The Blue Rose

          He was running across the fields, and thinking. These words were running along in his head. Flowers for my lady, I bring from a far. Flowers for my lady I pretend that's what these are: raggedy stems, crushed flat and borrowed from an old, straw hat. Wreathes of leaves, a wilted dandelion. . . to my lady these are beautifully divine.

          Those words kept running through his head like a song, raggedy stems, crushed flat and borrowed from an old, straw hat.

          The young boy played all that day, and the words of that song kept on worrying him as he was playing. Late that night as he was in that in between state, neither asleep, nor awake, there was another thought running through his head. I wish I had a dollar, the little boy half dreamed. When I woke up in the morning, down to Williamson, West Virginia I would go. I would walk the whole five miles to get there and the five miles back. As I was walking home, I would be carrying in my left hand a blue rose to make my Mama's eyes light up.

          Oh, God! The little boy prayed. Show me how to get that dollar, please! You don't know, do you, God, what my heart does when I see my Mama's eyes light up like that? The little boy cried. . . and he cried. Oh, how he wanted to get that blue rose for his Mama, but there wasn't a thing in his pocket, except the last stick of horehound candy he had gotten at John D. Taylor's store that morning.

          At the last there were no more tears, and the boy in him slept. He was dreaming throughout the night, of horehound candy, one of those big, old gallon jars plumb full of it, just like the one he had seen at John D. Taylor's store that very morning. He was dreaming of stick horses, cap pistols and a harmonica to call his very own. He saw a little farm with fences, sheep, a dog, Bessie, the cow, and a rooster with his chickens. You see, that is what he had always wanted, a little farm all of his own, and him a grown up man, looking over it, calling it his own.

          So he dreamed that night of the little farm. Late onto morning with the sky taking on the semblance of light, the little boy dreamed: of honeysuckle vines growing on the hillside, the huckleberry patch up a yonder way and a beautiful blue rose.

          Somewhere toward the first end of morning, he dreamed he saw a man standing over him. If he wasn't just a little bit mistaken, there was a tear or two glistening on that fellow's cheeks. As the little boy dreamed, he thought he heard the man mumble a word or two as he was reaching his hand into the pocket of the old, brown pants he was wearing. "I couldn't help but a hearing you, son. I'm sorry, boy. I didn't go to listen. These old coins are not doing me any good, son, locked up in that old locker of mine." As he pulled his hand up out of that pocket there was something shiny lying in his palm.

          He saw the man's hand coming toward him and the man spoke. "Here, son. Go on and take it. There is ninety seven cents there, son. It is all the money I have, and I want you to have it. Be careful, son, in the morning when you are walking to town, and if you come across someone who acts like they are studying on bothering you, you just tell them you are Bill Holloway's boy. There is not anyone between here and Pikeville who would turn a hand of harm to you."

          The little boy dreamed, and directly, along about when the crack came in the first end of morning, he heard the crow of a rooster. Wake up! Wake up! the rooster was saying. The boy jumped a sprawling out of his bed and was lifting his jeans to put his left foot in when he heard the jingle coming from his pocket. There was no mistaking that sound!

          Quickly, he knelt down there by his bed and put his hand anxiously into his left side pants pocket. As he began to pull his hand out of the pocket, he was looking up, and there were some words forming themselves on his lips. I thank you, Lord! he was saying, over and over.

          He pulled his hand from his pocket and there in his palm was ninety seven cents just the same as he had dreamed! He stood silently looking at the coins in his hand for a moment, not daring to touch them with his other hand, from fear they were not actually there. At the last, when the coins had not made any kind of an offer to disappear, he began to come to an understanding of just what it was he was holding in his hand.

