Princess Ces'alena (Webster Fields) Page 2

  “Mikey! Ya’ got one! Ya’ got a bite!” Sammy squealed excitedly. “Pull’er in nice n’ slow or you’ll lose’er.” He advised kneeling at the ponds edge beside Mike, ready to give aid, ignoring his own pole.

  “I know, I know, Sammy. Now will ya’shush ‘fore ya’ spook ‘im all off!” Mike warned calmly.

  “Yeah!” Jimmy exclaimed, getting irritated since he hadn’t a bite. “An’ be still, ya’ bout don’ scared’im all off already with ya’ fidgetin’” He complained, “’bout why I ain’t gotta bite yet!” He grumbled just as Mike cleared his fish of the water. “Oooh-weee! Just look at it Jimmy! Ain’t it a biggin’?” Sammy commented, his eyes wide in awe. “I ain’t eva’ seen one s’big in all my life!” He gushed dramatically.

  “Ahhh.” Jimmy waved it off. “It ain’t so big. I seen bigger. Lots bigger!” He stated watching Mike un-hook the thrashing fish, trying to keep his grip on the slippery Cat, as it flip flopped in his grasp trying to escape back to where it came from.

  “Well! Look’a here, an’ just what yah’ll thank you doin’? Fishin’ in my grandpa’s pond?” Sonnyboy blasted behind the three unsuspecting youths. Startling them so, they sprung to their feet and around. Mike, almost dropping his catch as he held it away from his body with both hands, the fish gasping for air, its struggle to gain freedom growing weaker by the moment.

  Sonnyboy stood legs akimbo, his expression anything but friendly.

  Jimmy gulped; Sammy turned crimson, for the moment camouflaging the ample freckles that covered his face, matching the carrot top of his head and Mike paled a bit never having faced anyone that was quite as mean looking as Sonnyboy. Jimmy and Sammy both held fear of Sonnyboy, as most of the children in the area did, except Mike who had never been in Sonnyboy’s company, until now. Since no one was saying anything, Mike boldly asked.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Sonnyboy! That’s who I am. An’ this is my grandpa’s fishin’ pon’. I don’t recall him givin’ the likes of ya’ no permission to fish here! And even if he did, ya’ still has’ta go through me. See’in that ya’ didn’t, I’d advice ya’ta start departin’ now — ‘fore I get angry. An’ I know you don’t want that!” He then peered at Jimmy. “Na’ would’ya, Jimmy? You know how I get, don’t ya?!” He implied threateningly; his eyes drawn in a menacing squint to deepen the fear in them. Sonnyboy was the town’s youngest bully. He was heavy and thick boned, just so far from being chubby. His hair a mousey brown, his eyes small and cloudy gray. He lived with his father and grandfather. Both heavy drinkers and often abusive to him. His mother had long ago passed away. He, for the most part, was left to raise himself. He was known to be hostile and pushy; so all those in his general age or size range did their utmost to avoid him.

  “But ya’ know what little boys; see’in as how I’m feelin’ pretty good today, I tell’ya what I’m gonna let yah’ll do. Yah’ll just carry on wit’ya fishin’, and when ya’ done with your first catch, that’s all I’ll charge ya’…after that, the rest is yours, startin’ wit’ that one!” He announced pointing to Mike’s fish. Mike looked down at the still fish, then back up at Sonnyboy, challenging rather bravely. “You want fish, get you a pole and catch yo’ own. I catch this one!” Sonnyboy’s brows drew together in a disbelieving frown. “Since this is my grandpa’s pon’, I ain’t got to. Now hand it over!” He demanded. Mike looked at him a moment, then down at the fish. “Fine, you want it…you catch it.” Turning after that warning, Mike tossed the fish back into the pond.

  After the initial splash, a moment passed and the fish retained enough of what it needed to struggle back to life and swim away. Jimmy’s eyes were huge with shock and fear. Sammy stood stunned that someone was actually standing up to Sonnyboy…no one had ever done that.

  Sonnyboy was eleven years old, yet he and Mike stood about the same height, with barely an inch making the difference. Though Sonnyboy out weighed him, he was still a healthy weight and size himself and strong. Mike was above average for his size and at the moment, it was a good thing.

  Sonnyboy did a silent summing up of the boy before him; it wasn’t often that someone openly defied him. Mike was new to him, and before he stepped up to put him to the test, he thought he’d better get to know something more about him. With his curiosity high, and eyes squinting suspiciously he asked, “How come I never seen you around here before? Who are you?” Sonnyboy inquired through thinned lips, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned to one hip in a take charge stance.

