Precious Bones (8 page)

“Haunted? How do you figure that?”

“I just do. A couple of times when I was out there, I heard strange noises.”

“That don’t make it haunted.” His blue eyes twinkled as
the hint of a smile spread across his face. “I won’t make you, but you never know, you might get curious and want to.”

“I don’t think I’ll get that curious.”

Nolay sat on the top seat, and I sat on the one below him. He pressed the starter button and the engine roared to life. The huge airplane propeller mounted at the back of the boat pushed us along. Nolay glided the flat-bottom boat out over thick stands of saw grass. Soon as we hit open water, he pushed the throttle forward, and we went flying on top of the water, a huge liquid ducktail following behind us. Gasoline fumes mingled with the warm air and left a trail of smoky-gray fog over the water’s surface.

The swamp was alive with rebirth. The late-afternoon sun burned down on the mirrored surface of the water, and the humid air wrapped around us like thin soup.

The airboat’s noisy engine sent disturbing ripples of sound into the silent swamp. Snapping turtles, basking lazily in the warmth, slipped off their logs and into the still water. Two huge white herons rose leisurely into the air, their wings spread like billowing bedsheets across the clear blue sky. A pink-feathered spoonbill strolled along the shore, shoveling its flat beak into the mud. It turned and looked boldly in our direction.

We flew past tall stands of cattails and saw grass. At the base of a willow I spotted a familiar mound of mud and sticks. I looked up at Nolay and mouthed, “Is that Old Snaggletooth’s nest?” He nodded. At one end of the nest, enjoying the heat of the day, several juvenile gators were stacked on top of each other like pieces of yellow-striped firewood.
I couldn’t see her, but I knew the ever-watchful eyes of Old Snaggletooth, the reigning matriarch, were somewhere close by.

On the far side of the swamp, Nolay cut the engine and glided the flat-bottom hull around the back of a stand of cattails. In front of us, a huge tree lay sideways in the water. Nolay jumped down from his seat and grabbed the push pole. “Bones, lift up those bottom limbs.” He pushed the boat under the limbs and we entered a small clearing, totally hidden from the entrance.

He moored the boat, and we walked through a tunnel of thick brush. We entered another small clearing, where Nolay lifted up some tree branches, and there it was, the thing he had come to check on: his moonshine still.

A small concrete-block structure, built of leftover supplies from our house, sat in the middle of the clearing. Like green snakes, copper pipes twisted up in the air and ran from the concrete tank into two five-gallon glass jugs.

“Looky there, Bones, perfect timing, that one jug is just about filled up. Go over there and grab me an empty one.” After switching the jugs, Nolay placed the full one in a croker sack. He dumped the sack of corn and sugar into the concrete structure, then poured in a jug of swamp water. We picked up the empty sacks and walked back through the tunnel to the boat.

Nolay placed the jug under his seat and the two of us climbed back on board.

I looked down at the jug filled with shiny liquid. “Nolay, isn’t moonshine against the law?”

“Well now, that would depend on how you interpret the law. The way I see it, there ain’t nothing wrong with making a little extra money for your family. The only thing missing between shine and store-bought liquor is paying the government taxes. And Indians ain’t required to pay taxes, so nobody’s missing anything.”

Now, that made perfect sense to me. My daddy had an explanation for everything he did.

Nolay poled the boat back out to open water and cranked up the engine, and once again we skimmed across the swamp water’s smooth surface. On the other side of the swamp, Nolay cut the engine and pulled up to a small, sandy landing. There was just enough room to moor the boat. Past the clearing was a tangle of twisted oak trees and scrub palmettos. Nolay picked up the sack Mama had given him and asked, “Sure you don’t want to come pay your respects to Miss Eunice?”

“No, sir. I’ll just stay here and watch the boat so nothing happens to it.”

“All right. Now, you stay put and I’ll be back shortly.”

