Chapter Four
Burly Senior’s questions—were bears and people much different why black people were not treated honestly–bothered Herman all that summer as he worked in the cotton field alongside his father, Tad and Callie. He didn’t dare mention black people to papa for fear he would look like he smelled rotten eggs again. One day, as they hoed weeds around from the leafy green plants, Herman gathered his courage and asked Tad.
“What do you mean, why do black people have to sit in the back behind a rope?” Tad snapped. “You won’t want to sit next to some big fat old colored woman, would you? She might touch you.”
Herman’s eyes widened. “Does it rub off?
Tad spat and hoed faster. “Don’t be stupid.”
Callie, who was in the next row, glared at Tad. “Don’t call Herman stupid.”
“I’ll call him anything I want!” Tad yelled.
“You’re the stupid one!” Callie retorted.
Papa walked up with his hoe, and the argument stopped. A few minutes went by and then Callie looked round and whispered to Herman.
“What was all that about anyway?”
“Aww, I asked if the black rubs off on you if a colored person touched you.”
Callie stifled a giggle. “Of course not. That is stupid.” She paused and added quickly. “But it was wrong for Tad to call you stupid.”
They hoed side by side for about an hour before Herman had the courage to ask her the main question. “Callie, just why do black people have to sit in the back behind a rope?”
“We sat as far back as they did,” she replied without looking at her brother.”
“But we came late and we didn’t have to sit behind a rope, like we were different.” When she didn’t say anything, Herman added in a whisper, “Are they different?”
Again Calllie studiously kept her eyes to the ground. “Papa says they are?”
“Is—is papa right?”
First giving a quick glance to her father, Callie answered, “I don’t think so. But don’t say that to papa. He might get mad.”
Herman was confused. “Why? Doesn’t he want us to be honest? Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if we were honest?”
“Yes.” She hoed hard and fast. “But papa doesn’t think so. Maybe someday things will change.”
“But if papa thinks they’re different, maybe they are,” Herman thought aloud.
“Less talk! More work!” papa barked.
Herman didn’t ask any more questions, but he was terribly confused. He didn’t understand why Callie would believe different than papa or Tad. Maybe it was mama who believed differently, and Callie got it from her. That evening, after the hoeing was done, and Tad had gone swimming in the creek and Callie went to play dolls with her friends, Herman went into the house and walked up to his mother who was chopping vegetables for a stew.
“Mama?”
His mother sighed but answered sweetly, “Yes, dear?”
“Are black people different?”
She stopped and looked down at him, her slender hands going to the nape of her neck to massage it. “What makes you ask a thing like that?”
Herman looked down. “I was just wondering.”
“Yes. Don’t worry about it,” she answered and went back to her chopping.
“But—why?” He was about to say Callie thought differently but stopped because he didn’t want to get her in trouble.
Mama laughed. “You think more than any one child I’ve ever seen.”
“But—“
Interrupting him firmly she said, “Go to the loft and play.”
Herman did as he was told, climbed the ladder and crawled into the bed to snuggle with Burly.
“Of course Callie is right,” Pearly Bear announced.
“People are people, no matter what color they are,” Burly Senior added. “Just like bears are bears, whether they’re made of burlap or some fancy material from Sears and Roebuck.”
“I even think bears and people are alike,” Burly offered.
“That’s right, son,” his bear father said.
“But how could Callie know this and not papa, mama or Tad?” The more they talked, the more confused Herman became.
“Why do you know it?” Burly asked.
“I don’t know if I know it or not.” Herman hung his head.
“Of course you do,” Burly Senior told him.
Herman pulled them all into his arms. “I guess I know because of all you.”
“No,” Burly said. “You knew before you even talked to us. You knew because it bothered you to see the black people roped off.”
“But you helped,” Herman offered.
“Of course,” Burly quipped with a smile. “That’s what we’re here for.”
Herman sighed. The whole situation was too much for him to understand. “I’m glad you talk to me.” He looked at Burly Senior. “Don’t you talk to Tad?”
“I would if he wanted me to,” the papa bear replied.
“And Callie?” Herman asked Pearly Bear.
The mama bear straightened her burly shoulders. “That’s between us girls.”
The summer continued, and Herman kept his thoughts about honesty to himself. Even though it was hard work, keeping the cotton rows clear of weeds and nice and soft for the plants to grow big and strong, he rather enjoyed it. This was the first year papa decided he was old enough to help, and Herman could feel himself grow taller every time Papa walked by, patted him on the back and said, “Good work.”
Eventually the hot, clear skies gave way to the clouds of fall, and school came back. This time Herman was not as scared. For one thing, the session had hardly begun when all the farm children were allowed to leave so they could pick cotton before bolls rotted on the branches. To pick them quickly was so important that papa actually paid a family to help pick the cotton.
