The proud rooster

Rosalind Bradley Coles

COCK-A-DOODLEDOO!" Bobby jumped from the back porch and ran to the side of the house. There, perched on the fence, with his head held high and his feathers bristled was the rooster. Bobby was furious. He had been waiting for him for what seemed like forever, but had only been a little over an hour. He had gotten up long ago-while it was still pitch black outside-dressed in his best pair of coveralls, eased his way through the kitchen and out the back door. It had been so dark that only the reflection of the moon bad been a guide to the hen house. Everything seemed so still, so quiet. The air was damp. The dew-wet grass had swished against his pants legs. He had gotten up to find that old stupid rooster because today was a special day and he was anxious to get started. Of course, he couldn't get started until Momma got up, and Momma wouldn't budge until the rooster crowed.

In the hen shed, he lit the oil lamp and the sudden heady odor of hay and chickens made his stomach turn. Most of the hens, perched on their nests, looked up at Bobby quizzically, as though they too knew it was too early to be up and about. Bobby walked the length of the small enclosed hut, looking from side to side, but the rooster was nowhere to be found. There was nothing to do but wait.

Now the waiting was over. The sky was no longer black, but purple and to the east there were reddish-orange streaks. The rooster was perched on the fence, his face raised to the sky, his red crown as bright as fire, his broad white chest protruding and his tail raised high and cascading down in a beautiful array of soft, fluffy white feathers' He shivered, arched his back and, as though he was sending a message around the world yelled, Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-dooo!" After ruffling his feathers, he flew to the ground glanced at Bobby with an air of superiority, stretched his legs and strutted around the yard.

Bobby searched near his feet, bent and picked up a stone. "You old buzzard!" he said and squinched his eyes, swung his arm back as far as it would go and ...

"Bobby Lee Hamilton, what are you doing?"

In one swift moment the stone fell from his fingers and he turned to see his mother standing on the porch. "Nothing!"

She stared at Bobby, who hung his head, bit his lip and kicked the stone. The rooster was oblivious to Bobby's plight and strutted around the yard among the hens that had begun to fly from the shed and squawk in search of food. In a softer voice she said, "You don't want to ruin this day, do you?"

"Oh, no, ma'am. Not this day."

She stared at him for a moment longer and just before she turned to go back into the house Bobby thought he saw her smile. He couldn't be certain about that though, because it was hard to remember her ever smiling, even when Daddy had been here. She knew he was excited, but still she took her time cooking breakfast while Bobby fed the hens and gathered the eggs. She made him eat all the food on his plate, even when he tried to convince her he wasn't hungry. Afterwards, she washed the dishes just as slowly as she always did, cleaned up the house, which wasn't really a house, but a three room shack that needed repairs and paint. The only good thing about it was that inside it was always clean. Bobby, waited on the porch as quietly and as still as he could. Finally she appeared dressed in her best casual dress, her walking shoes and holding her wide brim straw hat. "You ready?" she asked.

What a silly question, Bobby been read,,. hours ago. Instead he said, Ye s, ma am.

It was a long walk to town along a hot and dusty road. In no time, they were drenched with perspiration. Bobby didn't care. In his mind he created games that amused him. Sometimes he was a cowboy being stalked by Indians, or a farmer giving out commands to his workmen, Most of the time he just counted the trees or the rows of corn stalks or sang songs to himself. Today he wanted to talk, because be was excited. Yet his mother walked in silence, appearing oblivious to his presence. She had a pretty face, but a sad face that seemed old, tired. Her skin was soft and smooth and the color of fresh pecans, and her eyes were big and dark brown. But like her lips, they rarely smiled. She was a tall woman and walked with her head held high and her shoulders pulled back. Her steps were so large Bobby had to half run in order to keep up with her.

They had walked a few miles in silence when Bobby heard a car approaching from behind them. He turned to watch it, hoping it would be someone they knew.

"Watch where you're going. If you don't look where you put your feet you're gonna fall on vour face," his mother said.

"There's a car coming."

"I know." The car slowed as it came tip beside them and almost stopped. Bobby looked straight into the eves of Mr. Henry their landlord. He was a fat White man with scrawny, white hair, dark green eves and tobacco-stained teeth. Mr. Henry hawked and spit out a long stream of dark brown spittle that landed only, feet away from Bobby and his mother.

"Morning there, Lizabeth," Mr. Henry said.

"Morning, Mister Henry,'his mother said without slowing her pace or looking at Mr. Henry. The car rolled slowly beside them.

"You done beard from that man of yours yet?"