          There in the center of his palm was a shiny fifty cent piece. Beside Mr. Franklin were three Buffalo nickels dated 1938. A silver George Washington quarter stared up at him from the year 1964. He knew this was the one his Daddy had gotten at the bank in South Williamson, Kentucky in the last year the United States Mint had used mostly silver in making them. Along side that quarter were scattered seven copper pennies, every one an Indian Head. He knew these few coins represented his Daddy's coin collection. Oh, his Daddy was so proud of those coins, taking them out all the time and showing them to people! It was in this moment that the ache he carried in his heart became too full for him to bear.

          Silent voices torn from his heart appeared in the corners of his eyes, clinging to his eyelashes stubbornly before falling away. The anguish of eight years sought to overwhelm him as the first tear splattered against the coins in his hand, shattering into a thousand other tiny voices.

          The full realization of what he held in his palm struck him at that moment. It was his Daddy's love he was holding. He held on tightly to it then. He tried desperately to be a man about it, to not allow any more tears to fall, but what he held in his hand was so precious to him, he just had to cry. It was the first time in his memory that his Daddy had told him how much he loved him.

          He closed his eyes, speaking silent words to himself, to his Daddy, to his Heavenly Father. As the last word faded from sound, he thought, After breakfast, I'll be going to get that blue rose for my Mama.

          A little later on that morning he heard his Mama a calling him in to breakfast, and he jumped scared. He didn't want anyone to see him a crying like that. He dried his eyes out and ran his hand across the floor in a corner he was a hoping his Mama had missed when she was a cleaning. He smoothed his hand across both cheeks, all the time a praying he had gathered enough dirt to hide his tears.

          "I'm a coming, Mama," he hollered.

          He opened up the door to go on into the kitchen to eat his breakfast. He could smell those good eggs his Mama knew how to make and he knew there would be some fried and browned taters he was going to smother in ketchup. He stepped into the room and sat down on the bench across from his Daddy.

          "Good morning, honey," his Mama said.

          From the corner of his right eye he saw his Daddy's stare on his face, and his Daddy spoke. "Son, I reckon you have already told your Mama that your Daddy was a sending you downt to Boyd Blackburn's today, and I know you are going to stay there all day a playing with those Blackburn boys and girls instead of coming right on home like I was a telling you to do. Son, you better hurry now, and eat your breakfast, so's you can be a getting home afore dark time. You know I ain't a wanting your Mama to be a worrying over you, come the night."

          A look passed between them then, and he saw something he hadn't ever seen before. There was a smile in both of his Daddy's eyes at the same time. His Daddy was a looking at him as if to say, I have done taken care of your Mama, son. Now, the rest of it is up to you.

          He ate his breakfast, sitting there with his family, and all that time he was thinking. He swallered that last bite of taters and stood up. "I'll be going now, Daddy. . . and Mama, never you worry about me. I'll be home afore the dark comes a floating down out of the sky."

          He kissed his Mama, turned away and walked out the back door. Down along the road he went a walking, till directly, there down ahead of him he saw the Reverend Willie Blackburn's house. . . and there, sure enough, a standing in the yard a raking leaves was Missus Anna Mae Blackburn.

          As he got a little bit closer, he saw a big, old grin a starting to come on Missus Anna Mae's face. The closer he approached, the wider that grin became, till as he was almost a passing her bridge, she up and hailed him. "Hey Jamie! I declare! I want you to come on over here and look at these leaves I'm a raking. I believe I have worked myself into a fix worsen any I have ever been in afore."

         He began to walk across the bridge, and as he walked there was a grin a working itself to birth on his own face. As he stopped in front of her, she quit a raking, said, "That boy of mine! I don't know where he has got his self off to. He ain't a bit account no how, when it comes to a raking leaves."

          "Shoo!" she said, as she brushed her hair back from her forehead. "I got me a pitcher of ice cold lemonade I was getting ready to have me a bit of. Stay, won't you, Jamie? We'll have us a glass or two of it. I have some cinnamon rolls a steaming on the oven. Will you eat a bite with me, Jamie? Hold this here rake for me, honey. I'll go on in the house and get it for us." She handed him the rake, and he stood there shyly, a holding it.

