Gil nodded for me to park in front of the tractor. We hadn't been there half a minute when I saw a skinny little guy coming out of the weeds with a pistol dangling from his right hand. He was looking suspiciously at us until he recognized Gil; then you could see him smiling. He came over to the car to look inside at us.
"Didn't know it was you," he said. "Sorry what happened, Gil."
He looked at me and nodded, and I nodded back. I thought he looked too pale to be a policeman.
"You wanta speak to Mapes?" he asked Gil.
Gil and I got out of the car. Gil stopped to look at the tractor a moment; then we followed the deputy back toward the house.
But Gil and I stopped again. There in the yard and on the porch were all these old men with shotguns. Besides, there was the sheriff with a pump gun. Lou Dimes was with his woman, Candy. Three or four black women sat either on the porch or on the steps. Some little dirty looking children sat on the steps with the women. Every last one of them was looking back at us. It was like looking into the Twilight Zone.
Remember that old TV play Twilight Zone? You would be driving through this little out-of-the-way town, and suddenly you would come upon a scene that you knew shouldn't be there—it was something like that. Something like looking at a Brueghel painting. One of these real weird, weird Brueghels.
The sheriff lowered his pump gun when he recognized Gil. The rest of them did the same. You could see all those old shotguns being lowered an inch or two toward the ground.
Gil stepped across the little grassy ditch into the yard, and I was no more than a step behind him. The grass from his footsteps had not sprung back up before I was pressing it back down. And I intended to keep it that way until we got out of there.
"Gil." The sheriff spoke first. He was one of those great big guys, exactly what the people up North and in Hollywood thought a small-town Southern sheriff would look like.
Gil didn't answer him. I nodded to Dimes and Candy. Dimes spoke, but Candy didn't. She stood by the steps next to an old guy in a dirty tee shirt and green pants. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. She seemed no more interested in Gil and me than she did in anything else around her, except for that old guy, maybe. I had seen her at few of the games with Dimes, and she always seemed bored with everything. She acted like that now, bored. She also looked very tired.
"Where is my brother, Mapes?" I heard Gil asking.
"They took him into Bayonne," Mapes said.
Gil was looking at Mapes. He didn't think Mapes had told him enough. He wanted to hear more without asking for it. He didn't think, in a situation like this, it was necessary to ask.
"You're on your way home?" Mapes asked Gil. He was trying to show sympathy. But that was hard to do with a face and eyes like his.
Gil didn't answer this time either. He was doing everything he could to control himself. He wanted the sheriff to say more about his brother.
"I got Russell back there on the bayou," Mapes said. "I told him to keep your daddy back there. I don't want him here at Marshall, Gil. I don't want him in Bayonne till I send for him."
The sheriff said all of this gently, with as much sympathy as anybody could who looked like he did. His face was big, red, with heavy jowls; his eyes were the color of cement. Even when he was trying to be gentle, his eyes still remained hard and staring at you.
Gil stared back at him. He was waiting for the sheriff to tell him more about what had happened.
"I'll have it over with before sundown," Mapes said. "You can take my word."
"What over with, Mapes?" Gil asked. He was doing all he could to control himself. "What over with, Mapes?"
"The person who did it—I'll have him in jail before sundown, I guarantee that," Mapes said.
"Don't you know who did it?" Gil asked.
"I think I do," Mapes said. "I'm sure I do."
"Then why don't you arrest him?"
"They all say the same thing. They all claim they did it."
"But you know who did it?"
"Yes," Mapes said. "I know who did it. But the others threatened to come to town if I take him in. She says the same thing. I don't want this crowd in Bayonne. Not the way people are working themselves up for that game tomorrow. If you just come from Baton Rouge, you know what I'm talking about."
"What do you plan to do, Mapes?"
"I'll handle it my way."
"Your way?" Gil asked. "My brother been dead how long, four hours?"
"About four hours."
Gil looked at him the way you look at somebody who should be telling you much, much more. But instead of saying more, Mapes turned away. Gil started looking at the old men around him. His eyes finally settled on the one in the dirty tee shirt and green trousers, the one nearest Candy. He did not say anything to the old man for a while. The old man was looking out over the road.
"You, Mathu?"
"Yes," the old man said, without looking at Gil.
Gil's right hand slowly tightened into a fist. Not that he wanted to hurt the old man. His face didn't show hatred or anger—just disbelief in the dry, direct way that the old man had answered him. If the old man had dropped his head and muttered out the words, that might have made a difference. But no, dry and direct, without even looking at Gil: "Yes, I did it."
"Ask the others," Mapes said. "Ask Candy."
Gil was still looking at old Mathu. The old man was not trying to avoid Gil's stare; he was just looking, thoughtfully, away from him.
Mapes held the pump gun in one hand, and he laid his big arm around Gil's shoulders.