"Goin' to the post office now, Mr. Henry. S'pose to be a letter there from him."

"And money too?"

"And ... money too."

"I sure hope it's there, Lizabeth. Don't forget ya already three months behind in paying me my rent money."

"I ain't forgot."

"I'd hate to set ya off the place, but I can't let ya live there for nothing, You understand that, don't you, Lizabeth?"

"I ain't looking for charity, Mr. Henry. Soon as I gets the money I'll be at your office."

You see that you do that." He spit again on the road, wiped his forehead with a dirty handkerchief and sped away, leaving a trail of dust. Bobby fanned the dust from his face and looked at his mother with her head still held high in the air. She hadn't looked at Mr. Henry once.

"You should have told him it wern't none of his business if you had heard from Daddy or not." Bobby waited for his mother to respond, but she didn't. "You should have told him to leave us be about some old money. Who he think he is?"

"He's our landlord and he got every right to ask about his money. We made a deal with him and we haven't kept our end of it."

Well, we can take him his old money today, right? As soon as we get all that money that Daddy sent us we'll show old Mr. Henry, right?" His mother didn't respond. "Right, Momma?"

Still she didn't answer and Bobby knew she was thinking of the other money that was supposed to have come to the

1 ago, at had never come, their rent money, and grocery money, and living expenses money. But today was going to be different. The money would be there today because it was his birthday. His daddy wouldn't forget his birthday. Maybe he was even going to send a big present along with the money. Bobby wished his Daddy could have been with him today, but his Momma had told him his Daddy had gone to Spottsburg to get a job and send them money so they could all move there. That had been nearly four months ago and they hadn't heard a word from him yet. On top of that, Bobby hadn't even had a chance to tell his Daddy goodbye, because he had left during the night. Bobby missed him, especially today because usually it was his Daddy who brought him to town to buy his new clothes, and afterwards, while his father drank a beer, Bobby would slowly sip on a root beer and let the foam sit over his lips pretending it was real beer. He knew he wouldn't get any root beer today, because his mother didn't drink beer.

The post office was in the center of the town on Main Street, right next to the funeral home and across from the courts building. As usual for a Saturday morning, the streets were bustling with activity. Bobby stared with awe at the people walking along the streets, going in and out of the different buildings. There was laughter and talking, shouts and music. Cars drove down the streets. Children ran back and forth. Most of the people were White and he marveled at their fine, brightly colored and well-fitting clothes and shoes. There were some Black people, too, and when Bobby looked at them be didn't feel ashamed of his faded blue jeans or the old shoes that were so worn there were places where the black leather had cracked and looked gray. They passed Mr. Henry's real estate office and saw him standing by the window, chewing his tobacco and spitting into a can he held in his pudgy fingers.

"Mr. Henry's watching us," Bobby said.

if you had your eyes in front of you, like they supposed to be, you wouldn't know what Mr. Henry is doing."

They stopped in front of the post office and saw Mr. Fountain, the clerk, sitting with three other White men. They were all dressed in white shirts and dungarees, except for Mr. Fountain who wore a pair of black pants and a black bow tie. Two of the men sat in rocking chairs with their beer guts resting in their laps and their beefy red faces staring at Bobby and his mother underneath the visors of their sweat soaked hats. The other man was younger than the others and so skinny he reminded Bobby of the skeletons he had seen for Halloween. Mr. Fountain stroked his short white beard as Bobby and his mother came up the steps, but didn't move another muscle.

"Morning, Mr. Fountain," Bobby's mother said and paused long enough for Mr. Fountain to respond and when he didn't she said, "I came to see if there's a letter from my husband."

Naw," Mr. Fountain said slowly, "Ain't no letter for you today." Bobby's heart sank.

"Are you sure, Mr. Fountain? He was suppose to send one near two months ago, from Spottsburg. It's suppose to have some money in it. I got to have that money, Mr. Fountain."

"I already told you, Lizabeth, ain't no letter come for you. If it had come, I'd get it for you. But ain't nothing come for you

His mother stood a moment and stared at Mr. Fountain and then at the ground before she raised her bead and said, "Maybe you overlooked it, Mr. Fountain. Could you cbeck again?"

