glowered. And Mouse sat back with his plain face secretly grinning from ear to ear.
I started thinking about my magic horse and how far away he was. It was closing in on noon and there wasn’t a shred of my morning left.
We drove for a little while in silence. The land was getting more lush as we pressed south into bayou country. Our passengers were brooding and Mouse was waiting; waiting for them to accept his wisdom.
Finally he said, ‘Look, kids, I know you got troubles an’ I ain’t tryin t’be no bad man to ya. It’s just that I know what’s goin’ on. . . But me an’ Easy got a heart.’ Ernestine turned her face to him, reminding me of a flower being drawn to the sun. ‘An’ we wanna he’p ya, right, Ease?’ I didn’t say a word, but that didn’t bother him. ‘Now listen: You cain’t stay on the road, ‘cause that’s where the po-lice be lookin’. An’ you cain’t stop out here, ‘cause country folk is suspicious’a strangers an’ anyway, if Ernestine let sumpin’ slip like she just did, then you in it deep. So what you kids need is a place where they gonna look out fo’you. What you need is Momma Jo.’
‘Who?’ That was me.
‘Friend’a mine, Ease. Momma Jo. They call her a witch an’ she be ‘lone most the time. If we bring her a strong man an’ pretty girl she be one happy woman.’
‘But I thought you said that these country people ain’t got time for strangers?’
‘True, true. But I ain’t no stranger. I been bringin’ homemade an’ store-bought liquor t’Momma Jo fo’years. She trust anybody I brang.’
‘But why you wanna he’p us?’ Clifton asked.
‘It’s a favor, man. Maybe you he’p me someday.’ That time Mouse smiled for real.
‘Uh-uh, I don’t think so. We plan t’go out t’Loozdana t’my folks,’ Clifton said.
‘You done kilt a boy an’ you gonna hang that on yo’ folks neck?’
‘That’s across state line, they cain’t do nuthin’ down there.’
‘An’ you don’t think the white man gonna be down there? You don’t think that if he know you at your momma’s that he cain’t go get you?’
‘How anybody gonna know where I am ‘less you tell’em?’
‘Boy, you better get that chip offa yo’ shoulder an’ listen t’me.’ Mouse sat back and frowned. ‘Now the first thing is that the cops know your name. I know that ‘cause Ernestine was there an’ she love t’yell “Clifton.” Second thing is they know you headed fo’ the state line ‘cause that’s where a man scared’a the law always be headed. An’ last thing is they know you gonna go whey it’s safe, an’ seein that you already wit’ yo’ girlfriend they know you gonna go see Momma.. . The man ain’t no fool, Clifton.’
Mouse actually scared me. I was amazed and proud of him. He revealed to us the police mind in a way that I never even considered. I could see hi the mirror that Clifton felt the same way.
‘Com’on, Clifton,’ Ernestine pleaded. ‘Let’s do it. He right ‘bout these country cops.’
Clifton didn’t say anything. The only change hi him at all was that his jaw set a little tighter.
Mouse tapped my shoulder and said, ‘When you see a ole beat-up sign that say Rag Bayou, follah it.’
The turnoff to Rag Bayou was rough and unpaved. We bounced along. Everyone was quiet. Everyone was lost in their thoughts. I kept thinking about that horse in the backyard and how it got there. I was five when I first saw it, and then, fourteen years later, it came to me, from nowhere it seemed, that my daddy had stolen that horse and sold it for meat.
Chapter Three
A mist of gnats and mosquitoes swarmed along the road. Mouse was shouting over the whining cicadas, ‘Turn down there, Easy! . . . That’s it! ... Take a left! ...’ The path was so rutted that I worried about breaking an axle - and I knew Otum loved that car more than his whole Cajun family.
‘You can stop it right here, man!’ Mouse yelled at last.
‘We in the middle’a the road, fool! I gotta park.’
‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘But Otum ain’t gonna like his Ford knee deep in swamp.’
‘But we cain’t leave it in the road. What they gonna do when they come drivin’ down here?’
Mouse laughed. ‘Man who gonna drive down here but a fool?’
I wished I had an answer to that. I pulled the car as far over to the side of the road as I could, and hoped that there was enough space in case some other fool decided to drive by.
‘Com’on, Clifton, you safe fo’the first time since you laid that boy down,’ Mouse said.
‘Hey, man.’ Clifton put up his hands. ‘Keep it quiet.’
Mouse smiled and followed Ernestine out of the car door. Clifton went too.
But I stayed in the car putting on my heavy shirt and pulling my cotton cap down to my ears.
Mouse leaned in the window and said, ‘What you doin’, Easy?’
‘It’s them bugs,’ I said. ‘Just one mosquito in a room will bite me twenty times and every bite swells up into a hump on my skin, and every hump itches me until I scratch it hard enough to draw blood. I hate bugs.’
‘You just too sweet an’ sensitive,’ Mouse said. ‘All I gotta do is wave my hand in front’a my face once or twice and the bugs leave me be. An’ if anything bite me he ain’t never gonna bite nuthin’ else.’
I came out finally. Mouse slapped my shoulder and said, ‘Right this way, honey boy.’
We walked into a wall of vines and baby bamboo. It was reedy and mulchy and thick with gnats. It was hot too. Ernestine squealed every time a frog jumped or one of those bright red swamp birds got startled and croaked its hoarse swampsong. I was sweating heavy in all those clothes and still getting bites on my face and hands.
‘How far is it?’ I yelled over the cicadas.
