A Perilous Journey of Destiny

By James F. Hunt

Joe Carr, born in poverty to an abusive alcoholic father, was considered trash by the town’s people. Joe was very intelligent, yet somewhat of a rebel, angry at the world because of the way he was treated. Joe went awry of the law, crawled on a motorcycle, and began a journey across the nation filled with peril and intrigue as he evaded ca

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Jun 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643670027

James F. Hunt

James F. Hunt holds a Masters Plus Thirty in education administration and supervision from SLU in Hammond, Louisiana. He has served the public all his adult life as a teacher, coach, principal and supervisor. He was elected president of the parish government for twenty-four consecutive years, serving as president for the last seventeen. James counseled and taught Bible studies to state and parish prisoners for thirty years. After retirement, James began writing novels and has published seven novels and one children's book. James lives in Clinton, Louisiana, with his wife, Ginger, of fifty-nine years. Although they are in their late seventies, neither has considered retirement.

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A PERILOUS JOURNEY

OF DESTINY

James F. Hunt

Copyright © 2018 James F. Hunt

All rights reserved

First Edition

URLink Print and Media.

Cheyenne, Wyoming

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by means of electronic mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are his alone.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events and entities is entirely coincidental.

First originally published by URLink Print and Media. 2018

ISBN 978-1-64367-001-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64367-002-7 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to every American soldier that served in the military to protect our freedom and democracy, and especially those who gave their lives in service to their country and fellow Americans. May God bless you and your posterity.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am indebted to the following people:

Andy Ash, for his assistance in the editing of this book; Kathleen Hatcher Hopewell for her expertise and guidance in the editing of this book; Dawn Taylor for her expertise with the computer and assistance in the publishing of this book; my wife, Ginger, and children, James Jr., Beth, and Julie, who were always there to aide and encourage me in the development of the book.

PROLOGUE

Claton, Louisiana, 1933.

Baby, run to the funeral home and get your poppa before he goes to that awful place to get drunk. I’m in labor, and I have to lie down. That means I’m about to have a baby, Son. Please hurry!

Yes, Momma, I’ll go get Poppa for you. Although Joe Carr was only six years old, he knew where the funeral home was. He ran out the door barefoot, down the narrow path to the gravel road, as fast as his small frame would allow him until he reached the funeral home over a mile away.

It was Saturday at 12:00 noon, and Cyrus Carr, Joe’s father, had just been paid for the week. He was walking north toward the outskirts of town to a dive that sold moon shine liquor, where some of the town’s low life bums hung out to drink and gamble. Joe caught up to his father, and said, "Poppa, Momma wants you to come home now! She said she’s gonna have a baby!"

She’ll be fine, Boy. It aint her first baby. I’ll be home later. I have business to tend to first. Now you run along home, and stop bothein’ me.

"But Poppa, she said to tell you to come home, now!"

Cyrus back-handed Joe in the face, knocking him back into the gravel, skinning his elbows. Don’t ever back-talk me Boy, Cyrus barked. I told you I’d be home later. I have business to tend to first. Joe crawled to his feet, frightened, with blood dripping from his elbows. He turned and ran back home. He ran into the bedroom and told his mother that his poppa said he had business and he’d be home later.

Oh sweet God, I hope so! Martha cried out in pain. My water just broke, and I’m hurtin’ bad, Son. Get me a glass of cool water. Joe ran to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, ran outside and let the pail down into the well and drew up a bucket of cool water. He poured a glass full and ran back inside and gave it to Martha. The pain became unbearable as the hours passed. Cyrus never returned. At 11:00 p.m., Martha was bleeding all over the bed. Although she was in excruciating pain and agony, she managed to say, Son, go to Mr. Kennedy’s house and tell Mrs. Nancy that I think I’m about to die, and my baby may already be dead. Can you do that, Son?

Joe became more frightened, and he said, Yeah, Momma, I can do that. He ran out the door into the darkness as fast as he could to Mr. Kennedy’s house.

Mr. Kennedy’s house was only a block from the funeral home. Mr. Kennedy owned the funeral home, the general merchandise store, and the cotton gin in the small delta town of Claton. He owned more property than anyone in Claton Parish. A dozen share croppers worked his large landholdings. He was a very wealthy and kind man, and highly respected.

Cyrus Carr, Joe’s father, worked for him as a stone carver, grave digger, and handy man at the funeral home.

Joe ran up to Mr. Kennedy’s door and beat on it. A few seconds later the porch light came on. Mrs. Nancy Kennedy eased the door open and peeped out. Joe! she exclaimed, surprised to see him at that hour of the night. What in creation are you doing up at this hour?

Joe was breathless, gasping, and crying. However, he managed to say, Momma said, tell you she’s dying, and the baby’s probably already dead. She’s bleeding all over the bed, and she’s hurtin’ bad and cryin’. Will you come and help her, please?

Oh my God! Nancy gasped. Where’s your father, Joe?

I don’t know. He said he had business when I asked him to come home ‘cause Momma was havin’ a baby.

And I know what kind of business too. That no good— She turned and yelled, Shelby, get up Honey. We need to hurry and go pick up Cat Spurlock. I pray it’s not too late.

Shelby came walking out of his bedroom putting on his robe and he barked, What the hell’s going on out here, Nancy? Do you realize what time it is?

It’s Martha. She’s obviously been in labor all day, and that no good Cyrus is nowhere to be found. Martha just sent Joe over here to tell me she thinks she’s dying, and the baby may already be dead. Joe said there’s blood all over the bed.

Let me grab my shoes, Shelby said as he rushed back into the bedroom muttering, That sorry no good bastard should be emasculated. I don’t know why I’ve tolerated him all these years. He returned in a few seconds, and Nancy grabbed Joe’s arm and they rushed out to their Packard.

