GodPretty in the Tobacco Field (18 page)

It took us two hours to set up Rose's spoons in a tiny spot where you could hardly turn around. We strung rope up high from her booth to the poles on both sides, hanging the spoons by their slotted middles.

Twice while we were working, Rose sold spoons, and folks paid her each time with a whole six dollars. Rose said she only had sixty-eight sets left to sell.

When we ran out of rope, Cash was there with more. He insisted on helping me hang it, lingering his hand on mine as he took the rope from me. “Can't have you standing on that stool, getting your makeup all sweaty now,” he said.

Embarrassed, I mumbled thanks, more than happy to let him climb up the rickety stool and hang the rope.

Rose, itching to be rid of him, snatched the rope out of his hand, saying she'd do it her way.

“I won't hear of it, Miz Rose,” he insisted.

“Pesky boy, he should've been called Sprocket, him latching and attaching himself where he don't belong,” she grumbled. “Sprocket—all those damn Crocketts.”

“Rose,” I hushed, and served him an apologetic smile.

Cash just grinned, took out a red-checked hankie, and dusted the counter.

We finished around noon. Rose asked the couple in the booth beside her, Ann and her husband, Dan the candle man, to watch her wares while she fetched dinner.

Dan the candle man must've had a hundred beeswax candles in his booth. Some, the shape of hearts, bunnies, and bears, and even two tiny villages with little houses and pine trees. I admired his many hand carvings of Bibles and crosses, wishing Gunnar could see them, wishing I could buy him one to sit on the mantel next to Claire. They were so beautiful I couldn't help softly tracing a fingertip over one of the sweet crosses.

Dan picked up the cross that was a little taller than my finger and held it up. “Take it so you'll always walk in His light,” he said.

Stunned, I stepped back. I couldn't accept it, not without payment, it would be wrong. Rose leaned forward, took it from Dan, and passed it to me, whispering, “Can't say no to having Jesus, honey.”

Dan the candle man smiled.

Fumbling with words, I thanked him, still wishing I had something to trade for it. I held the pretty candle, the ivory beeswax smooth and lightly scented, a miniature carving of a perfect crucifix Jesus formed over its center. This was a fine thing. As fine a thing that Gunnar would ever have, I was sure. I pictured Gunnar holding it, him smiling like he did long ago when Rose gave him art supplies. Smiling like he did the day the president came to Kentucky.

Quickly, I dug into my purse and handed him the first lady's coin before I could change my mind.

Dan turned it over, then pressed it back into my hand. “Looks like someone knows her
Good Word,
” he said.

B
usy words from bustling people spilled into the big hall, bouncing off tall concrete walls.
This has to be the happiest place in the world
. If only Rainey were here to see it with me. Gunnar and Baby Jane and Henny, too.

I studied the candle again before slipping it and the first lady's coin back into my purse. Happy, I watched Rose eat a corn dog and drink a Coke. Twice she offered to buy me the fried stick dog dipped in cornmeal batter, and twice I wrinkled my nose and told her I had a hankering for the cheese sandwich back in my tin. Rose made me promise to go straight to the automobile for it and hurry back to my exhibit while she worked.

As soon as she disappeared into a row of booths, I went over to a water fountain and drank heavily. The smell of the corn dog smeared in mustard tempted my rumbling belly. I dug out the small piece of rope taffy the candy lady had given me and stuffed it down. Feeling somewhat better, I watched the passersby for a minute before slowly making my way outside.

I stopped to stare up at Freddy, marveling how a doll talked like that, wondering how he hooked up lost people.

Behind him a big clock showed it was almost one thirty.

I gave a small wave. Freddy called back a friendly “Howdy,” making me turn as beet red as the kerchief that hung out his shirt pocket. Then I caught a glimpse of a shiny tractor beyond him. Curious, I went over and inspected the two green machines. One man kicked at the big yellow tire and said he would feel like a king riding it. Another snorted and said it would take a king's ransom to own one at the ten thousand dollar price.

I moved on to the grassy parking lot, a quiet pocket now. It was full of automobiles, but empty of people except for a few folks making their way up to the big building.

Once I'd made it to Rose's automobile, I lowered the tailgate and pulled out my pail. I relaxed and took a breath. It felt like I had to take deeper ones to think in this big place. Still, I would give up a thousand more to live here.

Plopping down on the gate, I munched on my cheese sandwich. The cheese had melted and was runny from sitting in the hot automobile. It tasted good. Almost as good as the fair smelled. I debated on whether or not to save half for my supper. Thinking about the prize money, I decided I'd buy myself a corn dog, and one for Rose, too, and happily wolfed down the rest.

With my feet dangling, I hummed “Black Jack Davey” and watched the big Ferris wheel go around and around. I was so caught up in the big happenings I didn't hear his catlike steps slip up alongside Rose's automobile.

