I been called lots of things. Hey Gal. You There. Lancaster’s Linda.

Roxy call me Hey Gal—but not for long. I took Boykins right off her big front porch, the tragedy happened, and not even Boykins could walk through the fire. I thought about Old Woman. Was there a leaf for this?

Roxy build a church to honor her dead father. Pretty church. Small though, just ten chairs and a tree stump placed in front that Reverend ole Harriston preach from and another small room in the back where he sleep. Kids swing from the redbud tree out back. Roxy plant Butterfly Weed and Evening Primrose all around. She had a hand for dirt and things colored green with long roots.

My husband, Hunter, he walk away from Slidell and milk the ole cow. Finally. My babies can’t stand the sight of me.

Momma Suzie said I was easy, slid right out. Born on Glover Lancaster’s place in Chartson, Mississippi. Momma Suzie scared, Daddy Hickory wring his hands and raise his fist to God. Lancaster thought I’d stay.

Just twelve years old when I marry Hunter. Old Woman said it, “Twelve years old? Time for you to get a husband, cause Lancaster gone get you next. He let a husband break you in—Christian that-a-way. First time hurt. Least way, you be with somebody you can tolerate.”

I got a hard body from field work and walking all the way from Chartson to Slidell, Oklahoma. Short, nappy hair. Momma Suzie teach me how to cover it with pretty colored rags. I got one wart on the top of my lip. People hate to look at Momma Suzie. Warts cover her whole face. She just plain scared. Lancaster come around, them warts flare up don’t never go away. Only thing I got from Momma Suzie is this one wart. She can keep her scared.

When I was wee little, Lancaster lay on top of Momma Suzie, grunting. Momma Suzie reach her face around, look at me through the dark. She do lip signs so Lancaster can’t hear. Make motions with her hands, want me to go outside with Daddy Hickory. I just sit there in the corner from where I scooted when Lancaster come in and Daddy Hickory got to go out. I look at the bottom of Lancaster’s pasty feet. I stay and see what this is.

After that I ask Old Woman and that’s when she say, “Lancaster gone get you next.”

Poor Daddy Hickory. Mumble all the time. “What kind a husband can I be? What kind of father?” He raise he fist to God.

Mama Suzie say, “Hickory, leave the good Lord alone. Save it for important.”

Daddy Hickory just mumble, “Ain’t this important?”

I watch the runners. Some come back. Some don’t. Hunter do, Lancaster’s dogs biting at his feet. He tell me about the rivers, streams and mountains ‘cause I don’t know what’s out there. I don’t know where I am. He tell me about the great migration, about free Oklahoma land.
Hunter say, “Lancaster is a liar. I do believe we the only ones still chained. It’s 1869.”

“What that mean,” I say, “1869?”

“It mean Lancaster is a liar. Things is different. People like us is doing things.”

I tell Hunter, “Marry me before Lancaster get me. We have us some babies, join the people doing things, find this free Oklahoma land.”

Hunter smile. “But you don’t know nothing about me.”

“Tell me then,” I say.

Hunter back down. “I am who I am. Get up in the morning. Work. Go to sleep at night. I’ll tell you nothing else.”

But I keep on. “So what you say. Marry me?”

“I’m old Linda. About fifty years. Now great thunderation, what a twelve year old girl want with a old man?”

“Break me in old man. You’ll see. Sit with me and watch the sun set, all the reds and oranges melting down. I want to change like that. My will, so nobody can tell me what to do, how to be, what’s good, what ain’t. I hate the bottom of Lancaster’s pasty feet. I figure you and me get married, start us a family, we change like the colors on the setting sun.”

Hunter love the way I sing and I sing LOUD! In the field a planting and a chopping. I make up songs too, love songs like oh the orange drips down from the sun, beauty on top of the mountain, looking at the sunset, the orange sun melting over Chartson, my love will find me, find me, find me.

Miss ole Lancaster hear me sing, she want me to come in.

