Tulsa Burning (5 page)

"Hey," Elmer said, "if it ain't Nobe Chase. Ain't seen you in a coon's age." He got up and slapped me on the back. "Sorry
about your pa, boy," he added.

I nodded my head and sort of muttered a thank-you.

"Come to borrow my tools, did you?" Elmer asked.

"No," I said. "I come looking for work."

Elmer laughed. "Surely not here! Do I look like I need a helper, boy? Why, I've spent most of this day jawing at Wilson there."
He shook his head. "Blasted motorcars! That's the problem, you know. More and more folks in these parts is buying 'em. Getting
rid of perfectly good horses." He pounded his fist against his workbench. "At first, I said it was just a passing fancy. I
said folks would lose their hankering after the motorcars, but it wasn't so." He shook his big bushy head again. "No, there
sure ain't no call for me to be hiring on extra help."

"I figured so, but I thought I'd make sure. Thank you anyway." I turned to leave.

"You been over to the Café?" the man called Wilson asked.

I whirled back. "No, you reckon I should go over there?" I practically yelled.

"Well," said Wilson, "I ain't saying they'll take you on or nothing, but I do know that Sim Harrison was saying as how his
wife would need another dishwasher when the MKT crew hits town. He said they'd need another cook too, but you don't look like
much of a cook."

"What's a MKT crew?" I asked.

"Railroad, you know, Missouri, Kansas, and Texas line. There's supposed to be a crew of workers coming in the next day or
two, be around for a while putting in new rails. Sim and Daisy is figuring they got to eat, I reckon."

"Thanks," I said to Wilson. "Thanks a bunch." I turned to Elmer. "You too," I said. "Thanks for always being so good to me,
letting me use your stuff."

"You want to thank me," Elmer said, "just don't be using your wages from that dishwashing job to buy no motorcar."

"I won't," I said, and I run out into the bright day again. Before I crossed the street to the Café, I stopped to examine
my hands and decided they was clean enough. It might be better, I thought, to take my cap off now, preventing any chance I'd
forget to take it off when I got in the Café. I didn't want my hair to look like Elmer's, so I went to the horse watering
trough at the end of the street, dipped my hands into the water, and smoothed down my unruly curls.

My hand took to shaking when I went to reach for the door. I stuck my other hand in my pocket to touch the silver dollar.
I wondered if Daisy Harrison would remember me from last winter. Maybe she wouldn't hire nobody who went around taking handouts.

The Café had only one customer, an older man set eating a piece of pie. It looked like apple. My stomach started growling
then, and I remembered that I hadn't had a thing to eat since the bite or two I got down of the oatmeal Ma had fixed me for
breakfast.

When I pulled my eyes away from the pie, I seen the woman, who had come out from the kitchen. She was the same one from before.
This time I noticed she was youngish, older than me but not as old as Ma. I noticed too that she was pretty, with nice thick
black hair.

She asked me the same question as before. "You want to order?"

I shook my head. "I come to ask about work," I said. "I'm looking to find me a job." I gestured with my head to point back
across the street. "Fellow over at the blacksmith shop said you might be taking on a dishwasher."

"That's so," said the woman. "Come on back to the kitchen, and we'll talk about it."

I followed her. In the kitchen was a big wood stove, a wooden icebox, and shelves with heavy white dishes. The woman set down
at the small table where I had eaten the stew, and she motioned for me to take the other chair.

"What's your name?"

"Nobe Chase," I said, and I remembered to look her right directly in the eye. Ma always told me to look at folks when I talked
to them.

"How old are you, Nobe Chase?" she asked.

"Fifteen, and a month, if a month counts."

"We count everything in the Café business, you bet we do." She smiled at me then, and I sure did like that smile. It made
me want to tell her the truth.

"I come in here last winter, most starved to death. You gave me stew." I held my breath, wondering if she'd still talk to
me about working for her, but her smile didn't go away.

"I remember," she said. "I like helping folks when I can. You ever have a job before?"

"No, not what you'd call a job for pay." I looked at the calluses on my hands. "I worked plenty, though, you know, on our
place. I'm a real hard worker."