They flew through town, turned off Main Street and drove a few blocks into the black quarters of town. Shelby pulled into Cat’s driveway and ran to the door and banged on it. Cat’s husband opened the door. Mr. Kennedy! he said, somewhat startled, What be the problem?

Tell Cat to hurry. Martha Carr might be dying. She’s been in labor Lord knows how long, and she’s bleeding all over the bed.

Cat came rushing out of her bedroom slipping her robe on. Grab your shoes and hurry, Shelby said. We may already be too late.

I don’t need no shoes, Mr. Kennedy. She ran out to the car. Shelby rushed back through town and down the gravel road to Cyrus Carr’s old shack. It was once used as a sharecropper house, but Shelby allowed Cyrus to live there rent free. They ran up the narrow path to the house and rushed in.

Martha was unconscious, and Cat bent over and looked at her. She shook her head and gave Nancy a grave look. She spread Martha’s legs and shook her head again. She murmured, I don’t know. I gest don’t know. This baby’s head be too big. I’ll try to get it out, but unless Mrs. Martha gives me a little help, I’m a fearin’ we gonna lose both of ‘em.

Just try to get the baby out! Nancy cried.

Cat went to work trying to get a grip on the baby’s head. It was a futile attempt. Then Martha’s eyes opened slightly, and she began to moan in excruciating in pain. I be here Mrs. Martha. It gonna be alright. We gonna git yo’ baby out. Now you gonna have to give me a little help. I wants you to grab my hands and pull up, and strain like you ain’t nary strained before. Just one good push out o’ you and it be all over. Cat took her hands and said, Now push, Mrs. Martha! Martha managed a big breath and let out a scream with all the energy she had left in her frail body, and pushed with all her might. The head moved somewhat, and Cat went to work. In seconds the large head was in her hands, and the baby eased out, followed by a flood of blood. Cat looked around for a towel to start cleaning the child. Joe ran into the kitchen and brought her a towel. Martha had collapsed when the baby came out. We gotta get her to a hospital quick, Cat said, looking at Nancy. Martha let out a last slow breath and her head fell to the side.

It appears that won’t be necessary, Shelby said. Cat checked Martha’s pulse, looked up teary eyed, and nodded.

They heard heavy footsteps coming into the house. Cyrus staggered into the room. What you folks doin’ here? he slurred, hardly able to stand. Oh, yeah, we got a new baby, ain’t we. He tried to focus on the baby in Cat’s arms.

That’s right, Cyrus, you good for nothing drunk, Nancy said, with utmost contempt. You have another son, but you no longer have a wife.

What! Joe cried out. Aint Momma alright!

Nancy put her arms around Joe and held him tightly and whispered, I’m so sorry, Joe, but your mother is gone. It was too much for her. The baby was too big and—

Joe lunged for his mother and put his arms around her and cried as he kissed her cheek.

Cyrus stood there looking around not realizing what had happened, or that Martha was dead. He staggered and almost fell.

Shelby caught him, led him to Joe’s bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He murmured, I wish it was you instead of your sweet wife lying there dead. You killed her as sure as— Cyrus began to snore.

Shelby walked back into the bedroom. Joe was draped over his mother’s lifeless body sobbing. We have a problem, Nancy, Shelby said. Who’s going to take care of this baby?

Mr. Kennedy, Cat said, Bell Sanders lost her baby last week. She got milk. She might come and nurse this baby if someone paid her little.

That won’t be a problem if she’s willing, Nancy said, but that doesn’t solve the problem. Who’s going to look after the baby?

Joe eased off the bed and said, He’s my brother. I’ll take care of him.

Nancy patted him on the back, and said, That’s a noble gesture, Joe, but it’s too much responsibility for a child. Possibly, Bell might stay with the child during the day if Joe could give him a bottle at night when he gets hungry and started crying.

I can do that, Joe said.

Joe, you’re going to stay at our house tonight, Nancy said.

I don’t want to leave Momma alone, Joe said.

Joe, Mr. Kennedy said, we’re going to take your mother to the funeral home in a few minutes. She won’t be alone. He took Joe by the hand, and Nancy took the baby in her arms, and they went to the car. They drove Kat home and returned to their home. Nancy took Joe upstairs and turned down the cover. She put Joe to bed next to her son, Johnny. Johnny was her 6 year old son, and he had a twin sister named Sarah. She was sleeping in the adjoining room. Joe was so exhausted; he fell asleep almost before Nancy pulled the cover over him.

Mr. Kennedy called his funeral home director, and the director and his employees went and picked up Martha Carr’s body.

At daybreak, Mr. Kennedy went to Bell Sanders’ shotgun house in the black quarters of town. Bell met him at the door before he could knock. I seen you drive in, Bell said. Does you need sumpin’ Mr. Kennedy?

Bell, I’m so sorry about your loss last week. How are you feelin’?

I reckon I be doin’ pretty well, Mr. Kennedy.

Bell, I got a little predicament, and a proposition, and I’ve come to ask for your help. I’m gonna pay you very well if you agree. We lost Martha Carr last night when she had a baby. Bell slapped her hand to her mouth, and gasped. The baby’s still alive, and it seems that he’s going to be alright. Nancy, Mrs. Kennedy, I’m referring to, suggested that I ask you if you were willing to come to the Carr’s house every day, and nurse the baby, and look after him until night. I’ll see to the transportation if you’ll oblige me?

I’m sorry to hear about Mrs. Martha, sir. She wuz a sweet and kind lady. I seen her at the grocer store when I had money to make grocers, and she was always nice to me, and wearin’ a big smile. I aint got no job, Mr. Kennedy, and I got lots of milk. The money shore would come in handy. I be willin’ to do it fur you. When you wants me to start?

I was hoping you could come now. The baby’s been crying since way ‘fore daylight.

Let me get my shoes on and I be ready.

