High Hearts (11 page)

“Yes.” Geneva squinted at him. “I rode through the night. I don’t usually sleep this late myself.”

“See your cap has cavalry colors. Aim to enlist, do you?”

“Yes, sir, I sure do.”

He smiled broadly. “Me, too. You’re a green little sprig. Don’t rightly know if they’ll join you.”

Geneva threw off the blanket and stood up. She towered over Banjo. “They’ll join me.”

Banjo measured from her toes to her head with his eyes. “Mebbe yes and mebbe no. You’re a big ’un, but you’re still a young ’un.”

“I’m as good as anybody and better than most!”

He laughed. “All right, boy, don’t git your feathers ruffled. I see your vanity is cut to your size. I hope they do take you.”

She walked over to her saddlebags. Lutie had packed cheeses, smoked sausages, and bread. Geneva tore into the sausage, then remembered her manners and offered Banjo a bite.

“Thank you, no.” He shifted to get his weight on his left leg. “I’d be joining the cavalry, too, but as you kin plainly see, I’m no gentleman. By the look of your horses I kin see that you are.”

Geneva was taken aback by this. “Mr. Cracker,” she sputtered, “a gentleman is a gentleman from his heart. Money’s not so important.”

He howled with laughter. “The world don’t think like you do, son. You ran away from home else you’d have a servant with you,” he slyly observed.

Geneva was beginning to realize how hastily she had left. No wonder Lutie had let her go. She thought she’d be unmasked in the first twenty-four hours. It was only forty degrees, yet she started to sweat. “Well, I did go off in kind of a hurry.”

“So I gathered. Afraid your momma would stop you?”

“Well … uh …”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to send you back.” Geneva breathed obvious relief, making him laugh all the harder. “I do have a terrible price though.”

She automatically put her hand in her pocket.

“No, not that kind of price. First off, you write to your
momma and tell her you’re safe and sound. You kin write, can’t you?”

“Of course I can write.”

“Well, I can’t, so don’t get flat righteous about it. Second, you and I enlist together and you tell the officer that I’m your hired man. They’d go for that. You get what you want, and I get to be in the cavalry.”

She pondered this. “I’ll do it.”

He shook her hand. “Agreed!”

She turned to go back through her saddlebags and found a church almanac and a Bible which Lutie had slipped in. She pulled it out.

“Now mebbe I’ll learn somethin’. You brung the Good Book and I brung a pack of cards.” He reached inside his coat and withdrew a deck. “Keep it over my heart. Don’t know why. Just do. You about ready to go?”

“I just need to saddle up and …” She didn’t know how to excuse herself for her toilette.

“So, go.” Banjo shrugged. Why didn’t Jimmy get on with it?

“In front of you?”

“I haven’t got a ruler on me.”

Bright red, she spun on her heel and stalked off behind a shelter of bushes and trees, Banjo’s laughter stinging her ears. She was quick about it because she didn’t want to hear anything more on the subject.

“Shy little bugger, ain’t you?”

“You want to be my man or not?”

“Yes, boss.” Good-naturedly he waved his hand and climbed back in the saddle.

The gods watch over impetuous youth and falling down drunks. Unbeknownst to her, they’d sent Geneva her guardian angel.

Sin-Sin put her feet toward the fire. She’d worked her fingers to nubs today. Lutie suffered one of her organizing fits. Each spring and fall one of these spasms of inventory seized her like malaria. Sin-Sin was glad to be home with her pots. Another blue pot sat on her table but she thought the glaze not as bright as the one she gave Geneva. She munched on a praline. A Georgian relative of Henley’s sent up huge
tins of the candy for Geneva’s wedding. A knock on her door brought Sin-Sin slowly to her feet.

“I hears you.”

Sin-Sin opened the door. Braxton, followed by his mother, Ernie June, glowered behind two of the younger slaves, Alafin and Peter. Without a word, Braxton pushed the two men inside. He followed and closed the door.

“We got troubles,” Braxton said gravely.

“What kind of troubles?”

Braxton held out his hand. An emerald brooch glittered against his calloused palm. Sin-Sin grabbed it.

“Miz Lutie’s bar pin for her scarves! She’s been searching high and low for this.” Sin-Sin turned on the men. “You crazy, boy. What you want to do a thing like this for?”

Alafin answered. “I never got in the big house.”

“Shut up!” Peter spat.

Braxton collared both of them and forced them to the floor. “Sit down, goddammit. You thinkin’ of nobody but yourselves. Lotta people could get hurt over somethin’ like this.”

Di-Peachy, called to attend this hurried meeting, closed the door and placed the open mouth of a large kettle against the door. It was believed by everyone but Di-Peachy that this kettle would capture the sounds so no whites could hear.

