Her Own Law

Her Own Law

A Novel

By

Bert Goolsby

Her Own Law

Bert Goolsby

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, settings, and incidents described herein are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and are not intended to refer to any specific places or living persons. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 1998 and 2011 Bert Goolsby

Cover Art by Sara Jones

ISBN: 978-0-9654018-4-5

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Scripture quotations marked (TLB) are taken from The Living Bible copyright © 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

Dedication

To my wife Prue, sine qua non

Acknowledgments

I am indebted to a number of people who contributed in some way to my writing and publishing this book: Although I hesitate to name one lest I overlook someone, they are Debbie Hottel, Lauri Soles, Peg Fox, Mary Au, Suzanne Bauknight, Ann Furr, Carla Damron, Blair Bartlett, Bill Howell, Reece Williams, Jeff Koob, John Bolin, Righton McCallum, my wife Prue, and my mother. Each not only read the manuscript, he or she asked to read it. As Mark Twain pointed out in Pudd'nhead Wilson, an author takes into his heart anyone who asks to read the author's manuscript. Their suggestions, criticisms, and encouragement greatly improved the book.

My mother in particular will recognize one or more of the stories included in this book, albeit they appear in altered form. So will Ralph Cothran and Travis Medlock, my auth Ruth Peel, my uncle Bill Cowart, and my mother's lifelong friend, Jimmie Cherry. I thank them for sharing these stories with me, for allowing me to appropriate them, and for the sense of humor that either created or preserved them. Each of these persons can double one up and tear the eyes with laughter when he or she tells a story.

Other Titles by Bert Goolsby

Fiction

The Trials of Lawyer Pratt

Familiar Shadows

Five Stockings

Harpers' Joy

Front Porch (Anthology with other authors)

More Sweet Tea (Anthology with other authors)

Humanity, Darling

Sweet Potato Biscuits

The Box with the Green Bow and Ribbon

Nonfiction

The South Carolina Tort Claims Act: A Primer and Then Some

If you love someone you will be loyal to him no matter what the cost. You will always believe in him, always expect the best of him, and always stand your ground in defending him. 1 Corinthians 13:7 (TLB)

Chapter One

I figure Tojo was really the one what'd caused it all, because if he hadn't bombed Pearl Harbor, then America wouldna gone to war, and all them other things what happened, they wouldna happened neither.

I reckon everybody remembers about them bombing Pearl Harbor because President Roosevelt told us to remember Pearl Harbor, and I know I ain't never forgot it and ain't nobody I know ever forgot it neither.

Although December 7, 1941, is when I reckon it all started, it didn't really get to going good till one afternoon in June 1943, about a year and a half later. That was when I'd come in out the field I was working in at the time and I was eating me some cornbread and a plate of black-eyed peas, you know, the kind you soak in water, and drinking me some good old ice tea and thinking about going down to the river and catching me some catfish later on if we got through in time. Mama'd come set down at the table with me and said she'd got a letter that morning from her little brother, my Uncle Frank, or Big Plans, as Mama calls him. She's always called Uncle Frank that on account he's always planning to do something big with these ideas he comes up with, but he never does do nothing with them because he tells Mama about them and Mama always finds something wrong with them and talks Uncle Frank outta it.

For instance, one time Uncle Frank told Mama he'd come up with this idea about nailing two house trailers together and cutting a door between them. He said if you put two of them together, you'd have a lot more room and that'd help you sell a whole lot more of them. I think he said he'd call them double something or other. Mama, though, told Uncle Frank he was craziern a June bug, that there wasn't no way a car could pull something nailed together like that down the road without it running everybody and his brother off in a ditch someplace. Uncle Frank told her he hadn't thought about that and she told him he durn sure better think about it and he said he would. I didn't hear no more from him about it, though.

Anyhow, Uncle Frank told Mama in his letter they was hiring at the shipyard where he was working at and I oughten to come on and get myself a job there too, that they could probably use me, and I could make myself a lotta money. After Mama got done telling me what Uncle Frank wrote her in his letter, she told me for once he'd had an idea what made sense and that I might oughten to do what he said. Besides, she said, if I got myself a job at the shipyard with Uncle Frank, I'd also being helping President Roosevelt whip Hitler and Tojo. She didn't say nothing about whipping Mussolini. I don't think Mama thought he counted none.

I left the next morning after I told Mr. Jarvis—the man I'd been working for—I wasn't gonna be working for him no more, that I'd be working for Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the President of the United States of America. Mama put me some clean clothes in a flour sack for me to carry with me and she fixed me some grub to eat if I got hungry. After Mama told me to be careful and not to pay no mind to Uncle Frank's ideas, I kissed her goodbye and took out walking and thumbing. Every now and then, somebody'd stop and give me a ride for a little ways, but mostly I walked. What with gas being rationed and all, there wasn't nothing much what was going nowhere on the road.