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Cyrus Carr sat up in bed, grabbed his head, moaned, and looked at his watch. What the hell am I doin’ in Joe’s bed? he barked. He staggered to his feet, still cloudy headed from all the moonshine he had consumed the night before, and he stomped off to his bedroom. He opened the door and looked at the bed. The bloody sheets were still on the bed. Slowly he began to remember staggering in the night before, and he vaguely recalled Mrs. Kennedy saying, ‘You have a son, but you no longer have a wife.’ A pain hit him in the gut. He mumbled, What the hell am I going to do with a baby on my hands? Joe, where the hell are you? He stomped around the small house, but Joe wasn’t there. I feel like hell. I need a drink, he mumbled. He staggered out the door and headed for the dive on the north end of town.

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Bell nursed the baby, and he quieted immediately. Nancy found some old diapers. I’ll run to the store later and buy you some new ones, she said to Bell. She called her maid. They went to the Carr’s house to clean up. They turned the mattress over, changed the sheets, and swept and mopped all the floors.

At noon Cyrus came back home. He had been drinking again, but he wasn’t drunk yet.

Where’s my boy? Cyrus barked.

Where’s my wife should be your question? Nancy snapped. She’s in the funeral home waiting to be buried. How can you live with yourself after letting her die last night? Joe’s at my home with your baby boy. Bell agreed to come and take care of the child during the day. Joe said he can give him a bottle at night.

I don’t want no baby here without no momma to take care of him. And I aint got money for no maid to look after the kid. I want to get rid of him. Find someone who wants the kid.

I’ll do no such thing! Shelby is going to pay Bell.

Well, I don’t like that either. That’s all I need, a baby cryin’ all night and keepin’ me awake. I have to work for a livin’.

You sicken me with that kind of talk. What kind of man are you anyway? Don’t you have any compassion? The baby needs a name for the birth certificate. What do you want to name him?

Martha said if it was a boy, she was gonna to call him Willie after her father. I reckon that’s as good as any name. It don’t really matter to me.

I’ve cleaned up the place, and I’ll bring Bell and little Willie back this afternoon. Joe spent the night with Johnny. Do you have any food in the pantry and ice box?

I don’t know. Martha always took care of those matters.

Nancy looked in the pantry and the ice box. There was very little food in either. I’ll stock the pantry and get some food for the ice box, but the drinking has to stop. You have two sons to take care of now, and you can’t do it drinking every night and gambling your money away. Cyrus didn’t respond.

Nancy and her maid returned home. Later that afternoon, she brought Bell, baby Willie, and Joe back home. Bell used a suction cup, and filled a bottle with breast milk, and put it in the ice box. She instructed Joe how to warm the milk and feed little Willie. At dark, Mr. Kennedy came and took Bell home. Cyrus had left earlier that afternoon to go to the dive north of town to play cards and drink. Joe made a sandwich and drank a glass of milk before taking Willie to his bed. Joe went to sleep, and he didn’t hear Cyrus stagger into the front bedroom around midnight. At 1:00 a.m., baby Willie began to cry. Joe jumped up and ran to the kitchen and built a fire in the stove to warm the milk. He warmed the bottle and ran back into the bedroom and fed the bottle of milk to Willie. Willie went back to sleep.

As the weeks turned into months, Joe took care of his baby brother like a loving mother would. Bell grew to love Willie like the child she had lost, and Nancy came regularly to see to their physical needs. It became apparent to Bell by the time Willie had reached 1 year old that he was mentally handicapped. His head was larger than normal, but he was not a mongoloid. The oxygen deprivation at birth had apparently damaged his brain severely. He was slow to start walking, and he couldn’t verbalize a word that was legible until he was almost three years old.

If Willie was ill, Bell would spend the night, sit in the rocking chair and hold him and rock him all night, and stay with him until he was well again. Bell cooked during the day for them, and there were usually enough leftovers for a night meal. All the while, Cyrus seemed oblivious that he had a second son. It was obvious to everyone that he didn’t want the child and was ashamed of him, blaming the child for his wife’s death.

Joe was very intelligent; however, fearing what Cyrus might do to Willie, he took every opportunity to miss school and look after his little brother the first year after Willie was born. He missed so much school that year they considered holding him back. However, he was so intelligent they allowed him to move to the next grade.

When Willie was 6 years old, Bell wasn’t needed anymore. Joe was 12, and he was always there for Willie. He took Willie to school with him when Willie was 6 years old. After the first week of class, Willie’s teacher went to Mr. Cain, the principal, and voiced her frustration over Willie’s conduct, and lack of attention. She informed Mr. Cain that Willie was mentally incapable of doing school work.

Mr. Cain was a compassionate principal, and he knew the history of the Carr family, and the circumstances behind Willie’s condition, as did everyone in the small town of Claton. He said to Willie’s teacher, Just do your best. We have nowhere to put Willie except in your class. Willie’s teacher wasn’t too happy with the state of affairs, but she accepted it, and did her best to teach Willie, although she had little or no success.

CHAPTER ONE

Claton, Louisiana, December, 1943 . Willie and Joe Carr lay in bed shivering as the sparkling sun rays glistened off the frosty grass and weeds in the field outside their window. A cold breeze drifted through a half broken window pane next to their bed. I’m cold, Joe, Willie murmured from under the quilt, as his teeth chattered.

It’s time to get up anyway, Joe said, sliding off the hard corn-shuck mattress, placing his feet on the freezing pine wood floor. I’ll find some paper or stuff my other pair of overalls in the broken window tonight, little brother.

We goin’ to school today, Joe? Willie asked, as he shivered and crawled out of bed.

Yeah, I reckon. It’s the last day before the Christmas holidays. I’m sure you’ll have a party today, and you might get some hard candy, and it’ll be warm there. Willie grabbed his flannel shirt off the floor and put it on. He pulled his overalls up and slipped his feet into his brogans without socks. Joe eased into his overalls and put his brogans on, and they went into their father’s room hoping to warm their hands in front of the small fireplace. It was the only heat in the old shack, since the electricity line had not been run to their house, but the fireplace was cold.

