Saturday, March 6, 1937

Chapter Five

“Hey, Marsh,” Mailman, Jerry Hawkins said to the rider on the chestnut mare.

“Hello, Mr. Hawkins.”

At the sound of the rider’s voice, Hawkins turned from taking the handful of mail out of a road box at the edge of town and looked a second time at the horseman.

“Well, Jim,” He said, shaking his head. “I swear, I can’t ever tell you and ya brother apart. Ya’ll look just alike to me. Sorry.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Hawkins,” James Bentwood called over his shoulder. “Happens all the time.”

James had become used to being mistaken for his brother over the years. He sometimes wondered if Marshall had the same problem and had thought about asking him, but never had. The fact was they did closely resemble and were almost the same age, only eleven months separating them. But, side-by-side, anyone could usually tell which was which.

Appearance, however, was where their commonality ended. James loved learning and with the highest grades in his small school as well as a desire to become a physician, he was already applying to several colleges about their various medical programs. Also, unlike Marshall, he actually liked farming. In fact, he probably enjoyed the work even more than his father. But that wasn’t where he felt his calling was. James wanted to help people and he could think of no other way in which he could do that better than through medicine.

And while James knew that his whole family was proud of him, including Marshall, that didn’t stop his younger brother from ragging him unmercifully. James’ good-natured temperament and gentle ways had always been at odds with his brother and that, more than anywhere else was where they differed.

“Jim,” Marshall would sometimes rib him, “have you ever even BEEN in a fight? You do know to make a fist, don’t’cha?”

Over the years, James had learned that he was no match for his brother. Regardless, he would occasionally accept Marshall’s challenge if for no other reason than to simply try and save a little face. It was always to no avail, though, usually culminating in James sporting one or more “shiners” as well as facial cuts and bruises for a few days. Marshall, on the other hand, would invariably be untouched.

“Jim, if I’s you, I’d stay clear of Marsh.” Thomas told him after his last run-in with his brother a month before. “You can’t whip ‘im and you know it. I don’t know why ya keep tryin’.”

“Just stubborn, I guess,” James responded.

“Well, ya can go on and be stubborn about it if ya want to, it’s up to you. But if ya keep buckin’ ‘im he’s gonna keep poundin’ ya.”

Since that last confrontation, James had decided to take Thomas advice and simply stay clear of Marshall if possible. And if he couldn’t avoid him, he would just do his best to ignore him.

The strategy had been working well and on that Saturday afternoon, as he rode Lucy into town, Marshall wasn’t even on his mind. In fact, the only two things James was thinking about were the oyster shells he had to pick up for his father and, more importantly, Angie Mitchell.

James and Angie were classmates at Wynne High School. James could have finished out his school years at Fortner right down the road. It was where everyone else in his family had or was going. But with his medical school aspirations, James knew he’d have a better chance at being accepted if could show that he had graduated from a larger, more comprehensive school. So, for that reason, he rode the bus every day to Wynne.

However, even if he wasn’t going to college later on, he would probably have found some way to go to the school in any case simply to be close to Angie. As far as he was concerned, she was absolutely the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Unfortunately, James’ courting talents were no better than his pugilistic abilities, so he had never acted upon his desires. That day, however, he was fully prepared to rectify the situation.

James halted Lucy in front of Graham’s Feed and Seed where he would get the shells, but the “important” things came first. After tying the mare to a light post, he cut through the alley across the street and came out on Wilson, next to Mitchell’s Dry Goods. The store was owned by Angie’s parents and James knew that she would be there as she was every workday.

“Hello, James,” Mary Mitchell said as he came through the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Mitchell,” James grinned and touched the bill of his brown, hand-me-down fedora. “Is Angie around?”

“Well, I think she might be,” Mary turned and called toward the back of the store. “Angie, James Bentwood’s here to see you.”

A moment later the Mitchell’s only daughter emerged from the back-storage room. She was petite, blonde and possessed a beauty which make-up couldn’t improve.

“Afternoon, Angie,” James said flashing a broad grin while removing his hat.

“How are you, James,” She returned the smile. They had seen each other at school the previous afternoon, but formalities had to be maintained.

“I’m fine, and you.”

“Oh, just fine.” She noticed the fedora trembling.