“Let Di-Peachy enjoy her evening. Older heads be needed here.” Ernie cooed.

My, Sin-Sin thought to herself, she gets her big foot in the door, and already she’s trying to kick out Di-Peachy.

Di-Peachy, angry, started to speak, but Sin-Sin cut her off. “Ernie June, Di-Peachy reads. If we can’t settle this amongst ourselves, Di-Peachy will haf to search the books for answers.”

Ernie accepted this. Under questioning Alafin revealed that he and Peter fought over the favors of Tincia. Sin-Sin was like a hawk, circling around and around, getting closer to her mark. Finally she struck. “This pin got nothin’ to do with poontang. You think we wet behind the ears, Peter!”

Peter, tired from the incessant questioning, cracked, “I need money. Once outta here, I need money.”

Braxton cuffed him. “Fool!”

By midnight they’d reached a solution. Peter would have jeopardized every slave on Chatfield had he run off, but Alafin had hurt only Peter. Yet a servant stealing from a servant soured everyone. It was one thing to take from the
master; it was quite another to fleece another slave. Although Peter’s crime would have immediate physical effect on everyone, Alafin’s would have a corrosive, psychological effect.

Sin-Sin spoke. “Alafin, you works an hour every evening in Peter’s garden.”

Alafin nodded his head.

Sin-Sin continued, “Peter, come harvest time, Braxton and I gonna take half your garden and give it out, but we ain’t tellin’ nobody that it come from your garden. You tellin’ nobody either. You gotta think ’bout others!”

Braxton added, “If we catch you, if anybody catches you again, we’ll turn you over to Lutie.”

Peter laughed derisively. “That crazy ole fool! She can’t do nothin’ to me.”

“You shut up, nigger!” Braxton growled. “Now git outta here ’fore we change our minds. We been easy on you.”

Long after everyone had left, Sin-Sin sat deep in thought. Sin-Sin valued Di-Peachy’s mind but for what had to be done next, well, she wouldn’t tell Di-Peachy everything. After all, the girl was still young and filled with choked bitterness over being a slave. Sin-Sin knew that Lutie’s authority must be reasserted. With the men gone, Lutie had to prove she could command. Through Lutie came Sin-Sin’s power.

Even Ernie June realized what side her bread was buttered on, and Ernie’s ambition expanded like yeast. She’d twist and turn every which way she could to get out of reporting to Lutie the misdeeds of another servant. Ernie had each foot planted on the back of two different horses. She wanted Lutie going her way, and she wanted every slave on the place going her way, too.

Sin-Sin knew only too well what Ernie was doing in that kitchen. Having lived for over half a century, Sin-Sin took some pride in her judgment of people. The emerald brooch rested on the table. Peter’d try again. Not tomorrow or even the day after tomorrow but sometime. Sin-Sin rocked in her chair. She was going to set down a trap of many teeth—and then wait.

Lutie awoke to a brilliantly clear morning. Outside the earth, covered in ice, shone like a glazed doughnut.

“Emil, last night I dreamed of a black sheep with golden hooves! What do you think of that?”

She clapped her hands and hopped out of bed. Babbling as she washed her face and hands, Lutie pushed back the rising thought that she was in this enormous house alone, no children, no husband and a war on. Some war. Where was it? How could either side fight? She wasn’t going to worry about it today anyway.

“Do you think it’s an omen? The golden hooved black sheep? It’s not the golden fleece. No, it’s quite different. It was so vivid I could have reached out and touched his black curls.”

“Miz Lutie, you stirrin’?” Sin-Sin’s deep voice penetrated the closed door.

“Yes.”

“Who you talkin’ to?”

“You know who I’m talking to!” Lutie whispered under her breath, “Emil, sometimes I just can’t stand it!”

Without further embellishments or politeness Sin-Sin opened the door. “Good mornin’, cold as it is.”

“Good morning, Sin-Sin.” Lutie brushed her thick auburn hair, now half gray. “You know, Sin-Sin, you forget yourself. Say hello to Emil.”

“Hello, Emil.” Sin-Sin nodded at the window.

“He’s behind me, Sin-Sin.”

“He knows I’m minding my manners no matter where he is,” Sin-Sin pouted.

“Today Emil is wearing his scarlet turban shot through
with an indigo blue strip and edged with gold thread. His outer robes match, and his inner robe is robin’s egg blue. Every morning I wake up and wonder, What will Emil wear?”

Sin-Sin cleared her throat. “Miz Lutie, now that the men be gone, you and me be the only ones talkin’ to Emil.”

Lutie wheeled around on her stool. “Just what are you saying? We’re the only two who ever talk to Emil!”

