Free Legend of Buddy Bush (9781439131824) by Shelia P. Moses

can’t say a word. I’m just glad to be alive.
    â€œSlow this car down, Charlie!” Grandma yells.
    I want to scream, “You just told him to drive fast!” But I don’t have to. Mr. Charlie beats me to it.
    â€œNow you want me to slow down. I don’t know why you and Doleebuck don’t get license of your own and stop telling me how to drive.”
    All the way home they argue. I close my eyes and think about my train trip. I think about never chopping again, about Grandpa feeling better, and Uncle Buddy coming home.

7
What a Time
    W hen we get home, no one even mentions Uncle Buddy, and I don’t tell a soul that I went by the jailhouse. The thing I know now, that I didn’t know when I left Jones Property this morning, is that grown folks can get worms, too. Whatever worms are!
    I’m telling you, ain’t nobody saying a word on Jones Property.
    Everyone is waiting for Monday morning to come, like them white folks are going to grow a heart between now and then.
    Grandma finally breaks the silence.
    â€œMer, you and Pattie Mae need to stay here until this mess with Buddy is cleared up. White folks crazy when they mad. They might come by y’all house and try to harm you.”
    I hope they burn the whole house down while we here. That way we can stay on Jones Property forever.
    â€œYou believe we in danger, Ma Babe?”
    â€œI don’t know. Just stay here till things look better.”
    Ma never argues with Grandma. She puts her last biscuit in the pan and sticks it in the oven. Wiping the flour off her hands, Ma looks worried.
    Grandma goes about her daily chores as Ma gathers her two grocery bags for her walk home.
    â€œPattie Mae, stay here with your grandfolks. I will be back soon. I will bring your clothes for church tomorrow. And something for you to wear in the field next week.”
    Just what I need, my field clothes.
    But staying here is just fine with me. A Saturday night with Grandpa.
    As soon as I can’t see Ma anymore, andGrandma goes into the sitting room to dust, I go in to check on Grandpa, but he is taking a nap. Sitting here watching him seem like forever. His light skin is starting to look like the rattlesnake that he killed last year in the strawberry patch. Why does he look so old? Then I just close my eyes and pray, but not aloud.
    â€œOh, Lord, please help my grandpa. I promised Grandpa I was going to Shaw University someday. He promised me he would come to my graduation. He always keeps his promises, so please let him live until then. Pleeeease. Grandpa is a good man. And Lord, while I’m praying, please, please take care of my uncle Buddy. Amen.”
    After I finish begging the Lord, I climb over Grandpa’s weak body and lie down beside him. The cotton sheets are wet on his side of the bed. It’s June, but not hot enough for all that sweat. I don’t say anything. I just lie there and listen to him breathing.
    It’s getting late now and Ma still ain’t back. Grandma’s walking through the house, closing all the windows. With her fly shot, she spraying bugspray in each room until every bug, ant, and candle fly in the house is dead or dying. Hudson sees her coming and he runs under the bed. Surely Grandpa and me will die in our sleep with no way to breathe.
    I don’t care. I keep my eyes closed and think about how unbearable life will be on Rehobeth Road if something bad happen to Grandpa. Then I start thinking about us dying together. Grandpa and me in heaven. What a time we would have away from the controlling women.
    I fall to sleep and dream about heaven. No snakes, no mean sheriff, no cotton to chop. Uncle Buddy is in heaven with us, not in jail. It is so beautiful.

8
The Amen Corner
    G randma is up praising the Lord this Sunday morning. She cooks and prays. She asks the Lord to heal Grandpa and to bring Uncle Buddy home. She speaks in tongues every time she prays about Uncle Buddy. Ma joins her and