The two sitting men glanced at each other and then at Mr. Fountain. The skinny man started grinning. Mr. Fountain's face turned very red and seemed to swell up as his eyes got small. He leaned forward, stared directly into Bobby's mother's eves and said, "'Are you deaf or what? Didn't you heah me say you ain't got no letter?" "Yes sir, I did. But how do you know if I got one or not if you sitting out here with these... menfolk and the mail's in the office?" Bobby squeezed his mother's hand and tried to pull her away. She wouldn't budge. "Now, you listen here, Lizabeth," Mr. Fountain said and took a step towards them and pointed his finger. "I done told you you ain't got no letter

Still his mother didn't move, but continued to stare at Mr. Fountain. Finally she said, "Mr. Fountain, my rent money is in that letter and today is Bobby's birthday and I was going to buy him some things. I really need that letter, Mr. Fountain."

"There ain't no letter, Lizabeth," Mr. Fountain shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you that? There ain't no letter for you. Now, you go on about your business 'fore I send Skinny for the sheriff."

Bobby pulled again oB his mother's hand, but she wouldn't budge, just kept standing there, staring at Mr. Fountain. "You want me to get the sheriff? The thin man asked. Again Bobby pulled hard on his mother's hand, enough to jerk her. She looked down at him, and he saw anger in her eyes, then she looked away. "I ain't come here for no trouble, Mr. Fountain," she said. "I just came to get the money my man sent me." She turned then and walked with slow, deliberate steps backup Main Street with Bobby close behind her. The men began laughing and Bobby turned to look at them, but his mother jerked him back around.

"Watch where you're going Bobby Lee."

"But, Momma, they're probably laughing at us. They probably think daddy ain't send no money."

" Don't make no difference what they laughing at. It don't make no difference whether Roy sent the money or not. We ain't got it. just the same, you got to watch where you're going and you can't do that if you look behind you."

"What we gonna do now, Momma?"

"We going to see Mr. Henry."

"But we aint't got no money."

"It don't make no difference."

"Now you can't buy me none of the stuff you promised me for my birthday!" He pouted and kicked at the ground as they walked. "Daddy lied to us, Momma. He said he was going to send the money and he didn't."

"Watch your mouth, Bobby Lee Hamilton. Don't you start bad mouthing your Daddy. You don't know whether he sent that money or not. His letter could have gotten lost or something else could have happened to it. You just don't know what happened and we won't know until we hear from your daddy."

"Why did he have to go all the way to Spottsburg to work anyway? He could have stayed here and worked like he used to do. Then I could have had all those things for my birthday. Now, I'm not gonna get nothing. No new shoes, no new pants or shirts, nothing. And I won't even get no big surprise like you promised either. Nothing."

He knew he was going too far and any moment he expected his mother's hand to slap his face. In a way, he wanted her to slap him, then he would have an excuse to cry. But she didn't slap him. She ignored him and this made Bobby even angrier. He looked up and saw her staring straight ahead, not looking at him or anyone, her eyes fixed on the glass panes of Mr. Henry's office. "You got the money, Lizabeth?" Mr. Henry asked before they had closed the door. Mr. Henry's office was small, dark and musky, with a ceiling fan overhead that gave little comfort from the heat. He was seated behind a large wooden desk in a small swivel chair that seemed to creak each time he breathed. "No, Mr. Henry, I ain't. Mr. Fountain said the letter ain't come."

"What you gonna do about your rent, Lizabeth?"

"I don't know, Mr. Henry. I guess I'm gonna have to wait for Roy to send me the money."

"Lizabeth, Roy been gone nearly four months. Ain't that right?"

"That's right."

"And you haven't heard one word from him in all that time. Ain't that right?"

"That's right."

"Well, Lizabeth, has it come to your mind yet that maybe Boy done took off? That he's gone and he's not gonna send you and his boy any money?"

Bobby's mother began to shake her head furiously as she frowned at Mr. Henry. "No, sir, Mr. Henry. Roy is a good man, and a man of his word. You know that, Mr. Henry. If he say he's gonna send money, then he's gonna send it. I just don't know what could have happened to his letter with the money in it, but it'll probably be here next week."

"I don't know what happened to the money either, Lizabeth, but you know I can't keep letting you and the boy stay on my property if you don't pay rent."

"I know that, Mr. Henry, but maybe the money \vill be here next week. If you could give me until..."

"Can't do that, Lizabeth. Ya already late and that means when you do pay me it's going to be such a large lump that you won't have nothing left for you and the boy to cat off of." Mr. Henry shook his head and spit into the can. 'I'm as sorry as I can be, Lizabeth, but I think you best make arrangements to move off my property as soon as possible."

For a long time his mother was silent, then she placed her hands to her breast and tilted her head. "Where we gonna go, Mr. Henry? We ain't got no more family around here. They all moved away. You know that, Mr. Henry."

