Sweetsmoke (16 page)

    Would
it matter if I say I don't mock you?

    No.

    Then
I won't bother to lie. So explain something. You hear rumors, right?

    What
rumors?

    Rumors
that Quashee's bad luck.

    Sure,
I hear 'em.

    Then
why do you want her? Don't you think that bad luck'll rub off on you?

    Big
Gus smiled at him, a leering unpleasant smile.

    I
see, said Cassius, understanding the unintended double meaning of his own
question.

    Big
Gus turned aside to set down his jug, and Cassius set himself for Big Gus to
come up swinging, as was his method. But Big Gus stayed low, and Cassius looked
where Gus looked, at Joseph and Fanny dancing in the cloud of straw dust.
Cassius saw twirling smiling Fanny, her inviting body imprinting delicious
shapes on his eyes, shapes meant for Joseph alone. She reached up and tousled
the white tuft on Joseph's head and laughed. He saw Joseph enraptured and
reckless, and Cassius thought that all lovers were doomed.

    God
damn, said Big Gus. I was savin that one.

    Big
Gus started toward Joseph.

    Gus,
said Cassius.

    Later,
said Big Gus.

    You
don't walk away, said Cassius, wondering why he was doing this.
Gus!

    Big
Gus came around snorting.

    Fanny's
just a girl and that's a good age for Joseph.

    You
callin me old?

    Calling
them young.

    You
lookin at the Driver of Sweetsmoke and I get what I want. Maybe she young, but
after tonight she ain't gonna be a girl no more.

    I
don't think so, Gus.

    Big
Gus stalked onto the dance area, Cassius moving behind him, but Cassius slowed
when he saw Abram across the barn.

    Abram
caught his eye, then surprised him by turning away and slipping out the door
back into the night. Because of that, Cassius missed the moment when Big Gus
shoved Joseph. Fanny yelled at Big Gus, but Big Gus pointed his finger at
Joseph and Joseph slapped the man's hand aside. Cassius knew Joseph had no
chance, young and lean, and round in his cheeks, so Cassius reached for Gus,
but three Edensongs stepped in then, men who did not fear the wrath of a driver
from a neighbor plantation, followed by Fanny's mother. Cassius chose to let
them have him and he walked away with his heart pounding.

    Cassius
overheard Big Gus say, Mr. Nettle, he trust me, patrollers my friends, you all
goin be sold to Sweetsmoke and then you mine, and Cassius overheard Fanny's
mother say, You don't git
my
daughter, she ain't betrothin no Sweetsmoke
driver, not while I'm her mamma, and he heard Big Gus yell, We in the fields
tomorrow, Joseph, so I see you there.

    As
Cassius left the barn, he saw Fawn weeping openly, having been witness to the
whole scene. Irritated by Fawn's tragic tears, he moved away to escape them.

    The
Big-To-Do went on as night fell over Edensong. Cassius had looked for Jenny but
had not seen her since the barn. Perhaps that was just as well, as she might
need time to cool down.

    So
far, nothing had happened that would define the dance as furthering the bad
luck. If he was lucky, it would be the first step in changing that tradition.
He winced at his own superstition, but knew that when people started to
perceive bad luck, any small fool thing reinforced it. The anticipation of bad
luck could carry on for months, years. At that moment, as he mused, Richard
Justice stepped out of the shadows and took Cassius completely by surprise.
Richard Justice had chosen this time and place to guarantee shock and
isolation.

    "What'd
you find, Cassius?"

    Nothing,
how long you been here? said Cassius.

    "What'd
you find!?"

    What
makes you think I found—?

    "That
smug look on your face, you got something going on, empty your pouch!"

    Richard
Justice rammed his forearm against Cassius's chest and shoved him against a
tree.

    Cassius
was stronger and taller, but even though he had expected this moment, he had
been caught off-guard by Richard Justice's sudden appearance. He did not push
back. Richard Justice dug under Cassius's shirt, found the string that held his
pouch, pulled it out, and used his free hand to take out the three coins and
the folded prewar bank notes.

    "Jesus
Christ, this is prewar, these are bank notes! No faith paper in sight!"

    Cassius
had chosen bank notes decorated with colorful depictions of cheerful slaves at
work. He did not imagine Richard Justice would notice or care. It was Cassius's
own small revenge, and it satisfied him.

    "No
protest? Aren't you going to tell me you made that money as a carpenter?"

    You'd
know it was a lie.

    "You
should have hidden it, Cassius. That wasn't smart, carrying it on you."

    Didn't
think you'd show tonight.

    "Couldn't
help yourself, Cassius the clever, flashing prewar bills, showing off to the
hands. That's so small of you, they are so easily impressed."

    Cassius
held his tongue. Richard Justice now thought what he wanted him to think, that
Cassius had been foolishly overconfident.

    "And
the rest?"

    Not
gonna say, said Cassius.

    Richard
Justice put his open hand on Cassius's chest and pushed him toward the tree.

    All
right, all right, back where it was, said Cassius.

    "I'll
know if you're lying, we can go to your cabin right now."

    Cassius
slapped Richard Justice's arm away.

    So
come to my cabin, you won't find nothing. I put it back where she hid it,
figured it's good there if you looked before and didn't find it.

