A Good Night for Ghosts (4 page)

“W
at now?” Jack said.

“We have to follow him,” said Annie. “We can’t let him out of our sight.”

Jack and Annie walked quickly after the mule cart. The hot brick road burned their feet. “Ow, ow, ow,” they both whispered.

“So let’s figure out—ow—what we’re going to say to him,” said Jack.

“Simple,” said Annie. “We’ll tell him we’d like to work with him. And then while we’re working, we’ll start talking to him about music. And put him
on the right path to becoming the King of Jazz.”

“Hmm,” said Jack. It wasn’t much of a plan, but he couldn’t think of anything better.

Up ahead, Dipper’s mule cart stopped near the back of a candy shop.

“Hey, Dipper!” yelled Annie.

Dipper looked over his shoulder. He smiled. “What’s going on? Y’all are sticking to me like glue,” he said.

“Well, actually, we were wondering—” started Jack.

“If we could work with you?” finished Annie.

“Work with me?” said Dipper. “I’m just delivering coal.”

“Yeah, we know. We think it might be fun,” said Annie.

Dipper laughed. “Y’all are crazy,” he said.

“No, we’re not. We just like to work,” said Annie.

“Yeah, yeah, we really do,” said Jack.

Dipper laughed again. “Okay. I reckon there’s
enough work to go around today,” he said. “There’s extra shovels and buckets in the cart.”

“Cool. Just tell us what to do, Dipper,” said Annie.

“Fill your buckets with coal and toss each bucket load into the bin,” said Dipper. He pointed to a large wooden box at the back of the small candy shop. “Twelve bucket loads should do it.”

“Got it,” said Annie.

Annie carefully set the magic trumpet on the ground near Dipper’s cart. Jack left his cloth bag beside it. Dipper handed each of them a heavy shovel and a tin bucket from the back of the cart. Then all three of them started shoveling coal.

Dipper whistled and worked quickly. But Jack and Annie had a hard time handling their heavy shovels. Whenever the shovels tipped to the side, all the coal fell off. Finally they both just grabbed pieces of coal with their hands and tossed them into their buckets.

The afternoon sun beat down on Jack’s back as
he worked. He was sweaty and short of breath. His hands were black from picking up the coal, and his clothes were covered with coal dust.
This is a terrible job
, he thought. He wondered how Dipper could be so cheerful.

“So, Dipper,” said Annie, “do you like music?”

Dipper’s answer was drowned out as he dumped a load of coal into the bin.

“What’d you say?” Jack called to Dipper.

Dipper answered again, but Jack didn’t hear him because a buggy rumbled by.
This is a bad time for a serious discussion
, Jack thought. He could hardly think in the burning sun.

As Dipper shoveled more coal, he started singing a song that seemed to give words to how Jack felt:

But Dipper didn’t seem confused at all, or
about to lose his mind. He had a warm, raspy voice, and his song had a lively beat.

“Dipper! Dipper! Dipper!” some kids called.

Dipper stopped singing. Three boys were running toward the coal cart. They were the singing trio Jack and Annie had seen on Jackson Square.

“I know you’re working,” said one of the kids. “But quit early today, Dipper! We just got a gig to sing in the parade.”

“Sorry, can’t do it, Little Mack,” said Dipper.

Little Mack wasn’t exactly little, Jack noticed. He looked like he weighed over two hundred pounds.

“Come on, Dipper,” said another boy.

“Gotta work, Happy,” said Dipper.

“Aww, Dipper,” said Happy. He didn’t look happy at all.

“Come on, Dipper!” said the third boy.

“Can’t do it, Big Nose,” said Dipper.

Jack looked at Big Nose’s nose. It was really quite small.

“Aww,” said Happy again.

“Go on now. Y’all sound just fine by yourselves,” said Dipper. “Go on to the parade and have fun.”

“But—” Big Nose began.

“Listen,” said Dipper. “Since sunup, I’ve delivered five cartloads of coal. I get paid fifteen cents a load. That makes seventy-five cents I’m going to take home to my family tonight. How much did you fellas make on the square today? How much you going to make in the parade?”

The three boys were silent.

“I’ve got a steady job now,” said Dipper. “You don’t need me. Go on to the parade and have a good time.”

The three boys stared at Dipper for a long moment. “Come on, fellas,” Little Mack said finally. “Let him be. Ever since he got back from the Waif’s Home, he’s turned into a mama’s boy.”

Jack wondered what the Waif’s Home was.

Dipper watched the three boys walk off. Then he looked at Jack and Annie. “Little Mack, Happy,
and Big Nose Sidney are old buddies of mine,” he explained with a sigh. “We used to have a quartet. We sang everywhere together.”

“Dipper, can’t you take just a
little
time off and go with your buddies to sing in the parade?” asked Annie.

“Nope,” said Dipper. “That’s just the way it has to be.”

Dipper went back to shoveling coal. Jack wanted to ask him about the Waif’s Home, but Dipper didn’t look like he wanted to talk. He didn’t sing anymore as he filled up his coal bucket.

If Dipper doesn’t perform, he’ll never grow up to be the King of Jazz
, Jack thought.
He’ll never give his gifts to the world
.