          Presently, the rusted cough of the screen door drew his eyes toward the house. As he watched, the door completed its swing and he saw Missus Anna Mae coming in his direction. A grin had settled on her face and walked slowly across it as she spoke, "That old rake you're a holding sure does look good on you, Jamie. Mama says you have you a way with leaves. Every time you rake her yard, she tells me, you are a leaving it as clean as her living room floor."

          She was a wanting him to rake her yard, he was a thinking, but she wasn't going to come right out and ask him. "Missus Anna Mae," he said then, "I reckon you wouldn't take it unkindly if I was to take this here rake I'm a holding and fix up your yard real proper-like for you, would you?"

          A satisfied twinkle appeared in her blue eyes as she looked at him and spoke, "Mama has done told me how sweet you was, too, Jamie. I'd be so pleased was you to do that for me. Come on, let's have us our lemonade and cinnamon rolls before you set yourself to worrying about those leaves."

          Reckon it wasn't gonna take him long, he thought as he watched Miss Anna Mae walk toward her house. There might be a dollar or two in it for him, he thought, if he held up his reputation for honest work. He sure would enjoy himself later on today was he able to hand that old, bald headed, Benjamin Franklin fifty cent piece back to his daddy, along with one of them little, round boxes of Copenhagen snuff. It had to be plain, old, every day snuff, though. His daddy didn't like it a bit when somebody tried to palm off some of that wintergreen flavored snuff on him.

         Naw sir, he thought, I can't be a doing nothing like that. This here is Billie Frank's mommy I am a getting ready to do a favor for. Lord help me. . . There won't be a penny a changing hands here today, I will have to find myself another way to get some replacement money.

          An hour and a half later he was standing there a watching Missus Anna Mae Blackburn get her a glimpse of just what it was he could do with a yard full of leaves. She was a talking to herself as she chewed the corner of that last cinnamon roll. "Lawd," she was a saying. "I ain't never gonna have that Ricky DeLong a raking my yard agin. Let me go on in the house, honey. I'll be back directly. I'm aiming to get you some pay, and I am gonna give you a little bonus something or another, too."

          Before he found the words he was wanting to say, she walked off. "Missus Anna Mae," he hollered after her. "Would you be a waiting a minute? I have got me a mouth full of words I am wanting to say to you." He watched as she walked back toward him. "Missus Anna Mae," he said then. "They ain't a gonna be no charge. You wouldn't go and begrudge me the doing of a favor for you, would you? Missus Anna Mae," he went on, "there is a favor I have got it in mind to ask you for. See, here in a minute when I walk across your bridge over there, I have got to be a walking down past John D.Taylor's store. I suppose as how you have heard of them big, old hound dogs of his. They are always a laying out there in that dusty road a waiting for some feller like me to come a walking by. Missus Anna Mae, I ain't especially a scared of nary a one of them, and I reckon if it come to a fair fight, I could whip the one of their choosing. There are three or four of them dogs, Missus Anna Mae, and every one of them is bigger than I am. Every time I go a walking along that road those dogs gang up on me, they ain't a bit interested in a going agin me face to face. Missus Anna Mae, if them dogs had one bit of honor amongst the lot of them, it would be the fact that they ain't nary a one of them a bit stingy when it comes to a biting a feller."

         "Missus Anna Mae, the day before yesterday them dogs knocked me down and ate the whole bag of tater chips I was a carrying home to my sisters. They don't care ifen your sisters was expecting their brother to have a gift for them. They ain't got a worry in their minds except for a filling their bellies, ain't nothing to them ifen a feller goes home empty handed. Missus Anna Mae, see, today I ain't got the time nor the patience to be a fighting them dogs. I am a walking over to Williamson, West Virginia to get me a blue rose for my Mama. To make this story short Missus Anna Mae, ifen you was to give me the loan of a hand full of tater chips, I could leave a trail behind me to ward off them dogs. Then I wouldn't be scratched up and bloody from a fighting them. Reckon you got some tater chips, Missus Anna Mae?"