The Johnsons were black, and Herman was happy papa had given them work for they looked very poor. Mr. Johnson was gray and stoop-shouldered. Mrs. Johnston was short and very stout, but also very talkative and friendly. They had three children, all boys and all older than Herman. They were distant and brooding. Herman liked to sit next to Mrs. Johnson when they stopped for lunch. She sang songs and told stories. Sometimes she would take his fingers and sing a little tune while wriggling each one.
“Don’t let her do that,” Tad scolded him as they went back to work in the rows of cotton.
“Do what?” Herman was puzzled.
“Touch you like that,” Tad replied in a hissing, whispery voice, glancing over his shoulder at the black family.
Herman laughed a little. “All she did was wiggle my fingers.”
“All she wants is to be able to touch a white person.
“Why should she want to do that?”
Tad looked at Herman with scorn. “Stupid. Don’t you know that’s what all blacks want to do?”
“Touch white people?” Herman couldn’t believe what Tad was saying.
“You just watch it.” Tad skulked away.
That night mother asked Herman to find his father quickly. She was sitting in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs with her head between her knees. That scared Herman, so he ran out to the barn, where he usually found his father. Instead he found the Johnsons bedding down in an empty stall.
“Well, hello, little fellow! Mrs. Johnson said cheerfully.
“Have you seen my papa?” Herman’s voice was all tight from fear.
Mrs. Johnson frowned with concern. “What’s the matter, baby?”
Herman,” papa said from the barn door. “Come here.”
Herman ran to his father to tell him that mama wanted him, but before he could say anything, his father pulled him away.
“I thought I told you to stay out of the barn while we have them sleeping in there,” he lectured harshly. He emphasized the word “them” with a nastiness that made Herman uncomfortable.
“But mama, she’s not feeling good,” Herman whined. “She wanted me to find you.”
Papa straightened and stared at the house.
“Oh.”
He walked quickly to the door. Inside mama was already back at the kitchen peeling potatoes.
“Opal, are you all right?” Papa asked so sweetly than Herman didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore.
“Oh, I was just a little dizzy, that’s all.” She laughed, but it soon turned into a cough.” She turned to smile at Herman. “Thank you for getting your father so fast, Herman.”
Papa put his long, wormy arms around her. “Are you sure?”
She leaned against him. “No, I was just being silly.”
“I think I ought to take you to the doctor,” he said softly.
Mama turned to her work at the sink. “What would we pay him with?”
“We’ll have money when the cotton is sold,” papa replied.
“We need that money for more important things.” Mama was always practical.
“Mrs. Johnson says she knows all kinds of medicine to make you feel better,” Herman offered.
Mama laughed. “I’m sure she does.”
“Don’t call her Mrs. Johnson,” papa instructed.
“Why? What do I call her?”
“Call her Josie. That’s her name,” his mama replied. Her attention now was on the potatoes.
“Or the Johnson woman,” papa instructed.
“Why? Isn’t she Mrs. Johnson?” Herman pushed.
Papa raised his eyebrows. “We don’t know if they’re married or not.”
“But they have children.”
“Oh, that doesn’t mean anything.” Mama laughed again.
“But—“
Papa interrupted sternly. “Now that’s enough of that. Stay out of the barn. Don’t call her Mrs. Johnson. Don’t ask why. Just do it.”
Mama shook her head. “Herman’s always full of questions.”
Herman stared at the floor. “Yes, papa.” Then he went up to the loft so he could be alone with his bear family.
“I don’t think mama and papa are very nice about the Johnsons,” he confided to Burly and his parents.
“But your mama and papa are very nice to you,” Burly reminded him. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“Burly’s right,” Pearly Bear added. “Their love for all three of you children fills this house and makes it warm.”
“But that doesn’t mean you should pretend they’re nice to the Johnsons,” Burly Senior interjected. “Sometimes even parents can be wrong.”
“Even you?” Burly asked.
Burly Senior shuffled his burlap body a bit and cleared his throat. “Well, I haven’t been around long enough to make any mistakes. But I imagine I will, some day.”
Pearly giggled at her husband, and soon all four of them were having a good laugh.
The next day out in the field Herman sat next to Mrs. Johnson during lunch even though Tad gave him an angry look. Herman ignored his brother and looked at a nearby tree.
“Those birds sure are singing pretty,” he said, munching on a sandwich.
Mrs. Johnson quickly swallowed a mouthful of food and waved her hand at the tree. “Oh, those are turtledoves. They’ve got a beautiful song to sing all right, but you better not let one get in your house.”
“Why not?” Herman asked.
“Lord sakes alive, baby,” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed. “You let a turtledove in your house, and it starts to cooing and such, and sure enough somebody in your family will wind up dead.”
Tad snorted in disbelief. Herman couldn’t help but notice the three Johnson boys glowering at Tad. He also noticed they put their hands up to their face as they whispered to each other. One of them laughed but the other two hit him on his shoulder.
