers?

For years, the old general story has been gone. Charley Keams sold it after the county went off and build the new highway against the foothills to the north. With the loss of the highway business, Charley’s gas sales dwindled. And more and more, the farmers drove into towns to trade.

Where the store once was there is a house. And on the Keamses old garden patch there is another house. And the old crossroads are now streets flanked by houses.

To reinvest his capital, Charley bought a little grocery market in town. He operated it for years before retiring. Growing up as the son of a grocer, Fred Keams acquired enough marketing experience to get the job of managing one of the supermarkets in town.

I often see him when I’m shopping, but I never see him that it doesn’t take me back over the years to when Fred was an ornery kid. In that he has amounted to something proved me wrong and Papa right. He has become an upstanding citizen and now belongs to planning groups that run the country.

Fred’s youngest sister, Pearl, my best pal, left here when she went to California to visit her brother, Bobby Allen. She met a sailor from North Carolina whom she soon married. I see Pearl when they come to visit, but she and I don’t have the close relationship we had as kids, nor do we share the kinship I have with her sister, Ruby.

Since 1941, the year World War II began for our nation, the Mann’s have been gone. Even though they moved to Denver in hopes Cyril would recover from his heart attack, he died in 1945. During the war, my sister Mavis married their son, Leon. After Leon’s discharge from the service he and Mavis moved to Denver. When my brother Wes was in the army, he met and married a girl from Texas. They later settled in Fort Worth.

Since 1946 Uncle Chad and Aunt Iona have been gone. They went into partnership with Newt and Fran Owens, Uncle Chad’s parents, and bought and cattle ranch in Colorado. In order to make the down payment on the ranch, the Owenses had to sell their farm.

The Gibbses, the family the community people thought of as completely hopeless, found their niche in the world and became quite respectable. Every one. After their numerous postponements to leave, they finally left and got to California.

Old Ben and Hessie, the parents, have never been back, not even for a visit. Since Bobby Allen Keams had already married Jody Gibbs by the time the Gibbses left, he left with them. Mutt, the youngest of the four children, my old fishing buddy, I never saw again. When I think of Mutt I choke up. He’s dead now. He was killed in the Korean War.

Then years ago Papa’s cousin, Frank Hallford, and Ruby Keams Hallford, sold their farm, Uncle Will’s old farm and bought a smaller one up the river near the Colorado line. Their kids are all married and out of the five, only Tobby lives in the state. Frank Hallford is the father of the youngest three boys and the girl, but he isn’t Tobby’s father. Tobby is Ruby’s son by Tobus.

Now that we’ve sold our farms and are moving into town to live only a few blocks from Papa and Mama, that leaves just Tobby and his youngest son as the last remnant of any of the old-timer families.

Tobby inherited Aunt Ada’s old farm. Since Tobus, Aunt Ada’s son, was already dead when Aunt Ada died, Tobby was the heir. Aunt Ada was Mama’s aunt, the one who undertook the rearing of Mama and Mama’s three brothers.

Even yet I marvel that Tobby is on this earth. He’s a middle-aged man with three grown sons and two grown daughters. Aunt Ada didn’t live to see any of the great-grandchildren, but wherever she is, without a doubt, she’s gloating over the end result of her strife, well-assured she served her purpose in time.

2

On a warm June day, the summer I was ten, Mama had me washing rhubarb so that she could can it after dinner.

When I finished, she said I could rest. For my break, I went out onto the lawn. Sprawling on my stomach, I lay in the shade of the poplar trees, listening to the sounds of summer.

Juno, our part-Collie, came up to lie down beside me. As he panted, the tip of his quaking tongue lapped out of his mouth.

Flies buzzed about. A few feet away bees droned in Mama’s faded peonies.

As the sun beat down on the fields, Papa, Hepher, Wes, and Fred Keams were making full use of the growing season. As Papa cultivated corn in the field behind the barn, his strong voice carried on the air as he called to the horses, Biggen and Buster.

