“Y’all gonna pay!” he yelled after us. “Y’all gonna sure ’nough pay for this!”
I knew it still wasn’t over.
I braced myself and waited for the sheriff or Old Man McCalister to come calling, this time with a rope. But the days and the nights passed, and nobody came except folks wanting more water. After awhile I began to think maybe nobody was coming, that maybe Charlie had decided it was best to keep what Hammer had done to himself. Two or three days after I came on that way of thinking, Mr. Melbourne and George came knocking on the door. The dawn had just broke and Halton had already gone off to the fields. Ma Rachel was gone too; she had spent the night at Aunt Callie’s.
“Come to get some more water, that be all right with y’all,” said Mr. Melbourne.
Mama stood in the doorway and talked to him. “Help yo’self,” she said. “You knows you welcome to it.”
“Well, I’m right obliged,” Mr. Melbourne said. “Thought we would’ve done had more rain by now and we wouldn’t hafta be troublin’ y’all.”
“Ain’t no trouble,” said Mama. “No trouble at all.”
“Well, I thank ya. We ain’t had much of a garden, but my missus done sent ya some pickled onions and tomatoes and such, jus’ to show our appreciation. Got ’em in my wagon.”
“Well, ya know that ain’t necessary, Mr. Melbourne, but I sure do thank ya. Thank your wife for me too. David, you go on to the wagon and get them preserves, and Hammer, you give Mr. Melbourne a hand with that water.”
Hammer and me, we did as were told, and walked out with the Melbournes. Together, Hammer and George Melbourne lifted one of the empty barrels from the wagon, and Mr. Melbourne took down the other. Mr. Melbourne pointed out the basket his wife had sent, then he headed for the well, just as two more wagons pulled up the drive. Mr. Jonas Peabody from up the road and three of his redheaded boys were on the first wagon; Mr. Tom Bee with John Henry Berry beside him was on the other. Mr. Melbourne set his barrel down beside the well and gave a wave. “Look like I done beat y’all to this sweet water this morning!”
Mr. Peabody laughed and got down, followed by his boys. “Well, jus’ don’t get it all! We got us a mighty thirst!”
The Peabodys went over and stood by the well. Mr. Tom Bee got down along with John Henry, and the two of them gave the Peabodys and the Melbournes a polite nod, then grinned at Hammer and me. “How y’all boys doin’?” asked Mr. Tom Bee. “And how’s the rest of the family?”
“Fine,” we said.
“Good. Think I’ll go on in and speak while’s I wait my turn.”
Mr. Tom Bee started across the lawn.
I followed after him, carrying the basket of pickled onions and tomatoes and such. John Henry stayed with Hammer.
Hammer lifted the top off the well.
I stopped and turned. So did Mr. Tom Bee.
“Lord have mercy!” exclaimed Mr. Melbourne, and he stepped back from the well. Everybody standing there did the same. All hands went to their faces. “What in God’s name is that stench?” cried Mr. Melbourne.
I set down the basket and hurried over. Mr. Tom Bee followed.
“Mama!” called Hammer, stepping back to the well. “Mama!”
Mama immediately appeared in the doorway. “What is it? What…what’s that I smell?”
“It’s the well, Mama!” I yelled to her. “It’s the well!”
Mama left the doorway and ran to the well. She peered down it, down, down into the blackness of it. Then she unhooked the bucket from its post and lowered it, down, down into the well.
“Here, Miz Caroline, let me do that,” said Mr. Tom Bee.
Mama shook her head, not even turning to him. Her eyes were on the blackness of the well.
We all heard the bucket drop. We all heard the bucket fill. Then Mama pulled on the rope and began to haul water. Hammer went over to her. “Let me, Mama,” he said. But again she shook her head, almost as if she didn’t hear.
Hand over fist, hand over fist, she drew the water up.
The stench became almost unbearable.
The bucket was up.
Mama wrapped the rope back to its pole and peered into the water; then she shook her head. Strands of long hair lay on top of the bloody water. “Something’s dead down there,” she said in a voice unbelieving. “Some animal done fell in, tryin’ t’ get to the water. She shook her head again and moaned, “Oh, Lord…”
“Charlie.”