“Now, Josie,” her husband said in a reproving tone, “you know you shouldn’t be telling your stories to those boys.”
Before she could reply, Herman’s father walked up and announced, “Time to get back to work.”
Herman and Tad picked cotton side by side.
“You don’t believe that malarkey about turtledoves, do you?” Tad asked.
“N-no, I guess not,” Herman stammered. He really didn’t know what to believe but he thought it would be safer to say no to Tad.
“That’s why you shouldn’t talk to coloreds.” Tad used his I-told-you-so voice.
“You kids! Get to work!” papa shouted, and that was the end of that.
When they were finished for the day and had emptied their sacks into a big wagon with tall chicken wire walls, Tad pulled Herman over to the side.
“Come on with me,” he whispered. “We’re going to have some fun.”
Herman smiled and ran along with him. It wasn’t often that Tad included him in his fun. Tad grabbed a burlap bag from the side of the barn and towed Herman down the road to the tree where the turtledoves were singing at noon. They carefully climbed the branches until they came to a nest. Tad threw his bag over the nest, capturing a turtledove.
“What are you going to do with it?” Herman asked.
Tad winked. “You’ll see.”
When they climbed down the tree there stood their father with his arms folded across his chest.
“And what do you boys think you’re up to?” Herman recognized that voice. That was the voice papa used before the spanking began.
“I don’t know; just having fun,” Herman whispered.
“How about you, Tad?”
Tad tried to hide the sack behind him. “Aww, papa, it was just a little joke. We were going to put the turtledove in the barn to scare the Johnsons.”
“Drop it! Right now! Herman, you go into the house. Tad! You follow me!”
Tad and his father marched around to the far side of the barn. When Herman got in the house he looked out the window to see what was going on. He could hear the whacks all the way to the house. Just then, the youngest of the Johnson boys ran out of the barn and into the woods. He turned to his mother and Callie who were cutting up vegetables for a stew.
“Papa’s beating Tad again.”
“What on earth for?” She dried her wet hands on her apron.
Herman explained how Mrs. Johnson told them about the turtledove curse and about how Tad was going to catch a turtledove and put it in the barn to scare the Johnsons. They had one in a sack when papa came up and stopped the whole thing.
“Woody’s going to kill that boy before he makes it to manhood. Well, I could use that turtledove in the stew. Where is it?”
“In the woods,” Herman replied.
“Come take me to it.”
“Oh, I want to go with you too!” Callie pleaded. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time!”
When they arrive at the tree where the turtledove nest was, they found the burlap bag but it was empty.
“It must have worked its way out. Oh well, we tried.” Mama took a step but stopped to bend over. “There’s that dizziness again.” She lifted her head to smile at Herman. “Did anything else happen today?”
“After papa took Tad out behind the barn, one of the Johnson boys ran into the woods,” Herman replied.
“Maybe he went to get the turtledove,” Callie offered.
“Why on earth would he do that? And how did he know there was a turtledove in a bag out there?”
“Maybe he overheard papa and Tad talking out behind the barn.” Callie wringed her hands, looking down.
“No, they wouldn’t do that,” mama said, shaking her head.
“Why not?” Herman asked.
“You ask too many questions, Herman. Stop it,” she ordered. “Let’s get back to the house. Woody and Tad must be there by now.”
When they entered the house, Tad and his father were looking up in the rafters. A turtle dove was cooing.
“What on earth is that noise?” Callie asked.
“Oh, somehow a turtledove got in the house,” their father said. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it. Maybe your mama can put it in the stew.”
“Tad!” His mother glared at him. “Did you bring that bird into my house?”
“No!” Tad looked frustrated. “I didn’t. Honest.”
The bird continued cooing, flitting away every time their father got near.
“The cooing is pretty, but it’s getting on my nerves,” Callie said.
“You’re not the only one,” her mother murmured.
Herman watched mama closely. It looked to him like she must be getting dizzy again. “Mama, are you all right?”
“Of course, I am, baby. It’s just that….” Their mother’s voice trailed off as she fell to the floor.
“Papa! Mama’s fainted!” Herman yelled.
His father jumped down from the rafters, swooped his wife up into his arms and rushed her into their bedroom. Callie ran in after them and closed the door. Herman and Tad stared at each other for what seemed like hours. In a few minutes Callie came out crying. She slumped into one of the dining table chairs and sobbed uncontrollably. Her brothers approached her slowly, as though they were treading on holy ground.
“What’s wrong?” Tad whispered.
Callie looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks and her eyes puffy and red. She could hardly get the words out.
“Mama’s dead.”
Herman and Tad were stunned. They couldn’t move. They couldn’t speak. They couldn’t think. Slowly Herman’s eyes focused on the shadows of the rafters. The turtledove was gently cooing.