In the far field, as Hepher made the rounds on the mower, the cycle blade chattered. To mow the alfalfa, Hepher was using his mother’s three work horses. Because she was in Phoenix for medical treatment, Hepher was staying the summer with us and sharing work. He helped Papa and in turn Papa helped him work his mother’s farm.

While shocking hay in the lower field, ever so often West or Fred yelled to the other.

Busy in the kitchen, Mama rattled pots and pans as she prepared dinner and cut rhubarb for canning.

When the porch screen door squeaked opened, that was fair warning my rest had ended. Lying flatter and holding my breath, I hoped Mama couldn’t see me. But no matter, she had a good pair of lungs and would have hollered until I answered.

Sandy, I want you to run up to the store and get me five pounds of sugar. Now don’t you be fooling around with Pearl. Hurry back, hear me? If the mail is in, bring it, but if it isn’t, don’t you wait. Now beat it.

Mama, you said I could rest. Slowly I pulled up onto my feet. My face twisted out of shape and my lower lip protruded, for few kids were lazier than I. Even Mama said it pained me to move.

Don’t matter what I said. I’m all out of sugar. Now get going and hurry back.

If Charley is putting up the mail I’ll have to wait.

Said wait. Bring it. But don’t you be fooling around or you’ll get a good switching when you do get back. Hear?

As I hung my head, my chest swelled. Yeah, I hear.

The screen door kept bouncing on its hinges while Mama made her way back to the kitchen through the porch.

Juno understood orders better than I, for he stopped following me at the front gate—He was forbidden to leave the place because Papa wouldn’t tolerate a run-around dog that might be off killing the neighbor’s sheep.

Trotting along, barefooted, I held up my sore toe that was bandaged with a strip of old bed sheet, grayed from dragging in the dirt. By keeping to the tire-worn tracks, I avoided stepping on a goathead. And to prevent coming into contact with a watersnake, I kept a watchful–eye for one crawling from the weeds at the side of the lane.

After crossing the bridge over the irrigation ditch and taking a quick glance at the breen-colored water, I slowed my pace and looked about. To the left of the lane was our concord vineyard and to the west of it our apple orchard. North of them was an alfalfa field which belonged to Alice Blake, Hepher’s mother. Hepher’s father was dead, and at the present, Alice was ailing. If she died, what was to become of Hepher?

The Mann place joined the lane on the east. In its lower field, the unmowed alfalfa rippled like waves on a dark green sea. In its upper field the emerald green corn, planted in near perfect rows, was a few inches tall.

My sore toe hampered my gait, but despite its rawness, I wouldn’t wear shoes. Mama didn’t insist, not that she was trying to save on the precious little money we had, but nagging me was useless.

Papa and Mama always had afforded shoes for the three of us kids: Mavis, Wes, and me. We were dressed as well as any other kid in the neighborhood, including the Keams kids. Since Charley Keams owned the store, he undoubtedly could have afforded better for his kids, but he wasn’t a person to splurge. But not in any case was he free with his money, although it was assumed he had more savings than any of the local farmers unless it was Cyril Mann. Cyril wasn’t one to brag about his holdings, but at times Charley boasted about his worth. Yet the very next day he might say he was standing at poverty’s door, making it impossible for one to ever know or come near to know where the truth lay. So Charley’s financial status was unknown for it was never revealed in his expenditures.

Except for Jody and Mutt Gibbs, the other kids in the community were fashionably clothed. Both of them wore hand-me-downs or clothes that were given to them. Old Ben and Hessie barely had enough money to put food on the table much less worry about what their kids wore. People maintained the Gibbses poor ways were the cause of their predicament. Ben never held a steady job. What dab of money he did make, he drank up the greater portion in beer. And Hessie herself didn’t show an ounce of ambition. Her critics said she was a regular slough about both her personal appearance and housekeeping.

But in spite of the adults harsh criticism of Old Ben and Hesie, often shunning them, their three kids that still lived in the community mingled with the rest of us kids. Pete, their second son, had married his high school sweetheart a week after their graduation a year ago. For a few months Pete worked in a garage uptown, but last October they took off for California.

