Story: Harvey Jones

Dead in the Afternoon
Episode One: Cofield

- by Marvin T. Jones

Many Joneses were in the logging business, going back to my great-grandfather, William Jones, Jr. My cousin, Harvey Jones, pictured here in 1978, was a fourth generation logger.

I stepped to the back door of Daddy's store on one of the many fine, late Saturday afternoons in Cofield, when the sun was just starting to get low. I could see clearly, through the screen, a small scene across the street. Under the tree, behind Bazemore's store, one or two men were standing around watching two other men slowly wallowing with each other in the grit. Grit is not the kind of clean country dirt you'd love to put your toes through when moistened into mud. Grit is the in-town grain with its molecules of glass, gasoline, grease, Coca-Cola, beer, rust and other stuff.

The men in the grit were drunk and a little tired. They were kinda struggling over the matter of a dollar or maybe an insult. Sometimes they would stop for a half-minute, say a word or two about each other and then resume for another 10 second round. No blows were struck and they only grappled and fumbled in a way that was more like a pitiful effort at romance than a fight.

Harvey Jones came along the road. He was going to pay for the week's groceries. After working 5 1/2 days at clearing forests, he was well on his way to spending what little time there was left of the week bathed, well coifed and manly clothed. Harvey's hair was brilliantly oiled; his shirt was, with the sleeves rolled back a few inches, as white and crisp as it could be. I hope you can imagine the shine of his shoes and the crease in his pants. A clean and confident man walked upon the scene.

And, here were two of his employees on the ground, flopping about in a way that actually attracted little notice in Cofield. Harvey stepped over to his men and looked down at them for a second or two, and said, "You fellows shouldn't be down there. You're getting your clothes dirty." One of them responded in a loud mumble, "All you can talk about is clean clothes!"

Harvey stared at the two for a bit more, shook his head and continued on with his mission; and I turned back to the business of clerking.

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