Read The Spyglass Tree Online

Authors: Albert Murray

The Spyglass Tree (12 page)

BOOK: The Spyglass Tree
2.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

We spent so much of the rest of the afternoon just hanging around the bandstand that we didn’t really try to keep up with what was happening out on the diamond. From where we stood looking and listening, you could read the titles on the music stands and that was the first time I ever saw the score sheets for “Sugar Foot Stomp” and “Royal Garden Blues” which Papa Gladstone’s Syncopators had been playing in the Boom Men’s Union Hall Ballroom for years
.

We didn’t get to hear the band from New Orleans play for the big dance that night because as soon as the third man was put out in the top of the ninth inning we had to pile back into the trucks and head back for Mobile and Gasoline Point. But I could hear “Cake Walking Babies” all the way home and it stuck with me all that next week
.

But the band tune that Little Buddy Marshall and I always used to hum and whistle because it went with baseball and Gator Gus and also with the Old Luzana Cholly’s sporty limp-walk was “Kansas City Stomp” by old sharp dressing, loud woofing Jelly Roll Morton and the Red Hot Peppers. You would also do Old Luzana’s sporty limp to Duke Ellington’s “Birmingham Breakdown” and years later I was to make his “Cotton Tail” my very
own best of all soundtracks for the briar patch. But at that time “Kansas City Stomp” was our theme song. So much so that even to this day, every time I put it on the phonograph I feel the way I used to feel when he was the one and only Little Buddy Marshall he used to be back before he decided that we had come to the parting of the ways
.

One day in the middle of that July he said, Man, you don’t really believe me when I’m trying to tell you these my last goddamn weeks around these parts, do you Scooter? But you just wait and see if I don’t skip on out of here. And I guess I really didn’t believe it, or maybe I was just hoping he wouldn’t. But I didn’t want to talk about it because I didn’t even want to think about it anymore.

The last game he and I played together was the one against Oak Grove in Oak Grove. So that was the last time I ever saw him do that old walk-away limp we used to practice to do when you had to slide into home plate. When you got the jump and beat the throw going into second or third, the thing was to hit the dirt and be standing on the bag dusting your hips and hitching up your pants with your forearms while the infielder was still shifting the ball from the glove to his throwing hand. But when you slid into home plate, you always took your time getting up and then you limped a few steps and then you trotted on into the dugout brushing your pants as if it were all just another little detail in a day’s work. I had all of that down as well as he did, but he got to do it more often in a real game because he was so much better as a hitter than I ever was to be
.

Then sometime during the week before the Labor Day picnic game against Chickasaw Terrace up on the bluffs, he left town one night without saying goodbye, and that was really the end of me and Little Buddy Marshall as running buddies, because when he came back to town that next year just before the end of the school term, he had already been home for almost a week before I found out he was there, and I didn’t actually see him until I just happened to meet him coming along the sidewalk from Miss Algenia Nettleton’s cookshop
.

We stood where we were and talked for about twenty minutes and all
he said when I said, Where you been, man, where you been, and what you been up to, was just, Knocking about here and there doing the best I can, man. But I didn’t press him because as soon as I saw him I could tell that he was embarrassed and also that he had not yet fully recovered from some illness, which we never came to discuss or even mention
.

But when I heard some ten or twelve days later that he had hit the road again, I was not really surprised at all, and the next time I saw him he could hardly wait to tell me about some of the things he had seen and done in such major league baseball cities as Cincinnati and Chicago and St. Louis and Cleveland and Detroit and Pittsburgh, and I said Hey man, eight down and eight to go, because in those days there were eight teams in the National League and eight in the American League. So there were only four more cities to go because St. Louis and Chicago had one in each league and so did Boston and Philadelphia, and New York had the Yankees in the American League and the Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers in the National League, and Washington had the Senators in the National League. Which, of course, also meant that once you got to any two-league city, say like Chicago with the White Sox and the Cubs, you were where every team in both leagues came to play
.

