Mississippi Bridge (3 page)

Stacey, Cassie, Christopher-John, and Little Man come right after. They had set them cans they had been carrying on the porch while they helped their grandmama on the bus. Now they gone back to the porch to gather them up; then they just stood there waiting and staring up at the bus. Their grandmama opened up a back window and poked her head out. “What y’all doin’?” she said.

Cassie spoke right up. “Waitin’ for y’all to leave, Big Ma!”

That ain’t set well with their grandmama Caroline. “Stacey, you take these here younguns on!” she ordered. “Y’all don’t need t’ be waitin’ here till I go. Now y’all go on, so’s ya can get back home and help ya mama. Miz Georgia, she waitin’ on that milk now!”

“But, Big Ma,” protested Little Man, “we wants to see y’all off!”

“Yes, ma’am,” attested Christopher-John. “We just wait right here till the bus leave—”

“I tole y’all not to wait! No tellin’ how long this bus be sittin’ here. ’Sides, ya know I don’t want y’all standin’ up here front of this store. Now do like I say! I see y’all in a few days.”

They ain’t moved.

She got to threatening. “I gotta get off this bus t’ make y’all mind? Stacey, boy, you do like I say and get these younguns ’way from here!”

Now they stirred, sure enough. “We loves ya, Big Ma!” they hollered up to her.

“Well, I loves y’all too. Now y’all run on ’long now. I wants y’all gone from here ’fore I am. Don’t y’all worry. I be all right.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said real soft-like as they slowly moved away.

“And y’all go straight t’ home after y’all leave Miz Georgia’s! Y’all hear me now?”

“Yes, ma’am, Big Ma, we hear!” they answered. Then, looking kind of sorrowful, they backed on away, waving their good-byes, turned, and moved slowly on past the
store and down the road toward the bridge. Once they stopped and looked back to see if that ole bus done moved, but it ain’t and they gone on.

Me, I gone back to my post, leaned against it hard, and stared down the bridge road. The fog was coming up thick now and I could hardly see Stacey and them as they headed for the bridge. I couldn’t make out the bridge at all. On a sudden, I had a longing to go try and talk to them Logans, and I left that post to stand by itself and shot down the road after them. As I ran, I seen two wagons coming out of the fog. It was the Henry Amoses, folks I know’d from over by Smellings Creek. One of their boys, ole green-eyed Shorty Amos, was in class with me over at Jefferson Davis. I give a wave and a shout to Shorty and his folks, and they give a wave and a shout back and they rolled on. I wondered if they was traveling today too, seemed like so many folks was. They gone on, then I hollered at Stacey and them. “’Ey, y’all wait up!” The four of them stopped sure enough, but they ain’t looked none too happy to see me. “Where y’all headed?” I asked, catching up, even though I already had that figured.

Stacey, he done give me that look, like I was asking too many questions again. “We got t’ ’tend business for Big Ma.”

But that Cassie, she spoke right up; she wasn’t so closed mouthed as Stacey. “We goin’ over to Miz Georgia’s. We takin’ her some milk.” Then she gone on strutting toward the bridge; she done had her say. That girl, she had plenty of mouth on her and she never paid me much attention one way or the other, ’ceptin’ to speak her mind.

“Yeah,” said Christopher-John, smiling right friendly at me. He was a chubby kind of a little fella and a right pleasant sort. “They cow ain’t got no more milk and they got a whole buncha younguns over there to Miz Georgia’s, and Big Ma, she say younguns need plenty of milk to grow right.”

“And we got
plenty
of milk!” declared Little Man. Never minding his four years, he was a boy on the prideful side and Stacey know’d it too. He give me a look, then give one to Little Man, letting him know wasn’t no need to go bragging. Little Man, he understood that look and he ain’t said another word, but I could see in his eyes he
wasn’t regretting a word of his bragging. That was the way he was.

I kind of smiled, liking his prideful ways, then I took up conversation as I walked along with them. “It sure is rainin’, ain’t it?”

Stacey, he give me a quick look, like he was wondering what I was walking along with them for, then agreed. “That’s a fact,” he said.

“Can’t hardly see the bridge for all this here fog,” I commented.

“Don’t need to see it,” declared that Cassie. “Anything look poor as that bridge don’t need to get seen.”

Christopher-John, he slowed his steps. “I’m scairt of it.”

“I ain’t,” said Little Man.

“That’s ’cause you ain’t got the good sense ’nough yet to be scared,” decided Cassie. “Shoot! You give that old bridge one good sneeze, it likely to fall down.”