The Gibbses lived down the lane from us in the little white house that had once belonged to my Grandpa and Grandma Hallford. After Grandpa died, Grandma was unable to keep the house and the five acres it sat on. Papa couldn’t afford to buy the place, although it had once been a part of the original farm, Great-grandpa Hallford’s homestead, before Grandpa sold the main acreage to Papa.

To help Grandma, Uncle Rich, Papa’s oldest brother, bought her a house in town next door to his and moved her there. Finding only the one buyer, Grandma sold the place to the Gibbses with a small down-payment and a heavy mortgage.

Mutt was the youngest of the four Gibbs kids and a year younger than I. Since school had been turned out for the summer, I had been going fishing with him. Had Pearl not been sick, I probably wouldn’t have gotten involved in fishing, but I yearned for the association of other kids. In fact I was down at the river with Mutt and Jody when I stubbed my toe on a sharp boulder.

Mama wasn’t keen on my going to the river with Mutt. It wasn’t her objection to me associating with Mutt, but the danger of me falling into the water. In fact she wouldn’t allow me to go unless either Jody or Jake Gibbs were going along to prevent Mutt or me from drowning.

Papa and Mama wouldn’t ever give Wes permission to go down to the river with Fred unless they were accompanied by an adult. Papa said kids weren’t to be trusted. Of course Papa often excused Fred from being a dare-devil. But no matter if Papa did excuse Fred’s boldness, I knew Fred was always the instigator who led Wes astray. That included a secret dip in the river.

Very seldom did Papa and Mama restrict Mavis. They accredited her with good common sense that Wes and I didn’t have. But Mavis wasn’t an outdoor girl, never had been, not even before she turned sixteen. Therefore, she wasn’t tempted. She had always been a bookworm. But of late her literary interest was waning. She had a boyfriend, Leon Mann.

In more ways than being sixteen, Mavis was lucky. She had a job at the drug store uptown and money to burn. But her job away from home left a void I was supposed to fill. Because she left so early in the morning and came home so late in the evening, riding to and from work with Vivian Mann, she hadn’t time to help out at home. On weekends she was never home either, but off somewhere with Leon.

When I complained to Mama about being overworked, she always defended Mavis. Mama would say my turn was coming and besides Mavis was bringing home a paycheck that would buy Mavis’ school clothes for the fall term. With any luck there might be a few dollars left over for Wes and me.

Papa was never in favor of Mavis taking the job, saying it created a hardship for Mama, but he failed to mention how much of the added burden fell to me.

After passing the Mann house and the barn, I came to the railroad track, the line running between Durango and Farmington. Carefully, I stepped over the sun-heated rails. At other times when Pearl and I wore shoes, we walked the rails for fun.

In recent days, thoughts of Pearl depressed me. Mama didn’t know that I seldom went back into the Keamses living quarters behind the store to seek Pearl out. Pearl didn’t give me any attention no matter how often or how long I visited, but she lay listless and pale on the bed, never smiling nor turning her eyes.

It seemed no doctor could get her well. Day had taken her to several doctors. At the present Old Doc Dees was treating her for worms, but so far Pearl’s condition hadn’t improved. But as I recall hearing Mama’s Aunt Ada say that Old Doc Dees was no better than a horse doctor, a purdy old quack if there ever was one. In the doctor’s defense, Mama had said he might be an old fashioned doctor, but he tried his level best to cure his patients.

The Keams store sat on the north-east corner of the crossroads where the highway made a sharp turn to the west. Our lane took off to the south. The east road led to Newt and Fran Owenses farm. Papa’s sister, my Aunt Iona, was married to Chad Owens, the older son.

Uncle Chad, Aunt Iona, and their three small sons lived in the little house made over from a bunkhouse. But they had hopes to one day buy the farm outright and live in the big white house. But there was a hitch. Uncle Chad’s single brother lived in the big house with the parents and hadn’t given any indication he intended to move out. As long as he stayed, Newt and Fran were not apt to want to sell out. If Glenn had designs on the farm himself, it wasn’t yet evident, for he was too caught up in the wild and woolly living.