“Come into the parlor Linda. Sing for my quilting bee after prayer.”

Them old ladies pray like tomorrow never come. Pray slow. Just be a begging God. If I be God, I say, hurry on up, I ain’t got all day! Here they go. . .

“Thank you Lord for this great day, these capable hands, this beautiful fabric, this wonderful food prepared by this good woman Mrs. Lancaster. We thank you for the safe trip here and pray for a safe trip back to our homes and families. We thank you for our abundance, and for this fellowship, one with the other.”

Then they sing some ole tired song: “Honor, thanks, and praise, Pray we, gracious God, to thee; Thou, in thine abundant grace, Givest us the victory.”

Miss ole Lancaster say, “Sing now Linda.”

So I stand up real tall and in my loudest voice I sing, looking at the sunset, the orange sun melting over Chartson, my love. . .”

Miss ole Lancaster clap her hands once. “Linda! That will be E-nough!”

I take a bow and leave.

They sing about victory. My victory gone be the great migration. I can taste it. One day, I’m a be gone.

Every now and again I take a smoke from Daddy Hickory’s pipe. Me and him sit outside on a evening, he teach me how to whittle. I carve little toys, farm animals, dolls. Things come to me so I make sharp sticks, then turn them sharp sticks into knives. Carry my knives with me, under my hair rags and tied to the inside of my dress. My secret for walking on to Oklahoma.

I do believe in God, but like Old Woman. Seen her lay flat out on the ground.

“What you doing Old Woman?”

“Honoring the rainbow child. The sun, the moon, the stars, the rainbow. This is God.”

I kinda know that to be true and called on that God when I walked all by myself to Slidell, Oklahoma.

Clair and Minnie born nine months after Hunter break me in. Old Woman said it, “Linda, you carrying two.”

We timed it just right. Lancaster come look at my babies, see if they belong to him.

“How’s that feel Lancaster,” I say, “these Hunter’s children.”

Hunter say my mouth too bold, say one day I might say the wrong thing to the wrong person, cause see the first children of a union suppose to belong to Lancaster. Hunter still a little bit scared. I ain’t no way scared.

Minnie got grey eyes like Hunter. Clair got a wart on the back of her neck. Hunter take Clair and Minnie outside when Lancaster come a calling on me. Poor Hunter. That be the worse thing, I do believe, he ever had to do. Well. It is a shame.

Soon as my babies stop nursing, Old Woman give me the leaves. “Chew on this Linda. Fix Lancaster for good, he jump out quick, never bother you no more.”

Them leaves dry me up like a old prune, like Miss ole Lancaster’s pinched up face, like a snail been caught in a hot afternoon sun. Lancaster come a calling. Hunter take my babies outside.

Lancaster holler, “Feel like sandpaper in there Gal!”

Oh, he pull out pretty damn quick. Me and Hunter just a laughing. Hunter say, “Now he can call on Miss ole Lancaster. See what he can do with her.”

I run tell Old Woman how Lancaster pull out. She say, “Never double back on magic. What. Didn’t you believe?”

Then she look at me funny. “Wait one minute Linda. I got it here say you better watch out for Hunter. Beware of a man can’t talk to God about what’s inside. Your Daddy Hickory raise his fist to God. Hunter can’t do that. He might be a temporary man.”

“Any leaves for Hunter, make him raise his fist to God?”

Old Woman say, “Ain’t no leaves for that. If it was, wouldn’t be no room left, to try out the good sense God give us. What’s inside Hunter between Hunter and God.”

Me and Hunter start our planning. We decide not to travel with our babies so small cause Old Woman say, “Patience.”

We wait. Cause see the main thing is this. I didn’t have nothing. No clothes, no food, no house, no air, no nothing. It all belong to Lancaster. So my babies ten whole years old when Old Woman rub us down with them other leaves so Lancaster’s dogs can’t follow. We start out that night. We just a walking. No dogs follow. Me and Hunter laugh. We think about Lancaster. I say, “Clair and Minne won’t be looking at the bottom of Lancaster’s pasty feet that’s for damn sure.”