She was right. It was a rickety old thing, that wooden bridge, and it was good that it was only wide enough for one vehicle to cross it at a time. Story was it had been built way before the War ’tween the States, and it looked
like it ain’t had much work done on it since. As we neared the bridge, the rain beat down harder and the fog settled all around, and we could hardly see a thing. Limbs of the trees, all weighted down with water, hung low, making going slow. We reached the bridge and stopped, not setting foot on it as we stared across the waters of the Rosa Lee. The creek was on the rise. Stacey, he took the first step onto the bridge. “Y’all come on,” he said. “Might’s well get on ’cross.”

Right then, Christopher-John, he gone to whining. “I don’t wanna go on that bridge!”

“Gotta go on it,” Stacey told him. “Gotta cross it to get to Miz Georgia’s.”

“Well, then, I—I’ll jus’ wait right here for y’all,” Christopher-John said.

“Naw, you won’t neither!” exclaimed Stacey. “Now come on! Give me your hand.” Stacey, he done put his foot down now and wasn’t nothing poor little ole Christopher-John could’ve done to dispute that. So, reluctant-like, he took Stacey’s hand, and all them Logans stepped onto the bridge.

I gone with them. We took some slow steps, listening all the while to the creaking of the wooden planks beneath our feet; then that Cassie started up grumbling. “Now what if a car or a truck or somethin’ come ’long while we on this thing? Can’t see the other side.”

“We hear whatever comin’,” Stacey told her.

“With all this rain?” she asked.

“Folks drivin’ in a fog this way, Cassie, always honk their horns.”

Christopher-John, he looked up all big-eyed. “You—you sure, Stacey?”

“Yeah . . . got nothin’ to worry ’bout.”

“Nothin’ to worry ’bout if the horn’s workin’,” Cassie took note.

Stacey, he done give her a look like she was a pure bother to him, but she ain’t seemed to care.

“And what ’bout if a wagon come?” she gone on. “Wagon ain’t got no horn.”

Look like to me, Stacey he was getting right put out with her. “Cassie, wagon ain’t got no horn cause it don’t need no horn! It don’t go fast like a car! Now come on
and just hush up! We gotta get this milk up to Miz Georgia’s and get on home!”

Then Little Man he give a shout, set down his bucket and dashed right up to the rail. Little Man wasn’t much afraid of nothing. He picked up a rock and threw it off the bridge, then leaned against the rail and stared down into the water trying to see where that rock done gone.

“Man!” Stacey let go of Christopher-John’s hand and ran over to the rail to rescue Little Man. “Get ’way from there!”

Obedient-like, Little Man stepped back, pointing at the water. “Ya see, Stacey? Ya see how far I done throw’d that rock?” He was sure enough proud of himself.

Cassie, she run over to the rail and looked over too. “Owwww, y’all oughta see this water!”

“I don’t wanna see it!” Christopher-John yelled back. “I don’t even wanna see nothin’ on this bridge!” he declared, and saying that, he took off back toward the store.

Stacey, he gone after him. Cassie, she ain’t paid no attention to neither one. She had her eyes set straight down, looking at the bridge. I gone over to see what she
was studying on so hard and I seen where one of the planks had rotted through, leaving a fine view of the water flowing beneath the bridge. Cassie, I had learned a long while ago, was a mighty curious girl, so I wasn’t hardly surprised when she leaned down to get a better look, then lay right flat down on the bridge and peered through that hole.

“Y’all come see!” she hollered.

I know’d she was talking to her brothers, not me, but I got down flat on the bridge too, next to her, and give a look anyways. The water looked right close, like it was ’bout to leap up and snatch us. Little Man come dashing over as well, but before he got to us and the hole, Stacey, tugging Christopher-John after him by the hand, caught Little Man and yelled: “Cassie! Get up from there, off’n that bridge!”

Cassie, she looked around. “Ah, come on, Stacey, take a look. Water ain’t never been this high before.”

But Stacey, he put his foot down hard now. He had hold of both Little Man and Christopher-John, and he wasn’t about to be putting up with Cassie. “Cassie, I said
get up from there!” he hollered. “Now I want y’all to stop foolin’ round! Christopher-John, open your eyes! Little Man, quit your wiggling! Cassie, come on! We gotta get this milk to Miz Georgia’s and get home. Now, let’s go!”