  “My name’s Michael; everybody calls me Mike. An’ seeing as how fishin’s done, I be goin’ now.” He turned to the other two. “You comin’?”

  “They ain’t goin’ no where! Neither is you, now that you done thowed my fish back!” Sonnyboy informed the three. Jimmy and Sammy gulped as Mike tried to walk around Sonnyboy who moved over blocking his way. “Seem to me, since you been fishin’ and thow my fish back, you owe me somethin’.”

  “I’on owe you nothin’! Now move out’ah my way, I’m goin’ home.” Mike tried to step around again, but to no avail…Sonnyboy blocked him once again. “Not so fast, Michael, where you call home? You so in a hurry t’get there.” Mike stood refusing to answer. Sonnyboy looked from Mike to the others; Jimmy supplied the answer without hesitation. “He live at Webster Fields!”

  Mike’s head shot around to glare his displeasure at Jimmy for volunteering information he chose to keep to himself. Suddenly his heart began pounding as he felt unable to find a quick way out of this before things went too far. As for Jimmy, he was far more afraid of Sonnyboy than he was a loyal friend to Mike.

  “Webster Fields? Webster Fields?!” Sonnyboy said the name out loud, repeating it, picking his memory for why the name sounded so familiar.

  “Webster Fields huh? An’ ya’ pa? Wha’s his name? Or ya’ not wantin’ me knowin’ that neither?” Again Mike stood silent; right now, he just wanted to get home, this fishing adventure was suddenly not going well.

  “Well sincen’ you ain’t sayin’, I guess that mean ya’ ain’t gonna say or you got no pa’!”

  “I got a father!” Mike shot angrily.

  “Then - wha’s - his - name?” Sonnyboy drawled the question snidely. He looked at Jimmy. “Wha’s his name? ‘Cause I’m thinkin’ he ain’t talkin’.”

  “Ain’t non’ of yo’ bidness!” Mike shot angrily. Sonnyboy turned to Jimmy. “Well?” Jimmy swallowed and answered, “His pa Maynard Webster.” Jimmy supplied nervously.

  Mike’s eyes narrowed at him, feeling angry that he spoke up like a coward. Every second that passed was turning things against him for the worse and Sonnyboy’s next words proved that to be true.

  “Well I be a monkey’s uncle, if this don’t beat all. Why, jes’ this mornin’ I heah my pa talkin’ ‘bout that Maynard Webster to my grandpa. Guess what they’s sayin’ Jimmy? Guess!?”

  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. “I’on know Sonnyboy, what they say?”

  With a knowing smile, Sonnyboy turned from Jimmy with glinting eyes at Mike. “They say, this Maynard Webster of Webster Fields a disgrace to our good kind! They say it cause the word is, he a nigga lova! Stead’ah him marryin’ a decent, clean, white woman — he choose ta stay with his nigga wench!”

  “They say - she his favorite! That she a fancy! Otha’s try to buy her off him, but he won’t sell - for no amount! Know what else they say?!”

  Mike’s blue eyes narrowed, he could feel the heat climbing up his neck, burning his face; a combination of pure anger, protective possessiveness and humiliation. It was coming, the reason Kayleen fussed at his mama when she knew Ceś alena was letting him leave the plantation to play with white kids.

  “They said, his favorite - his nigga wench, had his bastid, an’ this bastid s’pose ta look so much like him, they say he could pass for white. Now imagine that Jimmy, a nigga - lookin’ white. You think that could be Mikey? A nigga lookin’ white?!”

  Mike’s breathing increased, his nose flaring with his mounting
anger.

  “Now let me think a minute.” Sonnyboy looked up as though in deep thought, tapping his chin with his finger. “Now, I figure it this way, Maynard Webster ain’t got no white woman for his wife — but yet he ya’ pa. An’ he only got a favorite bed wench and that mean to me, only one thing, that nigga whore must be ya’mammie!” He spat nastily, right before he received an unexpected right punch to his nose that immediately ran with blood; the fight was on.

