lean body standing stiff against the wall— leathery, shrunken; pleated features under a gray layer of dust. The eyes were closed, but someone had painted bright staring pupils on the lids. For some reason, that seemed to give real life to the thing, and make it more than something that had been dead and dried out for a long time.
Howie jumped when the short man pulled the blankets aside. He glared at Howie, then at Carolee . "Listen, you're gonna have to get her out of here."
"I haven't got to see nothing yet!" Howie protested.
"Out," said the man. He threw a finger over his shoulder and held the blanket aside. Howie jerked his sister to her feet.
"You went and ruined it," he said harshly, "I hope you're good an' happy!" She pulled away and he wrenched her back, hard enough to hurt. Carolee screamed and broke for the door. Howie's mother scooped her up and gave him a questioning frown.
"Howie pulled my arm and broke it!" Carolee sobbed. "I didn't do nothing," said Howie.
"Son, did you hurt your sister?" asked Papa.
"I didn't do nothing," Howie repeated. He stuck out his chin to Carolee . " She made such a fuss the man threw us right out an' I didn't even get to see the nigger."
Howie's mother soothed Carolee and rocked her gently. "See, Milo?" She looked at her husband through a dark veil of hair. "I said it wasn't something for a girl to see. You just wouldn't pay any mind. She'll have dreams, now, and be up all night."
"Not 'less you tell her she will," Papa muttered. "Let's get on and out of the street. We come to the fair to have fun an' by God we're going to do just that!"
Later, he asked Howie, "Well, what'd you think? About the nigger?"
"I don't know, Papa. It was all shriveled and funny looking. And black." He looked up at his father. "Why's it all black?"
Papa shrugged. "I reckon that's what color they was." "Why?"
"Don't know, boy. They just was."
"You ever see one? I mean, live?"
Papa laughed. " Godamn , boy that was all 'fore the War . Your daddy's not that old." He pushed Howie forward and announced they could have sweets if they wanted—red sugar candy or the big loops of blackgum , whichever.
There was more to see than Howie had even imagined. The town was crowded with people. Papa said some had come from as far as High River and across the Ridge at Calliesville and Newpack . Even if there hadn't been a fair, Howie decided, there was plenty to look at. Bluevale's main street was lined with wooden stores, some with another floor stacked on top of the first. And all had been freshly colored in reds, greens, yellows, and bright blues. Howie wanted to stop and look at each one. He hadn't realized you could get paint in anything but white.
There were booths and stalls everywhere. They sold metal knives, and bright clay dishes that had been colored and glazed until they shined brightly in the spring sun. There were strips of glass buttons, bolts of patterned cloth, and a hundred things Howie couldn't even put a name to. Papa bought his mother a fine set of bone and wood forks and spoons, though she flushed and lowered her dark eyes and said she wouldn't know what to do with something that fancy. Papa just laughed his big laugh and said she'd surely figure some way to show them off right.
There were smells Howie had never smelled before. Pepper, cinnamon, thyme, and sage. There were booths offering fresh fruit pies and red candied apples and small cakes with white sugar on top. It made his mouth water just to walk by, but he didn't ask Papa to stop. Carolee , though, wanted one of everything.
Toward noon, his mother took Carolee back to the inn for a nap. This pleased Howie greatly, though he was careful not to show it. Papa was relieved too, he was sure, but he kept his face just as straight as Howie's. Little sisters were all right, as far as they went. But they cried a lot and got tired easy and were always in the way when there were men things to do.
Howie was proud to walk down the long
Howie jumped when the short man pulled the blankets aside. He glared at Howie, then at Carolee . "Listen, you're gonna have to get her out of here."
"I haven't got to see nothing yet!" Howie protested.
"Out," said the man. He threw a finger over his shoulder and held the blanket aside. Howie jerked his sister to her feet.
"You went and ruined it," he said harshly, "I hope you're good an' happy!" She pulled away and he wrenched her back, hard enough to hurt. Carolee screamed and broke for the door. Howie's mother scooped her up and gave him a questioning frown.
"Howie pulled my arm and broke it!" Carolee sobbed. "I didn't do nothing," said Howie.
"Son, did you hurt your sister?" asked Papa.
"I didn't do nothing," Howie repeated. He stuck out his chin to Carolee . " She made such a fuss the man threw us right out an' I didn't even get to see the nigger."
Howie's mother soothed Carolee and rocked her gently. "See, Milo?" She looked at her husband through a dark veil of hair. "I said it wasn't something for a girl to see. You just wouldn't pay any mind. She'll have dreams, now, and be up all night."
"Not 'less you tell her she will," Papa muttered. "Let's get on and out of the street. We come to the fair to have fun an' by God we're going to do just that!"
Later, he asked Howie, "Well, what'd you think? About the nigger?"
"I don't know, Papa. It was all shriveled and funny looking. And black." He looked up at his father. "Why's it all black?"
Papa shrugged. "I reckon that's what color they was." "Why?"
"Don't know, boy. They just was."
"You ever see one? I mean, live?"
Papa laughed. " Godamn , boy that was all 'fore the War . Your daddy's not that old." He pushed Howie forward and announced they could have sweets if they wanted—red sugar candy or the big loops of blackgum , whichever.
There was more to see than Howie had even imagined. The town was crowded with people. Papa said some had come from as far as High River and across the Ridge at Calliesville and Newpack . Even if there hadn't been a fair, Howie decided, there was plenty to look at. Bluevale's main street was lined with wooden stores, some with another floor stacked on top of the first. And all had been freshly colored in reds, greens, yellows, and bright blues. Howie wanted to stop and look at each one. He hadn't realized you could get paint in anything but white.
There were booths and stalls everywhere. They sold metal knives, and bright clay dishes that had been colored and glazed until they shined brightly in the spring sun. There were strips of glass buttons, bolts of patterned cloth, and a hundred things Howie couldn't even put a name to. Papa bought his mother a fine set of bone and wood forks and spoons, though she flushed and lowered her dark eyes and said she wouldn't know what to do with something that fancy. Papa just laughed his big laugh and said she'd surely figure some way to show them off right.
There were smells Howie had never smelled before. Pepper, cinnamon, thyme, and sage. There were booths offering fresh fruit pies and red candied apples and small cakes with white sugar on top. It made his mouth water just to walk by, but he didn't ask Papa to stop. Carolee , though, wanted one of everything.
Toward noon, his mother took Carolee back to the inn for a nap. This pleased Howie greatly, though he was careful not to show it. Papa was relieved too, he was sure, but he kept his face just as straight as Howie's. Little sisters were all right, as far as they went. But they cried a lot and got tired easy and were always in the way when there were men things to do.
Howie was proud to walk down the long
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