    "Fair
enough," said Richard Justice nodding. Cassius had read him correctly, he
was too indolent to bother going further—the money in his hands satisfied his
expectation of Cassius's greed, and Cassius knew he had buried enough money to
convince Richard Justice he had unearthed her entire fortune.

    "So
you reburied it. When were you going back?"

    Cassius
shrugged.

    "Don't
feel bad, Cassius, it was the smart play, the odds were decent, always a chance
I wouldn't come after you."

    Richard
Justice counted the money again with pleasure. Cassius described where the tin
was buried in the garden.

    "I
looked there."

    I dug
deeper.

    Cassius
knew Richard Justice would dig up the money tonight and never return to his
mother's home.

    "Here,
take this for your trouble." Richard Justice put a coin in Cassius's palm.

    Cassius
again wondered if Richard Justice had murdered Emoline. But he did not believe
it. For all his bluster, Richard Justice did not have that requisite inner
coldness to crush the head of his own mother. A small voice inside of him
spoke, If you don't find her killer, her death goes unpunished. He dismissed
the voice.

    Which
of your sisters will you buy first? said Cassius.

    Richard
Justice hesitated. "Leave that decision to me."

    How
would you do it?

    "This
truly interests you?"

    In
point of fact, it did. Cassius had no conception of how one would bargain for
the life of another human being.

    "Dear
Lord, Cassius, it's but a simple matter, I messenger a personal note to Mr.
Sands, master of Philadelphia Plantation, and his oral reply is returned by my
messenger. He would know it was about money and money is what drives such men.
He would be obliged to entertain me."

    You
would go as a visitor?

    "I
am a free man, Cassius, as such I speak to anyone I choose. Now, if you don't
mind."

    Richard
Justice moved into the darkness, staying clear of the many lanterns that
illuminated the dance, buoyant in his step, a whistled tune on his lips.

    Cassius
returned to the big barn, and was irrationally happy. People drank and danced
and ate boiled ears of corn. He had not indulged in more than a few swigs of
the dreadful Edensong whiskey, but his head felt agreeably light and
disconnected from his body. He warned himself against taking pride in his
manipulation of Richard Justice but he could not make the happiness go away. He
wandered among the revelers for some time with a smile on his face until
someone leaned close to him in order to be heard over the music.

    You
helped my boy, said Savilla.

    Cassius
turned and she moved her head closer and said into his ear: I spoke to that
Eula.

    Eula?
said Cassius.

    Fanny's
mamma, Eula, said you helped my boy. Didn't suppose that from you, Cassius.

    Didn't
suppose?

    Not
like you to put yourself out. Want to thank you.

    Where's
Joseph?

    Actin
the shamed puppy, probably crawled up inside a jug.

    And
Fanny?

    Got
the women all 'round her by the corn rig, keep her there till Big Gus drink
himself to sleep.

    Savilla
left him with a bittersweet taste in his mouth, as her gratitude had been generously
salted with the low expectations of his character. The pleasure of manipulating
Richard Justice now receded and left him unexpectedly thirsty.

    He
searched for refreshment, brooding about Savilla's words. Did Savilla think the
same about Mam Rosie, that she wouldn't put herself out for others? As a boy,
he had tried to emulate his adoptive father Darby. But Darby was gone so soon,
and as Cassius grew he was forced to define himself in opposition to the
imperious, mercurial, self-centered Rose. Yet it was she he had recognized when
Savilla described him.

    He
found an abandoned jug along the outside barn wall and heard the slosh of
liquid within. He carried it up a rise into darkness near a stand of trees. He
was glad to be surrounded by the wind which pushed away the noise of merriment.
He was finished with this dance, tired of the hands with their opinions and
their ominous intonations of dire luck. All that was left was to drink himself
stupid and stagger back to his cabin by morning. He sat on a flat divot in the
rise but before he could enjoy the contents of his jug, he saw Quashee
following in his footsteps. The memory of her touch on his shoulder returned,
and a fire grew around his middle as she sat beside him and took the jug.

    I
didn't know you house folk indulged in the bark juice, said Cassius, friendly.

    Oh, I
been known to change my breath now and again. 'Course, we used to drink finer
fare up at John-Corey's big house, said Quashee.

    So,
the new girl sips planter juice.

    I
think maybe I did try it. Once, said Quashee, her smile no more than a twinkle.

    She
tipped the jug and he saw her try to hide the wince when the harshness gripped
her throat, and he laughed. She returned the jug, eyes watering.

    Not
so smooth as planter juice, said Cassius.

    If
I'm goin be a hand, I'm goin learn to drink like a hand, said Quashee, voice
snagging in her throat.

    Showing
off, he tipped the jug and drank and it bit back and he knew he had taken too
much. He fought to swallow as it burned down his throat into his chest and
without warning he hooted. Quashee laughed and rolled onto her side.

    Thank
you, he said, the words coming in a whisper.

    Didn't
mean to laugh so hard, she said, still laughing.

    Laugh
all you want, but I meant for earlier, when you stopped me telling Weyman I
could read—hoo mama, that shit burns—'cause if Weyman knows, everybody knows.