It was almost like old times for a few days during the first part of that summer, and then he said what he said about what had been on his mind about Creola Calloway for all those years and I didn’t see him or even hear anything about him for a while and I took it for granted that he had cut out once more. But then a few weeks later there he was again, coming along through Tin Top Alley from Shelby Hill and as soon as he saw me he made his old you-mighty-goddamn-right-I-did gesture and then broke into a few steps of our old sporty-limp strut
.

Then not long afterward I found out that he had skipped the city again without saying goodbye, and I guessed that he had headed north by east to Philadelphia and New York and maybe also Boston, and my guess turned out to be true. It also turned out that the day we stopped to talk for a few minutes in Tin Top Alley was the last time I was to see him alive
.

The
Briarpatch
XIII
1
.

A
t first I couldn’t believe that what was happening to Will Spradley was happening to me, too. After all, when I woke up that morning, I had never heard anything at all about Will Spradley and would not have recognized him as anybody I had ever seen anywhere before. But by sunrise the next day, he had told me about his trouble with Dudley Philpot so many times over and in such personal detail that forever thereafter I was to feel that I had not only been an eyewitness but had also been a party to it step by step, breath by breath:

he (Will Spradley) came plunging headlong and lickety-split through the narrow alley leading from the back of the store, his ears ringing, the pain in his side almost bending him double.
Ain’t none of it nothing and here I is, all messed up in the middle of it. All tangled and mangled up in it like this and it ain’t nothing and ain’t about nothing
.

he was aching all over, and he was breathing blood bubbles
and spitting blood, too, but he was running now, and he had to keep on running.
All of this now. All of this and it ain’t nothing, plain flat-out nothing
. He was wet and sticky with blood and sweat, and his legs were stiff, and he could hardly bear to swing his arms.
I ain’t done nothing. I ain’t said nothing and ain’t done nothing. I ain’t done nothing to nobody. I ain’t never bothered nobody in my life. Everybody know that. You know me, you got to know that
.

he needed to do something about the bleeding and he needed something to hold his side, too, but he couldn’t stop for that. Not yet. He couldn’t even think about stopping. He had to keep on running and he had to keep on being out of sight, too. Because at least he was this lucky and this far away from that part of it for at least this long. He had to keep on trying. He had to get to Giles Cunningham now. He had to keep on trying and pulling and get there and be there and be gone.

but he had to get there first and let Giles know.
I got to get there so I can tell Gile. I got to let him know. I got to get there and be the one to tell him and clear myself with him because I ain’t said nothing about him. I just said what I said because it was true and that’s all I meant. I wasn’t trying to get him in trouble with nobody. That’s what I got to do now. I got to tell him and tell him I didn’t want them to get him, too. Because he the one now. He the main one. Because all this ain’t nothing to what they going to try to do to him. Because I ain’t the one, because I ain’t done nothing. He ain’t done nothing neither, but he the one. He musta said something. He musta said something terrible
.

he was sucking and spitting blood and the lump around the gash on his cheek had almost closed his eye already. The raw place behind his ear burned all the way to the base of his neck. But he was pulling and pumping with all his might. Not even looking back. Not even daring to look back yet. There wasn’t any time to spare to do that yet. Not now. Not yet. Not even with it this dark. He wasn’t far enough for that yet. Not even almost.

not even listening back. Not daring to do that either. Because
if you looked back, they would be there, and if you listened back, they would be coming, and he had to be getting away from there now, and that was doing this, which was running, which was going, which was leaving, because your second chance was out in front of you now.

because although he couldn’t really know what was going to happen next, he knew what he knew about what had already happened, because that part had happened to him, and he knew that even if it had been worse than it had been, which was bad enough, it was still just the beginning. No telling what was going to happen next. Anything could happen now.

he had to get to Giles Cunningham before they got there.
I got to make time. I got to get in and out of there before any of them get there. I got to be somewhere else when they come there. I got to hold out and do this and then I got to find somewheres else to be
.