Everyone’s eyes settled on Hammer.
“Charlie Simms. Son-of-a—”
“Hammer!” cried Mama, not stupefied enough to let Hammer swear.
“No animal jus’ done fell down there, Mama. The top was on,” Hammer said. “But some animal I know done put something foul down in there!”
“Boy, you know what you sayin’?” demanded Mr. Peabody.
Mr. Tom Bee stepped forward. “Now, Hammer, wait—”
“Yeah, I know.”
There was only silence. A dead silence.
Mama stepped back from the well. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”
“Lord ain’t had nothin’ t’ do with this!” exclaimed Hammer. “It was them Simmses! David knows it! They ain’t never liked the fact we had water on our land and they ain’t, and they had to come up here and get water. Charlie and Ed-Rose much as told David and me they’d come up and poison this well one day. They said it a time we was all down at the creek watering our cows. Another time too. Said maybe one day we’d find something dead down our well. Ain’t that right, David? Ain’t that what they said?”
John Henry had heard the same but Hammer didn’t put his name in it, and I think John Henry was just as glad he didn’t. I looked around the circle of folks, at Hammer, and nodded. “It’s the truth all right.”
Mr. Peabody stepped forward. “Y’all know what y’all sayin’? Y’all makin’ some serious charges here.”
“We know what we know,” said Hammer.
I nodded again. “It’s the truth.”
“’Sides that,” said Hammer, and looked straight at George Melbourne, “we ain’t the only ones heard them say it.”
John Henry looked a bit uneasy, but Hammer didn’t even glance his way.
“Who else then?” asked Mr. Melbourne.
“Ask your son,” said Hammer.
Mr. Melbourne, looking kind of puzzled now, turned to George. “You know somethin’ ’bout this?”
George looked at Hammer and me, then back at his daddy. “No, suh. I was down by the creek one day they was there, and Charlie and Ed-Rose and Dewberry was there too, but I ain’t heard nothin’. I can’t say they done said it.” He glanced again at Hammer and me, lowered his eyes, and looked away.
Mr. Peabody shook his head. “Well, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe nobody’d be that low-down.”
Mr. Melbourne looked at Mama, at Hammer and me, then he said, “One way we can find out. We can ask them.”
Mr. Peabody looked doubtful. Mr. Tom Bee was silent, letting the white men do the talking, but he looked doubtful too.
“I’ll go myself,” said Mr. Melbourne. “I’ll talk to both them boys and Old Man McCalister.”
“Don’t think that’s gonna be necessary,” said Mr. Peabody as another wagon came up the road. “Look yonder.”
We all looked. Old Man McCalister Simms, Ed-Rose, and Charlie were in the wagon, headed for our drive, and our well. All of us knew it without a word being spoken. Two water barrels set in the back of the wagon.
There was only silence as the wagon turned up the drive. There was only silence as the wagon came to a halt behind Mr. Tom Bee’s wagon. There was only silence as Old Man McCalister Simms gave a nod in greeting, and he and Ed-Rose and Charlie got down. They came over to the well.
“My, Lord! What’s that I smell?” asked Mr. Simms.
“Ask your boys,” said Hammer, much too quickly for a little Negro boy standing there dealing with white men. “They the ones done put the stink there.”
r /> “What you talkin’ ’bout, nigger?” cried Charlie.
Old Man McCalister’s lined and weathered face looked to line and weather some more. “Gal!” he said, looking straight at Mama, “you best hush up that little nigger of your’n ’fore I hafta come over there and hush him up for ya!”
Mama cast a look on Hammer warning him not to speak another word; then she stepped right side of him, took hold of him, and her tall frame suddenly seemed taller. “Somebody done put something rotten and dead down our well, Mr. Simms. My—my boys believe your boys the ones done it. They believes that and…and I gots t’ know. Them boys of your’n…them boys, Charlie and Ed-Rose, would they go and do somethin’ like that t’ this sweet water? Would they now?”
Old Man McCalister’s eyes turned to slits. His breathing grew heavy. He took a step forward. “I’ll cut yo’ heart out for what you sayin’, gal!”
