Tallgrass (13 page)

Marjorie added, “Your mom chews, too.” She giggled.

“She does not!”

“Her old man thinks he’s such a big shot, but he’s nothing but a lousy beet farmer,” Edna told them, then turned back to me. She took off her coat and handed it to Marjorie. “Come on, put up your dukes, you little traitor.” She made awkward fists with her hands. The others did the same thing, although they stood behind Edna.

“You’re a coward,” Edna said.

I couldn’t let her get away with that. Still, I didn’t slug her. Instead, I grabbed Edna’s braids, one in each hand, and yelled, “You take it back or I’ll snatch you bald-headed!” Edna dug in then, so pulling her was like tugging at a stubborn calf. As I yanked, the barrettes fastened to the ends of her braids came off in my hands. I let go to throw the barrettes on the ground, and Edna almost fell over. But I grabbed the braids again. “Take it back!”

Edna’s friends looked at each other, either too surprised or too scared of me to come to Edna’s aid. Finally, Marjorie spotted a teacher and yelled, “Miss Ord. Rennie Stroud’s beating up on Edna, and Edna didn’t do anything to her. Rennie started it.”

Ardis added, “Yeah, her father’s a Jap lover, too.”

“She stole a boiled egg once,” Edna called. Turning to me, she added, “I think she’s going to lock you in the closet with crawly things. That’s what I’m thinking.”

My mouth felt sour as I remembered having to stand in a closet in grade school for the egg I hadn’t stolen. I didn’t know Miss Beatrice Ord. She’d come to Ellis in January to replace a teacher in one of the older grades who’d joined the WACs. But the other girls knew her, so I was sure she’d take their side.

The new teacher came over to us and said, “Rennie, you can let go of Edna’s hair now.”

“She started it,” Edna said. Her friends nodded. “She called me a name.”

The teacher looked hard at me, but I didn’t say anything, because I figured she wouldn’t believe me. It was three against one. I wondered if I’d get detention or be suspended from school. Miss Ord might send home a note telling Mom I’d been fighting. My folks wouldn’t punish me, but they’d feel I’d let them down, and that would be worse.

Miss Ord said, “Rennie must be awfully brave to take on three girls who are big enough to whip her.” She cocked her head and ran her tongue over her teeth as she studied Edna. “Especially after one of you knocked her against the slide and she banged her head.”

Edna gave the teacher a self-righteous look. “My dad says we have to protect ourselves against people who are un-American. My dad’s on the school board.” Her sash had come loose, and she yanked at the two ends, pulled them straight, and retied the sash behind her back. But she did it the wrong way, and the bow was vertical. She took her coat from Marjorie and put it on. The sleeve was folded in on itself, and she pushed to get her arm through it. There was a ripping sound.

“I know he’s on the school board,” Miss Ord said. “Doesn’t that mean you ought to be an example for others?” She smiled.

“No such thing. I don’t have to do anything,” Edna said, pouting.

Miss Ord turned starchy. “Go to your classroom, Edna, and take your friends with you. If I see any one of you picking on a younger girl again, I’ll report you to the principal. Rennie, you come with me.”

As Miss Ord turned away, Edna stuck out her tongue at me and said, “Now you’re going to get it.” She turned to Marjorie and Ardis. “Come on, girls. We don’t want to have anything to do with her.”

I followed Miss Ord to the fence that surrounded the school yard, where she stopped and turned, her hand resting on the mangled wire. She was too pretty to be a teacher. She had a figure like a pinup, wore her blond hair in a peekaboo style, and her gray eyes sparkled in the sunlight like polished silver. “Your father hired some boys from the camp to help with the beets, didn’t he?” Miss Ord asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” I figured she’d pick up where Edna had let off.

“How do you feel about that?”

“It’s okay.” I didn’t want to discuss it with her. It was bad enough taking on a stupid girl like Edna. If I argued with a teacher, I’d get detention for sure. Still, I wouldn’t let her put down my dad, and I was ready to talk back if I had to.

“I’m from California. I grew up with Japanese boys and girls. They’re hard workers.”

I nodded, running my hand along the wire fence, stopping to test a broken end with my thumb. I wondered whether I was being set up.

“They’ll do a good job for your father, and because of that, other farmers will hire them. I understand a few have already.”