Except for the Manns, the Gibbses and the Blakes, almost everyone in the community was related. Those that weren’t related were in the process of becoming related. Leon Mann was dating my sister, Mavis. And Jake Gibbs had his sights set on Vivian Mann, but so far she hadn’t shown a speck of interest in him.

The Keamses and the Hallfords weren’t directly related, but were so-called shirt-tail relation through Uncle Chad, for his mother was a sister to Day Keams, Charley Keames wife.

The Keams store supplied the major part of the people’s immediate needs, stocking a broad variety of merchandise: groceries, hardware, sewing materials, miscellaneous household items, a selection of feed and seed, and gasoline and kerosene.

One might say the store was the hub of our community. Since Charley was the owner and operator, he had financial ties to nearly every family. Without a doubt any decision he made had some impact. Having this elevated position placed him, more or less, at the top of the picking order. He held the rank mainly because he extended credit. To prevent taking too great a financial risk, often prying indiscreetly, he evaluated each farmer’s assets and potential to set limits.

Yet in dealing with his most valued customers he did use diplomacy. And with some whom he didn’t value as much he used carefully chosen words when approaching them about a debt.

Usually Charley fronted himself well, but he concealed quirks. In revealing one of his weaknesses, a spontaneous urge to cheat, he was petty enough to calculate figures in his favor to gain what wouldn’t have amounted to any more than a dollar. If caught in a discrepancy, he played the part of the innocent, either by putting the customer seemingly in error or by his saying that he made an honest mistake.

Once when Mama sent me to the store with the eggs, he asked on the sly who counted them. So proud that I could count, I hastily said that I had. He then told me I owed him three eggs, three short of two dozen. He said for us to bring them the next time we brought eggs. When I got home Mama scolded me for miscounting. I had no proof that I hadn’t.

Years before he tried a similar trick on Mama’s Aunt Ada when she brought him five dressed hens. Not anticipating that Aunt Ada might have weighed the hens at home, Charley short-weighed them two-and-a-half pounds. Aunt Ada didn’t give him the chance to establish innocence. In a huff, she gathered up her hens to head for town. On leaving the store, she voiced that it was the last time she’d ever try to have dealings with him. The incident was the parting of their ways. From thereon they were two opposite forces, one pulling against the other.

But there were times Aunt Ada broke her staunch stand, but generally she relied on Tobus to do her trading. Tobus didn’t relish being caught in the crossfire between his mother and Charley, but still he was his own person and not completely overrun by two hardheads. Nor did he always give his mother the last word. Against Charley he wasn’t exactly defenseless, but he wasn’t on an even keel either.

Tobus had various handicaps. From the time he first talked he stuttered. If he was telling an incident or making a simple statement his listener often lost all continuity before he finished.

And he was inflexible. If partially enlightened on a subject, he would establish a fixed view that was next to impossible to reverse. His manners were no better nor worse than Aunt Ada’s herself. He lacked the social graces, never being very polite nor proper, but crudely blunt as he was when he told Hershal Dobbs if Hershal fed his old crowbait horses they wouldn’t be bags of bones.

On matters that Tobus knew little or nothing he was gullible and easily deceived. Once he learned he had been duped he became enraged. He hated being lied to. Because he was virtually truthful himself, he expected others to be truthful too.

Subtly, putting out words as tentacles, Charley felt out a person to detect any psychological weakness. In most people he accepted their personal traits without analytical probing. But in Tobus’ case, Charley discovered ingrained flaws that delighted him to play upon.

In ordinary intellectual exchange Tobus could compete with Charley if the topic was kept within Tobus’ limited scope, but if it extended beyond, Tobus was no match for Charley’s craftiness.

In the duel Charley’s fermenting imagination verses Tobus’ guarded concepts, Charley drilled unmercifully on Tobus’ disorder to create confusion. Brazenly instilling a frenzied disturbance into Tobus’ well-being, Charley cajolingly spun out words, knowing full well the search for fact would throw Tobus into a panicky state of quandary.