I cradled my single-shot .22 rifle across my legs and watched as Nolay disappeared into the thick undergrowth. Alone on the boat, I felt the warm silence of the swamp wrap around me. The steady beating of my heart filled my ears.

I gazed over the edge of the boat and watched my reflection shimmer across the water’s surface and stare back at me. My skin was a perfect blend of Mama’s buttermilk and Nolay’s light mahogany. My silver-blond hair hung like two curly
tassels of corn silk halfway to my waist. The eyes staring up at me were the same piercing sky-blue as Nolay’s. As I stuck my finger into the clear water, my image rippled and swirled across the surface.

I looked back to where Nolay had disappeared and thought back on some times I had been to Miss Eunice’s house. Actually, I had never been inside that house. Usually me and Mama just drove up to the yard and she came out and met us. Or Mama would drop something off at the front porch. But on a couple of occasions I had heard some strange noises coming from an old shed by the side of that house. And there was a peculiar smell, sort of like something I had smelled out by our swamp. I couldn’t put it all together, but it sure made me uncomfortable.

A sudden crash in the undergrowth jarred my senses. I jumped up and pointed my rifle in the direction of the noise. Out of the tangled brush, Nolay appeared. He threw up his arms in an exaggerated gesture and said, “Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

“Well, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sneak up! I sounded like a dang wild Brahman bull coming through those woods. You must have been daydreamin’ about something.”

“I guess I was, but I kept watch over everything just the same.”

He jumped into the boat and pushed us off the small landing.

“So everything was all right up there?” I asked.

He nodded. “Everything was fine. Miss Eunice was out
cooking something up in that big old pot of hers. I swear, for someone her age, she sure keeps busy.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I looked back at Nolay to see what kind of expression he had on his face, but all I saw was the back of his head with its curly black hair.

Nolay climbed up on his seat. “We best be gettin’ back, Bones, before your mama sends the game warden out after us.”

He cranked up the engine; the noise from the huge propeller cracked the silence like an eggshell. Once again we flew out over the slick water.

As we neared the landing to our house, twilight was settling in. Nolay cut the engine and said, “Let’s pole the rest of the way in. This here is my favorite time of the day, listening to the night wake up.” The silence gave way to chirping, croaking, and grunts.

Softly, Nolay said, “Bones, you know people go to church ’cause they think that’s where they can get close to God, but to me, this is the only church we need. This here is God talking to us. Now, I don’t know if God is a man or a woman ’cause I ain’t sure if a human can paint something as pretty as this. Just look around, Bones, look at the show God’s lettin’ us be a part of.”

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a bloodcurdling scream. The hair on my arms stood up, and I almost dropped the push pole. Nolay grinned and said, “That’s a good sign. That ol’ panther is lettin’ us know he’s still alive and king of the swamp.” He pointed to a thick stand of saw grass and cattails at the edge of the swamp. “Bones, can you see him over there? He’s looking right at us.” I peered into the shadows and
glimpsed the flicker of two bronze eyes. Slowly, the outline of a sleek cat’s body unraveled itself from the shadows.

Soon as he recognized that we had seen him, he moved stealthily along the edge of the thicket and disappeared into the darkness. “He’s letting us know that we live in his territory and he’s the ruler here,” Nolay said. “I been running into that ol’ guy and his family, or what’s left of ’em, since I was your age.”

The sun had just kissed the day goodbye as we approached the landing to our house. The flat horizon looked as though someone had spilled a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice across it. Clusters of orange dripped and melted into red and gold. Nolay and I sat bathed in a soft splendor as the colors reflected off the water’s glassy black surface. The only sounds were our poles dipping gently in the water and the symphony of the swamp. Nolay leaned forward and whispered, “It’s like we’re being cradled in the hands of God, in the very hands of God. Can you feel it, Bones?”

I looked back into his crystal-blue eyes and replied, “Yes, sir, I sure can.”

When I got up Monday morning, Nolay was already gone. After I finished feeding the animals and ate breakfast, Mama asked if I would walk down to the Last Chance and pick up a can of lard and a pack of Lucky Strikes.

