The other man had a great big belly and a swollen, bulgy looking head with no neck on it at all. He wore a faded straw hat and a white short-sleeved shirt that was sweated through at the armpits. A pair of black suspenders crawled over his shoulders buttoned onto a pair of official-looking gray pants. On one of the straps wobbled a silver star. He had a gun too, a big silvery cowboy gun with a white handle that stuck out at an angle from a holster on his hip.
Granpaw fixed a hawk eye on Old Man Harlan. “Toad will get sun stroke, standing out here. He’s old, Nealy.”
Old Man Harlan was a head taller than Granpaw; scrawny looking and beak nosed. He wore a blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a black vest. A gold chain looped out the pocket of the vest. “He’ll get a lot worse he steps inside my store. That right Toady?”
The colored-man chuckled. “I reckon dat so. Yessah. Sho is.”
The man with the police badge touched his hat to Granpaw. “Brothah Wood.”
“Reverend Pennycall,” Granpaw said.
An ugly grin went across Old Man Harlan’s face; his voice was rough and full of spit. “A man breaks the rules is like to go without. You remember that, Toady.”
The colored-man hung his head.
Old Man Harlan squeezed by us and went inside. He went behind the counter, got a paper sack and put the jar inside.
“Mighty precious water be puttin’ it in a paper sack,” Granpaw said.
Reverend Pennycall’s nose hole’s flared. “That wouldn’t be any of ya’ll’s business, now, would it Brothah Wood?”
Old Man Harlan took the bag with the jar back to the door and handed it to the colored-man. The colored-man smiled, first at Old Man Harlan, then at the rest of us. Then he ducked his head and went away.
Old Man Harlan spat after him. “It was left up to me, they’d all be back in chains. Good for nothing sons of bitches.” He looked at Granpaw and me. “What? What ya’ll staring at?”
“Pawdon me, Brothah Wood,” Reverend Pennycall said. “May Ah pass?”
“This way son,” Granpaw said to me. We went back in front of the counter, and Reverend Pennycall stepped inside, so big he blocked out most of the light.
“Mattie still aim to horsewhip me?” Old Man Harlan said.
“Not that I know about,” Granpaw said.
“Bird said she was.”
“Bird’s butter is like to slip off her corn too,” Granpaw said.
Old Man Harlan bent his neck a little to the side. His head went with it. He reminded me of a cartoon buzzard I saw once on TV. He looked at Granpaw that way; he looked at me that way — from the side. He let out a squawk and slapped the counter. “Butter off her corn, Strode! Waw! Waw! Waw!”
Reverend Pennycall frowned at Old Man Harlan.
“I swear, I’d a never thought to say it like that, but you right!” Old Man Harlan’s face had turned red. “Her butter does have a way of slippin’ off!”
Granpaw didn’t laugh. Neither did I.
Reverend Pennycall took his hat off, grabbed a hankie out his back pocket and wiped it around on the inside. “Come Sunday, they be dinnah on the ground, Brothah Wood. Up Circle Stump way. Brothah’s Of The Watch’ll be there. Talk about this here situation we got.”
“What sitchi-ation is that?” Granpaw said.
“Why, the colored folk situation, Brothah Wood. Things been getting out of hand.” Reverend Pennycall looked at Old Man Harlan, then back at Granpaw. “They’ll be good food. And good preaching too. You and Sistah Wood welcome.”
“Thank you, but I got my own church to go to,” Granpaw said.
“If you call it that,” Old Man Harlan said.
“I do,” Granpaw said.
Reverend Pennycall put the hat back on his head and smiled. “They always room at the Cross, Brothah Wood. Ya’ll just remembah that.”
“Maybe I don’t want that kind of room,” Granpaw said.
Reverend Pennycall nodded. “We all need that kind of room, Brotha Wood. All we sinnas do.” The store turned quiet. There was a clicking sound and then a hum from the pop cooler.
Old Man Harlan looked at me. “Reckon when you’ll get to see your Momma again, son?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“In another week,” Granpaw said. “She’ll be back in another week.”
Old Man Harlan looked at Granpaw. A spit-filled grin hung off the side of his face. “You know that Lucy Stokes run off with a man. From Ohio I think. Ain’t that right, Reverend?”
“Ah believe it is,” Reverend Pennycall said. “Yessaw, that’s right.”
“Left all her kids and that husband of hers too,” Old Man Harlan said. “She was a looker. Lookers’ll do that.”
“Ruby ain’t Lucy Stokes,” Granpaw said.
“Course she ain’t,” said Old Man Harlan and winked at me.
“She ain’t her a-tall.”
The store got quiet again. Old Man Harlan grinned his hang-jawed grin. Seemed like the shadows were all leaned back in the corners, watching Granpaw and me. I thought of how pretty Momma was, how Victor liked to kiss on her. How Momma liked to kiss on him.
Granpaw looked down at the glass case. “Give me some of that chew Nealy. And a stick of that.” He pointed to the peppermint candy.
Old Man Harlan’s white hands moved under the glass. He got the stuff in a sack and handed it out to Granpaw. “Two dollar.”
“Two!” Granpaw said. “I can get this at Grinestaff’s for half that!”
“Best go to Grinestaff’s then,” Old Man Harlan said. “I ain’t running no charities here.”
“You never charged this much before!”
“Never been threatened a horsewhipping before!”
Reverend Pennycall put his hand on the counter and leaned toward Granpaw. He rested the palm of his other hand on the white handle of his gun.
“Horseshit,” said Granpaw. He handed the paper sack back to Old Man Harlan. “How much for the sodies?”
“Fifty cent.”
“Fifty!” Granpaw said, but put the money on the counter anyway. He looked Old Man Harlan in the eye. “I wasn’t aimed to mention this, but now that you done showed your ass, I cain’t hardly keep from it.” He nodded toward Reverend Pennycall. “I reckon this goes for you too Reverend. Moses Mashbone a eating with us ain’t none of your all’s goddamn business!”
Reverend Pennycall’s face soured over.
Granpaw took a hold of my hand. “And the way ya’ll treat the coloreds around here, it wouldn’t surprise me you both was horsewhipped one of these days!” We walked toward the door.
I could feel Old Man Harlan’s eyes, his buzzard look, Reverend Pennycall, the shadows in the corners of the store, all watching us go out the door.
“I wouldn’t be burning no bridges, Strode!” Old Man Harlan called. “Not if I was you I wouldn’t!”
We went down the steps, got down to the end of the driveway and crossed the road. “You was going to cut Old Man Harlan, wasn’t you Granpaw?” I said.
“Only thing I aimed to cut was a piece of my mind, son. Men like Nealy and the Reverend got to be told. They’ll like to run all over you otherwise.”
We walked on back to the house. When we got there Granpaw opened the Orange drink and took a sip.
“You said that was for Moses,” I said.
“I know it. He owes me one though. After today.”
Part Five
12
Potato Foot