The Last Ballad(119)

It seemed that summer had only recently come to a close, but the morning had begun cool and breezy. Ella wore John’s old jacket with the knowledge that it would be too warm to wear it by noon. She and Lilly stood with Violet and Iva on the side of the Kings Mountain Highway at the top of the mud road that led down into Stumptown. She’d been able to recruit two drivers with trucks to carry them into Gastonia for the rally. Aside from a fee of five dollars, the drivers had only one stipulation: no guns.

The drivers, both of them farmers, one from Kings Mountain and one from Shelby, stood by their trucks, smoking cigarettes and speaking in low voices. Occasionally, one of them would look back at Ella as if making certain she was still there, was still willing to pay the men for this job. The rally was scheduled for noon, and the strikers were set to leave at 10 a.m. At this moment it was just Ella and Violet and the girls standing out by the road, but Ella knew others would come.

“I’m cold,” Lilly said. She cupped her hands together, huffed her hot breath into them.

“It’ll warm up,” Ella said. “And if it don’t you can make a fire in the chimney. There’s plenty wood.”

“I don’t know how,” Lilly said.

“Of course you do. It’s just like making a fire in the stove,” Ella said. “Otis knows how. He can do it. Tell him I said to do it.”

“Okay,” Lilly said.

Violet stood behind Iva. She had her arms around her younger sister’s shoulders to keep her warm. Violet’s eyes were closed. She hummed a tune. Iva stared at the two drivers smoking by their trucks. Violet stopped humming, opened her eyes, looked over at Ella, gave her a weak smile.

“Thank you,” Ella said.

“For what?” Violet asked.

“For sticking with me through this. I bet you didn’t know what you were getting into.”

“Don’t matter what I knew when,” Violet said. “I’m in it now.”

Ella felt Lilly’s hand find its way into hers. The girl leaned against Ella, put her cheek to her stomach, stared down at the road. Ella’s belly had begun to grow round, but she was still thin enough that John’s old coat was able to hide it. She wondered what Lilly would think when she discovered that her mother was pregnant again, that there would be another mouth to feed by the time winter arrived, that this new child, like the rest of her children, would not have a father to claim as its own now that Charlie had finally disappeared.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to Gastonia no more,” Lilly said. “I thought you said that.”

“I won’t,” Ella said. “Not after today. Today’s the last day.”

“But I don’t want you to go.”

“Well, sometimes we don’t get what we want,” Ella said.

“I want to go with you.”

“No, you can’t go.”

“But I want to.”

“I need you to stay here,” Ella said. “Look after the babies. Tell Otis to make that fire. I’ll be back.”

“When?”

“This afternoon or tonight, one. Soon as I can.”

“Iva gets to go,” Lilly said.

Violet stopped humming and opened her eyes. She looked at Lilly, and then she looked down at Iva.

“Says who you’re going?” Violet asked her.

“Mama said I could,” Iva said.

“She ain’t never said that.” Violet looked up at Ella and shook her head. “She never said that.”

“Shoot,” Iva said. She kicked at a rock. It rolled into the grass. “Thanks, Lilly. Thanks a lot.”

Ella let go of Lilly’s hand and turned the girl’s shoulders so that they faced the road that led down into Stumptown.

“Go on home,” she said. “Check on those babies. I’ll be back soon.”

“I don’t want to,” Lilly said. She raised her face to Ella and reached for her hand again, looking as if she might cry. “I’m scared for you to go.”

Ella didn’t want to admit it, not to herself and certainly not to Lilly, but fear had dogged her heart all night long and into the morning. She knew the primary fear was the fear of futility, the suspicion that nothing she could do today or tomorrow or the day after would change the events that comprised the course of her life and the future of the union.

Less than an hour later enough bodies had arrived to fill the back of one of the trucks. Ella and Violet watched as colored women and men came up the road from Stumptown and white women and men came across the field from Bessemer City. By 10 a.m. fifty or so had gathered, plenty of bodies to make for a tight ride to Gastonia.

“I hope you know what this means,” Violet said.

She and Ella stood by the bed of the last truck, a man inside helping others get settled into spots. They’d all be standing during the trip. That was the only way for them to fit.

“I hope it means something good,” Ella said.

“It does, girl. This is your doing.”

“Everybody else done it,” Ella said. “All I did was ask them.”

Violet smiled and climbed up into the truck.

Ella walked up the road and stopped in between the two trucks. She stepped into the grass on the shoulder so that she could see most of the people standing in the truck beds and most of them could see her.