me.”
“Bones, you do love your stories, don’t you?” Mama scrunched down and settled herself on the seat before she began. “When you were born, you weren’t much bigger than a puppy with its eyes still closed. For a solid week at the Melbourne hospital, the doctors tried their best to get milk or any kind of nourishment into your tiny body. They finally gave up and told me and your daddy to just take you home and enjoy the short time we would have with you. I cried so much, I felt like an empty bucket.”
Mama placed her hand, soft as a feather, on my head as she continued. “We wrapped you up in a blanket and got in the truck, and Nolay drove us straight to Cat Island. The moment I placed your little body in Grandma Spot’s arms, she peeled the blanket away and ran her hands all over your body. She started saying, ‘Bones, precious little bones.’ She had some different herbs and powders brought to her, and for three days and three nights she kept you right there next to her. You never left her side. She would dip her fingertip into the herb-and-powder mixture and put it in your mouth; she whispered words that only the two of you could understand. Then she would rub her hands over you and say, ‘Bones, precious little bones.’ It wasn’t long before your eyes had a sparkle to them and you were sucking from a baby bottle.”
“I like that story, Mama. Sometimes at school I get teased about my name, but it don’t matter, because I know how special it is.”
“It is a special name given to you by a special person. Precious Bones. At first I wanted to call you Precious, but Bones just sort of took over.”
Exhausted from the long day, I laid my head in Mama’s lap and let the steady hum of the Champion’s engine lull me to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of unfamiliar voices. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Darkness had already covered over the day. The only light was the moon’s long silver shadows. We were parked in front of the Last Chance gaspumps; Nolay stood outside, filling up the Champion’s hungry tank.
I looked into the dimness and made out the massive frame of Sheriff LeRoy Hasket as he leaned against the side of the car, facing Nolay. Hanging from the thick leather belt wrapped around his broad waist were a set of handcuffs, a flashlight, a collection of keys on a metal ring, and an enormous black-handled .357 Magnum pistol.
I recognized the pistol because Sheriff LeRoy let me and Little Man hold it one time. It was almost as heavy as a sawed-off shotgun. The sheriff had told us how valuable it was, and I could tell from his voice how much he treasured it.
Little Man had said Sheriff LeRoy was like a walking jukebox. Every step he took was accompanied by the squeak of leather, clinking of metal, and jingling of keys.
Sheriff LeRoy spoke in his slow, steady voice. “That’s a mighty fine vehicle you got there. Fishing must be good.”
“Yep, there’s a lot of fish jumpin’,” Nolay said.
“I heard you had a little disturbance with a couple of Yankee boys out at your place. Last week one of ’em stopped by my office to report his partner missing. Told me they had drove out to your place and you attacked ’em and run ’em off with a gun.”
“Durn it, LeRoy, that was nearly two weeks ago them Yankees came out to my place. Never even got out of their car. How come they’re only telling you about it now? They’re just troublemakers.”
“Now, like I said, there was only one of ’em, and he was reportin’ his partner missing.” LeRoy shifted his body andfolded his arms across his chest. “You do know that all that turned up of that Yankee was one of his legs?”
“I heard that.”
LeRoy leaned down and looked inside the car. “In fact, little Miss Bones and her friend was the ones that found that leg. Right out in back of your land.”
“LeRoy, we know good and well that’s what happened. So what?”
“Well, sir, seems like the rest of ’im got found.
“Bones, you do love your stories, don’t you?” Mama scrunched down and settled herself on the seat before she began. “When you were born, you weren’t much bigger than a puppy with its eyes still closed. For a solid week at the Melbourne hospital, the doctors tried their best to get milk or any kind of nourishment into your tiny body. They finally gave up and told me and your daddy to just take you home and enjoy the short time we would have with you. I cried so much, I felt like an empty bucket.”
Mama placed her hand, soft as a feather, on my head as she continued. “We wrapped you up in a blanket and got in the truck, and Nolay drove us straight to Cat Island. The moment I placed your little body in Grandma Spot’s arms, she peeled the blanket away and ran her hands all over your body. She started saying, ‘Bones, precious little bones.’ She had some different herbs and powders brought to her, and for three days and three nights she kept you right there next to her. You never left her side. She would dip her fingertip into the herb-and-powder mixture and put it in your mouth; she whispered words that only the two of you could understand. Then she would rub her hands over you and say, ‘Bones, precious little bones.’ It wasn’t long before your eyes had a sparkle to them and you were sucking from a baby bottle.”
“I like that story, Mama. Sometimes at school I get teased about my name, but it don’t matter, because I know how special it is.”
“It is a special name given to you by a special person. Precious Bones. At first I wanted to call you Precious, but Bones just sort of took over.”
Exhausted from the long day, I laid my head in Mama’s lap and let the steady hum of the Champion’s engine lull me to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of unfamiliar voices. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Darkness had already covered over the day. The only light was the moon’s long silver shadows. We were parked in front of the Last Chance gaspumps; Nolay stood outside, filling up the Champion’s hungry tank.
I looked into the dimness and made out the massive frame of Sheriff LeRoy Hasket as he leaned against the side of the car, facing Nolay. Hanging from the thick leather belt wrapped around his broad waist were a set of handcuffs, a flashlight, a collection of keys on a metal ring, and an enormous black-handled .357 Magnum pistol.
I recognized the pistol because Sheriff LeRoy let me and Little Man hold it one time. It was almost as heavy as a sawed-off shotgun. The sheriff had told us how valuable it was, and I could tell from his voice how much he treasured it.
Little Man had said Sheriff LeRoy was like a walking jukebox. Every step he took was accompanied by the squeak of leather, clinking of metal, and jingling of keys.
Sheriff LeRoy spoke in his slow, steady voice. “That’s a mighty fine vehicle you got there. Fishing must be good.”
“Yep, there’s a lot of fish jumpin’,” Nolay said.
“I heard you had a little disturbance with a couple of Yankee boys out at your place. Last week one of ’em stopped by my office to report his partner missing. Told me they had drove out to your place and you attacked ’em and run ’em off with a gun.”
“Durn it, LeRoy, that was nearly two weeks ago them Yankees came out to my place. Never even got out of their car. How come they’re only telling you about it now? They’re just troublemakers.”
“Now, like I said, there was only one of ’em, and he was reportin’ his partner missing.” LeRoy shifted his body andfolded his arms across his chest. “You do know that all that turned up of that Yankee was one of his legs?”
“I heard that.”
LeRoy leaned down and looked inside the car. “In fact, little Miss Bones and her friend was the ones that found that leg. Right out in back of your land.”
“LeRoy, we know good and well that’s what happened. So what?”
“Well, sir, seems like the rest of ’im got found.
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