I sure did kiss that Old Woman good bye. Gonna miss her; she give me so much information. Momma Suzie cry and beg me to stay. I cry and beg her to leave. Daddy Hickory turn his back. I see him raise that fist to God one more time. I guess they gone die with Lancaster.

Soon the trouble start. My babies still too young. They slow us down. Me and Hunter been patient so long, we ready to run to Oklahoma. The girls get sick, feet swell, they got blisters, they tired, they cry.

Hunter say, “Thunderation Linda. I taught you everything you need to know about finding a way in God’s great outdoors. Remember safety. Better to walk at night. Go ‘head on away from us and get yourself to Oklahoma. Get set up. Me and the girls be along directly. We take our time. Open up your legs dear Linda. As you pass the great trees, rub yourself on the bark. I’ll follow. I’ll find you.”

Hunter feed my babies fruit, dandelion greens and milk from nursing nannies from a wandering herd of goat. Now that’s a man. Ain’t it? I kiss Clair and Minnie and Hunter goodbye. I walk away from them and get myself to Oklahoma. Sleep in trees during the day. Open my legs just like Hunter say and rub myself all over that tree come night and walk the whole time the moon shine above my head.

Boykins notice me soon as I hit town. Him and Reverend Harriston sitting on Roxy’s big front porch.

“Any old shacks is empty around here?” I ask Boykins cause he seem to be the one in charge.

“Landsakes,” Boykins say to Reverend Harriston. They both sit back looking down on me. Boykins chewing on a little stick, his big black hat cocked to the side. “Hey Rev,” Boykins say, “Look what the wind blew in.”

“A wayward wind. Jesus wept,” Reverend ole Harriston say to Boykins. Rev always carry his bible. He fan the pages open looking for a verse for me. “It says here in the good book about slaves obeying they masters, even until death. This one here look a little different. What you think, Boykins?” Then he raise up one fat cheek and fart. Smile with that toothless grin, them brown gums all out front.

“Think we got ourselves a wild cat, Rev, that’s what I think.” Then Boykins shift his hat to the other side. He think he in charge. He don’t know I got the best of this deal. I pretend I don’t hear what they say and ask again, “Any old shacks is empty around here?”

“Just that old shack about a mile that a way,” Boykins said. “Cost you though. I own it. Got any money?”

“I ain’t got no money, but I got me some land to sell,” I say remembering Lancaster’s pasty feet and him grunting and groaning.

One of them Oklahoma winds blew my dress up. I’m decent. It’s just that a poor woman wear cloth on the outside, not underneath. Boykins eyes get big. He slide up off that chair, take me to the shack. I glance back. Give Rev a look. Don’t want to leave him out. Cause see, I walk all the way from Chartson, Mississippi to Slidell, Oklahoma. Left my man and babies huddle up together in a cave. Rub myself raw so Hunter could smell me and find the way. I ain’t being poor and broke no more. Got all I need to make it better between my legs.

“You got a wife?” I ask Boykins on the way to the shack.

“Roxy Slidell Boykins own this town and I’m married to her,” he say.

“Good. My aim is not to come between man and wife. I know about, let no man put asunder. Borrow, that’s all I aim to do.”

Boykins take me the shack. Fixable. Like I say, I was used to Lancaster.

“You come a calling three nights a week, your choice. Just never put no money in my hand.” I notice a broke board by the front door. “When you leave, slide the money under this board. Soon, I’m a have enough to buy this old shack.”

“Hot damn,” Boykins say and throw that big black hat on the floor. He scoop it up and twirl it around his fingers. “Girl I got something for you.”

Borrowed Boykins first. Then Rev. Then the cowboys.

I hear the cowboys when they be singing at night all lonesome. I sit outside my shack and listen cause I be lonesome too. Be wondering about Hunter and my babies.

