Great Jehoshaphat and Gully Dirt!
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Jewell Ellen Smith >> Great Jehoshaphat and Gully Dirt!
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"Just do some more figuring, Wes. I didn't kill him!"
"You was over at Ward's place late Sunday evenin', Jodie! You
can't deny that! I seen you pass my house. Then just in a little
while I heerd shootin'. Then pretty soon you come back by, headed
towards home-your shotgun lyin' cross your knees! Your wife was
with you, and some young'uns in the back of the buggy! I seen
you!"
"Yeah, Wes! I went over there! But I didn't go to kill Ward
Lawson! Me and my wife went to take some vittles to his
young'uns! And, as for the gun, that old rusty thing belongs to
Miss Dink!"
"Now, Jodie! On top o' that, yesterday mornin' you was one of
the first ones sayin' it looked like Ward shot hisself accidental
tryin' to climb the fence."
"Good Lord, Wes. We all thought that!"
"Me, I don't blame you for killin' him, Jodie! You had-"
"Now look here, Wes! You-"
"You had ever' reason-all the dirt Ward done you! Ever'body
knows that!"
"Wes Bailey! Sure, I hated Ward's guts! But I didn't kill him!
Now if you want to see the man with the motive, you go look
in a mirror!"
"Naw, Jodie, all that ruckus about the old feud didn't amount
to nothin'."
"I ain't speaking of the feud, Wes. I ain't wanting to talk
what took place at your house Sunday night, but if you insist,
I'll tell every last man standing in this store!"
"Hold on a minute, Jodie! Hold on! Let's- Let's not-We better
talk this over! Sheriff, don't you aim-"
"Mister Jodie, regardless of what happened Sunday night, or
what was said yesterday, or who killed this squirrel y'all been
talking about, I'll have to ask you to come back to town with me
for questioning. We've got to get to the bottom of this!"
I looked up at Mister Wes. His face had turned red, and he
was breathing loud as a horse. I looked back at Papa. His face
had gone white, and he was hardly breathing a-tall! He reached to
jerk his hat off its hook.
"Come on, Sheriff! Let's go! I'm just as anxious as anybody
to get this tangle straight! Once and for all!" As Papa started
toward the door, he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out
his keys. He handed them to Uncle Dan.
"Dan, I'll have to get you to lock up for me."
"Sure, Jodie, if you say so."
"Papa, you going to town?"
"That's right, sugar."
"But you gotta see all my shells first!" I grabbed my best
shell and ran to Papa. "Stray did give me his newest one, Papa!
The one outta Mister Hawk's gun when he was shooting Mister Ward.
It still smells good, too! See?"
I held the shell up for Papa to smell. He wouldn't take it.
He just stood there looking down at me.
"Smell of it, Papa! Stray saw Mister Hawk drop it and-"
Papa grabbed me up and whirled around to face Mister Hawk.
"What do you think now, Mister Hawk? You still say little
young'uns tell the truth?"
Mister Hawk began to laugh. But it didn't sound like real
laughing. He kicked open the door of the heater with one foot and
spit his wad of tobacco into the fire. Then, he could laugh
better. But he still sounded strange, like a frog that couldn't
croak. Or sort of like a rooster choking instead of crowing.
"Yeah. They do, Jodie. I'm seventy-odd years old, and I never
know'd a little young'un to lie. I killed Ward Lawson. I did! I
killed him!"
Mister Hawk reached over and patted my knee. "This baby's
tellin' the gospel truth! I didn't figger nobody seen me do it,
but I reckon that humpbacked little darkie seen me, all right."
"Mister Hawk, do you realize what you're saying?"
"Jodie, 'course I realize what I'm sayin'! I shot Ward late
Sunday evenin'! Had to. The fool, he scared my poor mule outta
her wits with that damn automobile of his'n! She ain't et a good
meal since he bought the devilish thing!"
"Mister Hawk, you say-"
"Sheriff, I'd do it again!"
"Step out here on the porch with me, Mister Hawk. I'll have
to take you-"
"Sheriff, I don't mind tellin' you where I done it. I shot
the son-of-a-gun out in the middle of his cornfield! He was
tryin' to kill Ned, hisself. I put a stop to that! Then I went
straight and told Nellie. I said, 'Nellie, I done it for you.' I
said, 'Now the road's all your'n. That damn Ward Lawson and his
automobile ain't gonna run you in the ditch no more!'"
The sheriff looked at Papa, at Mister Wes, and then at Doctor
Elton. All three shook their heads. The other men, too. Grandpa
Thad just kept on shaking his head, and he went over to stand by
Mister Hawk.
"What you waitin' on, Sheriff? Let's go. You can lock me
up-on one condition: I take my mule with me! If I go to jail,
Nellie's goin' to jail. Where I go, my mule goes."
"Papa?"
"Bandershanks, baby, you've talked enough for one day! Don't
say no more!"
"Papa, I just wanta know when you're gonna let Black Idd wake
up! I ain't gonna tell nobody Stray's in the flour barrel and
Ned's in the oil drum!"
"Bandershanks!"
Every man in the store looked at me. Then at Papa. They began
to laugh. And their laughing was real-not like Mister Hawk's.
"You ain't mad at me, are you, Papa?"
Papa said something about being glad of the day I was born, but I
couldn't understand much of it because the men were still
laughing.
"You ain't gonna switch my legs?"
"No. But I was just thinking-if your legs were growing as
fast as your ears and tongue, you'd be grown already."
"I'd be a lady?"
"No doubt of it!"
"Could I go to school?"
"I aim to send you to school right this minute! Wiley, son,
you take Bandershanks over to the schoolhouse. Just ask the
teacher to let her sit in one of the empty desks 'till dinner
time. She's got no more business here at the store right now."
"But, Papa, how'll I get across that branch?" Somehow, I
didn't want to go to the schoolhouse. I wanted to go home and
hide under Grandma's bed.
"Wiley can show you a narrow spot."
"Come on, Bandershanks, I'll help you jump the branch! It
ain't wide!"
"Mrs. Goode! You're still here? Church is over! The
congregation's gone home. Why, the custodian is ready to lock up!
Come on. I'll help you across the street."
"What's that you say?"
"I said, 'I'll wheel you across the street.'"
"I thought you said you'd help me jump the branch. Oh? It's
you, Dr. Shirey! Why, thank you. Yes, I must get back to the
nursing home. You're so kind to bother with an old lady like me.
My, my, I was lost in a reverie that took me back, way, way back,
Dr. Shirey."
"How far was that, Mrs. Goode?"
"Just a minute. Let me get my hearing aid adjusted. This
thing's a nuisance. Pastor, I don't think you could understand
how far it was. Things were different then. It was over half a
century ago, when I lived back along the Ouachita hills, in a
plain, bare, dogtrot house, where bread was white and the goose
was fat and a man's mule was part of his family. We still thought
God had made us all-man, goose, and mule-out of the same gully
dirt. Ah, I was a child! If things went bad, all I had to do was
crawl under my grandma's bed! Or run to Papa. Or to Mama."
"The grownups-what'd they do when things were bad?"
"Well, come to think of it, they just did the best they could
and let the Good Lord take care of the rest. My father did. No
matter what came, Papa would just holler out 'GREAT JEHOSHAPHAT
AND GULLY DIRT!' and keep going."
As Dr. Shirey rolled my chair around and started me up the
center aisle, the fringe of my shawl brushed against the chancel
rail. I was ashamed that an hour before I had wanted to kick at
it.
End of
GREAT JEHOSHAPHAT AND GULLY DIRT!
By Jewell Ellen Smith
Copyright (c) 1975. All rights reserved.
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