“You try,” said Hammer and pulled from Mama’s grip. “You try, and I’ll see ya dead.”
His words were quietly spoken and they were chilling, even to me.
Old Man McCalister Simms came no farther.
“Look here, Mr. Simms,” said Mr. Melbourne, before Old Man McCalister took it upon himself to knock Hammer down for what he’d said, “we don’t want things gettin’ outa hand here. But the truth of the matter is that the only sweet water well around here been poisoned. Now you know well as I do what that mean t’ everybody ’round who been usin’ this well. Now I know for a fact, my brother and his boys was up here late evenin’ yesterday, and they done draw’d good water. I come up first thing this mornin’ t’ get my family some water and this well here stinkin’ like hell. Now them boys yonder—that Hammer and that David—they done said your boys, Charlie and Ed-Rose there, they done threatened t’ poison this here well. Now, I wants t’ know what’s the truth of it!”
Mr. Simms cursed and spat the ground. Mr. Melbourne put up his hand, as if to stop any more such action…or something worse. “Now I ain’t sayin’ I’m takin’ these boys’ words on what happened. All I know is this well here done saved me and mine for some months now, and these folks here they ain’t had t’ share, but they done it without askin’ nothin’ from nobody. Now all of a sudden they water ain’t no good no more, and I gotta ask why. I gotta ask why!”
“Maybe they done put something down it they own-selves,” said Ed-Rose before his father could speak. “Put it down there and then now tryin’ t’ blame it on us!”
“Now why would we go and do a fool thing like that?” asked Hammer.
“Hush!” said Mama, but too late. The words were already spoken, and Charlie took them up.
“’Cause you figurin’ you and that David could get Ed-Rose and me back for all that work y’all had t’ do after jumpin’ on me. You figurin’ t’ lay the blame for a bad well on Ed-Rose and me, get everybody all riled up ’gainst us. Well, it ain’t gonna work, you little nigger. Ain’t nobody gonna believe yo’ word over a white man’s!”
“I s’pose not,” said Hammer, and looked at George Melbourne. George Melbourne reddened and kept his silence. John Henry and me, our eyes met.
It was then that Joe McCalister came walking up the road. “Mornin’!” he said before he had even gotten up the drive.
Nobody said a word, but things like that didn’t bother Joe. I doubt if he even noticed, because he turned his attention to the next thing on his mind.
“Mr. Charlie, Mr. Ed-Rose! How’d that hunt come out the other night? Bet them possums and them coons y’all done bagged was mighty good eatin’!”
Old Man McCalister Simms turned cold eyes on his boys. “Y’all gone huntin’?”
Ed-Rose and Charlie looked at each other, and all of us standing there could see their fear. “No, suh, Pa!” Ed-Rose yelped out. “We ain’t!”
“Yeah, ya did,” said Joe, just as friendly as always. He had no idea of what was going on. “You done forgot, huh? I seen ya.”
“When y’all gone?” demanded Old Man McCalister Simms. “Y’all ain’t brought no hunt home for your mama t’ cook in a spell now.”
“Ah, Pa, ya know Joe,” said Charlie. “Ya know he ain’t right in the head. He makin’ it up.”
“Naw, I ain’t!” Joe cried, getting a bit vexed about anybody doubting his word. “I done seen y’all down ’long the Rosa Lee jus’ night ’fore last and I said, ‘ ’Ey, there, Mr. Charlie! Mr. Ed-Rose!’ Y’all had done already bagged y’allselves a possum and a coon too! And I done asked y’all what y’all was gonna do with that skunk y’all done caught, and y’all done said it was for a joke and not t’ tell nobody! Don’t y’all ’member?”
Charlie took a step backwards. “Ah, Daddy, Joe, he jus’ mad ’cause we been funnin’ him. We done played a trick on him while back and he jus’ mad. Daddy…Daddy, he lyin’—”
“Naw. Naw, he ain’t,” said Mr. McCalister Simms. “He ain’t got the brains t’ lie.”
“Well…well, then he jus’ done got the days mixed up.”
“That’s right, Pa,” said Ed-Rose. “He jus’ done got the days mixed up. He must be talkin’ ’bout that last coon hunt we gone on—”
“Yeah, that’s right, Pa! That’s right, and that was more’n a month ago!”