  Sammy stood watching in shock, he couldn’t believe what was happening; he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Jimmy, while the episode unfolded was at first stunned, then shocked. His daddy hated Negroes…were he to find out that he’d been playing with one; he’d be strung up and whipped within an inch of his life. Realizing the consequences were this found out, he became angry, yelling, “Get’im Sonnyboy! Get’im! Whop that nigga and show’im what’s for!” Problem existing, as he spoke the words the unexpected punch and pain to Sonnyboy’s nose had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t been struck first, ever - usually his imposing size and intimidating attack on others set his victims up to shrink back from him, assuming, because of his crowing, that he was as tough as he presented himself to be. Rarely were there instances that he had to defend his imposing position over those he wanted to fear him. Now here he was, in a situation where someone had gotten the upper hand on him, and he couldn’t get control…because he was facing anger that was born of calling Mike’s mother a whore. Nothing fired him so quickly, as defending his mother’s honor – that word was a sore spot for him.

  As the two rolled on the ground, Mike scratched, gouged, punched, kicked and bit…the assault was so fast and fierce Sonnyboy was lost, as his screaming testified to. Mike had him in a hold he couldn’t get out of, and was biting his ear trying to rip it from the side of his head. Sammy was frightened and crying, not sure what to do, being the youngest of the four.

  Jimmy turned completely on Mike and started kicking him in the side and pulling his hair to get him off of Sonnyboy. Unable to take anymore, Sammy ran off crying. He didn’t understand what was so wrong all of a sudden. One minute all was fine, they were fishing and having fun, then Sonnyboy came and started name calling. Jimmy joined him too in hurting Mike; for the life of him, he didn’t get it. He liked Mike, had always liked him…what did he do that made them turn on him? He didn’t understand, so he ran, colliding into old man Grady, Sonnyboy’s grandfather. He looked up at him teary eyed, and dashed around him continuing on his way. Grady looked after the boy confused, scratching his bristly chin, then the screaming and grunting noises caught his attention. The fighting boys were unaware of old man Grady’s approach.

  “What in the hell is going on here!?!” He bellowed snatching the boys apart, starting with the one on top…Jimmy. Mike followed, and next Sonnyboy, whose face was bloody from his nose and ear, as well as a swelling eye; his hair mussed and dirty with mud and wet grass - the other two dirty and mussed as well.

  “You hold still damn you boy! Ya’ hear me boy!!” He yelled down at Jimmy, who was still swinging to hit Mike. Old man Grady tried to keep him out of his reach holding tightly to him with his other hand clamped to his shirt collar. They were both breathing hard, their bodies sweating and hot; their faces red under the mud smudges. Mike reached up with the back of his hand to wipe away a stream of blood running from the corner of his mouth; his lip was swollen and busted. Sonnyboy was panting trying to catch his breath. Bent over holding his side which was racked with pain from a few of Jimmy’s misguided kicks, while supporting himself on one knee. “Well? I asked what in the hell is going on here and I want a answer?!” He shook the boys again looking from one to the other.

  “Jimmy - bring that nigger there - to fish - in our fishin’ pon’.” Sonnyboy gasped in pain trying to explain. “I didn’t know he was no nigger! I swear I didn’t! I swear!” Jimmy cried in defense.

  “What in the hell you two talkin’ bout?!” Grady asked, looking from them, to Mike whom he kept a tight grip on.

  “Let me go!” Mike cried out trying to shake himself from the old man’s grip. “Grandpa, tha’s Maynard Webster’s nigger bastid! Tryin’ to pass himself off as white!” Sonnyboy panted explaining.

  “You just hol’ yo’self still - ya’ hear! Quit yo’ strugglin’!” Grady shouted, shaking Mike with the order. “Let me go!” Mike cried scared, wanting to get home now. “Ah’ll let you go when I’m done! Now - is what they say true? You Manny’s bastid?”

  Mike didn’t answer, he was too scared, his mind racing with how to get out of this and back home where he would be safe. Another shake came with the demand, “I asked you a question boy, ya’ better make speed answerin’ it!” A hard yank at Mike’s shirt collar for emphasis followed.

  “Grandpa I’m tellin’ ya’ it’s him! I caught him, Jimmy and Sammy fishin’ here with out yo’ permission. When I fin’ out who he was, an’ what his mama is, he got all bent out’a shape an’ started fightin’ me for no reason! Just up an’ got mad ‘cause he a nigger, and I told’im!”

  “Tha’s a lie!!” Mike shouted at him. “You called my mama a whore! An’ she ain’t no whore!” He finished ready to fight again.

  Grady looked down shocked at the boy’s boldness. He’d heard plenty about him, and the goings ons of Webster Fields, but this was the first that he got to see things from up close. The proof of all that was said must be true… because here struggling in his hand was the fruit of Maynard Ramsey Webster’s loins, and with that final thought, aloud he muttered. “Well - I - will - be damn! Ain’t you a sight…as I live and breathe. So it’s true…Manny yo’ pa, by that bedwench of his they all call Lena. That yo’ mama? Lena?”