"That ain't my problem, Lizabeth. I'm as sorry as I can be, but I can't let you stay on my land with just promises and no money. If word got out..." Mr. Henry lowered his eyes, wiped some spittle from the side of his mouth. "I'll give you time to write Roy and tell him and after you hear from him let me know how soon he can come and get you and the boy."

"But Mr. Henry.

. . Bobby said.

"You stay out of grown people's business, Bobby Lee Hamilton," she said. She looked back at Mr. Henry, hung her head and in a low voice said, "I'm afraid, Mr. Henry, I ain't got a dime to my name. I don't even have enough money to buy a stamp and envelope to send Roy a letter."

"You ain't got no money?"

"No sir, not even a dime." Mr. Henry hesitated and after a long time he reached into his pocket and handed her a dime.

Here, you take this to buy your stamp and envelope so you can write Roy today."

"You add this to our bill, Mr. Henry. As soon as Roy sends that money I'm gonna pay you every dime we owe you, including this one.

"I'm real sorry, Lizabeth," Mr. Henry said before they closed the door. Bobby was about to head for the post office, but his mother walked across the street.

"Momma, aren't you going to the post office?"

His mother didn't answer but continued across the street and Bobby had to run to catch up with her. They stopped in front of the Grocery Store and she smiled briefly before grabbing him by the shoulder. "I'm sorry the money didn't come, Bobby. And I'm sorry I can't get you all the things I promised you. But I did promise you a surprise and I'm going to get it for you. You stay here and I'll be right back."

She came out moments later with her hand filled with peppermint sticks. Bobby could smell them through the paper and his mouth watered to taste them. "Happy birthday, Bobby Lee," she said and patted him on the head

"There's ten of 'em, and smiled again. one for each year since you been born."

"Thanks a lot, Momma!" He didn't know how she knew, but peppermint sticks were his favorite treat. He ripped the wrapping off one and stuck it in his mouth as he followed behind her.

"Momma, where are you going?" he asked.

"Home."

"But you got to go the post office to send daddy a letter like Mr. Henry told you to.

"I can't send it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have any more money. I spent that dime Mr. Henry gave me to buy your candy."

"But what about the letter to daddy? How is he going to know about coming to get us? Momma... Momma..." But she had stopped listening, at least she had stopped answering. Bobby followed behind her as they made their way back down the sun drenched road, heading home, to the home that was no longer their home. His mother walked slower than she had on their way to town and Bobby noticed that her head was bent, staring at the ground and her feet seemed to drag along, lacking the swiftness and vitality they had had earlier. Bobby didn't eat his candy, but held it in his hand, staring at it and then at his mother, not understanding why she had spent the whole dime buying the candy when she had to write that letter.

At home, his mother went into her bedroom and closed the door. She didn't tell Bobby to do anything like she normally did so he went back outside and found the rooster strutting around the yard, arching his back, flapping his wings and raising his head high into the air as he paraded for the hens. Bobby raised his fistful of candy and threw all of it at the rooster, but there was no joy, no laughter, no satisfaction, as the rooster squawked, tucked his head and ran for cover.

GERTUDE JOHNSON WILLIAMS LITERARY AWARD WINNERS

FIRST PLACE AND $5,000 "THE PROUD ROOSTER" by Rosalind Bradley Coles of Richmond, Va. HONORABLE MENTION AND A $1,000 PRIZE GO TO: "OLD BONES" By Joan Jackson Bennett of New Orleans "NAVY BLUES" By Herbert Dyer Jr. of Chicago, Ill. BURIALS" By Deonne R. Fulton of Kingstree, S.C. "A DAY IN THE COUNTRY" By Dale E. Smith of Allston, Mass. "VALLEY OF THE SHADOWS" By Maxine E. Thompson of Inglewood, Calif.

PRELIMINARY JUDGES Nora Brooks Blakely, wrier director of Chocolate Chips theater company Walter Bradford, writer Angela Jackson, writer, assoc. prof of English, Columbia College, Chicago Mary C. Lewis, freelance writer and editor Marilyn K. Marshall, senior associate editor, EBONY Sandra Jackson Opoku, writer and president of OBA C Writers Workshop Charles L. Sanders, managing editor EBONY Charles Whitaker, senior associate editor EBONY

FINAL JUDGES Dr. Margaret Burroughs, writer artist and founder of the Du Sable Museum of African-American History, Chicago Cyrus Colter, novelist, short story writer Leon Forrest, novelist and chairman, Department of African-American Studies, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill.

COPYRIGHT 1989 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning