Daddy never did force all the hobos out of Red River. He didn’t take down the Hooverville, either. What he did, though, was talk to all the men and tell them to steer clear of the kids in town.
When Mama asked him about Eddie, Daddy said he didn’t find him around. Folks that knew of him said he must have moved on.
Still, Mama decided that I wasn’t allowed to wander around by myself until Daddy had found Eddie and sent him to California with a swift kick to the rear.
“Take your sister with you,” Mama said to me, keeping her focus on the socks she was mending.
I glanced out the big front window. Ray was still standing on the porch, waiting to hear what Mama would say about me going for a walk with him.
“I’d be with Ray,” I said. “He would never let anything happen to me.”
Mama raised one eyebrow and pulled her stitch through, tying it off at the end.
“Take your sister.” The tone in her voice told me I’d better mind or else. “She could use a little walk, anyhow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I tried not to sound too disappointed.
When I stepped out on the porch with Beanie behind me, Ray scowled.
“Mama said we have to take her with us.” I shrugged.
“I guess that’s all right just so she don’t do nothing to cause trouble.” Ray looked at Beanie. “You gotta stick with us, got it? No running off.”
Beanie’s nod seemed to satisfy Ray.
I knew why Ray wanted to get away from town. It was the day the relief truck came, and he never wanted to be around to see it.
I couldn’t hardly blame him.
President Roosevelt sent his men with flatbeds full of food to Red River every so often. Daddy had told me those trucks went to just about every town in the U.S. of A. I didn’t care if it went to Egypt. I was just glad it came to our town.
I’d heard from Meemaw that the bundles on the truck were of flour and beans and cooking lard. Sometimes the men would bring a little meat for all the folks. She said there was never sugar, though. I had half a mind to write to good old President Roosevelt about that.
I just had to believe he would write back, attaching the note to a crate full of sugar—enough to last a good year. The note would say, “Enjoy the shug-ah.”
Ray hated to be home when the relief trucks came. He said it made his mother cry and his father mean. Daddy told me that most of the men in town were shamed to death to take the charity. And the women were embarrassed for the sake of their husbands. Daddy had said that, if it had just been grown-ups, most of the people in our town would have let themselves starve. But they took the relief to keep their kids fed.
A man could make himself die of hunger to save his pride, Daddy had said. He was less like to do so when it was his kids with the empty bellies.
When the three of us—Beanie, Ray, and I—stepped off the porch, I noticed the old bucket on the ground. Ray picked it up by the handle and carried it as he walked.
It was already half full of dried-out, sun-bleached cow patties.
Ray walked in the direction of the old, empty pastures. I rolled my eyes, knowing that he wanted me to help him fill his bucket to the brim with crumbling cow turds.
Mrs. Jones used them to heat their dugout. Sometimes she even cooked over them. It seemed a dirty thing to have to do, and I hated that anybody found a need for it.
I decided I’d write about that in my letter to the president.
We made it all the way to one of the old pastures, and Ray hopped over the fence. I put one foot on the old wood and pushed myself up, hoping it wouldn’t crumble under my weight. Turning to see if Beanie was behind me, I squinted against the dust in the air. She was a few yards back.
“Come on, Beanie,” I called, looping my leg around the top rung of the fence.
She shook her head, wild hair brushing against her shoulders.
“Mama said you had to stick with Ray and me.” I put my hands on my hips, swaying in order to balance myself. “Now, come on.”
On a normal day, I would have moved along and let her find her own way home. She might have had it in her mind to stay put in that one spot all day long, to dig in the dirt and watch the clouds sail over. I didn’t need Mama getting mad at me, though.
“Come on,” I hollered a little more angry than I should have. I didn’t like the way my voice sounded so mean.
Ray’s bucket clanked on the hard ground. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Don’t know.” I turned from my sister for no more than a second so I could climb down. When I turned back, she had started running the opposite way from us. The way she took off, I wasn’t sure she’d thought ahead to where she was going.
My sister might not have been the smartest person I knew, but she sure was fast.
I used the kind of words ranch hands would have said. Ray didn’t hear me, so I repeated them for his benefit.
“She’s going for the Hooverville,” Ray yelled, running right past me, leaving his bucket behind.
Ray and I ran after Beanie along the shore of what had once been the Red River. Now it was nothing more than a scar in the earth. Once, long before I was born, a wide line of water rushed through. They’d put the railroad tracks running right alongside it. When the rain stopped wetting the land, the river dried up. That was when a lot of the troubles began.
Dusters had blown a dune up against a barbed-wire fence, and Beanie stumbled her way up the mound with Ray not too far behind.
With my shoes on, I couldn’t work my toes into the dirt to gain a hold. All I could do was slide back down once I got a foot or so up. Over and over this happened, draining my energy.
“Ray,” I hollered only to get a mouthful of dirt. “I can’t get over.”
He’d already hopped down on the other side. I wished he would have waited just a few seconds for me. I thought about all the names I could call him. Names Meemaw would have blushed at and Mama would have washed my mouth out with soap for. I didn’t say any of them, though, because I remembered that his baby sister had died. I figured I should be more charitable than that.
Scrambling and digging into the dirt with the toe of my shoes, I finally got up to the top and jumped down right next to Ray. He nudged me with his elbow. I let him know it hurt and rubbed it with my hand, deciding not to push him back for the same reason I didn’t call him a name.
“Look,” he whispered.
Dingy canvases made roofs that hung over old pallets and mattresses. Folks I’d never seen before sat in the shade of their makeshift tents. One woman held a baby against her breast, her blouse pulled up just so. I couldn’t see much of her skin, and I was thankful for that. A couple kids stared at Ray and me, their eyes tired and faces filthy.
As dirty as Ray was, he was nothing close to as grimy as some of the kids in the Hooverville.
Ray dug at the dust with his bare toes and looked off to where the tents made zigzagging rows. A kid tossed a handful of dirt in the air and let it fall atop his head.
“I don’t see her.” Ray narrowed his eyes. The sun had gotten so bright it cast a glare on just about everything.
It wouldn’t have done a bit of good to cry, and I knew it, even though I wanted to. I choked the urge back. Especially when Ray touched my hand.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll find her.”
“What’s that smell?” I whispered, hoping nobody but Ray could hear my question.
Ray just shrugged his shoulders.
It smelled like they’d been using the whole camp as an outhouse. Nobody had gotten around to putting one up, probably because they only fixed on staying a few nights before leaving again.
Goodness, but did they need to do something about that smell. A body couldn’t live among that too long without getting downright sick. I wondered what Mama thought about it. It wasn’t like her to not throw a fit about something like that.
I was sure she’d think of some way to clean it up. I knew she didn’t want all of Red River smelling like a barnyard.
As for me, I was glad I’d worn my shoes that day.
Ray and I wove our way around tents and rusted-out cars until we found Beanie. She sat on the ground, playing with a toddling child. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. All it had on was a filth-stained diaper and nothing else.
Whatever it may have been, it was laughing at the faces Beanie made. Big and wide smiles and air-filled cheeks. Crossed eyes and stuck-out tongue. I couldn’t remember seeing her act like that before.
A man sat on a pallet under the tent nearby, watching the two, his stubbly face droopy and sun-burned. He nodded at Ray and me.
“Howdy,” he muttered.
Ray greeted him back.
“Beanie.” I marched right up to her. Mad as I was, I pulled on her arm and didn’t hide my temper. “You can’t run away like that.”
She didn’t take her eyes off the baby, but she yanked her arm away from me.
“I found her,” she said, reaching for the child who didn’t come to her. “I seen her and knowed it was her.”
“Who?” I squinted at the baby, trying to recognize its face.
“Baby Rosie.” Beanie beamed. “She went away, and now I found her.”
Ray made a sound behind us, one that was almost like choking or coughing or both.
“That isn’t Baby Rosie,” I said. Then I made my voice a lot quieter so only she’d hear me. “You remember? Baby Rosie died.”