3

Coming from the outdoors, I had to have several seconds for my eyes to adjust. Through the dimness I saw Uncle Chad, leaning on the grocery counter at the far west end. Just inside the door, Lil Evans sat on the bench, clutching a cigarette between her fingers as she propped her chin on her thumb. Near the potbelly stove at the far east corner, Tobus had his legs stretched outwardly as he braced his body against the counter.

On my right, movement came from behind the mailboxes. Charley was putting up the mail.

I let the screen door fall shut against my bare heels, scraping skin. Easing down, I slipped onto the bench beside Lil and tucked my dirty feet out of sight.

Well, I’ll be, if it ain’t Carrot Top. How’s the old world treating you? Uncle Chad greeted me as he did usually, calling me Carrot Top.

I crunched down. Fine.

He lifted his straw hat and rubbed his brow on his shirt sleeve, then reset his hat far back on his crown. Damn hot out there today. A guy don’t notice it much until he gets inside and the sweat starts pouring off.

A lengthy silence followed, indicating that Uncle Chad and Lil had already finished with the small talk.

Well, Lil, reckon you’re all set for the big blow come Saturday? A faint grin pulled at Uncle Chad’s lips.

Lil gabbed the cigarette into her mouth and squinted as she took a draw. After pulling the cigarette away, she meticulously tapped ashes onto the floor. Ready as I’ll ever get. With a flippant toss of the head, she flung back her hair.

Uncle Chad reached into his shirt pocket for his tobacco sack. With a steady hand he shook tobacco onto a paper. So the match is all cut and dried, is it?

Sometimes a mother ain’t got no big lot to say how things go.

With he teeth Uncle Chad pulled on the string to close the tobacco sack. To finish making his cigarette, he licked the paper and twisted an end. To light it, he struck a match on his thumbnail. While inhaling a few times, he stared through the window to the left of the bench. Finally he looked back at Lil. From what I got, you’re calling all the tunes. Why didn’t you quit while you was ahead? Left well enough alone?

I don’t give a damn what you think, Chad Owens, or any of you Owenses far as that goes. Except maybe for Glenn. Whether you like it or not he’s going to be my son-in-law. I know you folks ain’t giving them your blessing, but Joyce and Glenn don’t need it. They got mine. She narrowed her eyes to slits.

Uncle Chad shrugged. Well, he’s a grown man. Reckon he can take care of himself. What he does is his own business long as he ain’t hurting nobody but himself. As the cigarette jiggled in the corner of this mouth, the curl of smoke partially veiled his eyes. Had to put in my two-cents worth. Glenn plumb went off his rocker. Come titched in the head. He ain’t ever living it down. Makes for a bad marriage. The girl will never forget it.

In time she will.

Hell no. She ain’t about to forget you and Glenn mixed it up. You thought it was all hush hush, but word got out. I’d hate to say what’s to come of the mess, but if Glenn don’t shape up after he’s married, he’s in for it.

People don’t have to stay married nowadays. Me and Cliff are splitting. Whatever held us together ran out long time ago. Her hand trembled as she fumbled to find her mouth with her cigarette.

Charley came from back of the mailboxes and circled behind the counter to come to a stop in front of Uncle Chad.

In Lil’s hurry to get her mail, she stubbed the toe of her pump on a nailhead. By flinging out both arms, she prevented a fall. After collecting her mail, she tripped out the door. Her heels clicked on the boards until she stepped off the porch.

Uncle Chad’s gaze lingered on the screen door while he kept shaking his head. Boy and how, ain’t she something else. Going all out to swipe her daughter’s boyfriend is pretty damn bad if you ask me. Then out of the goodness of her heart hands him back. But I ain’t figured out yet why she let go.

Chad, you hadn’t better tangle with her. You’re licked before you start.

Uncle Chad flipped the end of his nose. Her kind running loose ought to be outlawed. Can’t see how Cliff put up with her long as he did.

Tell you what. Cliff Evans ain’t no prize. Them two are too much alike. That was what was wrong with the pair from the start.