Cyrus staggered through the front door holding a pint jar of moon shine. He was returning after drinking and gambling all night at the dive north of town. He slurred, I want you two no-accounts back soon as school’s over. You got a grave to dig after school.

Who died, Pa? Willie asked.

Abraham Lincoln, you moron. What do you care?

I don’t know him, Pa. My belly’s hurtin’, and I’m hongry, Willie said, rubbing his stomach. We didn’t git no supper last night, and we don’t ever git nuttin for our lunch bags since Bell don’t come no more.

Willie, haven’t I told you to call her Mrs. Bell? Joe admonished.

What the hell you teachin’ that moron, Joe? You know a white man don’t call no nigger Mister or Mrs. And you always hungry, and complainin’, you two worthless— Git your asses out of here and let me git some rest. I got a headstone to carve ‘fore the day’s over. And one other thing, you two keep your asses out of them nigger quarters. People are startin’ to talk.

Come on Willie, let’s go, Joe said, grabbing Willie’s arm and leading him out the front door. Aint you learned not to talk to Poppa when he’s drunk? You like gettin’ knocked around? They walked down the narrow path with grass and weeds growing alongside the path to the gravel road that led to the school a little over a mile away. The school was an old white wood frame building, and the grades went from first to the twelfth grade. It was heated by a coal burning radiator.

Can I go wit’ you today, Joe? I don’t wanna go to that mean old ladies’ room. They all laugh at me, and my teacher pulls my ear and hair when I talk.

You got to learn to be keep quiet, Willie. They won’t laugh at you if you don’t talk. Listen and try to learn something.

School had already begun when they arrived. It was Friday, and the holidays would begin at the close of the school day. All of the elementary classes had drawn names and planned to exchange gifts at the end of the day. Willie’s teacher had not allowed Willie’s name to be placed in the hat, nor did she allow him to draw a name because the year before, he had not brought a gift for the girl’s name that he had drawn. The teacher knew he had no money and would not bring a gift. Joe took Willie to the 3rd grade classroom, although Willie was 11. He had been socially promoted because he was too big to stay in the 1st grade. Miss Kelso came to the door, gave Joe a scowl, and began to scold them. I told you two not to be late to class again this week. Class has already begun, and you’re disturbing class. She looked at Joe and said, Mr. Cain will tend to you, young man. She grabbed Willie by the ear and led him to his seat in the back of the classroom.

Joe went to his algebra class. Mr. Cain, the principal, also taught math at the small school. Joe eased sheepishly through the back door and walked down the aisle with his head down. Everyone turned and gave him a wary look.

Mr. Cain put the chalk down and stepped away from the chalkboard. He took the paddle off his desk and waited for Joe. When Joe looked up, Mr. Cain gestured for him to come to his desk at the front of the class. He gave Joe a disconcerted look and shook his head. How many days have you been tardy this week, Joe? he asked.

I reckon this is about 3 or 4 times, Mr. Cain. I didn’t keep up with them.

Well, I did, Son. What’s my rule about excessive tardy and unexcused absences, Joe?

Everybody knows your damn rule Mr. Cain; one lick for every tardy after the first, and one for every unexcused absence. Just get it over with. I can take it. There was a defining silence that followed as the students dared not breathe. Joe was larger than Mr. Cain. He was slightly over six foot, and strong as a lumberjack from digging graves and cutting firewood since he was a child. His muscles bulged from his arms, neck and chest. No student dared cross him, because he would fight at a single cross word. He was a very handsome young man with beautiful blue eyes and light brown hair. His face seemed to be sculptured with high cheekbones and suntanned brown skin. He was every girl’s dream. However, he always seemed to be angry.

To my desk, Mr. Cain said. Joe walked slowly to the desk, bent over and put his hands on the desk. It was not the first paddling he had received for his crude language and excessive tardiness.

Four for the tardiness and five for insolence, Mr. Cain said, and began to crack the paddle on Joe’s rear. The sound echoed off the walls of the classroom and could be heard all over the small school building. The girls cringed with every blistering blow. Some refused to look at the paddling. Joe’s expression was stoic, never flinched or making a sound. When Mr. Cain finished, he laid the paddle on the desk and said, I want to see you in my office at 3 p.m. sharp. Now take your seat."

Joe walked slowly to his desk in the middle of the classroom and took his seat next to Sarah Kennedy. Sarah was the daughter of Shelby and Nancy Kennedy, the wealthiest family in the parish. Sarah was a very beautiful young lady like her mother, Nancy. Sarah had long golden locks and beautiful blue eyes. She was gorgeous, and she knew it. She was quick to flaunt her jewelry and nice clothes, and never let people forget that her family was wealthy. Sarah’s twin brother was Johnny. There was nothing snobbish or prideful about him. He was also a very handsome young man, and the class favorite. He was very athletic. He played quarterback on the six man football team and was the leading scorer on the basketball team. His dream was to play basketball at LSU and become a doctor. He and Sarah both had a perfect 4.0 G.P.A. Joe was in third place with a 3.5 G.P.A., although, he never seemed to open a book or take one home with him.

You deserved every lash, Sarah whispered to Joe. You’re too lazy to get up and come to class on time, and you have a very crude vocabulary, and you stink. Do you ever bathe?

Joe’s rear was blistered and still throbbing from the nine lashes. He was in no mood to listen to the school snob’s criticism. He looked at her with fiery eyes and whispered, Keep your damn opinions to yourself, you smart mouth stuck up bitch!

Sarah gasped, grabbed her mouth, and started to raise her hand to tell Mr. Cain what Joe had said; however, she thought better of it and gave Joe a hateful scowl.

