Gone Fishin' (7 page)

‘Yeah.’
Mouse picked up a thick branch from the path and started snicking off
the switches to smooth it into a pole. ‘I tole Dom that he had
t’git hold’a hisself ‘cause the folks ‘round
there didn’t like humpbacks killin’ they babies. That’s
when he got his first doll. He dressed it up like Bunny. He tore at
it and pissed on it; threw it in a sty an’ let the pigs stamp
it.’ Mouse laughed to himself. ‘Yeah, Easy, he had a fine
ole time wit’ his dolls. An’ only me an’ Jo knew
it.’

After a
while the path grew crooked and rutty. The branches hung so low that
I had to walk stooped over half of the time. Mouse said that the road
had once been the way to town from his stepfather’s farm but
that Reese let it go to seed years before, after Mouse’s
natural mother died.

‘The
ole man fell apart after Momma died,’ Mouse said.

When we
got close enough to see the place Mouse stopped, wiped his mouth, and
stared.

I was feeling tired so I said, ‘Well, let’s git on wit’
it. That’s it, right?’

Mouse didn’t say a word.

‘Raymond.’ I hoped his real name would shock him into
moving.

‘Yeah?’

‘Let’s go.’

‘Uh-huh,’ he said, but he didn’t move.

‘What we waitin’ fo’?’

His eyes were colder than all winter long.

‘I’m scared, Easy.’

‘We cain’t turn back.’

‘Why not?’ he asked like a child might.

‘What
kinda fool you gonna feel like if you come all the way out here an’
then you don’t even ask? You cain’t tell, you know, he
might reach in his pocket an’ come out wit’ the bread.’

That
seemed to tickle Mouse. The winter passed and he smiled.

‘All
right, Easy. We see what he got t’give.’

The yard,
if you could call it that, was a mess. There was an old wagon that
had both of its axles broken, the rusted-out metal hulk of a steam
boiler, and pointy-spouted oil cans scattered around. There was a
jumbled pile of old bales of hay that must’ve laid there for
five years and more. Old furniture tossed anywhere and many things I
couldn’t even put a name to. I got the feeling that the old
farmer went into a rage, taking everything he had and throwing it
from the house and barn.

Little
animals scurried in amongst the junk; there were mounds of ants; an
opossum had made its nest in a hollow tree full of old clothes, rags.

There was
a large stack of rotting timber that must’ve been intended for
building at one time, laying in front of the house like a giant pile
of dropped kindling.

A few wild
roosters hopped around and four mongrel dogs sat in the shade of a
sweet olive tree. The ground around them was scattered with dried
turds and dead blades of grass.

The house
was even worse.

It looked
as if the main beams had been broken. The roof was caved in; all four
walls leaned inward. The old two-story farm house had been folded
into a squat hut. There was a pipe sticking out near the top of one
of the slanted walls, a weak rag of smoke coming from it. If it
wasn’t for that I’d’ve thought we had come on a
deserted wreck.

One of the
dogs got up, snarling and slavering at Mouse. It snapped and growled
but just when it got near, Mouse slammed it on the side of the neck
with his pole. It was a very simple thing; he did it almost like
breathing, he was so blasé.

The dog’s
yelp was so sharp that you could feel his pain. He rolled in the
filth under the tree, making a terrible racket. The other dogs jumped
up and started pacing, back and forth.

That’s
when some boards that were once the front door of the house moved
outward. A strong-looking black man stood in the wreck of that
doorway. He wore overalls with no shirt and you could see the
strength in his arms and chest like flats of dark steel. He looked
like he belonged in the fields all day long, tearing up the sod and
yanking trees out by the root.

Mouse
dropped his stick. ‘Hey there, Reese,’ he said.

The big
man came out of the doorway but he seemed to bring the shadows along
with him.

‘This
here’s my friend - Easy Rawlins.’

I said
hello but the farmer didn’t even look at me. He was watching
his dog, who by then had stopped wallowing and was simply laying in
the dirt, shivering like one of the fish Mouse had stunned earlier
that morning.

‘Wha’
happen my dog, Raymond?’

‘Search
me. He run up like he knew me an’ then he fell into a fit.’
Mouse stared Reese straight in the face. He wasn’t letting
anything show, except a slight squint from the sun.

‘Ain’t
no room in the house fo’no guests, Ray. What you want?’

Mouse
hunkered down against a rotted bale of hay and said, ‘Just
wanted to shout at ya, Reese, you know it’s been some years an’
I thought I’d see ya while we down here.’