When I got about twenty miles from the state line, this drink truck stopped and picked me up and carried me about fifteen miles or so before it stopped at this store to sell them some drinks. After the man what was driving the truck told me the store was the last store in Georgia and he wasn't gonna be going no further down the road, I got out the truck and commenced to walking again. About five miles down the road, I crossed over the state line and walked about five more miles. All of a sudden, my legs started hurting me something awful. I also felt like I could use me a little water too, even though the man what drove the drink truck'd give me a drink to take with me when I got out the truck at the store. But, I'd already drunk it.

I bent over and started rubbing my legs and that's when I noticed this little boy down the road a piece. He was on his knees out in fronta this pretty white house and he was playing in this mud puddle with these tiny sail boats of hisen. He was about ten-or eleven-year-old and he was having hisself a good time. But Lord, did he look a sight. There was mud and water all over him—on his clothes, on his arms and legs—it was everywhere.

The boy was so busy playing with them boats he didn't even see me walk up and put my sack of clean clothes down on the ground. When I said to him, real friendly like, Howdy-do, young fella, I'm Delaware Huggins, he musta jumped fifteen feet up in the air, it scared him so bad. The boy looked at me and asked me where in the world did I come from, that I'd scared the living daylights outta him.

The boy calmed down after I told him I was sorry and hadn't meant to scare him none. I told him again what my name was and I told him I'd be much obliged if he'd let me have some water and let me rest a minute or two on his front steps, that my legs was hurting me something awful.

He pointed to the house and told me to go knock on the door and ask his aunt for some water, that she'd give it to me or let me use the pump on the back porch. He said he'd be glad to go get me some water his ownself except his aunt'd double-dogged dared him not to even look like he wanted to come within ten foot of the house, much less come in it, before she called him in for supper.

I told him okay and asked him what his aunt's name was and he told me it was Aunt Tweeve but most folks called her Mrs. Cumbee. I asked him what his name was and he told me it was Luke McLendon, but most folks called him Skeets because his aunt told him one time he had skeeter legs. I looked down at his legs and said, You sure do have them kind all right, and he laughed and said he reckoned he did, but they got him where he wanted to go.

I thanked him and walked up on the porch and he dropped back down on the ground and started playing with his boats again and splashing mud everywhere there was a place to splash it. When I got to the front door, I knocked on it like the boy told me to and then I called out, Mrs. Cumbee. Oh, Mrs. Cumbee. I didn't get no answer, so I knocked and called out her name again, this time real loud. I still didn't get no answer and so I hollered down at the boy. I said, Skeets, there ain't nobody coming to the door, and Skeets told me to just go on in, that she must be out back someplace, that there was some cold water in the icebox and to go on in and get myself all I wanted, that there was plenty more where that come from. I asked him if he was real sure it'd be all right for me to go on in the house to where the icebox was at and he said sure, go on ahead. Well, to tell the truth, I didn't like the idea of going in the house by myself but I was thirsty as all get out and I wasn't thinking straight neither. Anyhow, I took my hat off, opened the screen door, and walked on in the foyer there, calling out, Mrs. Cumbee. Yoo hoo, I'm coming in.

I took a few steps and stopped and looked in the parlor what was to my left just inside the door and called out her name again. When I didn't see nobody in there and didn't nobody answer me, I started walking on toward the backa the house looking for the kitchen and the icebox. A little ways from the foyer I walked past this door and that's when I seen her. She was setting up on this bed against a whole buncha pillas, reading and listening to this gospel quartet record on one of them windup victrolas. She didn't have on nothing excepting her brassiere and step-ins. As soon as I seen her, I stopped dead in my tracks because it just about scared me to death to see her setting in there. I mean, I didn't think there was nobody in the house because she didn't answer me or nothing when I called out for her. I figured she was out back someplace, like the little boy said.

I stood there in the doorway, not knowing what to do and afraid to move a muscle. She was reading what looked to me like was one of them romance magazines. The victrola was on kinda loud and I reckon that's how come she didn't hear me when I hollered out I was coming in. Plus, she was really into that magazine of hern. She had her lips all clinched together real tight and she glared her eyes.

Even though she was sorta mean looking, I thought she was still kinda pretty. She wore her hair, what was dark brown about like Mrs. Bruner's—she'd been my six-grade teacher—all bundled up in a big old knot behind her head right at the toppa her neck and you could see she had these tiny, sparklety things in both her ears. I figured she couldna been but a few years oldern me. I guessed she was probably getting close to thirty year old.