Joe had enough credits to graduate with his morning schedule and one afternoon class. He was allowed to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library for a study hall, although he never studied. He had read all the good books in the library by his senior year. After his English class that afternoon, he went upstairs to the library. He asked Mrs. McKnight, the librarian and social studies teacher, if any new books had come in. She informed him that the school had exhausted their budget for new books already. It would be the next school year before they purchased any new ones. Joe loved to read. It allowed him to escape for a while from the poverty and abuse he had experienced every day of his life. The reading expanded his mind, and when he found a word he didn’t recognize, he would look it up in the dictionary in the library. When he was younger, he would check books out and take them home. He would read by lamplight until the wee hours of the morning. One night his father came in late. He was drunk as usual and saw the light flickering in Joe’s room. He walked in and saw Joe reading. He grabbed the book and tore it in half, and yelled at Joe for burning the oil in the lamp and dared him to do it again. After that Joe read at school and at home when his father wasn’t around. He went to the book shelf and picked up a copy of Daphne du Maurier’s, Hungry Hill. He had read it before, but he liked all her books. He read until the 3:00 p.m. bell rang to end the day.

Joe went to Mr. Cain’s office. Sit down Joe, Mr. Cain said calmly. Son, if you thought I enjoyed punishing you again, you’re very mistaken. You forced me to do it. If I let it slide with all your tardiness and crude language, I’d lose the respect of every student here at Claton High School. You’re scheduled to graduate this coming May. You’re one of the brightest, if not the brightest student in this school, but you don’t seem to care about anything. You can make something of yourself, Son, with just a little effort on your part. I’ve noticed that you never take a book home with you, but your grades are some of the highest in your class. Only Sarah and Johnny Kennedy have better marks. You can go to college and be successful at anything you put your mind too. Why this rebellious attitude? By all rights, I should have expelled you years ago. We’re at war! Do you realize what that means to you? You’re almost eighteen. We’re fighting a war on two continents now, and the draft board would have you in a week if I kick you out of school. Talk to me Joe. Tell me what’s in that rebellious head?

I’d have left this town long ago if it wasn’t for my little brother, Mr. Cain. He’s addled in the brain, as you know, and I fear what my father might do to him if I wasn’t here to protect him.

Your father drinks excessively, doesn’t he? Is he abusive also?

Joe nodded. He’s beat me since I was a child, and he slammed Willie against the wall when he was younger and broke his arm. He doesn’t hit me anymore because I’m stronger than him, but he still beats Willie when he’s drunk and I’m not around to protect him. He calls him a moron or a retard. Willie doesn’t know what those words mean. I try not to leave Willie alone with him. I know he blames Willie for my mother’s death. Pa was going to get drunk, and he didn’t go for a midwife after I ran to the funeral home and told him Mother was in labor. She stayed in labor all day until late that night before I went to get help for her. She died having Willie, and Father didn’t come home until after she had died. Willie was too big for Momma to have on her own, and she bled to death. Willie lived, but something happened to his brain when he was born, I reckon. I was only six when he was born, but I know if I hadn’t taken care of him my father would have let him die. I was his momma when I was just a child. Nothing has changed much since then. Maybe it’s worse now.

It’ll be over one day soon, Joe. Nothing wicked lasts forever. What you have to do is think about your future. What are your plans for your life? What are your dreams and aspirations? Remember this, never forget your past, but don’t let it define you. The future is what you make it.

I don’t have any dreams or aspirations, Mr. Cain. I’d like to graduate and find a job somewhere far away from Pa and take care of Willie. I suppose that’s my dream.

I don’t know how you can do that with the war still raging on two continents, Joe. When you graduate in May, they’ll surely draft you. It’s not likely the war will end soon.

But Mr. Cain, I can’t ever leave Willie. Pa’ll kill him if I have to go to war. I’ll just fail all my classes and stay in school another year.

No one’s going to fail you, Joe. Your marks are too good. There are places to send Willie where he’ll be safe and taken care of if your father hurts him. I’ll see to that.

It might be too late before you know it. I won’t leave him here alone.

We’ll talk about this later, Joe, Mr. Cain said. Enjoy the holidays. Merry Christmas. Now you run along home and take care of Willie. See you in two weeks.

Joe walked down the hall to Willie’s class. The room was empty. Joe ran out the front door and saw Willie in the middle of some of the older ruffians. They were mocking Willie and shoving him back and forth. Willie was crying and pleading for them to stop. Joe ran up to the boys and began snatching them down. He picked Willie up and yelled, If you bastards ever touch my brother again, I’ll beat the hell out of all of you.

The cowardly boys jumped to their feet, turned and ran.

Why didn’t you stay in the room and wait for me? Joe scolded.

You didn’t come, and that mean ol’ teacher made me leave. I was scared ‘cause I thought you left me, and I ain’t sure how to git home, Willie said, sobbing.

Have I ever left you? Joe asked, putting his arm around Willie as they started home.

We got to hurry, Willie said. We got to dig a grave, and I don’t want to be in the graveyard after dark.

You remembered that, Willie! I’m proud of you.

I don’t want Pa mad at us, Willie said. I don’t want no whuppin’. I’m hungry Joe. My belly’s been hurtin’ bad.

As they hurried along the road they caught up to Sarah Kennedy. She was walking slowly, reading a book as she walked toward her home.

As Joe and Willie walked swiftly by her, she lowered the book, looked up at Joe and said, Why are you so stupid, Joe Carr? You knew you were going to get paddled when you cursed at Mr. Cain. Joe ignored her comment and picked up the pace. Sarah hurried her pace and said, Answer me, Joe Carr. Are you deaf and stupid too?

Her curt remark angered Joe again, and he stopped and gave her a cold hard look before saying, Why don’t you leave me alone and mind your own damn business?