he had come out of the alley and across that street and cut through the vacant lot where the automobile hulls were.
I got to tell Gile then I got to be getting further. All of this now. I swear to God, Lord, you never know
. He was coming to the next street then. And then he was across that one, too, and he was crawling through the fence and into the pecan orchard and coming on through there.

it had been raining off and on all day, and the ground was wet and the air was damp, and there was a thin mist among the trees and the night shapes again. It was going to be chilly again but the dampness was still warm now. It was hot to him. His breath was hot, his collar was hot, and his clothes were almost steaming.

he made it to the next fence and got through the railing and was crawling on through there, too, his arms and legs numb now, his head splitting with pain. The whole left side of his face was swollen out of shape, and he could hardly see out of his left eye. He could hardly hear out of his left ear, and every time he stretched too far the pain in his side almost took his breath away.

he was crawling along the garden furrow to get to the next
fence, and then he would be at that road. Then he would be coming along there. If they didn’t cut him off and hem him in and catch him anywhere along there, he would have a chance to make it to that corner, which was where that part of town began. He was headed for the edge of town and the railroad, but he had to get through here first, and then Higgins Quarters and the lumberyard.

he was running again then, and he had to keep on running until he was there.
If I slow down, I’ll be tired. If I slow down, I won’t be able to run no more, and I can’t make it, and I got to, because I got to get there and tell Gile because I’m the cause of it, but it ain’t my fault. It ain’t my fault because it ain’t nothing no how, and God knows I ain’t done a thing
.

he came staving on along the footpath beside the wide, curving road, running in the open, exposed in all directions now, his whole being straining with alertness. He had to be ready to jump in a split second.
I got to hear good now and hear them before I see them because if I don’t, they got me
.

the main thing was automobiles, especially coming from behind. If you didn’t hear the motor before the headlights came, the beams would hit you in the back and it would be like a charge of buckshot between the shoulder blades. If that happened, it would be too late. If that happened, they would have him again, and it wouldn’t be just one but all of them this time. He would have to be there and they would be there all around him, and anything could happen.

that would be here; it would be happening right here.
And ain’t none of them got nothing to do with it because it ain’t nothing no how. Ain’t got nothing to do with it and don’t even know nothing about what it’s all about, don’t know the first thing about none of it. All this time now, and now all of this. But they ain’t thinking about that. They don’t want to know about that, don’t need to know. They ain’t going to be asking no questions because they ain’t going to be needing no answers. Because I’m the only
answer they want now, me and Gile, and its more Gile than me, because he’s really the one, but if they get me it’s me, too, and here I is ain’t done nothing to nobody
.

everything depended on how lucky he was now. That was all he had to go on now, because all he could do was try to keep on doing what he was doing right now, which was this, which was running, which was all numbness now and pulling, which was pumping, his chest tight, his breath raw, the dull cramp in his side getting sharper and sharper all the time.
I got to outrun this now. This ketch in my side. If I keep on it’ll go away. I got to get rid of this and get my second wind. When I get my second wind, I’ll feel better and I can make better time. I got to make better time than this. A whole lot better
.

he came lunging on, and then he was there in that part of town which was the last part, and he had to slow down because he had to be ready to break from shadow to shadow now.
This far now. And now I got to get through here
. He was running narrow then.
I got to make it on through here, and get to the lumberyard and get on through there and make it all the way. I can’t let them get me now. All of them now, and just me out here all by myself All over something like that, and it ain’t even nothing
. He came darting on, running not on strength but on necessity now, because although it had all started about something which was really nothing in the first place, it was about everything and everybody now. And all he knew about what was going to happen next was that anything could happen, and once it got started there was no telling where it was going to stop.

BOOK: The Spyglass Tree
2.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

News For Dogs by Lois Duncan
Triple Time by Regina Kyle
Bad Heir Day by Wendy Holden
Shadow Flight (1990) by Weber, Joe
Victory Square by Olen Steinhauer
08 The Magician's Secret by Carolyn Keene
The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce
The Blacksmith’s Bravery by Susan Page Davis
Time and Time Again by Ben Elton