While I was standing there, holding my hat in my hand and gawking at her, she all of a sudden took that magazine, rolled it up, and slung it clear across the room, knocking a picture off the wall of this sissy-looking little boy what was wearing blue satin knickers and a blue jacket. I heard her say to herself, If I had known it was a durn old continued, I wouldn't have picked the durn thing up in the first durn place.

And that was when she turned and seen me standing there. Lord, you shoulda seen the look on her face right then. Why, my heart stopped beating. I knowed I'd done done the wrong thing coming in that woman's house, though I ain't meant her no harm and all I wanted was me a drink of water. All I could think to do was to grin at her real friendly like—and that proved to be the wrong thing to do.

Wellsir, she grabbed up her housecoat from off the foot of the bed and put it on as she jumped to the floor. Both her feet hit down at the same time. Then she commenced to screaming, and hollering and yelling, Skeets! Skeets! Come quick! There's a red-headed man in my bedroom and he's grinning at me! Hurry! Then, she reached over and picked two books up off this desk and throwed them at me, hitting me right square between the eyes both times. I'll tell you one thing, that addled me somewhat. I just stood there, dazed and feeling like I was gonna pass out. For a moment or two, all I could see was white flashes. After she throwed them books at me, she picked up an ash tray and a few other things and throwed them at me too, hitting me every time. They didn't hurt me very much, though, because this time I'd managed to cover my head up with both my arms. Then, I seen her run over to the fire place and snatch up this fire poker and head my way with it. She held it up like a baseball player'd do what was holding a ball bat and she walked a little ways over toward me and started swinging it back and forth, like she was getting ready to knock a home run.

But thank the good Jesus, about that time the boy out front come running in the house, tracking mud and I don't know whatall all over the place. When she seen him and all the mud and water he brung in on him, she stopped coming at me. That didn't stop her from hollering and yelling, though. If anything, she hollered and yelled even more, telling me now look what I'd done done and asking what in the world did I think I was doing anyhow and who in the world did I think I was to come breaking in on her like I'd done. She mentioned something about how she thought she might oughten to call the sheriff, that I looked to her like I was a sex fiend or something, the way I'd stood there grinning at her and all.

I still couldn't move too good. My ears was ringing and my eyes wouldn't focus exactly right. Also, I was scared she was gonna clobber me any second with the fire poker, what she kept on swinging every now and then. When I finally could see some better, I looked over at where the boy was standing and I told him to say something, to tell her I didn't mean her no harm or nothing, that all I wanted was me a glass of water, that he was the one what told me I could go on in. When the boy wouldn't say nothing, I said, Ma'am, my name's Delaware Huggins. I ain't gonna hurt you none. Honest. All I wanted was me a glass of water and the boy there, Skeets, he told me to knock and ask you for some, didn't you, Skeets? I knocked and I didn't hear nobody. She said if I didn't hear nobody, then I didn't have no business coming in her durn house. I told her I was real sorry and all, it was just a misunderstanding and thank you just the same and please would she mind putting that fire poker down.

Then, she asked the boy how come he told me I could go in the house to get me some water when there was a pump out on the back porch, didn't he know that? Skeets didn't say nothing othern he reckoned he wasn't thinking too good and he was sorry and wanted to know if she was gonna switch him. While they was talking, I backed up the hallway a little ways, meaning to get gone. I was just about to drop my guard and make a run for the front door when she raised the fire poker up over her shoulder.

Oh, no you don't, you grinning rascal you, she said. Think you can't scare the fool outta me and get by with it? Nosiree. Nosiree bobtail. She told me I had to make up for what I'd done. She said she'd give me a glass of water, but afterwards she had work for me to do and if I didn't do what she told me to do she'd call the sheriff sure enough and tell him about how I'd broke in on her when she was in her bedroom and she didn't have nothing on but her unmentionables.

She allowed that ever since the war'd started wasn't nobody safe no more, not even in their own house, and she didn't know what the world was coming to. She said it was bad enough to be at war but she wasn't worried near as much about the Krauts and the Japs as she was about Americans and she didn't like that a bit. She talked a little more about how awful things'd got and said something about how God was gonna take things in His own hands if folks didn't do no better. Finally, she lowered the fire poker and told Skeets to keep an eye on me while she went and got me some water and for neither one of us to move while she was gone.

She left the room for a minute or two and then she come back carrying a fruit jar full of water in one hand and the fire poker in the other. She handed the jar to me, saying since she didn't know me I couldn't drink out one of her glasses, that for all she knowed I mighta had something or other. While I was standing there drinking the water, she said to Skeets, How many times have I gotta tell you not to play in mud puddles? I swanee. You'll probably croup all night. Last time you got it, I had to roll you in the morning dew, remember? Lord have mercy. Looks to me like you'd learn to play with toys that don't require water, like those little army trucks and airplanes I got you for your birthday.