As Uncle Chad walked to the mailboxes, his boot heels drummed the wooden floor. With the mail in his hand, he turned back. Yeah, ought to have spared myself. Not got into it with her. Easier to blame Lil than Glenn. But nobody gets the best of Lil. Don’t give a damn who it is. She gets the last lick.

Well, I’ll tell you. She’s an old hand at it. You know well as me who she’s been keeping company with for the past few years.

Yeah, Warren. She’d good at husband-swiping too. But for the life of me, can’t see how Glenn fell into it.

Not very smart.

Reckon you’re right. Yeah, didn’t have the good sense to stay out of reach. Anyhow she’s let him go.

Charley rubbed under his eyes. Speck she ain’t got Warren out of her system. Could be a trade- off with Joyce. Who knows?

Hope to hell she does wind up with that worthless Warren. We’d all get in the last laugh. She’d have to get up before daylight to keep up with him. Damn. He ain’t worth the powder to blow him up. His cigarette wiggled up and down in the corner of his mouth. See you around, Uncle Charley. The drumming of his boot heels trailed off the porch. The roar of his pick-up motor grew fainter and fainter.

While the others talked, Tobus stood motionless. When they were gone, he moved from the shadow, making a wide stride to the grocery counter where Charley stood.

Ch-Ch-Charley, w-what w-was they t-talking a-about?

With narrowed eyes, Charley rubbed his broad hand over his woolly gray moustache. You ain’t heard? Don’t tell me you missed out on the latest? Why, Tobus, where have you been holding up? Why, it ain’t no kept secret. This coming Saturday, Glenn Owens and Joyce Evans is tying the knot.

As Tobus’ mouth opened and closed, his chin bobbled. Ch-Charley, th-that i-isn’t so. S-she w-was mine o-only f-for th-the asking. I asked. S-she she-she s-said yes. Yes. Now y-you g-go t-tell me ss-she’s marrying Glenn.

That’s what I’ve been told. But now, you looky here, Tobus. Sometimes things have a way of changing. Charley jerked his head to the side. All I did was give you a few pointers in how to win a woman’s hand. I ain’t to blame if she ups and changes her mind. You must not have used my pointers to the best or it wouldn’t have backfired on you. You messed up. If I was to guess I’d say you’re too slow of a worker. You let Glenn beat you out in the race.

I-I d-done w-what y-you told me. S-So w-why s-she ma-marrying Glenn? S-said s-she l-loved me. S-said s-she wa-was marrying me. His voice cracked.

Now you looky here, Tobus, don’t be acting up. She ain’t the first girl to lie to you. Won’t be the last. Let’s say, you put in a bid, but Glenn outbid you. Now if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll take you loss. Cut and run while you got the chance. Learn first as last there ain’t no sure thing. To come out the winner you’ve got to move fast. Now don’t take it too hard. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. All you need to do is keep casting. You’ll soon snag one.

I-I don’t want no o-other girl. I-I want Joyce. He made a gurgling sound.

Without bothering to check the mailbox, he sped out the door, stumbling and scraping his heavy shoes over the boards as he went. Soon came the crunching sound of his feet on the gravel highway.

I bounded after him holding up my sore toe to prevent a rock from reinjuring it. Tobus, wait. Please. I want to talk to you.

After a few yards he slowed so that I could catch up to him. He was mumbling. Ch-Charley t-told me. H-He did. S-said Joyce w-was mine f-for t-the taking. T-that’s h-how C-Charley put it. S-said she-she wa-was waiting f-for m-me t-to p-pop t-the question. I did. A-and s-she s-said yes. Now Ch-Charley s-says I w-was t-too slow. He made both hands into fists. H-he don’t t-tell me w-why she said yes w-when s-she meant no.

Tobus, please don’t be mad. Do like Charley says. Get you another girlfriend. A nicer one.

