The Mule-Bone

I hadn’t cut them weeds out of the street in front of my parsonage, me or some of my folks woulda been snake-bit right at our front door. To whole crowd. Whyn’t you all cut down these weeds and clean up these streets? Hambo Well, the Mayor ain’t said nothin’ ’bout it. Simms When the folks misbehaves in this town I think they oughta lock ’em up in a jail and make ’em work their fine out on the streets, then these weeds would be cut down. Voice How we gonna do that when we ain’t got no jail? Simms Well, you sho needs a jail⁠ ⁠… you-all needs a whole lot of improvements round this town. I ain’t never pastored no town so way-back as this one here. Clark Who has lately emerged from the store, fanning himself, overhears this last remark and bristles up. What’s that you say ’bout this town? Simms I say we needs some improvements here in this town⁠ ⁠… that’s what. Clark In a powerful voice. And what improvements you figgers we needs? Simms A whole heap. Now, for one thing we really does need a jail, Mayor. We oughta stop runnin’ these people out of town that misbehaves, and lock ’em up. Others towns has jails, everytown I ever pastored had a jail. Don’t see how come we can’t have one. Clark Towering angrily above the preacher. Now, wait a minute, Simms. Don’t you reckon the man who knows how to start a town knows how to run it? I paid two hundred dollars out of this right hand for this land and walked out here and started this town befo’ you was born. I ain’t like some of you new niggers, come here when grapes’ ripe. I was here to cut new ground, and I been Mayor ever since. Simms Well, there ain’t no sense in no one man stayin’ Mayor all the time. Clark Well, it’s my town and I can be mayor jus’ as long as I want to. It was me that put this town on the map. Simms What map you put it on, Joe Clark? I ain’t seen it on no map. Clark Indignant. I God! Listen here, Elder Simms. If you don’t like the way I run this town, just’ take your flat feets right on out and git yonder crost the woods. You ain’t been here long enough to say nothin’ nohow. Hambo From a nail keg. Yeah, you Methodist niggers always telling people how to run things. Taylor Practically unheard by the others. We do so know how to run things, don’t we? Ain’t Brother Mayor a Methodist, and ain’t the schoolteacher a⁠ ⁠… ? His remarks are drowned out by the others. Simms No, we don’t like the way you’re runnin’ things. Now looka here, pointing at the Marshall you got that lazy Lum Boger here for marshall and he ain’t old enough to be dry behind his ears yet⁠ ⁠… and all these able-bodied means in this town! You won’t ’low nobody else to run a store ’ceptin’ you. And looka yonder happening to notice the street light only street lamp in town, you got in front of your place. Indignantly. We pay the taxes and you got the lamp. Villager Don’t you-all fuss now. How come you two always yam-yamming at each other? Clark How come this fly-by-night Methodist preacher over here⁠ ⁠… ain’t been here three months⁠ ⁠… tries to stand up on my store porch and tries to tell me how to run my town? Mattie Clark, the Mayor’s wife, comes timidly to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. Ain’t no man gonna tell me how to run my town. I God, I ’lected myself in and I’m gonna run it. Turns and sees wife standing in door. Commandingly. I God, Mattie, git on back in there and wait on that store! Mattie Timidly. Jody, somebody else wantin’ stamps. Clark I God, woman, what good is you? Gwan, git in. Look like between women and preachers a man can’t have no peace. Exit Clark. Simms Continuing his argument. Now, when I pastored in Jacksonville you oughta see what kinda jails they got there.⁠ ⁠… Lounger White folks needs jails. We colored folks don’t need no jail. Another Villager Yes, we do, too. Elder Simms is right.⁠ ⁠… The argument becomes a hubbub of voices. Taylor Putting down his basket. Now, I tell you a jail.⁠ ⁠… Mrs. Taylor Emerging from the store door, arms full of groceries, looking at her husband. Yeah, and if you don’t shut up and git these rations home I’m gonna be worse on you than a jail and six judges. Pickup that basket and let’s go. Tony meekly picks up the basket and he and his wife exit as the sound of an approaching guitar is heard off stage. Two carelessly dressed, happy-go-lucky fellows enter together. One is fingering a guitar without playing any particular tune, and the other has his hat cocked over his eyes in a burlesque, dude-like manner. There are casual greetings. Walter Hey, there, bums, how’s tricks? Lige What yo’ sayin’, boys? Hambo Good evenin’ sons. Lige How did you-all make out this evenin’, boys? Jim Oh, them white folks at the party shelled out right well. Kept Dave busy pickin’ it up. How much did we make today, Dave? Dave Striking his pocket. I don’t know, boy, but feels right heavy here. Kept me pickin’ up money just like this.⁠ ⁠… As Jim picks a few dance chords, Dave gives a dance imitation of how he picked up the coins from the ground as the white folks threw them. We count it after while. Woulda divided up with you already if you hadn’t left me when you seen Daisy comin’ by. Let’s sit down on the porch and rest now. Lige She sho is lookin’ stylish and pretty since she come back with her white folks from up North. Wearin’ the swellest clothes. And that coal-black hair of hers jus’ won’t quit. Mattie Clark In