I looked up at her. She was standing with her back to the sun, and I had to squint to make out her face. “Don’t you think he’s aiding the enemy?” I asked.

“Why no. Do you?”

I shaded my eyes as I took a good look at Miss Ord. She was the only teacher I’d ever seen who wore lipstick and rouge. “No, ma’am. You’re about the first one who doesn’t.”

“Mr. Stroud’s a fine man. If there were more like him in Ellis, we wouldn’t have such acrimony. Do you know what that word means?”

I didn’t, but I nodded. Later when I asked Dad, he replied, “It rhymes with matrimony.” He grinned at Mom, who swatted him. I didn’t think it had anything to do with matrimony.

Miss Ord thought for a minute. Then she said, “Here’s what I want to tell you: Your father’s stood up to a good bit of criticism lately. Do you know that several men have called him names?” I nodded. “He’s taken it without resorting to striking them, although I have an idea he’s pretty good with his fists. You will hinder his good work if you fight with bullies like Edna Elliot.”

I looked over to where a little boy had grabbed hold of one of the rings hanging on chains from a circular apparatus that looked like a backyard clothesline. He made it to the second, then the third, and finally the fourth ring before he fell onto the dirt. I rooted for him to get up and try again, but he didn’t. I turned back to Miss Ord. “I didn’t start it.”

“I know that. I was watching. And I understand why you grabbed Edna’s hair. I was hoping you wouldn’t, but I probably would have done the same thing. In fact, I’ve been tempted to do something similar with a few of the teachers here.” She smiled when I gaped. I couldn’t believe that teachers fought. “Now, can you understand, Rennie, that you will be much more effective if you just walk away?”

“Kids will think I’m yellow.”

“They’ll think you have principles. They might even respect you. You and your dad.” Miss Ord thought that over and laughed a little. “No, that’s saying too much. A few might respect you, but not all of them. Still, I believe you’ll have less trouble if you just keep your chin up and don’t get lured into fighting everybody who calls your father names. Nobody’s thought the less of him because he’s refused to fight. I believe he would not want you to fight, either. Am I right?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sorry I had pulled Edna’s hair, but I was glad now I hadn’t socked her.

“I thought you’d agree.”

The first bell rang, and kids started for the building, but both Miss Ord and I ignored it. “Why do you care?” I asked.

I thought she would tell me then that she wanted what was best for all little boys and girls, or that it was her job to mold future citizens, the kind of thing teachers always said. Instead, she replied, “Oh, someday, I’ll tell you a little secret.” She smiled. “Someday, when the war is over. For now, I want you to understand that there are people in Ellis who are on your father’s side—and on yours. I count myself among them.”

I smiled to show Miss Ord that I appreciated what she’d said. Then I told her, “It probably doesn’t matter. Dad says people will get over the evacuees pretty quick now.”

BUT FOLKS DIDN’T GET
over the Japanese. Late one night, a couple of weeks after my fight with Edna Elliot, the traffic on the Tallgrass Road woke me up. I was used to cars and trucks driving along the road at all hours, but this was more traffic than usual. I went to the window, but I couldn’t see anything on the road, although I could smell the dust the tires sent up and hear the engine noise. When I realized the cars were driving without their lights on, I started to go downstairs to tell Dad.

He was already awake. His voice came through the register in the floor of my room. “I tell you, Hen, it seems like twenty or thirty cars have come past here in the last ten minutes, and you know each one’s got three or four men in it. I don’t know for sure they’re stopping at the camp, but this time of night, driving with their lights out, they’re up to no good. What’s that?” Dad paused. “Of course Tallgrass has got guards. You know that. But they’re just young boys. Halleck and Tappan are both in Denver. I saw them at the depot this morning and told them right there that with the way the town is all riled up, they ought not to leave at the same time. I think it’d be a good idea if you came out. The camp jurisdiction just goes to the fence. You’re the law on the road.” He listened a moment. “I appreciate that. I’ll take the shotgun and cut across the field to meet you there.” Dad was silent, then said, “No, don’t call Reddick. He’s most likely in on it. And, Hen, my womenfolk are all asleep, so don’t turn on the siren.” He pronounced the word
si-reen.