  Mike’s look was closed and belligerent, breathing hard - tears were pooling in his eyes. “Boy I’m talkin’ to you…you bes’ answer and now!”

  “He won’t answer grandpa…he done me the same. He got mad at me ‘cause his ma a whorin’ blackie.” Sonnyboy stated, his breathing back to normal again. Jimmy stood next to him, now that Grady had turned him loose.

  “You shet yo’ mouth callin’ my mama a whore!” Mike yelled charging at Sonnyboy again, who flinched back throwing up his arms, covering his throbbing nose. Grady yanked him back. “Hold it a minute here! That’s a white boy you talkin’ to like that! He say yo’ mama a whore, it’s so…ain’t no fault of his!” He reprimanded harshly. Mike began struggling harder now, tears streaming from his eyes as he fought to be free. He had to get away; he needed to get home to his mother. “You just settle down, you hear me boy?!” Grady hissed down at him then gave him a hard shake, grabbing a thatch of his hair, pulling it painfully to get him under control.

  “Now, Jimmy is that true? Were you with this here fishin’ in my pond? Without asking me or my son first?” He referred to Mike.

  “Yes sir, tha’s true but I didn’t thank you’d min’, wit’ my daddy doin’ so an all.” He answered, now calm - but fearful. “Mm hm, I see…but what in the fiery deep ya’ doin’ here with this young pup? Ain’t ya’ daddy taught ya’ better’n be ‘sociaten with these here slaves?”

  “Yes sir, he taught me better, but I ain’ know he was one of’em, not ‘til Sonnyboy said so. Honest sir, I woodna’ be playin’ with the likes of them, no sir-ry I wouldn’t!” He returned pleadingly.

  “Well, I suppose that be true. I ‘spect anyone could mistake’im for a white boy. But he ain’t, so from now on, I don’t wanna be catchin’ ya with the likes of this here again. You understand?” He asked nudging Mike forward for emphasis.

  “Yes sir, I swear never again!”

  “Alright then, now ya’ get, for I takes a mind to tell yo’ daddy ‘bout this.” He threatened.

  “No need sir, won’t happen no more.” Jimmy said making a hasty exit from the scene. Grady turned his attention to his grandson. “And as for you…ya’ head on out for home too. Wait till I tell your pa ya’ let a’bino coon whip ya’ tail. It’s a damn shame it is, as big as ya’ are too. Now get on to the ho
use and wait there for me. Don’t ya’ be gettin’ no ideas of goin’ elsewhere either. Now git!” Sonnyboy ran for home. His stomach in knots knowing the evening ahead would be spent with his drunken father and grandfather picking on him, ridiculing, pushing him around and agitating him.

  Now it was time for Grady to deal with Mike whom he still held tightly by his shirt and a portion of his blonde hair. “Now as for you.” Grady stared down at him in rapt inspection; unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. “God almighty, what is this world coming to; if you don’t look white…the grass ain’t green. I never believe it if I ain’t see it with my own eyes.” He shook his head in wonder, staring at the young boy as if he were something from another planet, sighing he decided it was due up to set matters straight, “Let me tell ya’ somethin’ you had better not ever soon forget. Just cause yo’ skin white like mine, that don’t mean a thang. Long as yo’ mammie a Negro slave, you be nothin’ more than ha’ sucka. You ain’t nothin’ more than a slip up of nature, the Lord musta forget I suppose ta’ make it so’s wenches couldn’t get with the white man and bare his bastid’s.” Once more he shook his head at the strangeness of it. “This suppose t’be for white women only…but look at’cha - as I live and breathe I swear I never think I see the day such as the like’s of you be running loose round here. Well, you remember this…you - is - a nigga! A ignorant, black fit only for slavin’ you understand… nothin’ more.”

  He knelt before Mike with his tight grip moved to his upper arms. “A black ain’t got no right…none a’tall, hittin’ and disrepectin’ the white. Apparently, ya’ mammie ain’t taught ya’ no better, comin’ out like you did, no doubt got her confused – simple as she no doubt is. That’s okay, cause the Lord done delivered ya’ inta my hands now. Me bein’ a Christian man an’ all, it be my God given duty to set ya’ in line.” He began undoing his leather belt from his trousers. Mike realized then what was about to take place, wondering, ‘Why? What I do so wrong God? What I do?’