A Peaceful Wildness

Fiction Friday: First part of an early effort based on stories I heard in my family's country grocery.

AFTER THE STORM

By Jimmie von Tungeln

           The men all laughed. Thomas Hyatt was telling about the Donaldson girl and her version of the storm. They had heard it before, but it was worth listening again just to hear Thomas tell it. He leaned back until they thought the nail keg would slide from under him, and, throwing his face into a surprised circle, mimicked a young girl.

           "And do you know what Daddy? While the house was up in the air and I could feel it a'turnin' around, I seen that mule of our'n."

           "Honey, how could you see the mule with him on the ground and you in the house and the house up in the air and it turnin' around and you probly scairt' to death anyhow?"

           Thomas stopped for effect, brought the nail keg up straight again and reduced his face from large to small again.

           "That mule wadn't on the ground Daddy. He was up in the air too, cause I see'd him right outside the winder."

           Thomas slapped his leg while the rest laughed in unison. "And they fount that mule clean over on the Darkis place, I'm tellin' you. At's five miles from Armistead and the Donaldson place ain't more'n a mile from town."

           "Next thang you be tellin' us they back plowin' with him," said Odell Rogers.

           "No sir, his plowin' days is done but he had one hell of a ride a'fore he re-tarred," said Thomas and the whole room roared.

           "At was one storm all right," said Rufus Chidester as the laughter died away. He said. "I 'spect that 1947 will be a year folks 'round here remember for a long time."

           "It took your barn didn't it?" said Odell.

           "Took my barn and the houses on both sides of mine but left mine standin'," Rufus answered.

           "I druther it took my house than my barn," said a small man named Chester Winstead. "I got ever thang I own tied up in that barn and all at's in the house is the old lady and two kids."

           "A good barn ain't easy to come by," said a voice in the group and they all nodded.

           "I reckon you heard about the Walker boy?" asked Rufus. Assuming they hadn't, he continued. "Him and some other boys was playin' in them woods over by the Bayou Bridge when it hit. He looked up and saw it comin'. There bein' no place to hide, well he just stood there watchin it comin'. It jumped over them kids somehow and kept goin'. They say they have to put him to bed now ever time a cloud comes up, it upset him so bad."

           "He's liable to end up like his Daddy," said Chester. He lit a cigarette from a wooden match and quickly took two drags. He stepped to the center of the group and kicked the latch on a large cast iron stove. When the door swung open, he flipped the burnt match inside, watched it flare for a second, and closed the door with his foot.

           "How many they counted so far?" he asked after he was back at his seat.

           "Somebody told me thirty-two," said Rufus. "At's countin' six bucks in that one house up by Ridgway Road. Shootin’ craps. That’s what I heard they were doing."

            “No,” said the Grocer, and everyone turned to hear him. He looked at Rufus. “They were at a club in that old school building on the hill. Earnest Tiggens got out of the pen a year ago and started a club for young boys on Sunday afternoon, teaching them how to box. That’s all they were doing. They found three of them across the highway, with Earnest. The rest were scattered around.”

           "Won't be no cotton choppers this summer," said Chester.

           "I don't know what people gonna do," said Odell. "They tell me it's the worst storm ever hit Arkansas."

           "I tell you what I'm fixin to do," said Thomas. "I'm fixin to wait for the government. They supposed to help people when something like this happens."

           "I didn't thank the storm hit your place," Chester said.

           "Hell, the government won't know that unless y'all tell 'em," he replied and they all laughed.

           Just then the door opened and the laughter stopped. A large figure stopped briefly in the door and nodded across the room at the group. The room fell silent except for the shuffling of feet and the scraping sound of seats being slid across the wood floor to make room for the newcomer. "John," someone finally said. "Come set."

           "Fellers," the man said as he crossed the room to sit upon an empty keg nearest the stove. The heavy silence still lay over the group and no one spoke for several minutes. "Your family all right?" Odell finally asked.

           "They's all right," the man answered. "Took ever thang I had but we got in the cellar afore it hit. They's over at Little Rock at the wife's sister's. I been stayin' in town at night. I go out there during the day. Don't hardly seem like the same place with ever thing gone." He stopped and reached over to pick a long sliver of wood from the box beside the stove. Then he began to study it intently. The room got quiet again.

