Blood on the Forge by William Attaway

Author:William Attaway
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-59017-808-9
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2013-11-20T16:00:00+00:00

Big Mat could hear Anna’s laugh when he mounted the stoop. Then he heard Chinatown’s high voice singing snatches of mill songs. He listened awhile before he opened the door. They were sitting on the floor. With a pair of scissors Chinatown cut at an old newspaper.

“Hallo, straw boss,” said Chinatown. He was looking up with a sheepish grin.

“We are playing,” said Anna.

“Aw, we jest messin’ round,” apologized Chinatown.

“He show me how to make doll,” said Anna. “They stretch—so.” And she stretched a row of them between her hands.

Chinatown brightened up. “Them’s dance-hall gals.”

“They dance—so,” she said. And she shook her hands. The strip of newspaper dolls danced.

“That little one in the middle look kinda good,” said Chinatown. “Man, she got a mean wiggle!”

Big Mat grunted, “Git somethin’ to eat on the table.”

She crumbled the strip of dolls in her hands and stood up.

“Too much foolin’ round here,” he said. “Somethin’ to eat shoulda been on the table.”

Chinatown was accustomed to Big Mat. He knew that his brother did not know how to play. With a foot he dragged a chair within reach. Tilting it against the wall, he sat and watched Anna’s broad hips sway in front of the stove.

Big Mat started out of the back door.

Chinatown said, “Melody come with me but he gone now. Brung a letter.”

Anna rattled the pots on the stove.

“What sort of letter?” Big Mat stopped.

“Come from Kentucky,” said Chinatown. “Reckon Melody took it with him.”

Big Mat hesitated. Then he started for the outhouse.

“It don’t make no difference,” he called. “I ain’t readin’ no letters from Kentucky no more.”

Anna rattled the pots again. There was a clink of glass from the outhouse.

“Big Mat hittin’ the booze early,” commented Chinatown.

She did not answer. With a spoon she stirred the leftover beans. A side of bacon was on the table. She left the beans and began to slice the bacon. Every movement was studied. She knew Chinatown’s eyes were on her.

“Sure is a crime to take you outa circulation,” said Chinatown.

Anna smiled. She glanced toward the back door.

“There is a dogfight tonight,” she said. “You are going?”

“Dunno.”

“Melody is going maybe?”

“Dunno.”

“He is funny.”

“Who?”

“Melody. He cannot play Mexican tune.”

“Maybe I see you and Mat at the fights tonight,” said Chinatown.

“I will not be there.”

“How come?”

“Mat, he don’t let me out. We don’t go no place.”

“Mat jest ain’t the kind to have no fun.” Chinatown laughed.

“All my fine clothes stay at home.” She sighed.

There was a rustling under the house. Rats played under the floor. Chinatown picked up his rifle and sighted down the barrel. He clicked his tongue when he had drawn a bead on the sound.

“Maybe you will come here tonight,” she said casually. “Big Mat will be at the mill.”

“What’s that?” said Chinatown with a start.

“Oh, you will bring Melody,” she said. “He will bring the guitar. There will be corn whisky for you.”

“Boy, I can’t git no straight on you,” puzzled Chinatown. “Jest last night you don’t want no part of Melody.”

“That is a lie,” said Anna.

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