Rev is a snake if there ever be one. Way worse than Boykins. A friend just suppose to be a friend. Not Rev. He lounge around Roxy’s front porch, a drinking her beer when she go out. Roxy have to ride her horse, collect rent and give orders to the cowboys. Roxy be gone for days. When she come back, first thing she want is laudanum and Rev ole Harriston so they can lay together on the cot in the back room of the church. Now. Ain’t that a snake?

Sometimes Rev come a calling to me just for words. Got Roxy on his mind.

He say, “It’s a twixt and between thing for a woman to love two men. That’s right Linda. Roxy love us both and Boykins is my best friend. I lay with his wife. This Roxy’s money I’m about to put under your broke board. What you think about that Linda?”

I say, “Pray on it Rev.”

I didn’t think nothing could ever be no worse than Lancaster. Rev a nasty old man. Breath stink, fart. Nasty. And he a snake.

It’s just too bad about Roxy. Free woman if I ever did see. Wear her wrinkles well. Ride her big black horse without no saddle. Ride good as any cowboy. Wear a big hat and a long skirt with fringe all around. Got bad teeth though. Rev say she rub her gums with laudanum, then he rub her down with oil. What Roxy want with that stinky preacher man, I’ll never know.

Them drunk cowboys told her about me and Boykins. She look at me over her eyeglasses one day as I stroll by. Lift her glass of warm beer to me. I nod my head. We look at each other. Eye to eye.

Later she come to my house. Call me out.

“Hey gal,” Roxy say, “LaVar Boykins my husband. The one wear the big black hat I bought him. You better stay away. You ain’t nothing but a slave. Once a slave, always a slave.”

I laugh out loud. I say, “Roxy, your husband born free like you. I spec Boykins can go where he please. And look here. Best you be calling me Linda before I tell Boykins about you and ole Rev.”

Roxy reach back and clutch her throat like I choke her. She wonder how I know. But I know everything cause borrowing men got loose lips. Ain’t nothing sacred. Rev tell me everything.

Funny thing about Boykins though, he love Roxy, like none other. Shame to have that much love. Roxy, on the other hand, she greedy. She like me. She want it all.

New money spend good. By time Hunter and my babies get to Slidell, that old shack shine, got curtains in the window. Rooster crow every morning and cow pump sweet fresh milk.

I say, “Hunter, look at our new house.”

Hunter look around confused. Then I notice he ain’t confused at all. Hunter mad as hell. I think about Old Woman. She say, “Ain’t no leaves for that. What’s inside Hunter between Hunter and God.”

“Thunderation Linda,” Hunter finally say. “What’s left for a man to do?”

I look and see if Hunter shake his fist to God. He don’t. He find my broke board by the front door one day and ask me the question he already know the answer to.

He whine. “Where Linda? Where all this money come from?”

I say, “Lancaster never give me nothing for it. Now I gets paid.”

I think this is the answer to all answers and promise Hunter I’ll stop when the money pile get big enough. Funny thing about piling up money is, it don’t let you stop. Be like Old Woman hoarding pig scraps and bones for lean times. Or Lancaster can’t rest until he own all the land. And greedy Roxy. Need more love than she ever willing to give out.

That’s when the drunk cowboys talk too much and Roxy stand outside my shack and call me out my name.

“Hey Gal. Come on out and face a wife.”

I have to remind Roxy of my name, tell her what I know about her and Rev; she have to reach back and clutch her throat. Lucky for me, Hunter and my babies gone looking for rabbit. Hunter make a mean rabbit stew.

Had to start working behind Hunter’s back. Rev let me use his cot in the back room of the church.

Trouble roll in like a mighty storm. Hunter still whine, “Why Linda? Why can’t you stop?”

I wish Hunter could shake his fist to God. But he don’t. Everyday, “Why Linda, why?”

Like he don’t understand this life, our life.

