Page 119 of The Reformatory

“Please come, Henry Jackson,” Robert whispered, coaxing.

A large twig snapped from the tree line in front of them. Redbone heard it too; he looked at Robert, then shielded his eyes from the sun to stare toward the cedar trees. A twig spiraled from a higher branch and fell to the ground. Was it a coincidence, or…? There. A man stood back beyond the trees, half hidden behind two trunks on either side of him. He was a young Negro man with a billed cap, tall, but too far to see his face. Was he real?

“Hello…?” Robert called out.

A shriek as loud as an air raid siren made Robert cover his ears. Redbone grabbed his arm hard, startled. But the shriek was behind them, not in front. The hog pounded itself against the wood slats, shaking the whole shed as boys inside yelled to hold it still. The hog’s next shriek, full of terror and agony, sounded like a child begging for its life while one of the boys laughed.

Then the hog was quiet, silenced by a blade.

When Robert looked between the trees again, the man he thought he’d seen was gone. Now he couldn’t remember which trees he’d been standing between, they all looked so alike.

“Did you see him?” Robert whispered to Redbone, hoping.

“Where?” Redbone said, anxious. “At the well?”

Robert pointed toward the cedars. “He was… far back. I couldn’t really tell…”

Redbone sighed and shook his head. “Dammit. Do you know where to put the dust?”

“He was gone so fast,” Robert said, although the whole truth was that he had turned his head because of the dying hog. As Redbone’s eyes got teary, Robert’s heart raced. “Maybe it wasn’t him. He’s supposed to come to the well. It’s still a long way ’til supper, Bone.”

“Hey!” A boy of about fourteen leaned out of the slaughterhouse through a window without glass. His shirt was covered in blood. Robert wondered if he was a friend of Cleo’s, since Cleo worked there too. “What y’all doin’?” the boy called out. “Y’all catchin’ haints?”

“You seen one?” Redbone said.

“Sure I did. A haint turned over the slop bucket last month and I got beat for it!” Robert and Redbone had heard dozens of stories like it, most of them doubtful, but Robert would have been desperate enough to ask for the exact place if the story weren’t a month old. Boone’s haint dust wouldn’t work that far back. When they didn’t answer him, the boy ducked back inside the slaughterhouse to return to his bloody task.

“Henry Jackson!” Redbone called out again, his voice hoarse.

Another man appeared, rounding the corner of the slaughterhouse at a fast pace, and Robert held his breath until he realized it was only Crutcher in his suit coat and vest. Crutcher dressed like he was invited to a fancy dinner party every day, no matter how hot it was. He looked angry, so they both took a step back at his fast approach. Robert couldn’t forget how Redbone had said Crutcher had dunked his head under hot water in the sink.

“You boys—what are you doing here?” Crutcher said.

“We got a pass to—” Robert began.

“I know about that bogus pass, but what are you doing here?” Crutcher cut him off. “You’ve got Boone fooled, but I won’t have you here with your theatrics distracting these other boys who have real jobs to do. Move your hoodoo coon show somewhere else.” He checked his pocket watch, which swung from his vest. “In fact, you should be in the schoolhouse, getting your lessons. This is shameful. I’m telling Boone no more of this during school hours. You need to put some learning in your empty heads so you can be something in this life.”

Robert and Redbone stood frozen, trying to think of what to say to his stormy face. He clearly did not believe in haints, but what other excuse would he listen to?

“Sir…,” Redbone began, and fumbled for words. “We just… need to…”

“Move along,” Crutcher said, “or I’ll take you to the Funhouse myself.”

The sun felt hotter, burning Robert’s arm as he and Redbone mumbled “Yessir” and backed away. Robert took a last look at the well in case Henry Jackson was floating beside it or standing tall beyond it with the trees. It would be such a simple thing if Henry Jackson would come like he was supposed to—so, so simple. Please come, Henry Jackson, he thought.

Crutcher was watching them, so they walked away so fast, they were nearly running. Robert felt like he was racing toward a burning field, away from air and breathing. For the first time, Robert heard Redbone stifle a sob.

“If that was him behind the trees, I’ll show Boone where he was,” Robert said. “Okay?” Redbone didn’t answer, pulling far ahead. Walking alone.

Dinner was runny stew and corn bread missing its flavor. The silence between him and Redbone made Robert’s stomach tight, so he only ate a bite or two before he pushed his tray away. He didn’t touch his chocolate cookie, so Redbone took it and Robert didn’t mind. A few boys had asked if they could sit at the table with them, but they had said no. No one else could hear what they had to say.

“You know what I gotta ask you,” Redbone said. “In case it’s not there.”

Robert knew but he didn’t want to. He tried to pretend Redbone wasn’t thinking about turning on Blue or that he wasn’t thinking about it himself. He would hate to betray Blue, who had already been wronged by Haddock and the guards like the other haints. But on the good side… with Blue gone, he wouldn’t have to sneak into Haddock’s office. He could offer Haddock the ash from Blue and that might make Haddock happy until Friday. It wasn’t his fault all of those haints had been caught in the jar. He wasn’t the one who’d killed them. If only he hadn’t seen Blue in the bathroom so close to where Mama had been! More than three days might have passed since she’d been there, but how could he take the risk of trapping her by mistake?

Robert stared at the table. Letting Redbone down felt worse than the Funhouse. “I can’t.”

“Who says you can’t?” Redbone said.