He began rubbing his forehead. Since his hand shielded his eyes, I couldn’t see them, but I suspected they held tears. I-I know w-what went wrong. It’s c-cause of Mother. J-Joyce went b-back on h-her word c-cause of Mother. S-she knows Mother d-don’t like her. M-Mother s-says I’m a fool t-to take up w-with a girl like her. Mother h-has no right to say wh-who I-I should marry. Not after wh-what she done did. M-married Dad, th-then w-wound up r-running him off. S-She’s d-downright mean. J-Joyce knows Mother is mean. Knows sh-she rides herd on me like I-I’m a l-little b-bitty kid. I-I’m s-sick and tired of it. F-from here on I-I’m c-cutting loose, I am. I am.

He walked on and left me staring at his back.

The image of Aunt Ada loomed before my eyes, her multi-wrinkled face and deep-set blue eyes.

There wasn’t any criticism Tobus could have made against her that I wouldn’t have agreed with. In that Mama’s Aunt Ada wasn’t my favorite person, I sympathized with anyone subject to her power. But since Tobus hadn’t the choice to whom he was to be born, he was forever entrapped.

4

When I went back inside the store only Ruby was there. Charley had gone back into the living quarters for his dinner. After taking the mail from the box, I asked Ruby for the five pounds of sugar and waited while she added it to our bill.

Before leaving I boldly ventured, asking Ruby about Joyce’s intentions. Is Joyce really getting married to Glenn and not Tobus?

As her eyes widened, she tightened her lips. Guess so. Ain’t talked to her none. Aunt Fran told Mother she is. The other day Mother came right out and asked Lil, but Lil hemmed and hawed.

Although Joyce was only a year older than Ruby and Mavis, she put on the act of being twenty-some. But when they were much younger, the three were fast playmates. After entering high school they no longer had much in common, each going her separate way and drawing apart from the others. Mavis started dating Leon. Joyce took up with Glenn. And Ruby, more or less, became a loner.

Physically, Ruby was well-developed, but perhaps mentally she was less mature than either Joyce or Mavis. But again, the seeming immaturity may have been Ruby’s inferiority complex because of obesity. She was definitely plump. But in spite of being overweight she had pleasing facial features, a moderate nose, smooth curved lips, peachy-velvet skin, and vivid blue eyes.

That’s all I’m going to tell you.

All?

Gee, whiz, Sandy, told you too much already.

Cross my heart, I won’t tell. I guided my finger across my chest from left to right.

The heck you won’t. I know you. You tell everything. Well, Iona told Mother yesterday that Lil’s making Joyce marry Glenn. Joyce can’t get out of it. But Sandy, you’re such a blabberhead, I don’t dare tell you much.

Okay, don’t tell me. I’m all sad for Tobus. Joyce promised him.

That’s part of what I started to tell you. That’s it. She promised. What Iona says, it’s all Lil. She darted a quick glance at the closed door to the living quarters. Anyhow, Aunt Fran and Iona told Mother, Lil cooked it up. She says over her dead body is Joyce ever marrying Tobus. Ruby heaved a sigh. Started off, Joyce was trying to get even with Lil over Glenn. That’s why she got all lovie-dovie with Tobus, made him think she really liked him. Guess she did get to liking him. Some. She told him she did. Told him she was going to marry him. She wrinkled her nose. Crazy ain’t it? She’s nuts not to know her own mind. Boy, is Aunt Fran mad over it, madder than an old wet hen. She told Glenn he was crazy to marry Joyce since he did Joyce like he did. You knew about it, didn’t you, him carrying on with Lil. Aunt Fran is really mad at him, but she’s madder at Lil for making him a sinner. Her eyelids partially closed. Guess you don’t know about that stuff yet? She leaned over the counter toward me. Don’t you go telling none of this stuff.

I repeated my gesture of secrecy. Cross my heart, I won’t. I’m just all sad for Tobus. Do you think Joyce would really marry Tobus if her Mama would let her? Would she?

Before answering, Ruby hesitated. Why, heck, no. She loves Glenn. But in no way is Lil letting her marry Tobus. Anyhow Lil says he’s a dumb-dumb. And she calls him a dud.

What’s dud?

Something like a moron.

Well, what’s a moron?

Something like you. Sandy, you don’t know anything. A moron means you’re not very smart.