Startled, I cried out. The whiskey-breath carny man took hold of my knees, pressed them against his red-plaid shirt. “There you are, dollbaby. Maybe you'd like to ride the bumper cars with ol' Luke—”

“Get!” I tried to jerk away, but his fingers dug in through the fabric.

“Would be nice to take a ride on a fine split-tail like yourself.” He pinched my right thigh.

“Get your dirty hands off me!” I tried to kick and he gripped tighter. Grabbing my pail, I battered the side of his arm and head.

Wriggling, I got a foot loose, kicked and kneed him into tomorrow. He let out a sharp grunt, bent over swaying, and dropped to his knees.

Then, bigger than two Mondays, Cash Crockett appeared. He gave the carny a hard kick to the rear, plowing him into the dirt.

“Luke Hughs,” Cash hollered, “better not catch your drunk ass around here again, or I'll have ya canned! Get outta here!” he ordered with another boot. The carny man moaned, pulled himself up in a stoop, and staggered off.

Cash brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, straightened his shoulders. “Sorry 'bout that. He don't mean any real harm, just a drunk, but lately he's been getting too fresh with the ladies. Are you okay, RubyLyn?”

Breathless, I found my voice, and squeaked, “Yeah, thanks.” I inspected my dress, flicked away the man's grimy air.

Cash pointed to the tailgate. “Mind if I have a seat?” He plunked himself down right beside me before I could answer.

“I . . . I better go,” I said, shifting, smoothing my skirts and still shaken from the man's attack.

“I'll see you back safe.” He smiled.

“Thanks,” I said, relieved, craning my neck looking to make sure he was gone.

“He won't pester you again,” Cash promised. Then he pointed to the Ferris wheel. “Have ya ridden it yet?”

I firmly shook my head, scooted farther away.

“I've ridden it 'bout a hundred times,” he said.

Amazed, I said, “A hundred times . . . Don't think I'd have a single breath left in me if I rode it once.”

Cash chuckled. “You can't come to the fair without riding it. That'd be like, well, like looking at a flower without sniffing it, RubyLyn.”

I couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh, come on”—he jumped off the tailgate and held out his hand—“my friend runs it and he'll give us a spin.”

“I—I don't know . . .” I met his bright blue eyes, playful and warming, then eyed the big metal contraption wheeling around in the sky. “I better get back to my exhibit.”

“It's safe and I'll be right there.” He stretched his hand and jiggled. “A lot of fun up there looking out at the city.”

City
. I was finally here and what better way to see it all than from on top . . . I could tell Rainey all about it.

Scooting off the tailgate, I jumped down and smoothed out the crinkles in my dress. I pressed my purse under my arm. “Maybe I have time for one spin.”

He tapped his watch and grinned. “Maybe two.” He helped me close up Rose's wagon.

As we walked across the field toward the Ferris wheel, Cash said, “Been working with the State Fair now for over a year doing important jobs.” He dipped his head to a passerby. “Love this fast city.”

I wondered what it was he did. He seemed like he was moving everywhere. Plumb full of buzz. I thought it was grand to be able to work in such a happy place with so many happy folks. Even the loss of his brother didn't seem to ruffle him much in this place.

Cash broke the quiet with his own thoughts. “Sorry I didn't see you in Nameless when I came back for Carter's burial.”

“I left him some pretty flowers on his grave,” I said softly.

Cash studied me. “You must've really liked him?”

“You mean . . . ? No. Well, I—”

He held up his hand. “Never mind. I know all the girls liked him.”

I looked away, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Anything else going on back home?” He changed the subject.

“Tobacco will be housed soon. Town's quiet.”

He grinned. “I bet it is now that I'm not scratching at your door and Gunnar ain't firing his shotgun.”

Awkwardly, I said, “Gunnar gets riled up easy. I'm sorry about that, I—”

“Ain't your fault. 'Sides, he pretty much missed except for a place here. It still pains me once in a while.” He pointed to his hiney.

I looked down.

Good-naturedly, he laughed.

I laughed lightly with him and pointed to the merry-go-round ride. “Those are about the prettiest carvings I've ever seen. Remember Mr. Cox back home? They remind me of those little stick horses he makes.”

“Yup, when Governor Nunn visits, he stops by this carousel first. It's his favorite.”

“Oh . . . You've seen the governor?”

“Sure have. Last year. Even shook his hand once.”

Cash didn't seem at all like his kin back home, and I couldn't help but wonder what Gunnar would say about this city Crockett now, him being all smart and with a fancy city job. I began to relax.

“Now let's hurry, I want to show ya his other favorite ride.”

“Lordy-jones,” I prayed, my eyes growing big.

When Cash stepped into the red metal bucket and held out his hand, I wanted to hotfoot it back to the automobile, my exhibit, anywhere but here with these colorful swinging buckets.

