Burke

CHAPTER ONE

Parks Air Force Base, California

Tech. Sergeant Wallace, in charge of the Air Police on duty, received a telephone call for Colonel Burke and forwarded it to the Bachelor Officer quarters. He then typed the call into the log book for the third shift dated 3-14-1980.

Awakened and reaching for the phone and the light switch, Colonel Joseph Burke glanced at the clock. It was 3:15 a m. Cradling the phone on his left shoulder, picking up a pen beside the pad of paper, he simply stated:

Colonel Burke

Colonel, this is Bob Maloney from Gate City.

Bolting upright in the bed, Burke listened as the as the voice drawled. Your mother died an hour ago. Frozen in an erect trance, he managed.

I will be there as soon as possible.

Carefully replacing the phone as if handling an explosive, he staggered to the bathroom. He managed to flip the light switch, staring into the blurred mirror image of his face fraught with pain staring back.

Showering grew the hurt. Trying to hold back tears compounded the pain. His mother had been a major part of his life. Having never married, his mother was his entire family. Their visits were looked forward to each year of furlough. Together they had visited various parts of the world. Tears blurred his vision.

A cold shower jerked him back to reality. His mother’s death would necessitate to returning to the small town he had tried to forget.

For almost thirty years, he had been able to avoid revisiting Gate City, Tennessee.

Emergency leave was processed in less than an hour. After arranging a flight home and packing clothes for ten days, he was at the San Francisco airport by 07:20.

Waiting in line to board his flight, the Colonel was wearing civilian clothes. A navy blazer, white shirt, a maroon and silver striped tie. His light tan trousers were a sharp contrast to his cordovan loafers. Maintaining his weight had been a religious daily ritual of calisthenics. For his first twelve service years it was the way he managed to keep his weight the same as when he enlisted. Now at forty eight, at six foot four inches tall, he weighed two hundred and twenty pounds.

His hair now mostly white with just a hint of amber was thinning at the back. It was cut short enough to satisfy regulations and the only clue that he was military. His deep blue eyes reflected a shy and sincere person. His ruddy complexion was one usually associated with freckles. He was not handsome, but striking.

His request for a bulkhead seat had been granted. Even with the extra leg room, he was somewhat cramped. The DC-10 was not fully booked and fortunately the adjoining seat was unoccupied. Settling in, he opened a book he had been reading. It was 08:20. With the connecting flight in Houston, his arrival time in Nashville would be 15:10. Just a little over six hours. Renting a car and driving the last forty miles, he should be in Gate City before the funeral home closed. As the plane soared eastward, the painful memories of his childhood emerged. Trying to concentrate on the book was futile.

His earliest memories of his father were frightening. Fear of him magnified as he grew older . . . .

CHAPTER TWO

At Christmas of 1939, Joseph was seven years old. That morning a wagon was next to the tree. It had a wooden bed and bright red wheels.

Staggering into the room, his father glared at the wagon. Ah see yuh got what yuh wanted he slurred and then with a sneer, said Ah don’t think a kid that still cries when Ah points mah finger at him deserves a present like that.

Joseph trembled, knowing what was coming and determined not to cry, looked at the floor. Look at me, boy! his father shouted. Tears dimmed the image of his father’s finger.

John Wesley Burke was a deputy sheriff. His five foot ten inch body strutted with each step he took. His thinning hair combed straight back exposed a freshly scrubbed scalp. The knife-like pleats in his trousers pointed down to his highly polished shoes. After four or five shots of bourbon, his strut progressed to an insolent swagger. His piercing stare, reinforced with a barrage of profanity, enabled him to inflict pain without touching.

Joseph Edward Burke was his only child. He and his mother suffered the brunt of his father’s drunken rages. Joe was a frail child and his father ridiculed him for it. His father was constantly bringing vile tasting tonics for him to drink and pills he was forced to choke down. When his freckles started appearing his father became infuriated. He demanded that he go with Joe to the drug store to get rid of them. The druggist was embarrassed but suggested a salve that might help. His father supervised the first treatment. That night Joe tried to keep the pillow from wiping the salve off. When his father worked nights the salve was not applied.

That part of town where Joe and his parents lived was commonly referred to as Bean-town. A creek separated Bean town from the houses where the blacks lived and that part was known as Tintown. Most of their houses still had a tin roof. Beantown earned its name from the daily staple diet of beans consumed during the Depression. The less fortunate lived there. There were no sidewalks. Kids had to play in the street because the houses were so close together on their tiny lots. The games some-times became violent.

Sling slots and BB guns were often used in the kids’ Indian and cowboy wars. Throwing rocks across the creek at the black kids was a common practice. There were several bullies that preyed on the smaller kids.