The exchanging of pleasantries and small talk went on for a minute or so to the amusement of Mary who continued her chores at the front of the store. It reminded her of her own courting days. Then when Angie finally asked James why he had come into the store, that reminded her of her.

Put on the spot now, Thomas fell over his tongue a few times, but finally blurted, “I know it’s kinda late and I should’ve asked ya yesterday, but would ya like to go to the show tonight?”

Thomas expectant look reminded Angie of her rat terrier Niki who looked just that way when she was getting ready to give the dog a treat of some sort. Angie wanted to laugh at the thought but dared not knowing how fragile Thomas was at that crucial moment.

“What’s showing?” Angie asked, not wanting to appear too anxious.

“Top Hat with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers.” He was excited now; he might have a chance. At the very least, she was showing some interest. “I’ve heard it’s one of the best movies they’ve made. I bet you’d like it.”

James felt his face reddening when Angie turned and grinned at her mother who she knew was listening. When she turned back to him, though, she made his day.

“I’d love to go,” The grin was now aimed at him.

Suddenly lightheaded, James put his hand out to steady himself against a table of overalls. Angie waited for him to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She almost reached out and touched his shoulder to try to put him at ease. Finally, she broke the silence.

“What time do you want to pick me up?” It was a sweet, comforting smile this time. “Or do you want me to meet you there?”

“Oh, I can pick ya up,” He croaked, then cleared his throat and said. “It’s, what, about 3:00 now and I’ve gotta go get some shell for Daddy, but I can get back by about 5:30 or 6:00 so how about if I pick you up at 6:00? The first show starts at 6:30.”

“Sounds fine. It’s a date, then.”

She waited for James to make a move to leave, but he seemed at a loss for words once again.

“Is there anything else?” She said after a moment.

“Uh, yea, I need a pair of pants and a shirt for tonight.”

Angie laughed, “OK, well, let’s look over here.”

James bought what Angie suggested and almost skipped out of the business, his new cloths cradled under his arm.

“G’bye, Mrs. Mitchell,” He tipped his hat once again. She smiled tightly, suppressing the urge to chuckle at his youthful awkwardness.

“Goodbye, James.” She said and looked back at a beaming Angie.

As James stepped out of the store and back into the alley with his package, he was hard pressed not to “wag” his tail like a tailless rat terrier. He managed to control himself, though, especially when he saw Andy Brickman, the town’s only barber at the other end of the alley standing outside his shop taking a smoke break.

The broad grin which seemed to have frozen to his face, however, was still there and caused Brickman to stare quizzically at James as he approached.

“James,” Brickman said from the right side of his mouth, his cigarette poking from the left. “What in the world are you grinning about? You win a raffle or somethin’?”

“No, sir,” James nodded at Brickman. “Just feel good t’day I guess. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Yea, if ya like it a little nippy,” Brickman answered. “I’ll just be glad when summer gets here.”

James nodded, continued smiling and kept walking to Lucy where he looped the tie string of the clothes package over the saddle horn and went into Graham’s for the oyster shells. In less than five minutes, he was back on Lucy with the sack of shells draped over the saddle skirt behind him and the clothes package bouncing against his leg as he trotted his horse hurriedly out of town.

___________________________________

“Momma,” James blurted as he burst into the kitchen after returning to the farm. “Momma, can you get me some water heated up?”

“James,” Edna Bentwood calmly continued peeling potatoes not bothering to look up as her son came in. “What do you need water for? Aren’t you gonna take your bath before church tomorrow like usual? And how do ya know anyone else is ready for theirs. You know what ya daddy’d say about drawin’ a bath for just one person.”

“Did you ask her?” Fifteen-year old Miriam Bentwood said from the other end of the table where she was kneading bread. “Are ya’ll goin’ out?”

James and his oldest sister had always been close. In fact, in ways, he was closer to Miriam than he was any of his brothers. She, too, was studious and sensitive like James in many ways a female version of James himself.

Because of their closeness, he often confided in her and earlier that day, he had told her that he was finally going to ask Angie out on a date. She had been almost as excited at hearing the news of what her brother had planned as he was at the prospect of actually doing it.

“Ask who?” Edna stopped peeling and looked at her son, who, she noticed for the first time, looked positively giddy. She couldn’t help but smile. “What in the world is going on?”