Don’t you get smart with me, Joe Carr! Your father works for my father, and I’ll tell Father that you were rude to me, and he’ll fire your father, and kick ya’ll out of that old shack we own. He said he should have fired him years ago because he’s just a lazy no account drunk, but he felt sorry for you and your dum—you and him. Joe took Willie’s hand and they jogged away from Sarah.

They rushed to the shed behind the funeral home, picked up the shovels and a pick, and jogged up a hill to the cemetery a quarter of a mile away. Cyrus was waiting for them. He had flagged the grave site. He set two lanterns on the ground beside the site because the boys would be working late into the night to finish the six foot deep grave in the hard clay dirt.

Willie’s got to have something to eat Pa, Joe insisted. He’s gonna faint if he doesn’t get something in his belly.

I’ll have something for ya’ll when you get home tonight. Now shut up and get to work. My back’s been actin’ up again, and I’m goin’ home and lay down. He had already started drinking, and he staggered away between the headstones.

Joe, show me where Momma’s grave is again. I can’t mermender whur it is.

Willie, it’s easy to remember. It’s over there next to that big oak tree, and it’s the only grave without a real head stone. Don’t you remember when we brought that big rock in here a few years ago, and I chiseled her name on it?

I think I mermember, Joe, but I aint sure ‘cause I don’t know where it is now. Can we go look at it again ‘fore we git started diggin’?

Sure we can, little brother. They walked through the cemetery and over to the small stone at the head of the grave. Joe had roughly chiseled, Martha Carr, 27 years old. Died in 1933.

Why did Momma die? Willie asked.

I’ve told you before, Willie. She bled to death.

Why’d she bleed to death?

I don’t know, Willie. We have lots of hard work to do. Let’s get started, and they walked back to the grave site.

Joe picked at the red clay, and Willie shoveled the dirt out of the hole until it got too deep for him to throw the dirt out. As darkness crept in on them, Willie doubled up and said, My belly’s hurtin’ Joe. It’s hurtin’ real bad, and I want a drink of water.

We have only a few more feet to dig, Joe said. Come on and let’s run home and get you something to eat and drink. Joe pulled Willie out of the grave, and they rushed to their house a short ways down the road. You stay outside, and I’ll sneak into the kitchen and get you something. Be very quiet, Willie. I don’t want to wake Pa. Joe eased inside and crept to the small kitchen. It was barely light enough for him to see. He checked the ice box and rummaged through the small pantry. There was no food to be found. He noticed a paper sack on the floor by the kitchen table and eased his hand inside. There were a few sweet potatoes in the sack. He grabbed two large ones and plucked an egg from the basket on the counter, filled a pint fruit jar with water, and sneaked back across the room. He heard his father snoring. Willie was waiting outside holding his stomach. Aint got nothing but a couple of sweet potatoes, Willie, and a raw egg.

Gimme, Willie said, and began to chomp down on the dirty sweet potato. They walked back to the grave, and Willie ate both sweet potatoes. Joe tapped a hole in the egg and sucked it out, almost gagging as he swallowed. Willie gulped the water down. Joe lit the lanterns and they crawled back into the hole and started digging again.

Near 10:00 p.m., Willie snatched at the back of Joe’s sweaty shirt and whispered, You hear that, Joe?

I didn’t hear anything, Willie. Come on, we’re almost finished, and I’m dead tired.

No! Willie whispered, beginning to tremble. I heard it again. Something’s out there.

Aw, Willie, you aint scared of a ghost are you?

I don’t know. I aint never seen one.

Joe grinned, and yelled, Boo! Willie jumped three feet, screamed, and began to cry. Joe grabbed him, hugged him tightly and said, I’m sorry, Willie. I couldn’t help it. Let me take a look. Joe, being six feet tall, straightened up and looked around the cemetery. Two opossums were scavenging around for food. Joe picked Willie up and said, There are your ghosts. Now let’s finish this last six inches. They cleaned up the bottom, and Joe hoisted Willie out and crawled out behind him.

They took the tools back to the shed and started home. My belly’s hurtin’ bad, Joe. It’s hurtin’ real bad now. Willie became nauseated, stopped and began to throw up the sweet potatoes.

After Willie purged his stomach, he felt a little better. They went home and crawled under the freezing quilt. The cold breeze coming through the broken window pain was freezing their faces. Joe jumped up, grabbed his overalls and stuffed them in the window and crawled back in bed. Willie eased over under Joe’s arm and snuggled next to him until he fell asleep.

The next morning, Joe’s face felt as if it had frost on it. His father always built a small fire in the fireplace when he got up. Joe crawled out of bed and took his other pair of overalls out of the dresser drawer and put them on. Willie was still sleeping. Joe went into his father’s room. The jar of moonshine was empty, and his father was gone. Joe knew his father got paid at noon on Saturday, and he knew he had to get to him after work because he always blew his pay gambling and drinking liquor over the weekend.

Mr. Kennedy paid Joe’s father an extra five dollars for digging a grave and replacing the dirt after the funeral. Joe realized that if he could get to him before he got drunk, as he always did, he might get enough money to buy some food for him and Willie.

Joe had tried to find work on the weekends and after school for years, but the nation was still recovering from the worst depression ever, and the war was still raging on two continents. There was no part time work to be found in the small farm town. Joe had wanted a bicycle for years for him and Willy to ride to school and up town, but he knew he’d never get his hands on enough money to buy one.

Joe had let Willie sleep late. When he awoke, he walked into the bedroom to warm himself. He saw Joe outside splitting some firewood for the stove and fireplace. Willie dressed and went outside to help Joe bring the wood inside. What we gonna do today, Joe? My teacher said we aint got no school fer a spell.