The most feared bully was Carl Overland. He was also the ugliest. His shoulders were more narrow than his waist. His arms and legs were out of proportion with the rest of him. His nose and mouth were wide and were the distinctive features of his face. His eye sockets were deep and dark almost black eyes revealed the hatred within. When he walked. It was more of a stomp than a step. He went barefoot most of the time, his ankles and feet were layered with filth. Even the older boys avoided him. None dared to cross him.

Pine Street was the only street in Beantown. It was parallel with the creek which ran mostly north and south. There were two alleys that started at Pine and ended at the creek. The homes in the alley were flooded each spring. A small grocery was located on Pine between the alleys. It had a second story with living quarters. The Overlands lived there. A porch ext-ended out from the second story with a railing around its perimeter. Carl used the porch for target practice with his sling shot. The smaller kids were his targets. Joe Burke was his favorite. On the way to and from school, Joe had to walk by where Carl lived. Expecting a rock at any second, he held his breath until he was out of danger. Carl went to school only when he wanted to. The teachers overlooked his absence thankfully. When he did attend, there was more disruptions. There were times when he would disappear for several days.

Joe hadn’t seen or heard of Carl all week. Walking home from school, thinking he was safe, Carl jumped out from behind a bush. Grabbing Joe’s books, he threw them on the ground and stomped them with his feet.

Pick up yer books sissy, if yer books are dirty, thuh teacher won’t want you fer her pet he sneered. As Joe reached for his books, Carl’s foot came crashing into his face. Blood streamed from his nose. Carl ran off.

Watching from her porch, Mrs. Walters rushed to Joe. Wiping his nose with her apron said, He would’ve broke yer nose iffen he wuz wearin’ shoes. Come inta thuh house an’ Ah’ll put cold water on yer face

The cold water stopped the bleeding. Shaking her head, she said Thet boy acts like’n animal, he belongs inna reform school.

Thanking Mrs. Walters, Joe walked to the door. His ruined books were in her chair. He couldn’t remember putting them there.

Turning the corner, Joe saw the old Chevy in front of their house. Looking down, he saw the dried blood on the front his shirt. His heart pounding, he opened the door. Standing in the living room, his father’s face snarled when he saw the shirt. What goddam kid beat you up this time he demanded. All Joe could mutter was Carl.

Did yuh hit him first or did yuh just let him beat thuh shit outta yuh?

Without waiting for an answer, yelled, When are yuh goin’ to have enough guts to hit thut cold bag of piss first? Joe’s mother entered the room. Please John Wesley, don’t you think one bully is enough for one day?

No damned wonder he’s such a sissy, yuh pam-per thuh hell outta him.

Joe’s mother didn’t let his remarks faze her. I think Joseph should spend the summer with Mother and Dad. At least he won’t have to put up with the likes of Carl.

Ah guess your Dad needs someone to carry his bible, he’s too lazy tuh carry it himself. Ah don’t want no son of mine tuh learn tuh expect thuh Almighty tuh solve all his problems. He has tuh learn tuh stand up tuh all thuh shit an’ take it like a man. Putting his hat on, Ah’m goin’ tuh town. Slamming the door as he left.

When school is out next week, I’m taking you to visit Mother and Dad. If you want, you can spend the whole summer.

Her blue eyes echoed her defiance. Energy seemed to beam from her. This was the first time Joe was really aware of her beauty. Her blonde hair framed an angelic face the color of cream. Her height and slender form seemed to glide when she walked.

CHAPTER THREE

There were lots of empty seats on the train, so Joe and his mother both got a window seat apiece. Joe’s mother was in the seat directly behind him.

The train started, creaking and groaning. Steam hissed and a heavy smell of smoke filled the coach. An older man, wearing bib overalls and a collarless white shirt, got up from his seat and ambled up to a glass container filled with water. It was shaped like an oversized canning jar upside down and had a small spigot at the bottom. Beside the water jar was a container of paper cups shaped like ice cream cones. He took one, held it under the spigot. Pressed a little button on top of the spigot and filled the paper cup with water. He filled a second one and walked up to Joe’s mother, he handed them both to her.

This’ll help take thuh taste of smoke out of your mouth

His mother said, Thank you, sir. She took the cups and handed one to Joe.

You and thuh boy are mighty welcome. How far are you goin’?

We are getting off at Cookeville. My father is meeting us.

"Who might your father be?’

Joe Walton.

You don’t mean Preacher Joe Walton do yuh?

Yes, that’s my father.

Well doggone, Ah’ve knowed the preacher mosta mah life. Thut means James is yuh brother.

Jim is four years younger than me. My name is Jency Ellen Burke and his is my son Joseph. He’s going to spend the summer with my folks. We live in town and Joseph does not get the fresh air and sunshine a growing boy needs.

"How old is yuh boy?’

He is seven and will be in the third grade this fall.

"Ah bet he’ ll grow like a weed this summer.