In a pig’s eye, Tobus ain’t dumb. If Joyce really wanted to marry Tobus she would no matter what her Mama says. You would.

What do you mean, I would? Go against my parents? Listen you, it ain’t me who’s doing the doing. Tobus shouldn’t have got his hopes up for a let-down.

Just ain’t fair. I saw her all smiling at him. Charley saw her too.

Oh, come on, Sandy, girls flirt. You know that. Don’t mean nothing.

Meant something to Tobus.

Oh, you are so dumb. Girls like to flirt.

I say she’s mean mean. And I’m going to tell her.

For a few seconds she studied my face. Sandy, don’t you do no such. Don’t be an imbecile. Tobus got the wrong signal. Went all phobic. Joyce was never in love with him. All along she loved Glenn. When she loves Glenn why would Tobus still want her? Plumb dumb to want somebody when they want somebody else.

Leaning over the counter, I coiled my lips. You’re taking Joyce’s side. That’s what. I say she’s mean mean.

Her eyes left my face and sped to the front of the store. Tobus is okay. Really. She was looking at me again. Me saying it ain’t changing nothing. He got dumped. He didn’t know how to take Joyce. Got carried away with her tales and all that stuff. Thought she was nicer than she is. Just didn’t catch on that she was sweet talking. She swallowed. No matter what, she ain’t ever marrying him.

Would you tell Tobus you was marrying him and not do it?

Hey you, ain’t me doing the doing so don’t be such an imbecile. I ain’t Joyce. Get it? She liked Glenn, her first guy.

I’m going to go tell her she’s mean mean.

Don’t do that. She’ll get mad at you.

I’d like to beat her up.

Ruby’s mouth fell open. She began moving her hands nervously. Sandy, you are an imbecile. You can’t go around socking people just because you don’t like what they do.

I grabbed up the paper sack containing the sugar and started hobbling toward the door.

What’s wrong with your foot?

I turned back. Bloodied my toe on a rock, fishing with Mutt and Jake.

Jake? You go fishing with Jake?

Yeah. Mama won’t let me go fishing in the river with just Mutt unless Jake or Jody goes along to see we don’t drown.

A slight smile tugged at he lips. When you going again?

Saturday if Mama lets me.

Can I go?

How come you want to? Ain’t you going to go see Joyce get married?

Well, you’re talking her out of getting married to Glenn. Remember?

I caught her sarcasm. Oh, you.

No, we ain’t going. Wasn’t invited. Ain’t no real wedding anyhow. They’re just getting married by the Justice of the Peace, not a preacher. Even Aunt Fran and Uncle Newt ain’t going.

What’s the Justice of the Peace?

Good gosh, Sandy, you’re such an imbecile.

5

It wasn’t until Thursday the opportunity came my way, giving me ample time to escape Mama’s watchful eye long enough to go to confront Joyce on the foul treatment she was giving Tobus.

Shortly after breakfast Mama went out to the garden. In fifteen minutes she came back inside with a five-pound lard pail and set it on the table before hanging her bonnet on a hook back of the kitchen door.

I peeked into the pail, seeing the bottom covered with strawberries.

I have a couple of things I want you to do this morning. Take those strawberries up to Aunt Ada’s and take the dress I just made for Granny to Aunt Phoebe’s. Since there isn’t enough strawberries to can or for dessert for the seven of us, they’ll make a good bowl a piece for Aunt Ada and Tobus.

Mama, please don’t make me go to Aunt Ada’s. Just Aunt Phoebe’s.

Now don’t you start that. You’ll do what I tell you. Hear? You won’t have to hurry back. I won’t be needing you this morning.

It was a relief to have a free morning, but I guess my lower lip was still protruding, thinking about having to go to Aunt Ada’s.

Pull in that lip. Now get you shoes on and go. The gravel on the highway will hurt your feet.

Do I really have to go to Aunt Ada’s?

You heard me. You have to go. Now get a move on you.

Mama’s eyes were fastened on my face. "When I ask you to go anywhere else you jump at the chance. But let me ask you to go to Aunt Ada’s