 
DAVID SHATH SQUARE Chapter Six
NO ONE RUSHED forward to help my grandfather because we were all too astonished by the sight of him -- he was hanging from the raised jitney by his bootlaces.
My father was angry. "Damn you, Jeb. You almost got yourself killed, and look at all the trouble you've caused me and Hardy and all your friends."
For once in his life, my grandfather wasn't prepared to argue. "Can the damn chatter and cut me loose," was all he could say. "And try to save the laces. They're genuine rawhide. Cost me a fortune."
Lee Chang cut my grandfather free with precise strokes of his pocket knife. My father and a couple of the men helped him into a standing position.
"Mr. Jeb," said Lee Chang, "there is an old Chinese saying 'men who walk with laces untied are bound to trip over their own feet.'"
Everyone started to laugh with the exception of my grandfather who looked miserable. "You're not even a Chinese," he snapped at Lee Chang. "You're a Jap, told me so yourself."
Now it was Lee Chang's turn to look unhappy. There was still a lot of resentment of the Japanese because of the war. Suddenly everyone was staring at Lee Chang, who pretended to look at something far away. Finally, the Swede broke the silence.
"C'mon let us get dis stupid old bastard into some dry clothes and give to him another shot of whiskey, ya?" He put a big arm around my grandfather's shoulder and attempted to guide him out of the swamp. But my grandfather shook off the arm and walked toward the gravel rail berm where he sat down and refused to move.
Lee Chang sat down beside him. My grandfather didn't acknowledge his friend for a long time. When he finally stared at Lee Chang, his eyes were so filled with contempt that the Chinaman moved away from him to a safer spot on the berm.
"Leave him be," my father advised Lee Chang. "A man that proud doesn't have much of a sense of humour."
The remark stung my grandfather, who was considered one of the sharpest wits in the territory. "Well, Judas," he said to my father, " I may not be able to laugh at myself but I sure as hell can laugh at you."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" asked my father.
"Do you really think you've got anyone around here fooled? Do you think people don't know about you and your friend?"
"I've never tried to hide my feelings for Marge Holdstone," said my father.
"You're feelings for whom?" My grandfather could be grammatically correct when he wanted.
"Marge Holdstone."
"That's very funny, Judas. You've got me laughing already." And he began to laugh. Not a pleasant laugh. While I wasn't proud of my grandfather at that moment, I figured he was still drunk and the liquor was talking. But I didn't understand why he was making such as big issue out of my father's relationship with the widow Holdstone. Her husband had been dead for over a year.
My father turned and walked toward the truck. "Let's get out of here." he said. "Jeb can walk back to the Pointe when he sobers up."
Everyone climbed aboard the Swede's truck. As we drove off, I looked back at my grandfather, alone on the gravel berm with his head between his legs.
To Chapter Seven
Copyright © 1998 David Square/Log Cabin Chronicles/12.97 |