           "Anybody need anything while I'm up?" The Grocer had come from behind the counter and walked over to the group. "How you, John?" he asked the newcomer.

           "All right," said John. "I need twenty feet of well-rope if you got any."

           "I got a little. Let me look out back," he said as he moved toward the front door. "You fellers keep Thomas out of the cold-drink box."

           "Brang some wood back when you come." Thomas said. "It's a gonna git cold in here fore long."

           "What you been doin' lately, Thomas?" asked the newcomer. "Last I heard you was drivin' a truck for old man Whitaker."

           Nobody spoke. Thomas leaned over from his seat and pulled a poker from beneath the stove. He didn't say anything as he pecked the latch open on the firebox door. He pulled the door open with the crook of the poker and jabbed at the glowing fire. The flames rose and he pushed the door shut slowly and placed the poker beneath the stove again.

           "That was a while back. I been doin' a little of this and a little of that."

           "Tell him what you was doin' before the storm hit," said Odell.

           "Oh, I tried preachin' for awhile down in Cleveland County. Got pretty good at it, I reckon. Liked it too. Bout the best job I ever had.” Faces in the group nodded.

           "Tell him why you quit," Odell persisted.

           "Well, to tell you the truth," Thomas stopped looked at each of the men in the group, "The son of a bitches just wouldn't pay me."

           This time the laughter was sharp and hearty. The air about the room crackled as the men slapped their knees and winked at one another. The newcomer smiled and looked toward the door. "Thomas, you won't do," he said.

           Thomas looked past the others to make sure the Grocer hadn't returned and then said knowingly, "I can tell you this. If'n you need supplies, you'd better go on in to Armistead. That man has purt near gave away his store since the storm come through."

           "That's what I heard," the man said back to him. "I don't need much." Then he looked into the front of the stove again. "Can't afford much."

           "I 'spect you tell him that, why he'll give you anything he's got. And for free. He's been doin' it for white and colored alike," Thomas replied.

           "No, I'll pay him for what I get," John said.

           "Suit yourself," Thomas said as the Grocer opened the door leading into the store with a coil of heavy rope around his shoulders. He walked to the group around the stove and paused to remember who had sent him.

           "John, I got fifteen feet left if that will help," he said.

           "I can make do," John answered. "Just put it on the counter and I'll pay you when I leave."

           "Be glad to," the Grocer said. He looked the group over. "Any you boys need anything while I'm up?"

           No one replied and he started to leave, but then paused and turned around. "Is John the only one doin' any work this week?"

           "Ain't no use workin'. Ever thing's blowed away." Odell said. "The field hands even got blowed away. They houses is gone and they'll be headed for Detroit, follerin' the others. How's anybody gonna farm this year?"

           "I remember when people did their own farmin'," the Grocer said. "That's how I got this store."

           Thomas turned around to face him. "But now you done give it all away and you ought to be sittin' right down here with us."

           "Well I might as well at that. But if I set down with y'all, I might not ever get back up," he said and walked toward his perch.

           "Sounds like he might be gonna take up preachin' next," said Thomas and the men all laughed.

           The sounds died and the room turned quiet. Thomas told another story but there was no depth, no substance, this time and the men simply nodded. A languid peace settled upon the room. The only sound was the hum of the wood stove as the logs roared fiercely. Finally, Odell asked, "What was it like when you seen it coming, John?"

           John studied the stove for a minute and starting once to speak, waited until all eyes had circled the room and rested on him. "There's some things boys," he said, and paused again. "Some things that you can't make words fit the tellin'."

           A couple of the men nodded and he contiued. "I seen it a ways off and had time to git the family started to the cellar. They run down and before I went, I had a chance to look for myself. It was funny like. Sort of a peaceful wildness, far off like it was, and not seeming to move much at all, just whipping back and forth kinda soft like you was sweeping the yard with a willow limb."

           "How long did you watch it?" asked Odell.

           "Oh, not long. I seen it was getting closer and figgerd that there was gonna be hell to pay, and I closed the cellar door."
           "Speakin' of hell to pay, look comin' yonder," said Thomas..
(To be continued.)