I knew if I asked Dad to let me go along, he’d say no, so without a sound, I dressed in the dark. After Dad left the house, I sneaked downstairs and started off after him, keeping far enough behind him that I could barely see his dark bulk. Halfway across the field, I stumbled over a clod of dirt and went tumbling into a gully; our farm was sliced with them. Dad turned and looked around, but I lay still, so in a minute, he started up again. I followed a little farther back now, because I could see him easily in the light coming from the camp’s floodlights.

I saw the cars now, too, maybe two dozen of them, parked on either side of the road. There really had been no reason for the drivers to keep their lights off when they drove to the camp, because we could see the cars as plain as day—and the men, too. They were getting out of the cars and gathering in the middle of the road in front of the entrance to Tallgrass. A car door slammed, and somebody said, “Damn!” and a man called, “You hush up back there.”

They didn’t hush. Instead, the men talked in low voices, sounding like bees swarming. There was the sound of broken glass, and an angry voice said, “Now see what you’ve gone and done. You’ve made me break it.”

“Here’s you another bottle, then,” a second voice said.

“Hell, Frank, this stuff’s sour. You saving the good stuff for the high school kids?”

“The good stuff goes to them that pays.”

“Anybody got a cigarette?” a man asked. “I can’t think without I got a cigarette.”

“Moocher.” The men laughed.

A voice said, “Take this smoke and shut up. We ain’t at the pool hall.”

Dad had stopped inside the fence across from the gate, his shotgun in the crook of his arm. I slid down beside a fence post, where he couldn’t see me. Nobody saw Dad, either, which was a good thing. Dad could fight one or two or even three men, but he couldn’t stand off half the male population of Ellis. When I looked up at the guard towers and saw faces peering out of the windows, I realized Dad wasn’t alone. But there weren’t enough guards to take on all the men in the road.

The men quieted down then. They began talking together in voices so low that I couldn’t hear them. I wondered if they had a plan, or if coming to Tallgrass was just whiskey talk. Maybe somebody had started talking big at the pool hall and they’d all piled into cars and driven out to the camp. Whoever it was might have known that both Mr. Halleck and Mr. Tappan were away, and he’d made the rounds of the pool hall and Jay Dee’s, gathering up men. They milled around the cars now, not sure what to do.

At last, someone in the crowd called up to the guards. “You send out the boy that killed the Reddick girl.”

“Which one’s that?” a guard yelled. His voice sounded young and high-pitched and scared.

The men talked for a few minutes, and one called back. “I guess you better figure that out right quick.”

“We don’t want to hurt you up there, boy,” added a man who sounded like Mr. Jack. “There’s more of us than you.

“You’re responsible for the women and children in there. Any one of them gets hurt, it’s on your head,” called a man who wore a white cowboy hat. I knew that hat. It belonged to Mr. Elliot.

“We got reinforcements coming,” a guard yelled. “You men go about your business.”

“Protecting our families against the Japs
is
our business,” a man yelled back.

“Just ask Reddick here,” Mr. Jack added.

Dad moved a little closer to the fence. I wondered what would happen if one of the men shot a guard. Would Dad shoot him? I didn’t like Mr. Jack, but he was our neighbor, and I’d never heard of anybody shooting a neighbor. Dad wasn’t scared of anything, but I couldn’t see that he’d shoot a man, no matter the circumstances.

“I guess we better go on in there and look around for ourselves,” a man said. There was a murmur of voices and the sound of shells being chambered. Then the whole group started toward the gate.

“You men stand aside,” a voice yelled down from the guard tower. “We’ll shoot if we have to.” I doubted that. I’d seen the guards in town, young men mostly, not much older than Bud. They hung out at the drugstores and the pool hall and probably knew the men who were swarming toward the gate.

Dad straightened up and took his gun in his hands, and I guessed he’d figured out what he was going to do. But before he could take a step, a voice called, “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Davidson. How’s Doris doing? Is she over the flu yet?”

The men stopped, and one of them—Mr. Davidson, it had to be—turned around and asked in an incredulous voice, “How’s that?”

“I asked how Doris is getting along. I meant to take her a cake, but the time got away from me.” Mom’s voice trembled a little, but she stood firm, her hands out to her sides as she stood alone in the field. The men turned to stare at her.

“Why, Mr. Smith, hello there. I just saw Bird at Quilters. My, that woman can sew!” Mom sounded as calm then as if she were calling to friends after church.