Cynthia Bond - Ruby

“Twenty-seven blasts we count by the fallen shells next morning. They shoot her so many times couldn’t nobody recognize her. Then they strung her up. Her little body swinging from that choctaw jes over yonder. The front of her flower dress stiff with blood. We find a hood crumple behind them snakewood bushes. Papa Bell cut Neva down before the sun had the nerve to show itself. He carry her all the way to his porch rocker and held her like a five-year-old with a scraped knee.

“All of us knew who done it. Ain’t no secrets in Liberty. Not with Colored sweeping every White floor in the county, including the Mason Clubhouse, where Mr. Peter Leech hide himself away that whole night drinking his Wild Turkey. Seem he didn’t have no business trip after all, only a long talk in President Levy’s office instead, ’bout a White man’s responsibility, and how Viceroy jobs be mighty hard to come by. Then how, if he know what’s good for him, he best choose to stay put somewheres ’til sunrise. And that’s just what he done. Then come morning, he’s crying and slipping on his piss, saying how he sorry, how it ain’t his fault. Saying, ‘My little Bluebell,’ ’til he pass out cold on the floor.

“They let the other two girls out the Newton jail that next morning, Girdie’s eyes like beets, Charlotte, brassiere in her fist, red clay streaked down her back. Ten miles of shame them girls walk, past White folks’ Monday morning and they yellow school bus. When they make it home and see they sister, Girdie hiccup and faint dead-limp. Charlotte scream like ax cutting pine.

“For all of that, all that Devil harvest — that still weren’t the worst of it.

“It wasn’t ’til Neva made it to the Shephard’s Mortuary ’til anyone noticed the empty pool in her chest. Edwin Shephard seen what was missing, but since only White corpses went to county, he packed his secret in sawdust and wax between the girl’s cracked ribs. Then he clean and dress her. Since he couldn’t do nothing with her face, he closed that coffin up nice and sealed it with them silver nails. Took him five years to tell his mama what he seen, took his mama five minutes to spread the news like bacon grease all round the town.

“Say Klux do that evil to kill Neva’s spell over Leech. Me, I don’t know what they do in the black of them woods. What they put in they red neck pouches, and why we find all manner of beast with they entrails cut out.

“In God’s tightfisted mercy Papa Bell spent eight more years on this earth. He lived long enough to see Leech drink ’til he drown face deep in a mud puddle and for Sheriff Levy to fall off his quarter horse, and break his neck in a dry well.

“Mister Bell stared up at that choctaw ’til he was a five point star withering on his bed. When they close his eyes they last, folks say he yet looking at that tree.”

THE YARD seemed to hold its breath. Ephram’s head had grown clear leaning against the flat of the tire, turned towards the story and the teller. Mabel held her burned out filter between curled fingers. She hadn’t taken a single puff.

K.O. paused and turned to Pete. “Mr. Jeffrey, I got to thank you for tending to that telling.” Pete nodded back and gently kicked a bit of dust into the fire. He hadn’t been called by his proper name in nearly fifteen years.

Jeb broke the spell with, “So that crazy gal up there got Charlotte Bell for a mama?”

“And a jailhouse for a daddy.” Old Pete let out a weary breath, “Charlotte had her baby girl Ruby in June that next year. They say she willed that baby brown. Eatin’ coffee grounds, chocolate cake, even brown eggs from a black hen. Wouldn’t eat nothing white while she was with child. Sure enough, out come that gold-brown baby girl, Ruby. Prettiest child in Liberty. Even jealous mamas had to admit that. Still Charlotte up and run off to New York City when Ruby wasn’t yet a year, like she chased by the Devil — ain’t been seen alive nor dead since.”

Gubber scowled. “Always say that Ruby better off locked up at Dearing.”

K.O. cut Gubber with, “They all kinds of crazy. Some folk drink theyselves to stupid. Others so empty, gluttony take they belly hostage. And some get so full up with hate, it like to crack they soul. Hell, ain’t nothing strange when Colored go crazy. Strange is when we don’t.”

Then K.O. ushered Jeb up with his words. “Go on boy. Mabel ain’t got all night to waste.” Mabel stooped just a bit, then straightened her shoulders, spit and said, “Come on little big man.” Jeb wobbled up to the porch and followed Mabel into the house. The door swung open, letting sound and smoke into the night air.

The porch was quiet for a while, each man climbing out of the well of memory. As they did they touched upon stones — recollections of other lynchings — family and friends slain in open fields, dragged on the backs of cars, swinging from a low branch. Ephram’s mind caught on his father dying alone in the piney woods.

The men outside of Bloom’s had drunk from that well plenty — knew it was a dangerous place where water could suddenly rise from all sides. A man could drown like that.

Rooster pushed back his thoughts with, “Hear they n-n-never could cl-cl-clean that blood stain off the floor.”

Charlie added, “I hear ain’t nothing but haints on Bell land.”

Gubber coughed up a wet laugh. “Hell, only thang livin’ in that house is one butt-ugly, crazy-assed heifer.”

Pete rose and retreated into the wall of shadow. He stopped and looked at Ephram. The two men shared a gaze.

“Rumor say them White folk up in Neches who take Ruby in wasn’t right,” Charlie sent back, “that lady draggin’ her around like she own her.”

K.O. shook his head. “Why anyone hand over they child to slave for White folk is beyond me.”

“Plenty folk done had trouble,” Gubber spit, “don’t mean they got to walk around with no man’s pants on they knucklehead. We just sitting round playing dominoes and here she come wearing them soiled pants — then just walked blind into that ditch.”

Charlie snorted. “Folks was laying bets on whose pants they were.”

Rooster jumped in, “W-well we kn-kn-kn-know they wasn’t G-g-gubber’s, ’less she got a head the size a’ barn door.”

Gubber took aim. “Watch out Rooster, or I’ll find some little girl to whoop yo’ ass.” A direct hit.

Rooster’s hand reflexively touched upon the scar a nine-year-old Maggie had torn across his cheek.

Gubber rallied, “I come up on her whiles she was butt naked, wrapped around one a’ them mother pines.”

Charlie’s mouth flew open. “Ain’t so!”

“My mama seen her humping rocks on the ground.” Gubber kept on, “Cleary seen her grinding herself into the clay road. She just throw that used toothpick she call a body at anything happen by livin’ or not.”

Rooster found his voice, “And wh-what she be buryin’ out th-there every n-n-night?”

Charlie added, “And all that screaming and hollering. Something got to make her do that.”

“M-my m-mama always say it’s some evil th-thang living inside of her.”

“That ain’t all she wants up inside of her, you catch my meaning.” Gubber smacked out a grin.

K.O. lifted himself from the stairs. “Even that stump catch yo’ meanin’ Gubber.” He spoke to an unseen ally. “Lord please do something ’bout these ignorant Negroes!” Then to the men behind him, “I need me a drink.”

Charlie and Gubber reluctantly rose and followed him into the house. Ole Pete looked after them, then back at Ephram and the rest of the men hidden in shadow. Then walked onto the red road into a bath of moonlight.