Kid Sterling by Christine Welldon

Author:Christine Welldon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Deer Press
Published: 2021-05-27T18:06:23+00:00

TWENTY

“Up and at ’em!” With a rattle of keys in the lock, Captain Jones entered the dormitory. “Last one out o’ bed gets the bucket.”

Sterling caught the urgency and scrambled out of bed. The barred window above showed pitch blackness. Boys flung off their covers in a flurry, yawning and stepping into their pants. Jack lay snoring. The Captain bent over the sleeping boy. “Higgins! That means you! Get dressed and take the bucket down to the cesspit. Merrit, show him.”

The Captain walked on down the hallway.

“Haw haw!” laughed the boys, as Jack sleepily threw on his overalls and gingerly picked up the smelly latrine bucket. When Sterling joined in the laughter, Jack flashed him a look. While Higgins and Merrit were gone, Sterling and the rest shook out their straw ticks, neatly folded their covers at the foot of the cots, and lined up. Jack returned from his latrine duty, a mean look in his eye.

“Teacher say to come outside. You got a visitor,” he said to Sterling.

Sterling did not stop to think twice. Could be his momma had come to see him! Down the passageway he hurried, looking in the rooms as he passed. Empty. No one waited for him anywhere, and the front door was bolted shut.

“What you doin’ there?”

A middle-aged lady with graying hair and a severe expression hurried down the hallway toward him. She peered at him through small round glasses.

“Ain’t my momma come a-visit?”

As she came closer, he saw that her eyes were kind. Her voice softened. “Whoever told you that is mistaken, boy. You don’t get visitors for a month.”

So, Jack had played a trick. Might a-knowed it.

“Which one are you?” She carried a folder and opened it. “Sterling Crawford?”

He swallowed his disappointment and nodded yes.

“Musical, it says here. You might like to join the school band? We got a good one.”

Sterling looked toward the dorm. What was Jack up to next?

“I give all that up, ma’am,” he said. “I jus’ wan’ a-learn a-write music down on paper. I know how to write music a little.” He turned to hurry away. He would be late for inspection. But she called after him.

“What kinda music?”

He turned back to her. “I make up tunes, raggy tunes, bluesy . . . some day, I’m gonna sell ’em to bands that come in town.”

“So, you got a dream. Gonna make a deal with you. Join the school band, then you come to me for help, learn how to write it. Okay?”

Sterling looked closely at the woman. How much did she know about music? He had not heard of many colored women musicianers. But any help was better than none. Armand had taught him a little, but he needed to learn more.

“Okay, I guess.”

“You gonna meet Mr. Davis soon—our bandleader. Come see me in the band room before breakfast tomorrow. I’ll make it right with Cap’n Jones. Run along, now.”

On his way back to the dorm, he met Captain Jones coming down the stairs.

“Where you been, Crawford?” He walked into the room where the boys stood to attention.

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