“The others can hear us peepin’. We got to be more careful.”

“You don’t believe in Emil, do you? And don’t get your nose out of joint, Sin-Sin. I can’t bear it when you go moral on me!”

“I believes in Emil. He’s a pasha from Africa! He be king of Persia.”

“Persia and Africa are two different places.”

“He the boss man wherever he be.” Sin-Sin folded her arms.

This reply pleased Lutie. “Quite right.”

“We gots to be careful.”

Sharply Lutie said, “Do the others think I’m crazy?”

Sin-Sin diplomatically replied, “People like cloth, Miz Lutie. Some is fine and some is coarse. It’s the coarse one we got to be wary of. Gots no imagination. They doan understand you when you get above them in speakin’ and imaginin’!”

“I never talk to Emil in front of anyone but you, Sin-Sin.”

This genuine outburst touched Sin-Sin. “I knows it but folks overhear and you know that girl of yours be makin’ fun of Emil when the devil gets hold of her tongue.”

“You’re right, Sin-Sin.” Lutie stopped twirling her hairbrush. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Sin-Sin smiled. Then tossed off as though it was of no consequence, “I gots eyes. Miz Geneva flew the coop! Why doan you tell me?”

“Oh, Sin-Sin, don’t be hurt. I really can’t tell you yet what she’s up to except to say it’s foolish and perfectly in keeping with her impulsive character!”

“That girl’s a wild one. She galloped out of the womb.”

“I should have known when I gave birth to her … more pain than I had with the other two put together.” Lutie rarely mentioned Jimmy anymore. She glanced up at Sin-Sin’s dark eyes. “Could it have been that long ago?”

“Yesterday, yesterday in my heart.”

They were startled out of their mood by Di-Peachy. “Jennifer Fitzgerald is here.”

“What?” Lutie hissed. “That python’s crawling up here, and it isn’t a receiving day!”

“I indicated as much, ma’am.” Di-Peachy shared Lutie’s opinion of Jennifer.

“I suppose she’s sitting down there in my front parlor like a snake on a hot rock.”

“Oh, she’s not only sunning herself by your fire, she’s rooting around in your knitting box.”

“Well, I never!” Lutie, always enlivened by crossing swords, grandly threw on her most sumptuous morning dress. Lutie’s clothes, sewn in Paris, were the envy of every woman who saw her. She may have thickened with the years, in fact, she was plump, but her clothes amplified her good features: beautiful complexion, thick hair, and magnificent carriage. Lutie swooped down the stairs. Sin-Sin was two steps behind.

“Jennifer, what a welcome surprise!” Lutie gaily lied through her teeth as Jennifer stood up, clumsily scattering the sewing box, yarns, threads, and needles all over the inlaid floor.

Jennifer had the presence of mind not to dive on the floor to clean up the spillings. She took Lutie’s outstretched hand instead. Sin-Sin, spitefully, for she couldn’t abide Jennifer, sailed past the parlor toward the kitchen. Sin-Sin made no effort to clean up the sewing box. Di-Peachy began to move toward the debris when suddenly Sin-Sin’s iron grip paralyzed her elbow. Mute, Di-Peachy allowed herself to be dragged off to the kitchen.

Sin-Sin pushed open the kitchen door and bellowed, “Ernie June, we gots a fine lady in the parlor. Load her up on jams and teas and coffee and whatever else you hoardin’ here.”

Ernie called over her shoulder as she was tending the grits, “Di-Peachy done told me.”

“Well, I’m telling you again.”

Di-Peachy, weary of their squabbling even though she recognized the stakes, said, “Today in 753 B.c. Romulus founded the city of Rome.”

“Pin a rose on Romulus,” Sin-Sin grumbled.

Back in the parlor, Lutie and Jennifer gathered up the contents of the sewing box. Jennifer squeezed a large blue ball of yarn. “Ouch!” She carefully played with the yarn until
she extracted Lutie’s emerald bar pin. “Look.” She handed the pin to Lutie.

“I went through the sewing box!” Lutie exclaimed. “Thank you, Jennifer, I’ve been looking for this for over a week now. I know I looked through this box.”

“It was stuck in the middle of the yarn.”

“How on earth could it have gotten in there?”

“Maybe the clasp is loose, and when you leaned over, it fell in.”

“But in the middle of a ball of yarn?”

“Strange things do happen. Why, I used to berate my cook, a poor imitation of your Ernie June, because I thought she was stealing sweetcakes. She told me she didn’t do it. One day I walked in the pantry and saw a little raccoon, a tiny one, mind you, and that little fellow would open the can! Saw it with my own eyes, a pygmy raccoon!”