I always looked forward to a visit with Mr. Speed, but I was really eager to see him today. It seemed like so much had happened since the last time me and Little Man were with him.

When I arrived at the Last Chance, Mr. Speed was in his usual spot.

“Morning, Mr. Speed. I gotta buy a few things for my mama, then I’ll come out and sit a spell with you. You want an RC Cola or anything? I know it’s early morning, but I still think it would taste mighty good.”

He wobbled his lopsided head in agreement.

When I walked inside the store, instead of Mr. Ball standing behind the counter, I found Mr. Speed’s mama, Miss
Evelyn. I had never talked with her very much because she was usually sitting in the little office at the back of the store.

“Good morning, Miss Evelyn.”

“How are you, Bones?”

“Just fine, thank you. If you don’t mind, my mama needs a can of Crisco and a pack of Lucky Strikes. And she asked if you would put it on our tab.”

“Of course.” She turned to get the cigarettes and said, “You know where the Crisco is, just go back and get it.”

On the way back to the counter, I stopped at the soda cooler and pulled out two bottles of RC Cola. I placed them on the counter and said, “This one is for me, so please put it on our tab, and this one I’m taking out to Mr. Speed.”

Miss Evelyn smiled and said, “That’s all right, Bones. The cola is on me. You just go out and enjoy your time with Speed.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I put the cigarettes on top of the Crisco can and wrapped my arm around it, then grabbed the two bottles. I went out and sat down beside Mr. Speed.

“How have you been, Mr. Speed?”

“Good, been good.”

Together we sat and looked out over U.S. 1 and the glistening top of the Indian River.

Mr. Speed said, “They done made a tire that don’t need no tube. It’s called a tubeless—yes, sir—a tubeless tire.”

“But Mr. Speed, how can that be? How can a tire hold air without a tube? And what will we float around on at the swimming hole? We need inner tubes to float on.”

“They can make something to take its place; something will take its place.”

“Yes, sir, I guess they will. Seems like someone is always making something new.”

I wanted to talk with Mr. Speed about finding the Yankee man’s leg and the knife, but those were not the sorts of things we shared with each other. He was full of information but not answers. I just enjoyed being with him; sitting next to him was like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

“Mr. Speed, me and my daddy went out in the swamp yesterday. That big ol’ gator Snaggletooth had a heap of babies around her.”

“Good mamas, gators are good mamas. The babies stay with ’em for years.”

“I guess that’s sort of like a real family and the kids don’t want to leave home.”

Mr. Speed nodded. “They help each other. The big ones help the little ones, the little ones.”

“Yes, sir, I would say that is just like a family would do.”

The door to the Last Chance opened, and out sauntered Peckerhead Willy. Right behind him was that Yankee man that had been out to our house. They stood together at the front entry, while the Yankee man ripped open a pack of cigarettes and threw the wrapper on the ground. He turned to Peckerhead. “You haven’t found anything yet? You got paid good money, now get out there and do what you’re getting paid for.” When that Yankee looked over and saw me, he grabbed Peckerhead by the arm real quick-like. “Let’s get out of here.”

I watched as the two of them walked around the corner and disappeared. I hadn’t seen them when I was in the store. They must have been in the back by the three-stool bar, where grown-ups could buy beer.

Mr. Speed held up his index finger. “A finger, it’s like a finger.”

I studied that finger for a while. “You mean the state of Florida? It does look like a finger. Last year there was a big map of Florida hanging on my classroom wall. And it did look like a finger sticking out in the ocean.”

Mr. Speed pointed to his knuckle. “On the knuckle, the knuckle.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Speed, I do believe you are right. We live just about right there.”

“Look by the knuckle. When it’s dry.”

Sometimes I wasn’t quite sure what information he was sharing with me, but it didn’t make any difference. I knew he had a wisdom I couldn’t always understand.