He finally latched on to my wrist and pulled me down onto the bench seat beside him. I wiggled as far away as I could. Gently he pried my purse from my grasp and set it next to me.

I couldn't do anything but shut my eyes, even when I heard the latch gate click and the motor thrum, and even when Cash rested his hand a little too close to my knee. I was so scared.

Cash said, “Open them pretty eyes and see what's out there.”

I squeezed them tighter when the metal cage began to rock slowly, clawed my nails against the slick bench seat. I fumbled around, reached down, and rubbed my hand over the snakeskin purse.
Help me, Mama,
I prayed silently.

On the second spin around, I risked one squinting eye, then slowly peeled open the other. Near the top, I could see for miles and miles, a big daring world, a busy world with busy buildings and busy automobiles with busy folks inside. It made me feel hopeful.
Bold
.

On the third spin, I hardly noticed when Cash pulled my hand into his.

On the fourth, the brakes hissed, rocking, landing our bucket at the top.

Scents of candy and pies swirled through the breeze.

Cash gave a hard jiggle and the bucket rocked again.

Laughingly, I squealed, then Cash leaned into me, pressed his lips to mine. A burning, busy, bold kiss.

The motor roared, the bucket shook, and I turned quickly away, dropping his kiss to the earth, ballooning my thoughts with worriment.

Cash squeezed my hand.

Shamed, I snatched it away, picked up my purse, and put it in my lap and folded my hands over it.
If only Rainey were here
.

Mistaking my disgrace for shyness, he said, “Hey now, I know a place where we can be alone.”

Before I could answer, he bent over the bucket, rocking it wildly, whistling down to the operator. He pulled a whiskey flask out of his back pocket, took a nip, then offered it to me.

“Stop!” I plowed my foot hard against the metal floor, gripped the latch, and shook my head. “Get me down,
now!
”

He leaned over the bucket's lip and waved to his friend, then took another sip and put it back before resting his hand on my knee.

I brushed it off and felt my temper warm as we slowly spun to the bottom. Grinning at Cash, the operator popped open our gate. Cash gave him a friendly slap on the back as he hopped out.

I stepped off the platform, and said, “I have to get. My judging is soon.”

He glanced down at his watch, then back up at me, smiling. “Got some time still. There's a lot more fun—”

“No, Cash. I have . . . I have myself a man back home now,” I said, wishing it were true and knowing Rainey wasn't gonna be nobody's man once the army got hold of him.

Something dark passed over his eyes; then he gave one of his pearly smiles. “Ain't back home now, are we?” He raised a brow, lifted his arm to the sky. “City doings is different from hill doings, let me show ya.”

“Thanks for the ride, but I best go now.”

Hurt, then a hard look gathered in his eyes. He dug his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a fair badge of sorts, waving. “You wanna win your exhibit, I could make it happen.”

“I have to go.”

“Make it happen for ya,” he said evenly, and again, “and a whole lotta other things if you wanna take a walk with me over there behind that building and find out.” He put the badge back in his pocket and gave a pat.

Stunned, I felt my cheeks burn. Taking a step back, I stabbed him with an icy look.

He sidled up closer and gripped my arm.

I jerked loose. “I
said
I need to go, Cash.”

He fished inside his front pocket, dug out a key, and whispered, “There's a nice dark storage room with some fresh hay that was just delivered for the show horses . . . Make a mighty fine bed for a hot hillfilly like yourself.”

He flashed a dark smile and dangled his key in front of my face. Leaning closer to my ear, he breathed, “Whachya say, gal, small favor for a big favor?”

He stood sour in my air, claiming and churning it. For a second I couldn't speak. Disgusted, I shoved him back, and said, “Me and my tobacco don't need any of your damn ugly favors, Cash Crockett!”

A coldness claimed his twitching jaw.

“That's just like you
damn Royals,
thinking you're better than the rest of us,” he spit.

I spun around and ran. I didn't stop until I was leaning over Freddy's picket fence, trying to collect my wind and wits.

I'd been foolish to think I could ever be friends with a Crockett.
Damn foolish
.

“Howdy, howdy,” Freddy the doll cheerfully chirped between each of my breaths. After a few seconds, I lifted my head.

On the building's wall behind Freddy, the clock showed twenty minutes until the judging. Twenty minutes, only twenty minutes left until my life would change. I'd never have to see another hill Crockett, Nameless . . . I'd be on the avenues in my art shop . . . meeting Rainey and having our own ride on the big wheel.

Emma, the hog caller, walked up to the picket fence with three blue ribbons pinned to her pretty dress, carrying roses and a happy tune. She stopped beside me, merrily shouted a “howdy” to Freddy. Turning to me, she said, “Howdy! Lovely dress you have there. Where you from, sweetheart?”

“Nameless, ma'am. Thank you.”