"Go home, Gil," he said gently. It was said as gently as someone with a face and eyes like his could say it. Not necessarily as gently as it could be said in a situation like this.
Gil was still looking at old Mathu. He showed no sign that he had even heard Mapes.
"Gil," Mapes said, shaking him a little. "Gil."
Gil looked at him. "What is going on here, Mapes?" he asked. He said it as if he had just come into the yard and didn't know a thing. "What is going on here?"
"What is going on?" Mapes asked himself.
He looked around at the old men with the guns. Maybe he knew the answers, maybe he didn't. But if he did, he didn't know how to explain it to Gil. Or maybe he didn't know how to put it so Gil could understand it. "Go home, Gil," he said.
Gil knocked Mapes's arm from his shoulders. Now he turned to Candy, who stood beside old Mathu. Up to now she hadn't shown any interest in our being there.
"What is going on here, Candy?" Gil asked her.
She raised her head slowly to look at him. She looked tired. But she showed no sympathy for him at all. She told him how Beau and somebody called Charlie had gotten into a fight back there in the fields. This Charlie fellow had run up to the front, and Beau had come after him with a gun. She was here talking to old Mathu. She told Beau not to come into the yard. She said she told him more than once not to come into the yard. He came in with the gun ready to shoot, and she stopped him. These other people heard about it and thought there would be trouble, and had come here to stand with her. She said she had already said all of that to Mapes.
"You're lying, Candy," Gil said. "Beau never would have come after Charlie with a gun. A stick, a stalk of cane, but never with a gun. Why are you saying all this? Why are you here in the first place? Why are all these old people here, Candy? To do what?"
She didn't answer him. She looked past him. She had made her point. She wasn't talking anymore.
Gil turned to Lou Dimes, who stood beside Candy.
"What's going on here, Lou?" Gil asked. "I know I can trust you. What's going on here?"
Lou was standing there beside Candy looking very uncomfortable. You could see he didn't like being here; he didn't like what was going on. He shook his head.
"I don't know, Gil," he said.
"Sure, you do," Gil said. I thought Gil was about to cry. "What's going on, Lou? Tell me what's going on."
"Gil, believe me," Lou said. "
I don't know any more than what you see before you right now. Please believe me." He looked at me. "Why don't you take him home?"
"Come on, Gil," I said, and took him by the arm. But that was like pulling on a tree.
Gil turned back on Candy. "You never did like Beau," he said. "You never liked any of us. Looking at us as if we're a breed below you. But we're not, Candy. We're all made of the same bone, the same blood, the same skin. Your folks had a break, mine didn't, that's all."
She looked past him, like he wasn't even there. She looked tired, but other than that she showed no other expression.
"My God," Gil said. "My God, my God. Candy, if you only knew how sad, how pathetic you look."
She pretended not to even hear him. And maybe she didn't.
"Come on, Gil," I said, pulling on his arm again.
"Won't it ever stop?" he asked. He looked around at all of them. "Won't it ever stop? I do all I can to stop it. Every day of my life, I do all I can to stop it. Won't it ever stop?"
The people did not look at him. They were not looking down; they were just looking away.
"Come on," I told him. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
He looked around at all of them; then he turned quickly and walked away. And I followed him out of the yard.
Lou Dimes
I had noticed for the past hour that the people were leaving the front yard one at a time to go to the back. The only time they didn't move around was when Gil and that other fellow were here, but as soon as they left, the people started moving one at a time toward the back again. Each one would stay four or five minutes, return and nod, then another one would go. Mapes didn't pay them any attention, and neither did Candy.
Candy leaned back against the porch near the steps where Mathu was sitting, and I leaned back against the porch beside her. I asked her to go with me for a walk so we could talk. She said no. I asked her wouldn't it be better if she were at home. She said she would not leave. I told her that I would keep her posted on anything that went on around here. She said she was not leaving. I asked her why did she need me then. She said she just needed me. Mapes was on the other side of the steps. He showed no interest in what we were talking about. Just like all the rest of them around there, he seemed to be waiting for something. But what were they waiting for? For Fix to show up, or not show up? I didn't know what was going on. I was just there.
I went around the house to the back. I met one of the old fellows coming from the toilet. He had his gun as all the others did, but still he moved off the little path for me. We nodded to each other as we passed by.
The old fellow had been careful. They had all been careful. There were no water marks on the seat. Only some corncobs, the two backs of an old catalogue, some newspaper, a couple of paper bags. I didn't have any use for any of this, and after spitting into the hole, I went back out into the fresh air. Halfway up the path, I met Candy.
"Any spiders in there?" she asked me.
"I didn't see any. Some cobwebs. Why don't you go on home, Candy," I told her.
"Thanks," she said, and went by me.
"You want me to wait for you?" I asked her.
"No," she said. "Go on back to the front before he does anything stupid."