“James’ ‘as gotta date, momma,” Miriam said. “He’s goin’ out with Angie Mitchell.”

“Is that right, James?” Edna asked her smile widening. She liked Mary Mitchell and she knew her daughter to be a sweet girl.

“Yes’um,” James said nodding quickly in response. “Goin’ ta tha picture show. That’s why I need to go ahead and get a bath.”

“How ya gonna go?” Edna asked. “You ain’t gonna pick her up on a horse or walk or something are ya. Did ya ask ya daddy if ya could use tha car?”

Edna knew that her son, to her knowledge, had never been on a date and wasn’t sure if he even knew what the proper etiquette was in this sort of situation.

“No, momma,” James answered, somewhat exasperated that his mother seemed to doubt his social skills. “I’ve already asked Thomas and I’m gonna use his.”

Thomas had a well-worn Model “A” he had had since he was James’ age. Edna knew it was clean, though, and that was what mattered so she nodded her understanding that James seemed to have the situation well in hand. As such, she would cease her “meddelin’” as Carl would have put it.

“Well,” Edna said going back to her potatoes. “Go get the wash tub and bring it in then start drawing some water. Miriam, get the stove goin’ so ya brother can get ready.”

Brother and sister began rushing around doing what needed to be done to get James heading back toward town as quickly as possible. Two five-gallon buckets of iron stained water were drawn and positioned on the stove to heat to boiling. James brought in three more buckets full and poured the frigid water into the #2 tub he had set in the center of the kitchen floor.

Miriam kept an eye on the two buckets and once they had just begun to bubble, she took them down and poured them into the tub instantly bringing the tub water to a fairly comfortable lukewarm temperature.

“Ok, sissy,” Edna called her daughter by her sometimes nickname. “Let’s give ya brother some privacy. Watch the door.”

Miriam knew the routine of baths at the Bentwood house as well as all the older family members did. Someone always sat outside on the kitchen porch while another sat inside the house in the dining room to ward off anyone who might unknowingly stumble in on a bather through one of the only two entrances to the kitchen.

It also helped to ward off Marshall, who had been known to sneak in and throw a grass snake or bull frog or even a small snapping turtle into the water with an unsuspecting bather. He hadn’t done this for almost a year now and everyone was waiting for him to strike even though Carl had told him, “the next time will be the last time once I get through with you.”

Everyone knew, though, including Carl, that Marshall wouldn’t let the threat of a skinning stop him from having a little fun. It was just a matter of time. Apparently not this time, though, Miriam thought, because she could see Marshall out in the field plowing his last rows.

But while Marshall missed a bath prank opportunity, he did see James just after 5:30 as he was leaving the house. James was just stepping off the porch in his new pants and shirt and was walking toward Thomas’s car when his younger brother spotted him. Marshall was driving Maude to the barn where he would take off her tack, their jobs done for the day.

“Heeey, look at you Jimmy boy,” Marshall pulled on Maude’s reins stopping the old mule. He began walking toward James who immediately picked up his pace toward the car. Before he could get to the car, though, Marshall cut in front of him causing James to stop.

“Leave me alone, Marsh,” James tried to sound tough, but it never came across that way. “I’ve gotta get goin’.”

“Yea, I know. I heard. Thomas told me you’as gonna use ‘is car. Gotcha date, hunh?”

“Yes he does and you leave him alone!” Edna all but shouted from inside the open front door. She had expected Marshall would bother James if he had a chance, so she came to the door to keep peace. “Let him get going or he’s going to be late.”

“Yea,” Marshall said as he reached toward James’ fedora. “Hate to be late for ya first date.”

“Marsh!” Carl hollered as he came up the drive leading Josie, the famly’s other mule. “Didn’t ya momma say ta leave him alone?”

At Carl’s words, James ducked away from Marshall, but his brother had already halted at his father’s words. So, James settled his hat back on his head, jumped into the car and carefully backed out of the driveway.

“How many times am I gonna have to tell ya to leave ya brother alone?” Carl glared at Marshall as he slapped Josie with the reins to get her moving again. “Now get ya mule in the barn and get ‘er fed.”

Marshall hesitated a moment as he watched James drive down the road, then went back to Maude, and doing as his father told him, started toward the barn again. He was grinning as he did, though.