"You say your name is Chase?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Your daddy Melvin Chase that just died?"

"Yes, ma'am." I hesitated, then decided to go on. "I suspect you've heard of my pa, his drinking and all, but I hope you won't
hold that against me. I ain't like that. I ain't nothing like my pa." I bit at my lower lip.

"Well, now, I reckon that's good. I heard you and your ma was moving in over at the sheriff's. That so?" She watched my face.

"We done moved in."

"You'd be handy to work then. What you think of the sheriff?"

I squirmed. "I reckon it'd not be fitting for me to speak ill of the man that took us in." I bit at my lower lip again. "My
ma and me didn't have no other place to go."

"You don't like him, though. I can see that." She leaned closer to me from across the table. "Sheriff Leonard say it's okay
for you to go to work?"

I nodded, and then I thought better of the nod. "Well, truth be told, it was Mrs. Leonard that said it was okay. I didn't
ask the sheriff."

The woman laughed. "You done right," she said. "That man's so ornery, he'd say no just to bedevil you. Besides it's the missus
that runs that household. Not many folks know that, Sheriff Leonard being such a tough-acting bag of wind, but he does exactly
what his wife tells him to do in most cases." She nodded her head. "She's got the purse strings, that house, everything they
have got passed down to her by her papa, and she manages it all, right along with the sheriff his ownself." She stood up.
"The woman don't know what a bad man he is, though, her not getting out and all. I hope she don't ever find out, because she's
a mighty fine person." She turned to go back into the front of the café.

"Wait, ma'am," I blurted but. "You never said. Do I get the job?"

She looked at me a long minute before she answered. "Well, we'll have to talk to my husband, Sim." She pointed to a small
clock on the counter. "He'll be coming in about four with our little girl, but I reckon he'll agree with my opinion to hire
you."

I could feel my face break into a big grin. "Oh, thank you, ma'am. You won't never be sorry. I promise you won't!"

"There's one more thing," she said. "We just hired us a man to cook alongside me. Lester Cotton's his name. He's colored,
and he ain't none too easy to get along with, but he can cook like nobody I've ever seen. Do you reckon you can work with
a cranky colored man?"

"I ain't one to pay no mind to color," I told her, "and I reckon living with Pa got me used to being fussed at."

"Well, that's good," she said, "on account if one of you has to go, it'd be you, hands down. Good cooks are lots harder to
find than dishwashers." She turned back to the swinging doors.

"Wait," I said again. "I don't know what to call you." She looked back and smiled at me.

"You can call me Daisy like most folks do." She walked away, then looked back over her shoulder. "Oh, there's one more thing
you ought to know. Dudley Leonard's my brother. I ain't proud of it, but it's a fact, just the same."

It was a shock. How could the sheriff have a sister as nice and pretty as Daisy? I touched the silver dollar in my pocket.
Maybe my luck was changing some. I looked around the kitchen. What, I wondered, was I supposed to do until four o'clock? On
the stove was a huge kettle of boiling water. On the worktable were two big dishpans and stacks of dirty dishes. Might as
well get started, I told myself. With a big dipper, I took boiling water from the larger pan into the two dishpans. Next I
added cold water from the pump, and I found the soap. By the time Daisy Harrison came back to the kitchen, I had washed all
of the dishes and had them draining on a clean towel.

She carried two pieces of apple pie. "You've already gone to work," she said. "That's good." She put the pie on the table,
went to the icebox, and took out a jug of milk. "Reckon you can take time to have a bite of pie with me?"

We was eating when the back door opened. A girl come running in. She was small, and her dark hair fell in thick curls around
her face and down her back. "Mama, mama," she called. "I'm here." She ran to Daisy and threw her arms around her neck.

"I see you are," her mother said. She got up to go to the door and look out. "Did you bring your daddy?"

"He took old Roger over to the blacksmith's. Roger lost a shoe on the way into town." She stopped then and looked at me. "Who's
he?" she half whispered to her mother.

"This is Nobe Chase," said her mother.

The little girl clapped her hands. "Oh," she said, "did he come to play with me?"

"No," said her mother. "He came to wash dishes."

The little girl came to lean against me like she had knowed me all her life. I'd have thought it would make me feel uncomfortable,
some strange kid pressed up against me. I ain't much used to being touched, but it didn't make me feel uneasy, not a bit.
I can't say why, but I took to that little girl right off. She made me feel good inside.

"You might have some extra time, though," she said to me. "You might be able to play with me some."

"Lida Rose," Daisy said. "Nobe might not like being leaned on." She put out her hand and drew the little girl away from me.
"Generally, it is better to get to know folks before you start leaning against them."

"Well, then," said the little girl, "it's okay." She moved back to lean on me. "I can lean on him for sure, because I know
him. His name is Nobe Chase."

Chapter 4

I GOT BACK to the sheriff's house in time for dinner, which was cooked by a large lady named Mildred Burns, who left as soon
as the last dish was taken from the stove. "I'm paid to cook," she told me and Ma, "not to serve or clean up. That'd be your
job." She gathered her big bag, which I seen contained some potatoes and carrots from the sheriff's vegetable bin.

Ma noticed too. "Did you see them taters and such she had in that bag?" She shook her head. "That woman shouldn't be taking
what don't belong to her."

"The way I see it, taking things from Sheriff Leonard ain't like stealing." I crossed my arms and leaned against the kitchen
wall. "Taking things from that man is just a way of striking back at the meanest man that ever lived."

Ma shook her head. "Don't talk that way, son. Please don't talk that way or think that way. Thinking like that is bound to
lead you into trouble."

"No, Ma, I ain't going to get in trouble, but I am going to get even. That man killed my dog, shot him just out of meanness.
I can't let him get away with that."

"Sssh," Ma whispered. "Don't be talking like that so loud." She looked toward the kitchen door. "Was the sheriff to hear you,
we'd likely be on the street." She put her hand on my cheek. "Please, son, I'm doing this for you same as for me. I'm sick
of us having nothing."

My insides sort of softened up toward Ma. "I won't cause you no trouble, Ma," I promised, but even as the words come out of
my mouth, I doubted if my words was true.

Supper was a pot roast with carrots and potatoes. I ate in the kitchen, but I helped Ma carry trays upstairs for her and the
Leonards. "I got that job we talked about," I told Mrs. Leonard.

"Oh, my, how nice!" she said.

"There's work aplenty to be done right here," muttered the sheriff, but his wife shook her head.

"Let the boy be, Dudley. He's trying to better himself." She looked up at me. "Where will you be working dear?"

"Over at the Café."

"That's lovely. You will be working for Daisy and Sim. Did you know Daisy is the sheriff's sister?"

"Half sister," the sheriff corrected.

"Well, yes, half sister. They had the same father." She smiled. "The little girl is a beauty. Did you meet Lida Rose?" She
reached over to the table beside the bed and picked up a picture in a round gold frame.

"Yes, ma'am. I did meet her," I said.

Mrs. Leonard held the picture out for Ma and me to see. "This was taken when Lida Rose was just two," she said.

"She's precious," Ma said. I thought so too. Lida Rose had the same bright smile and curls in the picture.

Mrs. Leonard turned the picture back so she could study it. "Oh, I do love that little girl." She put the picture back on
the table. "God never saw fit to make me a mother," she said. "I would have given anything to have a boy like you do, Vivian."

Ma reached out to pat Mrs. Leonard's hand. She must have felt me looking at her, because her eyes moved up to meet mine. I
could see Ma was sorry for Mrs. Leonard, and I knew she must be feeling rotten about wanting to get in line to marry her husband
when she died. Ma didn't look at me for more than half a second, just sort of bit at her lip and looked away. I went on down
the stairs to eat.

At the kitchen table, I decided to think about nothing except the food. I told myself I'd quit worrying about what Ma does.
I'd just eat the sheriff's food and wait for the chance to get even with him.

But that night it wasn't so easy to keep my mind off all that had happened. Laying there on my cot, I felt awful miserable.
I didn't hear no coyotes howling off in the distance or no cows bawling for their calves. Most of all, I missed knowing old
Rex was out under my window. I used to say good night to him when I blew out the lantern. He'd hear me even if the window
was down, and he'd wag his tail. I could hear it thumping against the side of the house.

There was no one to see me, so I cried. I went to sleep that first night in the sheriff's house bawling into my pillow, and
I got up even more determined to get even.

I was still thinking about revenge when I went to work. "The cook's back there," Daisy warned me when I come in. "Good luck,"
she added when I went through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

"My name's Nobe," I said to the tall black man bent over the stove.

"Don't much care what your name is, boy. Just care that you stay out of my way." He flipped a pancake in the air. "Less I
have to do with some sniffling white boy, the better I like it."

"Well," I said, "I'm not looking for no friends myself, so we ought to both be happy." I started up dipping dishwater from
the huge kettle on the stove.

"Be a sight easier was you to pour the water out of that kettle into your pans," said Lester.

"Can't lift that kettle," I said. I didn't feel no shame. Wasn't nobody going to lift that kettle very easy.

"I reckon I can do it this once, if you don't go expecting it every time."

I looked at the man's thin arms and bent back. "I don't see as you look no stronger than me," I said.

Lester made a snorting noise. "Better look again, boy," he said. Then he lifted the huge kettle of water and moved easily
with it to the worktable, where he filled the two dishpans. "Don't see as I'm no stronger than you, huh? Well, let me tell
you something. There's a whole bunch ignorant white boys don't see."

I just took to washing dishes and didn't make no other comments, but Lester changed how I felt about my time in that kitchen.
I was glad when my time for working was up.

After supper that night, I decided I'd walk out to see Mrs. Mitchell. I was used to seeing her at least three times a week
when I'd deliver milk. Besides, I didn't want to spend an evening just setting around the sheriff's house.

I started down that familiar road, not minding at all walking through the spring evening. Preacher Jackson went by in his
old truck. I didn't try to wave him down for a ride, but he stopped just past me and backed up.

My family never was much for churchgoing, and I didn't expect the preacher to remember my name just from the burying, but
he did. "Where you headed, Nobe?" he asked when I got into the truck.

"Out to see Mrs. Mitchell," I said. I wondered if I should say she was the teacher at the colored school and where she lived,
but the preacher seemed to know. I guess he knows most everyone around.

"Going right past her place," he said. "You got business there?"

"I used to sell her milk," I explained. "Reckon I got kind of used to talking things over with her. Her son, Isaac, is just
about the best friend I ever had, even if he is nine years older than me."

The preacher nodded his head. What he said next sure surprised me. "You're pretty good friends with Cinda Phillips too, aren't
you?"

Cinda and her family never missed a service at the Last Chance Baptist Church, but still I couldn't figure how the preacher
knew we was friends. "Yes, sir," I said. "We been friends since we started school." I looked over at the preacher. His face
looked tired and thin. Folks say he's sickly, but he keeps working. He had a kind face, and I decided to ask him how he knew.
"I am kind of wondering how you know me and Cinda are friends."

The preacher smiled. "Prayer," he said. For a minute I was real confused, but he went on. "Cinda asked the church to pray
for you and your ma when your pa died."

"Oh," I said.

"You know, boy, it's good to have a friend who prays for you. It's just plain good to have friends, not much more important
in this life than friends."

I opened my mouth then, and I couldn't believe what I heard myself saying. "Preacher," I said, "can I talk to you about something
that troubles me powerful bad?"

"Reckon that's what preachers are for, boy."

"I been having impure thoughts." I blurted it out before I lost my nerve. "You know, about Cinda. I mean I been looking at
her—" I lost my nerve. I just couldn't say breasts, not to a preacher. "I been thinking about her body." I put my face in
my hands. "I reckon I'm headed to hell for sure."

The preacher laughed, a big full laugh. That surprised me. I dropped my hands and looked at him, mad that he'd laugh about
me going to hell.

"I'm not laughing at you, son," he said. "I was just laughing about how every man ever breathed would be spending eternity
in hell if thinking about a woman's body got him a ticket to damnation." He reached over and slapped at my shoulder. "Why,
Nobe, you're just normal, that's all."

I was amazed! "You mean impure thoughts is okay?"

"Well, it's like this. You ought not to let such thoughts control you or take up too much time, but, boy, they are bound to
come. Someday you'll marry, and you'll understand those thoughts better. I reckon we're made so that when a boy starts to
be a man, he starts to think different. It's how God made us, and in the Good Book the Psalmist says, 'I will praise thee,
for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.' There isn't any faulting how God made us."

I was still marveling over what the preacher had said when we drove past Cinda's place. I got a glimpse of her out in the
garden behind the house. I knew she didn't see me, but I waved anyway because I was all filled up with lightness and wanted
to do something.

I didn't have long, though, to celebrate the marvelous discovery. We drove past my old home place. I looked out into the twilight,
and I sucked in my breath with surprise. I seen Pa out there. He was leaning against the barn, and I was standing beside him,
sort of looking up at him. It was me all right, but not the same me that set in the preacher's truck. It was the little me,
towheaded and about the size to start to school.

Ghosts? I wondered, but I knowed somehow that what I seen wasn't ghosts. What I seem come up from deep inside me, from an
aching and a remembering. We drove on past our place, and I couldn't see them anymore, but the aching stayed.

Two automobiles set beside Mrs. Mitchell's house. There was her black Ford, and a shiny new red Nash touring car. "Wow!" I
said, "The red one must be Isaac's. He bought his ma the black one last winter. He's got him a good job over in Tulsa at a
bank."

"Sure enough?" Preacher Jackson sounded surprised. "I didn't know they were letting colored folks work in banks over in Tulsa
now."

"It's a pure colored bank. They got lots of colored businesses over there. They call that part of town 'Black Wall Street,'
whatever that means."

"Well, I'll be. Must be a good job all right to buy machines like those. How you getting home, Nobe?"

I shrugged. "Oh, I'll just walk. It's a nice evening for walking, I reckon."

"You be careful, now hear. Use your good horse sense when you're dealing with Sheriff Leonard. That one bears watching. He
sure does."

"Thanks," I said, "Thanks for the ride, too "I hesitated, then went on. "Thanks for telling me about how God made us and all.
I'm sure proud to know it."

"You let me know, should you have other things bearing on your mind," the preacher said, and he waved as he drove off.

Pa never did have any use for Preacher Jackson, but I decided I sure did. I guess Pa was wrong about the preacher, just like
he was wrong about lots of other stuff.

I knocked at the door, and Mrs. Mitchell come to let me in. "Well, there you are, Noble. I've been wondering about you."

I explained about the ride with the preacher, and she urged me to come into the living room. "Isaac is here," she said. "You
haven't had a real visit with him for a good bit."

Isaac was in his mother's rocking chair. He had on a blue shirt that looked new. His tall frame seemed to fill the room. His
face was serious, and his eyes seemed almost sad until he smiled. That smile changed his face. "Hi, there," he said, and he
punched my arm.

"Is that your car outside?" I said. "It's a beauty!"

"Yeah." Isaac sat back down and pointed for me to take a seat on the settee beside his mother. "I'm real proud of that car.
Just bought it yesterday. I couldn't wait to get out here and show it to Mama. Want to drive it sometime?"

"Boy! Would I! But I don't have no idea how to drive no automobile."

Isaac laughed. "You didn't have any idea how to play marbles either, did you? You sure learned fast, though. How about you
have your first lesson tonight?"

I just grinned. This was some evening, losing my fears over the impure thoughts and driving an automobile! "Gosh!" I said.
"Gosh!"

Mrs. Mitchell got up. "May I get you a glass of tea, Noble? I've got ice in the icebox."

"Yes, ma'am, that would be nice," I said.

"And a sandwich? Are you hungry?"

"No, ma'am. For once, I've come to your house with a full stomach. I guess there is one thing good about living at the sheriff's
place. Thank you, though, for asking and for all the times you fed me."

"It is always my pleasure to have you for a guest." She went to get the tea, but the house was small. I knowed she could hear
me in the kitchen.