Yeah, Willie, it’s Christmas break. I thought we might walk to town and look in the store windows and buy some food if Poppa’ll give us some money for digging the grave. The stores have all kinds of pretty decorations in the windows at Christmas. They took some wood inside before starting up town. When they walked by the Kennedy mansion, they saw Johnny and Sarah in the yard next to the road.

Johnny had rolled his bike out to the sidewalk and tied a sign on the handle bars. The bike looked new. The sign read, For Sale, practically new Schwinn. 3 dollars.

Good morning, boys, Johnny said to Joe and Willie. Where ya’ll headin’ on this cool frosty morning?

Nowhere special, Joe responded. Just killin’ a morning until Poppa gets paid.

What’s that sign say, Joe? Willie asked, walking over to touch the bike.

It says, ‘for sale,’ Willie, Johnny responded.

Why you wanna sell it? Willie asked. It looks new. Sarah eased up by her twin brother and gave Joe a scowl.

Cause I have no need for it, Johnny said. I got it for Christmas a few years ago, and I never ride it anymore. Not much anyway. You can look at the tires and see that, he said. I may be getting a Harley Davidson 125 motorcycle for Christmas.

Me and Joe been wantin’ a bike for a long spell. Why don’t you buy it Joe? Willie said.

Don’t be foolish, Willie. When did we ever see a dollar bill, much less three dollars?

Nancy walked out on the porch and picked up the welcome mat, walked to the edge of the porch and dusted it off. She spotted the kids in the front yard. She had always felt deep compassion for Willie. She was confident that the Lord had used her to save Willie’s life at birth. She walked out where the kids were standing.

Good morning, Mrs. Kennedy, Joe said, remembering how kind Nancy had been to him and Willie those first few years after Willie was born.

Hi, Mrs. Nancy, Willie said. You shor are a purdy lady.

Mrs. Kennedy blushed, walked over by Willie, and gave him a gentle loving hug. What’s all this, Johnny? Mrs. Kennedy asked, noticing the bike and the for sale sign. You don’t want your bike, Son?

I don’t ride it anymore, Mother. I thought I might sell it and give the money to those ladies from our church collecting money to buy Christmas presents for the poor colored kids that live in the quarters.

That’s very commendable, Johnny, Nancy said, smiling, seeming very pleased with her son.

I shore wish we had tree dollars, Willie said. Joe’s been a wantin’ a bike for a long spell.

Shut up, Willie! Joe snapped. That ain’t true. I’m too old for a bike now anyway.

Why you say that, Joe? I done heard you say lots o’ times that you wish we had a bike to ride up town and to school.

Would you like to have the bike, Willie? Nancy asked. You’re not too old to ride it.

I ain’t narry seen no dollar Mrs. Nancy, Willie said. And Joe said we aint got no money.

Nancy put an arms around Johnny and said, I’ll give you three dollars for the bike, Son, and you can give it to the church benevolent committee. I’m giving this bike to Willie for a Christmas present.

Willie’s eyes brightened and his mouth gaped open. Do you mean it, Mrs. Nancy? I ain’t nary got no Christmas present ‘fore. Sarah’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t believe what Willie had revealed.

That’s not true Willie, Joe responded, very embarrassed. Just last Christmas I took you up town and bought you some hard candy and some raisins.

I think I member that, Willie said. Them raisins wuz so sweet and—good.

As Sarah stood there and listened to the conversation, she suddenly became aware of the terrible poverty the two boys had lived in all their lives. For the first time in her life she felt shame and guilt over the way she had treated Joe every time she saw him. She spoke up and said, Willie, are you and Joe going to the community Christmas dance tonight at The Community Center? I’ve never seen either of you there before.

Her comment shocked Joe. He had never heard anything but sarcasm and criticism come from her mouth. No, Joe responded. We don’t know how to dance, and we don’t have any clothes fit to wear to a dance. I’ll be teaching Willie how to ride that bicycle tonight, if he doesn’t break his neck trying to learn.

Nancy eased over beside Joe and put a hand on his shoulder and commented, You’re a very handsome young man, Joe Carr. I know the girls will be disappointed if you don’t show up.

Joe blushed, something he never did, and said, I don’t imagine they’ll care if I come or not, but we’re not coming. Mrs. Kennedy, I don’t feel right taking that bike and letting you pay for it. I’m strong, and if you have some work, I’d like to work and pay for it.

Nancy smiled and said, That won’t be necessary, Joe. It’s a Christmas present for my special boy, and she kissed Willie’s cheek. She returned to the house.

Johnny commented to Joe, If you want to go to the dance, I have lots of nice shirts and trousers, and I’d be glad to give you a few outfits if you want to go? We’re about the same size. I’m sure they’ll fit you.

Joe shook his head and said, "No, but I thank you. I can’t do that. I need to take care of

Willie."

Why can’t I go? Willie asked.

It’s not for kids, Willie.

Oh, yes it is, Sara corrected. There’ll be lots of kids there. It’s a community affair for everyone—except the colored, of course.

No! Joe said firmly. But I’m much obliged for the offer, Johnny. Let’s go, Willie. They started to walk away.

What about my bike! Willie, blurted.

It’s not your bike, Willie. He took Willie by the arm and started walking toward town.

Willie began to cry, and he said, But Mrs. Nancy said it was my Christmas present.

Sarah rushed over to the bike, snatched the For Sale sign off, rolled it up to Willie and said, Yes, it is his bike, Joe. Mother gave it to him. Now don’t be prideful. Teach him to ride it.

Joe was totally befuddled at Sarah’s demeanor. Not one sharp cutting word had left her mouth, and it appeared that she was sincere and genuinely concerned about Willie. Joe gave her a long piercing look. Sarah returned the look; however, her eyes began to soften, and she smiled at him. It was the first time Joe realized how beautiful Sarah was, and how much she looked like Mrs. Nancy. Had he told her that, it would have been the best compliment he could have ever given her. Joe returned the smile, and it was the first time Sarah realized how strikingly handsome Joe was. Joe said to Willie, Crawl on the seat, and let’s see how long it takes before you break a bone. Willie jumped up and down and began to clap. Joe helped Willie on the bike and began pushing him toward town. Joe held the handlebars so Willie wouldn’t fall in the gravel.