I give her back her jar and told her much obliged. She took the jar and cocked her head at me. You said your name is what? I told her again it was Delaware Huggins and she said, Well, Delaware, I got plenty of work for you to do. Like I said, you've gotta make up for what you did to me. And while you're working, I'll figure out where I'm gonna put you and your things. Where are they, anyway? I told her they was out yonder in the front yard and pointed to my sack next to where the mud puddle was. She told Skeets to go and get it and put it on the back porch and then for him to pump some water in the wash tub and take off all his clothes and wash hisself off real good and she meant real good. She told me to come on with her, that I could start with the chickens and that I'd better not try to sneak off neither, because she'd find me wherever I went to, it didn't matter where. I told her yessum, I was coming. Right then, I was afraid not to go with her on account of I didn't want no trouble. Also, she was still carrying that fire poker around and swinging it.

All of a sudden, I got scared about another thing. Since Skeets'd told me to call her Mrs. Cumbee, I figured she had a husband and that made me start wondering about what he'd think if he happened to come home while I was there and she told him her story about what'd happened and all.

After I told her I sure did hope it'd be all right with Mr. Cumbee for me to be there, she said, My advice to you is this. If you see Mr. Cumbee, you best take off running and you'd better run as fast as those skinny legs of yours will carry you. Now, that really got me worried sure enough. Then she said, But no matter how fast you'll be running, I'll be way out in front of you.

It wasn't until a day or so later that I found out what she was talking about.

Chapter Two

I slept on a pallet in the kitchen across from a little old dog Skeets called Count, as in no 'count. He had hisself a little place right next to the kerosene stove. I figured Mrs. Cumbee put me with the dog at night so he could watch me, because the last thing she'd say every night before she went to her room and locked her door was Count, keep an eye on him. Wake me if he tries to run off so I can go get Sheriff Hightower. Count'd just look at her with this blank expression on his face.

Every morning, Mrs. Cumbee'd come in and tell me to jar the floor and go help Skeets with the cows and the chickens while she fixed us some syrup and biscuits or some eggs and grits and, if she had some, some white meat. After breakfast, she'd have other chores for us to do. I never seen so much work in all my life for such a little place, why it seemed like there hadn't nothing been done on it before I got there. Heck, it wasn't but about ten acres and that was counting the house. She didn't have but two cows and about twenty-five chickens and a coupla hogs, what she kept penned up down near the pond on her place. I found out later one of them hogs, the one they called Dumpling Bell, would dance whenever you whistled Dixie to it.

Anyhow, the second or third morning I was there, me and Skeets was out feeding the hogs and I asked Skeets how come they didn't have no privy and used slop jars all the time and how come I hadn't seen Mr. Cumbee yet, was he gone off or something. That was when Skeets, who was his aunt's dead sister's boy, told me his aunt didn't have no husband, that she'd been made a widow about four weeks before I showed up.

Now, that changed my opinion about his aunt a little bit because I didn't know she was a brand-new, fresh-out-of-the-oven widow. I mean, she wasn't wearing no black clothes or nothing like my Aunt Eugenia done when my Uncle Lud finally died at the sanitarium from the TB. It made me feel real sorry for Mrs. Cumbee and ashamed of myself for scaring her like I done. Her being a real widow made me feel a little better about being there because now I could help Mrs. Cumbee do things around her place and know I'd be doing my Christian duty to help her—and Skeets too, since he didn't have no daddy. I remembered my mama telling me after Uncle Lud died and we kept on going over to Aunt Eugenia's house all the time to see her and Cousin Lydia the Bible said we was supposed to visit widows and children what didn't have no daddy.

When I asked Skeets how come Mr. Cumbee'd died, he said early one Sunday morning this Army convoy from Camp Thedie come by while Mr. Cumbee was standing out in the chicken yard backa where their privy was, feeding his chickens. Well, a tire blew out on this Army truck, he said, and it run off the road and hit the privy, knocking it into a million pieces. Skeets said the truck then come on over in the chicken yard where Mr. Cumbee was. He said the truck knocked down the fence and run over Mr. Cumbee and a whole buncha chickens before they could get out its way. Mr. Cumbee, Skeets said, died before they could get him to the hospital. He said the truck wasn't hardly even scratched.

The boy told me Harte Funeral Home got the body and, after they got done with it, brought it on back out to the house. Skeets said Mr. Cumbee's body stayed laid out in the parlor for several days so folks from all around could come by and pay their respects. When they'd come in to where the body was, Skeets said pretty near all of them'd go over to the coffin and look down at Mr. Cumbee and then they'd tell his aunt how good he looked and all. Skeets said one woman said to his aunt, after she spent two