‘I
ain’t got no food and no drinks fo’ guests neither. So if
you got sumpin’ t’say then let’s have it.’

I was
sorry I talked Mouse into coming.

‘Looks
like you could use a hand out here, Reese. Farm’s goin’
to shit if you ask me.’

Reese took
a deep breath, you could see the rage. Watching Mouse bait him was
like watching a man striking matches over a vat of gasoline.

‘I
mean you might need some help out here an’, well you know I’m
kinda settlin’ down nowadays… gettin’ married to a girl
down in Houston.’

Reese was
through with small talk.

‘So
I thought maybe we talk some business. You know after my weddin’
I might wanna come on out here an’ do some honest work.’

That got a
smile from Reese. He said, ‘No, uh-uh. You go on an’ do
whatever it is you doin’. I stay out to here.’

‘Well
we don’t have to worry ‘bout that now. I thought you
wanna come on out an’ celebrate wit’ me an’ Easy.
You know it ain’t ev’ryday you get a daughter-in-law an’
maybe some grandkids.’

‘I
gotta take care’a my dog…’ Reese said. He turned to go
back into the house.

‘Reese!’
Mouse shouted as he jumped to his feet.

The older
man stopped. Without turning he said, ‘I don’t take to
folks raisin’ they voice t’me out on my farm, an’ I
don’t take t’folks comin’ out an’ hurtin’
my dogs. So I guess you better go back to wherever you come from or
I’ma go get my gun an’…’

‘I
come fo’my part’a Momma’s dowry, Reese,’
Mouse said. ‘I know she had some jewelry an’ some money
from her folks when you two got married an’ you leased land
wit’ it. I know you got money out here now, an’ I want
some for my own weddin’. It’s mines, Reese, an’ I
want it.’

The last
three words turned Reese around.

I fell
back a step while he and Mouse faced off.

‘You
ain’t got the right t’say her name, boy. She up ev’ry
night worried ‘bout you an’ who knows what you doin’,
or where? She worried herself sick an’ then she died an’
who you think brought it on?’ There were tears in Reese’s
eyes. ‘She died askin’ fo’you. It broke my heart,
an’ where was you? You weren’t nowhere. Nowhere. An’
my girl layin’ in that bed all yellah an’ sick ‘cause
she so worried ‘bout a rotten chile like you…’

‘What
good it gonna do, huh?’ Mouse shouted. ‘I’s barely
a teenager an’ you come after me wit’ sticks an’
fists. What good it gonna do her t’see you beat me?’

‘You
was a rotten boy, Raymond, an’ you’s a rotten man. You
kilt her an’ now you want my money, but I see you dead fo’
I give up a dime.’

‘I
kilt’er? You the one. You the one ravin’ ‘bout how
yo’ boy so good an’ how I ain’t even legal. You the
one beat on her an’ beat on me which hurt her even more cause
my momma was a good woman an’ you is the devil! The devil, you
hear?’ Mouse reached in the back of his pants for the second
time that day. He pulled out that long-barrelled .41 and blasted that
poor shivering dog. Then he shot the other three: crack, crack,
crack; like ducks in an arcade. Reese hit the ground thinking that
Mouse was gunning for him.

‘I’ma
have what’s mines,’ Mouse said as he brought the bead
down on Reese.

‘You
can kill me an’ you can take my soul but I ain’t gonna
give you a drop’a what’s mine!’

‘Raymond!’
I shouted. ‘Let it go, man! You cain’t get nuthin’
like this. Let it go.’

Mouse
lifted the barrel a hair and shot over Reese’s head, then he
turned to me and said, ‘We better get outta here.’

We went
fast down the way we had come.

Half a
mile down, Mouse stopped and pulled the baby doll from his jacket. He
took out a string and tied it roughly around the doll’s neck
and then he hung the doll from a branch so that it dangled down over
the centre of the road.

‘He
gonna come down here with that shotgun but you know he gonna be
stopped by this,’ Mouse said loudly, to himself.

We took so
many turns and shortcuts that I was lost. I think Mouse was lost too,
because when it started getting dark he said, ‘We cain’t
get nowhere’s good t’night, Ease. We better find some
shelter.’

Nothing
could’ve sounded worse to me. When we were running I’d
started coughing and it wouldn’t go away. I was feverish and
dizzy and I wanted my bed and my room in Houston more than anything.

‘Ain’t
they noplace?’

‘Uh-uh,
Ease. Anyway, I want to go to ground. Reese is good at night.’