Old Man McCalister stared dead-eyed at those boys of his, and he shook his head. “Naw. Naw, that ain’t what happened. Y’all boys lyin’ t’ me.”
“Naw, Pa, naw—”
“Y’all done poisoned that well.”
“Ah, naw—”
“Y’all done shamed me and mine.”
“No, suh, Pa!” cried Charlie. “No, suh, we ain’t done no such thing. No, suh!”
“Don’t you go lyin’ t’ me, boy!” said Mr. McCalister Simms and with one mighty fist knocked Charlie to the ground. “It’s one thing t’ teach a nigger where he stand, but ya don’t go destroyin’ God’s good earth t’ do it!” He reached inside his wagon. He pulled out a bullwhip.
Charlie’s eyes and Ed-Rose’s too got bigger. “Naw, Pa!” yelled Ed-Rose, backing away.
“Pa! Pa! Don’t ya do it!” cried Charlie from the ground. “Don’t ya go shamin’ us like this front of niggers!”
“Y’all done already shamed yo’selves!” shouted the old man. “Get up!”
“Please, Pa! Please!” Charlie cried again as he got up. “Not front of niggers!”
Old Man McCalister Simms stood there breathing hard and trembling with his rage; then he stepped back. “Charlie, you and Ed-Rose, y’all get down in that well and get them dead things outa there!”
“But, Pa—”
Mr. McCalister Simms cracked the whip upon the ground. “Don’t y’all back talk me! There was only white men standin’ up here, y’all wouldn’t be talkin’ at all! Now, y’all done put that filth down there, y’all get it out, and don’t y’all stop ’til it’s all out! Y’all hear me? Not ’til it’s all out! Charlie, you the one go down first!”
Ed-Rose and Charlie backed away from their daddy, looked at the Peabodys and the Melbournes, but not at Mr. Tom Bee, John Henry, Hammer, Mama, or me. I reckon they were too shamed to look at us. They got a rope from their wagon, and Ed-Rose lowered Charlie down into the well. It took them awhile, and we all waited. Charlie came up wet and shivering without a thing, and Mr. McCalister Simms sent Ed-Rose down. We waited some more. Back and forth the brothers went, taking turns going down. They brought up parts of a possum, a coon, and a skunk too, and went back down. Seeing those parts, all of us standing there knew Ed-Rose and Charlie hadn’t taken any chances about spoiling our well. They hadn’t just thrown dead animals down there in the night; they’d hacked them up before they did.
The time passed and more folks, colored folks and white folks, their wagons filled with empty barrels, came up the road, and there was a buzz of words softly passed about what the Simmses had done, and a silence settled over the wagons, and the day.
Finally it was Charlie who brought the last of the dead things out. “Y’all got it all?” Old Man
McCalister demanded of Charlie.
Charlie, eyes lowered, nodded. “All we can, Daddy.”
“Then y’all get on in that wagon…in the back!”
Charlie placed the last dead thing in the back of their wagon, and he and Ed-Rose got in with them. Mr. McCalister Simms climbed on the seat, took up the reins, and turned the mules down the drive. As the Simmses passed all those wagons lined up for water, all those silent, accusing eyes, Charlie and Ed-Rose hung their heads. Old Man McCalister, though, stared dead-eyed, straight ahead.
Folks watched the wagon until it was gone, out of sight, then the folks began to leave. Mr. Melbourne and George left, and the Peabodys too. All the folks left, all with empty barrels.
The possum and the coon and the skunk—most parts of them anyway—were out of the well, but the water was spoiled just the same. All the good well water was gone now, and everybody suffered because of what Charlie and Ed-Rose had done. Eventually, though, the well was drained, the earth cleaned itself out, and the water was good again. In a few years another dry spell came, and again everybody’s well went dry. Everybody’s except ours. Folks came again to draw the water, and Mama and Papa shared it as freely as before. Colored folks, and white folks too, came for that sweet water. Everybody came, everybody except the Simmses. As long as Old Man Mr. McCalister Simms lived, we never saw any of the Simmses set foot on our land again.
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