Joe pushed him all the way to Main Street; however, Willie didn’t have the balance to ride the bicycle, and Joe realized he never would. Joe had never ridden a bicycle before, but he planned to ride this one. He helped Willie off the seat and told him to stand on the sidewalk and let him try to ride it. He hopped on the seat, pushed off and began to peddle. After a few feet he got the hang of it and was riding in circles quickly. He put Willie across the top frame of the bike and pushed off. Willie began to laugh as they flew down the small hill into town. They stopped near the hotel and boarding house. A few old men that were permanent residents were sitting on the porch in rocking chairs, smoking pipes. Willie waved at them, and yelled, How ya’ll like my new bike I got fur Christmas? They waved back, smiled, and nodded. Willie and Joe hopped off the bike and began to walk along the sidewalk pushing the bike, pausing occasionally to look at the Christmas decorations in the display windows. They passed the barber shop and the door was open. They had never had a real haircut by a barber. Joe always cut Willie’s hair with scissors, and tried to cut his own when it grew over his eyes and ears. His hair was long in the back and covered most of his ears. Mr. Wright, the barber, had no customers yet. He looked up at them standing outside his doorway. He gave them a slight scowl.

It was common knowledge that Mr. Wright was a radical bigot. It was rumored that he was the man in the secret organization that had committed many horrible atrocities to some blacks over the past two decades. Joe despised him. Joe had many good friends in the black quarters of town, and he had heard all the stories from eyewitnesses about the inhumane things of the past.

Over the years the radical organization had lost some of its appeal and members, after they had killed Uncle Mose’s son for stealing eight ears of corn from a hundred acre corn field owned by the wealthiest farmer in the parish. Uncle Mose’s son had been seen sneaking out of the field with the corn during the Great Depression. The men were waiting at Mose’s home when his son returned with the corn. The men tied the young man to the post supporting the porch and beat him unmercifully with a bull whip. Then they cut him loose and started kicking him until they broke all his ribs and fractured his skull. He died that night. Uncle Mose had tried to stop them, but he was knocked unconscious.

Cat, who was Mose’s niece, had told Joe the story of her and her sister walking home one night when they were in their early teens. Mr. Wright was a young man then, and he and a few of his friends chased the girls down, dragged them into the bushes, and raped them. Cat’s sister had a baby nine months later, and the resemblance to Mr. Wright was unmistakable. Cat’s sister married a few years later and moved to Rayville. The girls had been too frightened to report the atrocity.

Mr. Wright continued to scowl, and said, Looks like you two strays need a haircut, or dog tags. Come on in boys, and I’ll cut that mangy looking hair if it don’t have lice.

We aint got no money fer no haircut, Willie said.

You got a new bike, aint you? Mr. Wright barked. You must have a dime for a haircut.

Mrs. Nancy give me the bike fer a Christmas present, Willie said.

Shut up Willie! Joe chided. It aint none of his business where we got the bike.

Not unless you stole it! Mr. Wright retorted. Did you steal it, Willie?

I said, it aint none of your damn business where we got it! Joe barked, as his temper raged.

You two no-account’s are as sorry as your old man, Mr. Wright barked. The whole lot of you aint worth the rope it would take to hang you. Now get your sorry asses out of my door. I wouldn’t cut your hair for ten dollars. You two probably got lice, anyway, livin’ in that broken down shack. Get your sorry asses down to them nigger quarters where you belong. You aint no better’n them.

Mr. Wright never knew how close he came to getting his brains beat out. Joe was so angry, he turned white, but somehow, he managed to walk away. He grabbed Willie’s hand and they walked down the street. He cooled off somewhat as they passed the parish library. Joe leaned the bike against the building and walked up to the library door. He stuck his head in the door and asked Mrs. Carter if they had received any new books that week.

Sorry, Joe, she said. Possibly after New Years. Joe nodded, walked back and picked up the bike. He and Willie walked to the garage that was next to the movie house. John Wells owned the garage and filling station. He always wore overalls and a canvas apron over them. He was the mayor and a very nice man.

You boys need some gas for that new bike? he joked.

It don’t use no gas, Willie said.

Oh! Mr. Wells said, I thought it might be one of those bikes that have a small motor on it.

I wish, Joe said. Here’s the motor, and he patted his strong long legs.

That looks like Johnny’s bike, Mr. Wells said, raising his brows.

How’d you know that? Willie asked.

I fixed a few spokes for him a few years back. Not many folk around here can afford a nice bike like that.

Mrs. Nancy give it to me fur a Christmas present, Willie said.

Never call her Mrs. Nancy again, Willie, Joe chided. Call her Mrs. Kennedy.

Okay, Joe.

You boys goin’ to the big Christmas dance tonight? Mr. Wells asked.

Joe said we aint got no clothes fer that, Willie responded.

That’s a shame, Mr. Wells said, but a clean pair of overalls will do just fine. Half the farmers around here’ll be wearin’ ‘em. You know the old sayin’, don’t you Joe? It goes like this. It aint no sin to be poor, but it’s damn inconvenient. Joe and Mr. Wells had a long laugh. Remember, it aint no fashion show either—except for the ladies and pretty girls.

We can’t dance, and all our overalls have holes in the knees, Joe said. I’m going to try to teach Willie to ride his new bicycle in the field next to the house. If he falls in this gravel he might get hurt.

I reckon you boys expecting a big Christmas, huh? Mr. Wells asked.

About the same as last year, Joe nodded.

"Why don’t you tell your pa to give you money for a new pair of khakis instead of what he plans to give you, and