         Missus Anna Mae just stared at him. Her eyes on his face swallered his very being as he read the words in her eyes. Pity was there for only a moment, concern faded quickly, then he saw what he thought was love just as Missus Anna Mae's lips parted to speak.

         "Honey, I reckon there is some potato chips in there in the kitchen. Just you wait right here, I will go and get you a bag of them."

         He waited as Missus Anna Mae walked toward her kitchen door. A few minutes passed before he saw her coming back toward him. A look of determination clenched its teeth across the smile she wore as she stopped in front of him. She pushed a brown paper bag toward him as she spoke, "I reckon they's enough potato chips in here for them dogs honey, and I made sure there was a little extra something in there for you. And here, Jamie honey, here's this old broomstick I been a saving. Whyn't you take this a here and knock one of them old hound dogs plumb astraddle the middle of next week? Ifen you was to do that, I reckon them old hounds would take in a writing Miss Manners so's they could learn themselves some etiquette."

         As he reached out to take the broomstick from her hand, he spoke. "Why, I shore do thank you, Missus Anna Mae. I don't reckon as it will hurt them dogs none, to have a knot or two a laying atwixt their ears." He laughed then, loud and long. "Missus Anna Mae," he went on. "I suppose I will be off on down the road about now. Ifen you was to listen real careful for a spell, you might hear some hound dogs a yelping here in a minute." A measure of delight fixed itself in Missus Anna Mae's eyes as she looked at him.

         "Well, bye honey, and you all be careful wherever it is you are off to."

         "Bye, bye, Missus Anna Mae."

         He turned away, walked toward her bridge and went off a walking down the road. There in a moment, ever afore John D. Taylor's store hove into his sight, he heared them hound dogs start in a growling and a fussing. He listened a bit to those sounds he knew so well afore of a sudden he started in a calling them dogs by name to let them know he was a coming and a warning them what it was he was a fixing to do to them. The truth be known, he wasn't a knowing their given and proper names, just the ones he had given them.

         "You there, Flop Ear! You ain't nothing but a flop-eared excuse for a hound dog. And you, Black Devil Dog, a standing there a wiggling your tail at me, all the time a growling and a showing me your teeth at the same time. You make it nigh 'bout impossible for me to know whether it is you are a wanting to be friends, or whether you are a wanting to be enemies. I taken and have done figured you out, you black devil dog. You are a doing all of that so's to catch a holt of my attention, and in that moment when my attention has done been caught a holt of, another one of you no 'count hound dogs is gonna sneak around behind me and take me unawares."

         "And shame on you, Sleek Lily Lady, a laying there all sorrowful looking in the dirt and gravel of that road, a whining and a rolling your pretty brown eyes at me like you think I am going to drop my defenses like I do all the time, just so I can bend over and pet your pretty head." Of a sudden he started in a twirling that broomstick and a jabbing it out in front of him. He was a dancing and a swinging that thing from way down by his heels like he thought he was Mickey Mantle a fixing to hit himself a home run.

         Of a sudden he heared them hound dogs a coming and he jumped scared for a second afore his heart stood firm. Their claws was a making a worry and a fuss through the hard packed clay and gravel of Route 194. He looked down the road and there he saw them, a running and a gliding over that gravel like a pack of hound dogs from hell. He was sore afraid. His bones rattled eerily as he walked forward to meet them, but his shoulders were steady. A thought escaped from his heart as he walked. I don't want to hurt them, but I will defend myself. Tears fell from his eyes silently as he stopped in the road by Uncle Tone Runyon's house to wait for the battle to begin. Then it happened. . . right straight from the eyes of heaven, ever one of them hound dogs stopped in the road about thirty feet from him. They was a milling around in circles, a looking at him all the time, their jaws flinging slobber and their mouths growling curses at him for being there.

         


in progress..