On Sharecropper’s Road

The summer wind gusted through the windows as we sped down the dirt road. It was pitch black and our old headlights didn’t light up much. Momma’s brown hair whipped along the contours of her face that I could see from the back seat. We needed to reach the highway soon. It wasn’t safe for us to be out on our own at night like this.

Momma and I were running late from her work. She worked as a social worker during the Great Depression. Her job was to travel all around Louisiana and show people how to can their food for safe keeping. This helped many people when the cupboards were well on their way to empty. She always did her job in large canvas pavilions. They reminded me of big, colorless circus tents. The canvas pavilions were full of sterilizer pots as big as I was, lots of food, and big ole fires. People were always scrambling around trying to follow Momma’s lead. Back then, it was unusual to find a woman working a full time job like Momma’s. She'd work all day every day without a single complaint. She had to after Daddy left.

It was a Saturday so I went with her to help. There were some newcomers there who didn't know how to can their food properly, leaving a big mess. It took us a while to clean it all up. By the time we'd finished, it was dark outside.

We continued down the road for what seemed like a lifetime. Branches scraped the sides of the car, as if they were trying to grab us. Suddenly there was a thud, followed by an abrupt stop. Momma opened the door and saw that our back left tire was flat. She sat back in the car and groaned. She grabbed her flashlight from the console. The foliage on the side of the road began to move, as if something, or someone was moving in it. Momma and I got very still. I felt my breath leave me. It seemed to sink down into the depths of my body. My chest felt heavy, like I was feeling the full weight of my heart for the first time. Momma closed the door and locked the car.

“Lay down still on that floor and don't you say a word now.”

I laid, face up, on the floor completely still and listened carefully.

“You be my brave little man. Alright?”

“Yes, Momma.” I whispered.

I heard her take a deep breath. Footsteps came closer and closer. There was a tap on the window and I heard a man's voice. I knew it was a man of color because he spoke in a delta dialect I'd recognize anywhere.

“ 'Scu me, Missus, it do seem you need some help. Ain't no way safe fo’ a fine white lady like yo’self to be driving 'lone after dark on this here sharecropper's road. I be happy change that tire fo’ ya, and be most 'bliged, could you gimme a quarta’.”

Momma didn’t respond.

“Miss, this ain't no place to be stranded with a flat. You ain't got no quarta’ I change it anyway.”

She still didn't answer.

“No need to worry ma'am...I ain't mean no harm. I change yo' tire...then you be on yo' way.”

Momma cracked the window and gave the man a quarter.

“Ah, thank ya kindly Ma'am...I get to it.”

I heard a few more footsteps, then some jostling as he worked. I sensed that we were safe but I stayed down anyway. Just when I was feeling more at ease, I heard the sound of another vehicle pull up behind us. The lights shone overhead but the sounds of the vehicle stopped. Momma took a hitched breath, then heavy footfalls followed.

A man shouted, “Get outta here n****r!”.

It was muffled from inside the car but the hate in his voice came through all the same. The man who had helped us ran away. I heard momma take something out of the glove compartment.

“You best get on out of that car, girly,” the man yelled.

“Don’t wanna be out here all by yourself. Ain’t safe.”

“You stay still and don’t make a sound, James,” Momma said through clenched teeth.

“I said you best get outta that car! What? Didn’t hear me?” The man chuckled.

“No need to be nervous, girly. I’m just tryna help.”

I saw that the thing Momma grabbed from her glove compartment was her pearl handled revolver. I heard a click and Momma put her hand holding the gun under her thigh.

“How ‘bout you step on out and we have a nice, civilized conversation, huh?”

Momma stayed quiet.

“Alrighty then, maybe I’ll just come to you.”

The heavy footsteps approached the car.

“Ah, now I can see that pretty face up close. How ‘bout you roll down that window?”

Momma rolled down her window.

“See. Now that wasn’t so b-- ”

In an instant Momma’s hand crossed her body, revolver in hand. Before the man could react, Momma’s gun was in his face.

“I'll shoot.”

I knew that voice. It meant you better step in line, boy.

I remember the sweet, sweet sound of the gravel spraying departure. Momma let out a great sigh and calmly placed the revolver back in the glove compartment.

“You did real good, James. Now you stay down while I figure out how to get us outta here.”

“Yes, Momma.”

She grabbed her flashlight again and opened the door. The voice of the man who had helped us before came from the darkness.

“Oh, Missus! Oh, Missus! I runned down the road and hid in them brushes. They was three of them, Missus. Three in that truck, with shotguns. Oh, Missus! You one brave lady!”

Momma said thank you to the man. She said this with a sense of warmth contrary to what her silence had implied earlier.

“I finish changin' yo tire ma'am,” he said while walking toward the back of the car. There was more jostling around and Momma sat in her seat. I laid on the floor without either of us saying a word.

The man was all done changing the tire and came up to the window with traces of oil and dirt on his shirt.

“Listen, I can't leave ya out here all alone. At Least let me carry ya further down the road,” Momma said.

“I much 'bliged to ya ma'am. But we can't be seen no kinda way.”

“I hear ya, but just get on in here and slide down.”

He got in the passenger seat and shut the door. Then he slid way down in the seat 'till he was halfway down to the floor.

Momma stepped on the accelerator and tore off down the sharecropper's road, gravel flying everywhere.

“They’s a shantytown down the road just a little ways mo' where I got me some kin and I can stay d’night.”

“Alright, you just let me know when to stop.”

We sped down the road for maybe another mile.

“Slow down now, this is it.”

Momma slowed down and stopped far enough away so that no one would see her face.

“I'm so grateful Missus.”

“You saved our lives,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“You done that yo' self.”

He leaned in before closing the door.

“Don't you let up on that gas pedal 'till you gets ta’ town.”

He closed the door, smiled and turned heel toward a cluster of little shacks. Momma stood on the accelerator.

When we reached the highway Momma said, “You can sit back up on the seat now if that would be more comfortable.”

I climbed up off the floor. The seat of a car never felt more luxurious. I felt like a king in a sedan chair. We finally approached the boarding house where we were to stay the night. Momma stopped me before we headed up the stairs.

“Now let’s us not trouble these fine people with any of the details 'bout what happened tonight. That’ll just be between us.”

“Okay, Momma.”

Momma gave me a little smile and sighed.

“We did alright, didn't we?”

“Yes, Momma. You a fine brave lady.”

“And you're my brave little man.”

I walked up the steps with Momma, hand in hand, beaming with pride