We’re mighty beholden tuh thuh preacher, in fact we call him Uncle Joe. Thuh reason being he knows most ever’ family in this part of thuh country an’ can claim kin tuh most of us. Ah’m Chester Oldfield an’ Ah live south of Cookeville.

Yuh can tell Uncle Joe thet Ah’m planning’ on cutting’ some timber an’ will need to have him saw it up. Ma’am, I’m mighty glad to make your acquaintance.

He returned to his seat and started talking to a man sitting across the aisle. Joe had dozed off with the swaying of the train. The sound of the whistle as the train slowed woke him.

We’re there, I just saw daddy on the platform.

It had been a long time since Joe had seen his grandfather but remembered him. His full head of grey hair matched his mustache. Underneath his bushy eyebrows, his deep blue eyes sparkled. Standing tall and erect in his black suit, he portrayed an air of pride and dignity. The white shirt and black tie set him apart from the rest of the men in denim overalls.

Walking towards Joe, he kneeled to his level putting his huge arms around him. Grinning, a gold tooth was barely visible I hear you’re goin to visit for a spell. His low soft voice eased Joe’s anxiety.

Uncle Jim appeared, In contrast to Gran’paw, he wore a pair of faded denim pants and a cham-bray shirt. He was much taller, his ears were not as large and his nose more pointed. His hair more black, than brown, came to a point on his fore-head. Lifting Joe and holding him in the air, he said, We’re goin’ tuh have fun this summer.

An old rusty pickup truck was parked by the station. Uncle Jim placed the suitcase and satchel in front of the truck bed next to a makeshift seat.

You an’ me ull ride back here.

Gran’paw drove the truck through town, waving at everyone he saw. They all waved back and some shouted a greeting. It was a blacktop road leading out of town. It went up one hill after another each one a little steeper. The old truck chugged up the hill like a snake, scaling one layer at a time. A sharp turn and another climb.

Look down Joe an’ yuh kin see whur we’ve bin. It takes four turns tuh scale this’n. Yuh’re in thuh mountains now.

Soon after climbing the mountain, the truck slowed and turned into a dirt road with a creek running alongside. After a short distance, the road and creek became one. The makeshift seat jarred as the truck bounced on the creek bed rocks. When the road left the creek, there were split-splat sounds as the tires threw water on the dusty road. Uncle Jim called the names of the people living in the houses as they passed. Some of the houses were more run down than the ones in Beantown; some had tin roofs.

Gran’maw Em was waiting on a platform built on top of a wooden fence. It had steps on each side of the fence. Gran’paw stopped the truck. Uncle Jim lifted Joe out of the truck into Gran’maw’s outstretched arms.

Sakes alive! child, we need to put some meat on those bones.

Excitement beamed from her brown eyes peering over the rims of her small glasses resting on her nose. Face to face, he could see that her eye-lids seemed to slant downwards on each side. Her white hair was pulled to the back and tied in a knot. Her face was more wrinkled than Gran—‘paw’s. When she stood up, she wasn’t much taller than Joe.

Joe’s mother waited her turn with Gran’maw. She had to bend over to put her arms around her. Gran’paw interrupted the reunion. We best git out of this hot sun, let’s go up on thuh porch. The three of them headed towards the house. Uncle Jim drove the truck down to the lane that led to the barn.

CHAPTER FOUR

Four wooden rockers with high backs and arms stood on the porch.

Joe, yuh set with me, said Gran’paw, The women have a lot of catching up to do.

Gran’maw and his mother’s conversation was mostly about new babies and who died. At the first lull in the conversation, Gran’maw Em announced.

Jency, we ought to start supper. The men folk will be needing to do their chores after we eat.

After they went in, Uncle Jim joined Joe and his grandfather. Moving a rocker closer, Uncle Jim said, Joe, after we eat, you might want to watch me milk old Susie".

Before Joe could answer, Gran’paw said. Someone’s coming.

Towards town, there was a dusty image. As it moved closer, it looked like someone riding a horse. Gran’paw squinted with frustration.

Jim, you and Joe go see who it might be.

Moving to where Gran’maw had been sitting, Uncle Jim said, That’s Virgil Rudder, Ah can spot his horse anywhere. Wonder whut he’s up to?

Easing his leg over the saddle and stepping onto the fence stile, Virgil called.

Howdy Jim, whose that young feller with yuh?

He’s Jency Ellen’s boy. She’s inside with Maw fixin’ supper. They just got here today. What brings yuh tuh this neck of thuh woods?

Howdy Virgil. Gran’paw had walked down to where they were, after learning who it was.

Ain’t doin’ so good, Uncle Joe. It’s Maw, she thinks her time on this earth is jest ’bout over. She wants to git her house in order. Ah’d be much obliged if ’n yuh wuz tuh come sit with her fer a spell.

