Part 7 (1/2)
”For one thing, I've got to lay in a good stock of sardines and soda crackers. Lots more cheese, too, 'cause when cotton ginning starts, men will be flocking in here at dinner time-'specially on days when they have to line up their wagons to wait their turn at the gin. That's when I make my money, Bandershanks.”
I wasn't half listening to Papa. I had already lifted the lid of the candy showcase and poked my head inside so I could see all the boxes of good candy.
”Fact is, Bandershanks, fall of the year is the only time folks in the settlement have any cash to speak of. See, when they sell cotton, they can settle up what they owe me. 'Course I have to turn right around, get on Jake, and go to town to straighten up my own debts. Most times, there's not much left. But thank the Good Lord, looks like crops are pretty good this year. I'm expecting to come out even-maybe better.”
”Papa, we gonna count candy?”
”Gal! I see what sort of inventory you'd take! Get your head out of that showcase, hon, before you break my lid!”
”I ain't gonna break nothing, Papa.”
”It'll be one piece of candy today! That's all. You want an all-day sucker or a gumdrop?”
”I want a jawbreaker!”
”Which color?”
”I can't see 'em.”
Papa held me up so I could poke my head farther into the wide gla.s.s case.
”Give me yellow!”
”One yellow jawbreaker coming up!”
”Papa? Lemme have a green one too? Please?”
”Good grannies! Just this one time, now mind you.”
Papa started laughing as soon as I popped the hard candy b.a.l.l.s into my mouth.
”You look just like a little fox squirrel toting two big hickory nuts!”
My mouth was so stretched I couldn't answer a word. I could move my tongue, but not my lips. And I wanted to tell Papa the candy tasted so much like lemonade that I didn't mind my cheeks being funny as a squirrel's.
”Want to do a little dusting for me now?”
I nodded my head.
”The feather duster's right over yonder in the corner, hanging on a nail. See it?”
I nodded my head again.
”Start up there at the front window, hon. And while you do that, I'm gonna be back in the back straightening up the sacks of oats and cow feed.”
I began brus.h.i.+ng up and down on the window panes. A feather broke off the side of the duster and fluttered to the floor. I stooped to pick it up, but I didn't know what to do with it, so I just put it on the windowsill. Then, I looked out the window-down toward Mister Hansen's gin, on past Mister Goode's grist mill, and up the road toward home.
”Pa-” I had to grab both candy b.a.l.l.s out of my mouth. ”Papa, yonder comes somebody riding on a little bitty mule with a dog following him.”
Papa came over and looked out between the window bars.