“No.” She shook her head hard. “No. No. No. I found her. She’s right there.”
“Something wrong with that girl?” the man asked from his pallet. He pushed the greasy hair off his forehead and stood, unsteady.
“She’s all right. Just a little slow is all.” I touched Beanie’s shoulder. “Come on. We best get home.”
Beanie snatched the baby, holding it close to herself. I knew she hadn’t hurt it, just startled it. The baby wailed and struggled, afraid of Beanie.
“Put him down, hear?” the man said from where he stood. “Let him go.”
“She ain’t sick no more,” Beanie said, still holding on tight.
“You let go of him.” The man rushed over, putting his hands on Beanie, pulling on her arms. “Leave him be.”
“She’s got to go home to her mama. Her mama misses her.” Beanie fought against the man, trying to move away from his grabbing hands. “You ain’t got a right to keep her away from her mama.”
Ray dropped to his knees next to Beanie.
“Let me try,” he said to the man.
The man took a step back but still within reach, his face still bothered.
Ray put his hands on Beanie’s shoulders and got his face close up to hers.
“Beanie, simmer down a little, okay?” He blinked a tear from his eyelashes. “Can you look at me?”
Beanie didn’t loosen her grip on the baby, but she stopped jostling him.
“That ain’t Baby Rosie.” Ray swallowed hard. “That’s a baby boy you got. Do you remember? Baby Rosie was a girl.”
“This ain’t a boy,” Beanie said.
“This baby is. His daddy over there said so.” Ray kept his voice calm. “See him standing over there?”
Beanie looked at the man and then back at the baby.
“And Rosie had red hair.” Ray touched the baby’s blond curls. “See, it ain’t Rosie.”
“But I thought …” She trailed off.
“I know. You tried to do good.” Ray moved his hands under the baby’s armpits. “Can I get this boy back to his daddy? His daddy loves him just as much as we all loved Rosie. Do you understand? We gotta give this baby back.”
Beanie released the boy to Ray.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look at the man, but I knew she was talking to him. “I just thought …”
“No hurt done.” The man took the boy and patted his back. “He’ll be fine.”
Ray walked off a bit by himself. Every few steps he’d wipe at his face with the back of his hand. He was headed for the spot where we had climbed over to chase Beanie.
“Come on,” I said to my sister. “We’d better catch up to Ray.”
“Wouldn’t if I were you,” the man said, lowering the boy back to the ground. “Man needs time. ’Specially when he’s got that look in his eyes. I don’t know what that boy’s going through, but he needs him a little time to be alone.”
Beanie touched the dust, scooping it up in her hands and letting it sift through her fingers. She had little tears dropping fast from her eyes to the dirt, making beads of mud.
“She gonna be all right?” The man nodded at Beanie.
“Sure she is.” I touched my sister’s head, smoothing the frizzy hair.
The baby wobbled over and stood in front of Beanie. He stuffed most of his hand into his mouth and stared at her. She didn’t wipe off her face but looked at him and pulled her lips into a funny line. He gave a big, from-the-belly baby laugh.
“Seems Joshua’s forgave her.” The man squatted. “I don’t mind letting them play a spell.”
“Thank you, mister.” I kneeled in the dirt. “It’ll do her some good.”
After a little while, Joshua finished with their play and needed a rest. The day wasn’t too hot, being October, still I could tell it was nearing time for us to go home for the middle-of-the-day meal. We said our good-byes, and Beanie kissed the baby on his forehead and hands.
The man didn’t act too nervous about it.
Neither of us talked while we headed out of the camp and over the dune. It was easier to climb it from that side, and I was glad for it.
Once we climbed over, Beanie grabbed for my hand.
She held it all the way back home.
My sister didn’t eat any dinner. She went to bed and slept all the way through the day and night until the next morning. It worried Meemaw something terrible.
I never told Mama or Daddy about Little Joshua or Beanie’s fit. It was her story to tell, and she did hold onto it.
We never talked about it again.
A lot that happened that year and into the next never earned a discussion.
Mostly, it was because we found it all too hard to speak of.