Won’t be long till supper’s ready. Come on in and we can ride over together

Hate to miss out on Aunt Em’s cookin’, but best Ah head back.

You tell your Maw Ah’ll be there ’fore dark and Ah’ll be atalkin’ to the Lord on thuh way

Maw’ll be mighty glad to see yuh an’ Ah’m thankin’ yuh.

The three stood on the stile as Virgil, slumping in his saddle, faded into a cloud of dust.

CHAPTER FIVE

The warm sun woke Joe. There were two cots in the small room. Uncle Jim had warned him about the mattresses filled with corn shucks. Every time he rolled over, he heard them crunch. The cot his uncle had slept in was empty.

Hearing voices from the kitchen, he dressed and headed towards his mother’s voice. Gran’maw was tending the stove and his mother was putting plates on the long table.

Good morning, sleepy head. Your Gran’paw and Uncle Jim will be in soon to eat. Go on the back porch and wash the sleep out of your eyes.

His mother seemed much more calm than before, in Beantown. The June morning air was brisk and the water must have been fresh from the well. It made his face tingle. Drying his hands, Joe heard Uncle Jim laugh. Turning, he saw him carrying a pail.

Bet yuh ain’t tasted fresh milk in a long time.

Gran’paw was following behind and another man was at his side. Gran’paw said, Joe, this here’s Charley. We call him Yea ’cuz no matter what yuh ask him, his answer is ‘Yea.’ He can eat green peas or pinto beans with a knife better’n most can with a spoon.

Charley looked at Joe, grinned, exposing a toothless mouth said Yea. His eyes revealed a child-like kindness. He was small and bent over which made him look even shorter. His round head was hairless except around his ears.

Yea shuffled behind Gran’paw as he opened the screen door to the kitchen. Charley sat next to Gran’paw. Gran’maw filled a plate and put it before Yea. He waited until grace was given before he dug in. He cut his ham and loaded it onto his knife. After it disappeared, he looked at Joe and announced: Yea. Joe smiled and looked away. He didn’t want to watch him eat his egg.

Gran’paw’s younger brother lived in one of the houses Joe had seen when they drove up the creek. It was one that had a tin roof. Unlike Gran’ paw’s, it had never been painted. It was perched on flat rocks with wooden steps leading to the front door. It was as bad or worse than the ones in Tintown. He had six children. Two were married and lived close by. They produced numerous cousins; all were welcome at Gran’paw’s.

Reece was the most frequent visitor. He was in and out several times a week, mostly when it was time to eat. He sauntered in as Charley was sopping his plate with a biscuit. Gran’maw put another plate next to Joe. Reece was in the chair the instant the plate touched the table.

CHAPTER SIX

Reece was close to Joe’s age but much larger. He was wearing bib overalls, no shirt and bare-footed just like Carl Overland. However, his jovial demeanor was a sharp contrast to Carl’s. His hair looked like it had been shaved from the top of his ears down.

Between gulps, looking at Joe, Reece mumbled, Arter we eat, Ah’ll show yuh Prince.

As they started out of the door, Reece looked at Joe’s shoes.

"Thuh dew will git ’em all wet an’ when theyse dry, they’ll hurt yuh feet. Ah ain’t got none. Wished Ah did so’s Ah could wear ’em to the meetin’ house on Sundays.’’

Heeding this advice, Joe put his shoes under his cot. Outside, the soft silt dirt soothed his feet like powder. The first rock he stepped on was different. When he flinched, Reece warned, Gotta watch wh’ar yuh step.

It was too late. The black and white stuff oozed between his toes.

Thut chick’n shit is goin’ to stink sum’pn awful. We best wash thut off in thuh crick.

The water was cold and barely deep enough to wash in. Heading for the barn, Joe asked, Who is Charley?

"Maw tol’ me Gran’paw found him alayin’ ‘side the road an’ wuz barely alive. He done brung him home an’ he sleeps in thuh ol’ smoke house.

Gran’paw used tuh take him tuh thuh meeting house on Sundays. He tole ’em thut when cousins git kids, they might be like Charley. He don’ take him no more.

Nearing the barn, the smell of leather and hay lay strong in the morning air. Prince was eating from a horse trough when they entered the barn. A white diamond spot was between his eyes. His face was fringed with an almost black outline. The rest of him was a light creamy tan color down to his white feet.

This here’s Prince Reece announced proudly. Gran’paw sez thuh Lord must’ve sent him. No matter iffen it’s floodin’ or snowin’ Prince allus gits him home.

Hearing footsteps Joe turned around. It was Uncle Jim.

Gotta saddle up Prince. Paw is goin’ back to Virgil’s this mornin’.

Uncle Jim brushed Prince and Reece polished his saddle. Joe and Reece formed their own parade as they followed