He left me
to rest next to a dead oak and went out looking for shelter. While I
sat there, beginning to fade into my fever, I saw a barn owl glide
through the low branches. It moved fast and silent and it never hit a
twig, it was so sure. I thought to myself that some rabbit was going
to die that night, then I started to shake; whether it was from the
fear of mortality or chills I didn’t know.

‘There’s
a lea some hunter musta used just a ways down, Ease,’ Mouse
said when he returned.

‘What
if Reese use it?’

‘He
ain’t likely to be in no lea t’night. If he go out
huntin’ it’a be wide awake.’

We laid
side by side in that flat tent of leaves and baling wire. The grippe
came full on me.

‘Wh-what
you kill them dogs fo’?’

Raymond
put his arm around me and held on tight to keep me from shivering. He
said, ‘Shhh, Easy, you sick. Git some sleep and in the mo’nin’
you be fine.’

‘I-I-I
just wanna know why. Why you kill them dogs?’

I felt
like a cranky baby half napping on a Sunday afternoon.

‘I
was mad, that’s all, Ease,’ Mouse whispered. ‘Reese
talk ‘bout my momma like that an’ I’m like to
kill’im.’

‘But them dogs didn’t hurt you.’

‘Go t’sleep now, Easy. Shh.’

I never
knew Mouse to be so gentle. He held me all night and kept me warm as
much as he could. Who knows? Maybe I would’ve died out there in
Pariah if Mouse hadn’t held me to his black heart.

When I
woke up things seemed better. Dew weighed heavily on the grass and
leaves around us. It was bright and early. A jay stood not five feet
from us with a grasshopper crumpled in its beak. The jay looked at me
and for some reason that made me happy.

I could
smell Mouse’s sour breath from over my shoulder; there was a
tiny wheeze coming from him. Dead dogs and crazy family were far away
for the moment. I felt a cough coming on but I stifled it to stay
quiet just a little longer.

‘You ‘wake, Easy?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How you feel?’

I tried to say ‘fine’ but that started me coughing.

When I
finally stopped Mouse crawled out of the lea and said, ‘We
better get you someplace inside so you can rest. We better git you
back t’Jo’s.’

‘Uh-uh.
I ain’t goin’ there.’

‘Jo
ain’t gonna do nuthin’ when you sick, Easy. And she’s
the closest thing to a doctor for twenty miles.’

‘I
ain’t goin’ t’Jo’s. No!’

‘You
cain’t be comin’ wit’ me, Ease. Reese come up ‘hind
me an’ I gotta move, fast.’

‘Why’ont
we go on home?’

‘I
ain’t finished yet. I made up my mind I’ma git what’s
ines outta that man an’ that’s what I’ma do.’

‘He
tole you no.’

‘That’s
all right. I ain’t hesitatin’ yet. We got some more
ground t’cover - me an’ daddyReese.’

‘I
ain’t goin’ t’Jo’s.’

‘Okay.
I take you over to Miss Dixon’s. She always willin’
t’he’p if she think you know Dom.’

‘Who
is she?’ I asked, not trusting Mouse too much anymore.

He laughed
a good laugh and said, ‘Don’t worry, Easy, she too old
t’be thinkin’ bout love. Anyway, she’s white.’

It was a
beautiful day.

We made it
down to some railroad tracks and followed them for a few miles. It
was one of those sultry southern mornings when all of the sounds of
birds and insects are muffled by the heavy air. I was so weak that I
couldn’t bring myself to worry about what Mouse was planning;
all I wanted was a bed somewhere and some food.

After
almost an hour we came to a large field that abutted a smooth dirt
road. Across the road was a house. It was a real house with a garden
and a fence and all the walls standing straight.

‘That’s
Miss Dixon’s place,’ Mouse said. ‘Now you let me do
the talkin’, all right?’

‘Uh-huh.
But I ain’t gonna stay there if I don’t like it.’
‘Don’t you worry, even a white man’d like this.’
There was a swing chair out front. The porch was dosed by a lattice
covered with forsythia. When we walked up the front stairs Mouse took
the lead, but before he could knock on the screen door the inner door
opened.

‘Raymond
Alexander.’ It was a statement. ‘What you want here?’

Mouse
doffed a make-believe hat and said, ‘Miss Dixon, I come out
here on a piece of business for Domaque.’

‘I
didn’t know you were back in Pariah, Raymond. Why is that?’

Whether
she was asking why she wasn’t told about Raymond’s return
or she just wanted to know why he had come back I couldn’t
tell, but Mouse didn’t even try to figure it out.