I say, “What’s the difference between Boykins, the cowboys and Lancaster? I didn’t pick this life.”

Then Hunter say something I think about to this day.

“You did pick it Linda. That’s why we run. This ain’t Lancaster’s place. This new. New. Old ways don’t work here.”

“But the money piling up,” I say. “Don’t that count for nothing?”

Hunter say it flat out, “No Linda. That money don’t count for nothing. You stop, or I leave, take Clair and Minnie with me.”

My babies hear this talk. Hunter the one nurse them back to health, be kind to them, make their journey to Slidell safe. We all four sit up in that shack quiet. Nobody talk. We hear cow, “Moo.” She full of milk.

“Money make us better,” I try again.

Hunter steady and firm. “That money tearing us apart.”

Cowboys ride horses pass my house, slow up, look in the window. I wait for Hunter to snore, then tiptoe out. Take the cowboy to church. Pick some of Roxy’s Butterfly Weed on my way in. Take my pretty rags off. Put the flowers in my hair. Afterwards I sneak back home. Hunter gone. He did warn me. Stopped to milk the cow, thank God, on his way out. Clair and Minnie sitting at the table deciding.

“Where’s your daddy?” I ask. They don’t answer. Hunter give them a choice. He wait awhile by the main road. I lay down and close my eyes. Tired, tired, tired. Still got the smell of that cowboy on me. Wake up next morning, my babies gone too.

So to keep things my way, MY WAY, I get back at the world the only way I know how.

Boykins come a calling. Take his hat off. Twirl it around his fingers. I lay waiting for him on my own bed. Got wild flowers from outside my house stuck in my hair. When Boykins get done, I reach around and tell him about his precious Roxy and Rev and Roxy’s bad teeth and laudanum and how they lay together on the cot in the back room of the church. That’s when I find out about deep love.

Boykins sit up. He don’t believe what I say. His eyes wide. He reach down to the floor and scoop up his hat. Put it on his head. Sit there in my bed. Naked with his hat on. He say, “Linda. I’m just a ne’er do well, lucky that a woman like Roxy love me. Everything I got, she give me. Picked me out of many. I don’t waste time wondering why. And here I am calling on you. But that ain’t no excuse for Rev.”

Boykins dump kerosene all over that pretty little church.

“Symbolic Linda. Rev supposed to be my best friend. Have to burn the thing he stand for. Now don’t you never tell.”

I got everybody’s secrets stored in my head.

Roxy and Rev sleep on the little cot in the back room, drunk on laudanum. Boykins didn’t check. He tell me that later on, “Didn’t check Linda. Didn’t check.”

Fire big. Everybody come help, hand over hand they throw buckets of water. Last thing we hear is Roxy scream. Boykins rush back, try to walk through fire, but it’s too late. That little church burn up like fresh kindling.

Boykins wait for darkness. He sit on Roxy’s porch and sip her beer a watching the sun go down. Carry his comfortable chair to where the church was, put it under the redbud tree. Tie his belt to the strong limb. Put the other end around his neck and kick the chair away. They find him next morning. Neck broke. Hat all tangled up in the branches.

Sunset up above Slidell ain’t pretty no more. How could I long for a sun setting over Chartson, Mississippi? But I do, even though I’ll never go back. Can’t. Ain’t got my babies no more. I can hear Old Woman, “Linda. What kind of free woman is it can’t hold on to her own babies? No Linda. Ain’t no leaf for that.”

I touch the redbud tree where Boykins hung hisself every chance I get.

Just saying sorry.

I hear Roxy in my dreams.

“I am the connection. The stuff of which Linda can only sing about. Like her orange suns melting. Rev assured me there’d be no aches in paradise. All brand new, he said. But Rev is not here smiling into the face of God.

Boykins, on the other hand, rejoices as he sits with me.

I ache for Rev.

“Roxy,” Boykins says to me, “I will love you forever.” And with that black hat cocked on the side of his head, he smiles into the face of God.

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