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

white folks call about Bro, don’t tell them nothing.”
    I am happy to hear her say that, but I wonder when we are going home. If I’m assigned to the phone, that means we are staying here a little longer. Maybe we are never going back to the slave house. Never! I don’t want to go back. Grandma and Grandpa has everything that we don’t have. A water pump on the back porch—ours is in the yard. They have lots of new stuff that Grandpa is buying each month with the money from selling the lumber. But no matter how poor we get, Ma don’t ask them for nothing. She told me, “We ain’t asking for nothing. My poppa and Ma Babe worked for their stuff and it’s theirs and nobody else’s.”
    But Grandpa is always trying to share with us the nice things they buy. What he don’t buy, he builds with his own hands. Grandpa’s even built a indoor bathroom; now all he has to do is figure out the plumbing. Surely, as soon as he is feeling better, he will figure that out too. I sit at the telephone table that he built two years ago.
    I sit there waiting and wondering. Every few minutes, I peep through the window to see if Grandpa and Mr. Charlie are coming. WillGrandpa like the new phone? Will he have Uncle Buddy with him when he comes back? Is Grandpa going to be okay?
    Just when it’s time to worry some more, I look down Rehobeth Road and Mr. Charlie’s car is coming at five miles per hour.
    â€œMa, hurry! It’s Grandpa and Mr. Charlie. Uncle Buddy ain’t with them.”
    We all rush to the door as they pull into the yard.
    I can tell that Grandpa don’t have good news.
    Everybody takes their positions on the front porch. Grandma and Ma go into the screened-in porch and sit in the green swing. Mr. Charlie and Grandpa sit in their usual places.
    I say hello to the grown folks and voluntarily go in the house before being ordered to.
    The door is open, so I will not need my mason jar today.
    Grandpa explain to Grandma why he didn’t bring their boy home. “Them white folks are as mad as all getup. They said Uncle Buddy can’t have no bail and they said he will have to stay in jail until his trial starts June thirtieth.”
    Grandma don’t say a word for a minute. Then she ask, “Did you see him?”
    â€œI saw him, Babe, and he look like he doing okay.”
    â€œDo he look like they feeding him?” Ma asks.
    â€œHe do. He looks like he eating just fine.”
    After that, the grown folks don’t say nothing. They just sit there and look at each other until lunchtime. Every now and then Miss Doleebuck starts to sing a church hymn. I think if Grandma try to join in, she will cry a river. I want the court date to hurry up and come, so that Uncle Buddy can leave this town and go back North to enjoy his life.
    His life before coming down South. Before taking me to the picture show. Maybe I will go with him up North and never come back. Never!
    Everything changes around the house after they refuse Uncle Buddy’s bail. I overhear Grandpa tell Mr. Charlie that white folks are up to no good again.
    He can just feel it in his bones. White folks are mad about what that white woman told themUncle Buddy tried to do to her. She ain’t doing nothing but lying. But they believe her. They are talking about a hanging. It’s 1947. Surely they can’t hang him.
    Somehow the word has reached all the way to New York. On Thursday my letter from BarJean is just filled with questions.

Dear Pattie Mae,
    How are you-all doing? I am fine. I talked to Coy and he said that he heard from one of the guys from Rich Square that there could be more trouble at home. Write me back and tell me what is going on.
    How’s Uncle Buddy?
    Please stay close to home and don’t tell anyone except family about what you saw.
    Also, Irene told me that Grandma and Grandpa were getting a new telephone. Do they have it yet? If so please write me back and give