my head. He reached behind his seat and retrieved my money and bag, handed them both to me, and asked, “Did you make all dat money selling dem little papers?”
“Not all of it. Mrs. Blossom gave me thirteen of the nickels.”
“Why did Mrs. Blossom give you so much money?”
I told him the story about the pay envelopes and he asked, “Did she ever do dat before?”
“No. Never did.”
“I reckon she just feeling sorry for you.”
“What for?”
“Can you keep a secret? Remember, I’m keeping yours.”
I had counted my nickels and was redepositing them into my watch pocket when I answered, “Yeah, I sure can.”
“She was feeling sorry for you because yo’ daddy is gon’ lose his job soon.”
This was bad news because I could remember my father being out of work before and I knew how we had suffered. I thought about it for a few moments and then asked, “Why would my daddy lose his job? He works real hard.”
“He does dat, but dat’s not the problem. The problem is dat Mr. Blossom is gonna shut dis sawmill down and move to Mobile and go into de wholesale lumber business.”
“How you know?”
“’Cause I work for Mr. Blossom and he told me.”
“You work here at the sawmill too?”
“Yep, started dis week.”
Now I knew why there were thirteen pay envelopes this morning, but my curiosity prompted more questions. “Where do you live?”
“Right here, in dis old tar paper shack.”
“I thought that’s where they keep the drums of fuel to run the sawmill?”
“It is, but I rearranged dem and made room for a cot Mrs. Blossom gave me. I does my cooking right here. I never run out of hot coals.”
“How did you come to work for Mr. Blossom?”
“I was working east of here, over in Greensboro at de planing mill and I ran into him. He told me about dis job and since I’m working my way west, I just rode over here wid him.”
“How far west you going, Mississippi?”
“Shoot, boy, it’s just a few miles to de Mississippi state line. I’m going a lot farther dan dat. I’m going all de way to California!”
That sounded faraway to me since I had never been farther than twenty miles away from home. My brothers told me we had traveled all the way down to Mobile once, but I had been too little to remember. They also told me our father had worked there building ships during the world war, but I only remembered him sharecropping some land and working off and on at the sawmill.
Jake broke my train of thought when he asked, “How old is you?”
“I’m almost twelve.”
“’Spect you’ll be going back to school dis fall?”
“I guess so, unless I can figure a way out of it.”
“Hey, you listens and listens to me good. You go to school as long as you possibly can, den go some more.”
“How come Mr. Blossom’s going to close the sawmill?”
“He says he ain’t making no money ’cause de cost of fuel has gone up. I think it’s really because Mrs. Blossom don’t like living out here in de middle of nowhere, but it ain’t really none of my concern.”
“When’s he gonna close it?”
“In a few weeks.”
This was more bad news. That would be just about the time my mother would need money to order us shoes and clothes for school and the winter. And where would we get the money to buy lunch at school? On school days she gave each of us fifteen cents every morning for our lunch. I started trying to figure out how much that would be a week for all three of us.
Jake interrupted my ciphering when he said, “Don’t you be worrying yo’ young head about dis old sawmill shutting down. Yo’ daddy will find something to do. Say, you want to sell one of dem Grit papers, or do you already have dem sold?”
My spirits leaped. I was going to make another nickel. “No, I got six of them left,” I said as I eagerly reached into my bag.
I watched as he pulled a leather purse with metal clasps from the bib pocket of his overalls and open it, then I was stunned when he said, “I’ll take all six of ’em.”
I stared at him for a moment before I asked, “What for? They all say the same thing.”
“Oh, I’ll read one of dem, and den I’ll have another use for it, along with the others.”
I didn’t ask any questions. I just handed him the papers, accepted the quarter and the nickel he gave me, and placed them into my watch pocket along with the rest of my fortune, totaling eighty-five cents.
I glanced at the sun and knew I should be heading toward home because it was already close to supper time, but I had decided I liked Jake and I wanted to talk to him some more. So I asked, “What do you do here by yourself?”
“I read books, tell stories, play cards, and pick my guitar.”
“Who do you tell stories to?”
“Myself.”
“Who do you play cards with?”
“Myself.”
“Will you teach me how to play cards?”
“No way. Yo’ momma would skin me alive. But I will tell you some stories. Not today though. It’s getting late and you ought to be heading home.”
“I guess you’ll be heading west when the sawmill closes?”
“Not right away. Mr. Blossom’s gon’ pay me to stay until all de parts are sold and moved away. By den I’ll have me a pretty good stake, den I’ll head west.”
“Well, I guess I better get going. Can I bring you a Grit paper next Saturday?”
“You sho can. And you can stop by here anytime you’re around after everything has shut down for de day. I’ll tell you some good stories.”
I got up from the ground where I had been sitting, brushed off the seat of my pants and said, “I’m glad I met you, Jake, and thank you for buying my papers.”
“I’m glad we met, too, Ted. Remember to keep our secret ’cause it won’t do no good for nobody to know about dis old sawmill closing. Now you just walk straight up to de road instead of sneaking through dem woods. If anybody sees you, we’ll