’Minded now of their mission, Cassie, Christopher-John, and Little Man done as Stacey ordered. Cassie, she got herself up, Christopher-John opened his eyes, and Little Man fell right into line and the four of them continued on across the bridge. They ain’t paid me no more attention and I ain’t gone after. Still, I give them another holler and they looked back. “Y’all take care now!” I called.

“Yeah . . . you too!” Stacey answered, like he’d forgotten I was even along. Then they gone on, walking into the fog. I ain’t tried to follow. I know’d I wasn’t welcomed. All I wanted was to be friends with them Logans, let ’em know how I was feeling ’bout ’em, but I just couldn’t seem to get no way close to ’em. I watched them till I couldn’t see them no more; then I turned and headed back to the Wallace store.

By the time I got to the store, I found there was a bit of a ruckus going on. The bus was still there, and the bus
driver was hollering to high heaven. “Now I ain’t gonna tell y’all again,” he cried. “Y’all gonna get off! Ain’t room for everybody!”

I eased on up, wondering what was happening. Then I seen the bus was full up and I seen too Mr. and Miz Henry Amos and a bunch of their red-haired children standing on the porch loaded down with traveling gear. They looked to be waiting to get on. The bus driver stood inside the bus, right up front by his seat. Standing there in the aisle was more of that Amos clan.

“Come on!” the bus driver ordered.

I thought he was maybe talking to the Amoses standing in the aisle, but they ain’t moved. Folks sitting in back, the colored folks, they moved and they moved quick. They give up their seats and come forward. The Amoses moved on back and sat down. The colored folks, they got off the bus. Stacey’s and them’s grandmama, she got off too. She got off without a word, carrying her satchel in one hand and that burlap bag in the other. She looked out, up and down the road. She looked at me, but she ain’t said nothing. Her face was set, and it was set hard. She turned and moved slowly on down the road,
away from the store, away from the bus toward home. Her head was straight up and she ain’t looked back, not one time. Rudine and her mama, they got off too. So did all the other colored folks traveling down from Jackson. I waited for Josias to step on down, but he ain’t come. I give a hard look inside and I seen him still sitting on that backseat and that bus driver, he done seen him too.

“Nigger!” he hollered at Josias. “Ain’t I done tole you to get off this bus?”

“Y-yes, suh. But I—I done paid my money . . .”

“You get it back.”

“Y-yes, suh, but I . . . I gots to go on
this
bus! I gots to go today!”

“What for?”

“I . . . I got business,” acclaimed Josias. “I got awful ’portant business.”

The driver, he laughed. “Onliest important business I done ever know’d a nigger to have is with a jug of liquor or some gal. Which one waitin’ on you, boy?”

Josias ain’t answered. He just done sat there on that backseat, his head hung all low. I know’d how come he
wanted to go so bad, but I know’d too, he couldn’t tell that bus driver how come. Wouldn’t have made no difference anyways, I reckon.

“’Ey, boy, you hear me talkin’ t’ ya?” Josias, he reared up his head. “What business ya got?”

Josias stood. He picked up his bundle of clothes and he give up his seat. He took himself some slow steps to the front of the bus. I moved over to the door waiting to say my spell to him, but he still ain’t got off. He stopped hisself right front of that driver and he gone to pleading. “Please, boss . . . I got to get to the Trace t’day. Please, boss. I done got my ticket. I done made all my plans. Folks spectin’ me. I gots t’ go on this bus!”

“Nigger, I said you gettin’ off.”

“Boss, please . . .”

That bus driver, he ain’t give Josias chance to say no more. He jerked Josias forward to the door, put his foot flat to Josias’s backside, and give him a push like Josias wasn’t no more ’n a piece of baggage, and Josias, he gone sprawling down them steps into the mud. The bus driver, he throw’d Josias’s bundle after him, his ticket money too.
I ain’t know’d what to say. Josias, he done looked at me, then he picked hisself up. He picked up his bundle and his money and walked away, back toward the bridge. “Josias!” I called. “Wait on up a minute, will ya? Josias!”

I run after him but Josias, he ain’t stopped.

“Josias! I’m right sorry! Sorry ’bout you can’t go on that bus! Josias, ya hear me . . . ?”

He stopped now and looked back at me. I stopped too. “Well, that’s jus’ the way, ain’t it?” he done said.

I nodded that it was and he gone on, and I just stood there staring after him. I was staring so hard on him I ain’t heard Pa coming. Next thing I know’d, Pa was all over me. Pa could hit ya’ blind from any side and he done got me good this time.

“Pa!” I yelped.

“Ain’t I done told you ’bout snivelin’ after niggers?”

“But, Pa, I wasn’t—”