"Candy, you can't do anything good here," I said. "Why don't you go on home?"
She didn't answer. She had already gone inside the toilet. I went back to the front, and a few minutes later she returned and took her post next to Mathu. The people had left that same little space open for her. She and Mathu looked at each other, and she asked him how he felt. He told her he was all right. I caught Mapes looking at them, but he didn't say anything.
Then we saw the dust, but even before Mapes could nod to Griffin, Griffin was already leaving the yard with the pistol dangling in his hand. Mapes watched him carrying the pistol against his leg, and you could see that Mapes was going to get rid of Griffin first chance he got.
Everyone watched the dust rising over the weeds, but no one moved from his place. I supposed they figured that it was still too much light for Fix to show up, and even if he did, they would have time to scatter before he took aim. Mapes did not move either, just leaning kind of leisurely back against the end of the porch. He still had his gun, of course, and I did notice that his thumb was near the safety catch. Griffin was in the ditch behind a clump of weeds, the pistol in the right hand, while the left hand separated several stalks of bloodweeds so that he could get a better look up the quarters. Then after a while he looked back at Mapes and nodded his head to let Mapes know that it was all right. Mapes's thumb touched at the safety catch of the gun, but from the way he was looking at Griffin, you knew he was going to get rid of Griffin as soon as all of this was over with, if not before.
I saw now why Griffin had nodded his head; it was Miss Merle. After stopping just a little past where the gate used to be, she sat in the car awhile watching us. She did it just the way everyone else had done it, even though this was her second time seeing it. Then she got out with a basket covered with a dish towel, and she was already fussing. The first person she came up to was Griffin, and she told him something, and Griffin went back to the car and got another basket covered with a dish towel, and came into the yard with the basket in one hand and the gun in the other, and you could see Mapes looking at him as if he were wondering if he actually needed Griffin the rest of the day. Miss Merle didn't come up to Mapes, or Candy, or me first, she started dishing out sandwiches to the first one she came to. I supposed she felt that since we were all conspirators together, one was no better than the others, so she just started dishing out the sandwiches to the first person she got to, and fussing all the time.
"Just look at this, I mean just look at this—just look at it." Dishing out sandwiches and fussing. "I hope you like ham and cheese, because there isn't anything else. Just look at that. I mean just look at that. Hurry up with that other basket," she said, over her shoulder to Griffin. Griffin brought her the full basket, and she handed him the empty one. So Griffin was
standing there with an empty basket in one hand and a loaded revolver in the other. "Can't you put that thing away for a second?" Miss Merle asked him. "Who are you going to shoot, the hog?"
"No, Ma'am," Griffin said.
"Just look at that," Miss Merle said, looking at Griffin. Then she looked at the rest of us. "Just look at that."
She was dishing out sandwiches again. The sandwiches were neatly wrapped in wax paper. There were lettuce and tomatoes on the ham and cheese.
"And you," she said to Candy. "Just look at you. Just look at you."
Candy took the sandwich without looking Miss Merle in the face. Miss Merle shook her head disgustedly, and turned to Mapes.
"Here. You better have two. But there ain't no beer."
Mapes spat out a piece of white candy that was about as thick as a contact lens.
"Water is good," he said. "You don't mind, do you, Mathu?"
"Snookum, go get me that jug of ice water out the icebox," Mathu said. "And bring couple them jelly glasses out the safe."
Snookum left the porch eating. All the rest of us were eating. Not one there was not eating. Mapes, Candy, Mathu, Griffin, the old men, the old women, the children—everybody was eating. We were all hungry.
"You ever seen anything like it?" Miss Merle asked herself. "Have you? Lord, have mercy. Well?" she said to Mapes.
"They're good," Mapes said. "Who made them?"
"Janey and — " But she stopped. Now she just looked at him. Southern women, black or white, can look at you like that. Like they're thinking that you or they, one of you, should not be standing on the same planet at the same time.
"Do you see that sun?" she asked Mapes.
The house shadow had crossed the road where the tractor and trailers were.
"About another hour," Mapes said. Snookum came back with the jug and glasses, and poured Mapes some water. Then he stood before Miss Merle, but she was paying too much attention to Mapes to notice h
im. She could not see how Mapes could stand there drinking water while all this was going on. She could not see how she and Mapes ended up being on the same planet at the same time. "Have another one?" Snookum said to her. She jerked around. "What?" she said angrily. "Sammich," he said. "Candy didn't pay me nothing for going—" He glanced at Mapes and stopped.
Miss Merle did not try to figure out what he was talking about. She just looked at him like they did not belong on the same planet at the same time. Snookum held out his hand, waiting. His little black face dusty, his twisted little curls dusty, the little hand grimy. Miss Merle looked him up and down. She didn't want to feel pity. There were too many others deserving pity. Where would she stop?