Finally Annie broke the silence. “Dipper, do you have to support your family all by yourself? You’re pretty young for that, aren’t you?”

“I’m not young. I’m fourteen,” said Dipper. “Mama Lucy, Mayann, and baby Clarence are all depending on me.”

“Is that your family?” asked Jack.

“Yep, and I love them a lot,” said Dipper.

“I understand,” said Annie.

“Me too,” said Jack. “But what about giving your gifts to the world?”

Dipper laughed. “I can’t afford gifts for Lady the mule. How am I going to afford gifts for the
world
?”

“What about your
musical
gifts?” asked Jack.

“Okay, good idea. I’ll sing a song to Lady on her birthday,” he said. “Let’s go now.”

Dipper tossed his shovel into the bucket. Then he reached into his pocket and took out some change. “Tomorrow I’ll be getting paid fifteen cents for this load,” he said. “In case I don’t see you again, here’s your share: five cents for you and five for you.”

“No, no, keep it,” said Annie. “You should keep it all for your family, Dipper.”

“What? That’s not right,” said Dipper.

“It
is
right,” said Jack.

“Then what did y’all do that work for?” asked Dipper.

“We didn’t do that much,” Jack said. “Not nearly as much as you did. It was a lot harder job than I thought it would be.”

“Then why did y’all keep working?” asked Dipper.

“It was fun hanging out with you,” said Annie.

Dipper laughed. “Well, you two sure are a couple of potato heads,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” asked Annie.

“It means you don’t have any more brains than a pair of potatoes,” said Dipper.

Jack and Annie just laughed.

“Sure you won’t take any money?” said Dipper.

“Absolutely!” said Annie.

“Well, thanks a million for your help,” said Dipper. He climbed back into the driver’s seat of the cart. “Hey want me and Lady to give y’all a ride back to the coal yard?”

“Yes!” said Jack and Annie together.

“Good. Climb on!” said Dipper.

“Thanks, man!” said Jack.

Annie grabbed their trumpet. Jack grabbed his bag, and they sat on the cart bench next to Dipper. Jack was still hot and sweaty. He was tired and his arms were sore. But for some reason, he felt great.

“Let’s go, Lady,” said Dipper.

Lady the mule began pulling the creaky cart along the Mississippi River. And Dipper began singing again:

T
he sky had grown cloudy, and a warm breeze was blowing.

Dipper stopped the cart and listened. “Hear that?” he said. “Parade’s coming this way.”

Jack heard band music in the distance.

“Is that parade for All Saints’ Day?” asked Annie.

“Maybe. Or maybe for a million other things,” said Dipper. “Folks in this city will find any excuse for a parade.”

Soon the parade came into view.

Horseback riders wore plumed hats and black masks. Following them were people dressed up as clowns, kings, queens, fairies with fluttering wings, ghosts, and skeletons.

“We read that New Orleans might be the most haunted city in the country,” Annie said to Dipper, “especially on the eve of All Saints’ Day. We heard there’re
real
ghosts in a cathedral, a hotel, and a blacksmith shop.”

“Yeah, and plenty more places, too,” said Dipper. “But I’m not afraid of ghosts. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Me neither!” said Annie.

“Um, me neither,” said Jack.

A band followed the people in costumes. The musicians were playing trumpets, tubas, trombones, and drums—lots of drums. The joyous music filled the New Orleans air. Jack and Annie couldn’t help nodding their heads in time to the beat. Jack noticed that Dipper was nodding his head, too.

“Hey, there’re the fellas!” said Annie.

Happy, Little Mack, and Big Nose Sidney were walking alongside the band, singing their hearts out.

“Looks like they’re having fun!” said Annie. She nudged Jack. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah!” said Jack. “A lot of fun! Music is so much fun! I wish I had musical talent! You’re so lucky, Dipper!”

“You really are, Dipper!” said Annie. “Musical talent is really a great gift to share with the world!”

Dipper just shook his head, as if he thought they were crazy. “Biggest potato heads I’ve ever met,” he said.

Jack and Annie laughed.

Dipper gave the reins a shake. “Go ’long, Lady. Keep me on my path.”

How weird that Dipper said that
, Jack thought. Their mission was to keep him on the right path, too—the path to becoming the King of Jazz.

As Lady plodded along the bank of the
Mississippi, Dipper started singing nonsense words:

“That sounds so cool,” said Jack. “What’s that song?”

“Not a song. I’m just scat-singing, man,” said Dipper.

“Scat-singing?” said Annie. “What’s that?”

“When you can’t think of words, just sing sounds,” said Dipper. “Make ’em up. If you put your heart in it, folks will understand you.”

“I didn’t know a person could make music like that,” said Jack.

“Heck, yeah, you can make music any way you want,” said Dipper. “Just listen to the world: There’s church bells, the washerwoman singing about her wash, the ragman blasting his tin horn for folks to bring out their rags. Folks selling things, like that pie man. Listen to him.”

Dipper pointed to a man sitting in a red wagon, calling out in a strong, rich voice, “Sweet potato! Sweet potato pie! Lemon pie! Apple pie! Any pie you like!”