The Cottoncrest Curse (25 page)

“Train someone?” Bucky perked up. “Could you train me? I learn real good.”

Raifer and Dr. Cailleteau gave each other a knowing glance and, unable to restrain themselves, laughed loudly. Dr. Cailleteau's huge bulk jiggled with delight.

“What's so funny?” Bucky demanded. “Dr. Cailleteau said he gots to train someone, and I wants to learn things. You know me, always trying to better myself. So, why can't I be trained?”

“Bucky,” Raifer explained, “if the darkies have all left Cottoncrest, that means Sally is gone. She was the only midwife in the area, colored or white.”

Marcus broke off a small portion of the long baguette and handed the remainder to Sally, who in turn broke off a piece and passed the crusty end to Jenny. As they sat in the old cabin, their first stop, they dipped the bread in the wooden bowl of butter that Ganderson had left them.

Marcus and Sally contemplated their newfound freedom. It was intoxicating and scary at the same time. Marcus, of course, had traveled widely when he had been in the Colonel Judge's service during the war, but he had not left Petit Rouge Parish in more than ten years, as the Colonel Judge's world closed in on him. When the Colonel Judge traveled north to Philadelphia, on that fateful trip where he had met and married Miss Rebecca, he pointedly had not taken Marcus along.

But Sally had never left Petit Rouge Parish. She had grown up a slave on a neighboring plantation to Cottoncrest, and the farthest she ever had gone was to the ferry landing that crossed from the west to the east banks of the Mississippi. Now, for the first time in her more than fifty years, she had crossed over. It was like the picture in her small church of the crossing over the Jordan, except this time it wasn't just a hand-painted lithograph. She was really living in the story, heading for better times and better places.

But it wasn't like Sally had expected. She had thought that she would enjoy seeing the broad river flow under the ferry, seeing the old shore and the new shore of freedom approach. But all she could see, crowded into the false bottom of Ganderson's hitch wagon, was the ferry's planking.

Sally, however, could hear the sloshing of the waves as the ferry moved across the current. She could imagine it fully. Like the Hebrew children crossing the Red Sea, leaving Egypt forever, she was crossing the brown sea of the Mississippi away from Petit Rouge, never to return.

“How long do you think we have to stay here before we move on?” Marcus asked, between bites.

“We stay here until it's time we don't stay no more,” Sally replied. “The railroad runs on its own time. Ain't nothin' we can do but to wait. Look at all we got, anyway.” Sally pointed to the rusty tin that formed a low ceiling over a portion of the rotting wooden structure set far back off the road, surrounded by weeds and a thick hedge of wild ligustrum. “Got a roof over our heads, got food to last a day or two, and got our freedom. We ain't no more house servants. You ain't no more manservant. You and me, ol' man, are gonna be so free we ain't gonna know what to do next 'cept enjoy ourselves. Gonna ride this ol' railroad to freedom as far north as it'll take us, and then we're gonna build ourselves a real life.”

“You think Cubit and Jordan are gonna make it?”

“What you gonna worry 'bout them for? 'Course they's gonna make it. We goes east and north. They goes west. Ain't no one can stop any of us.”

“What about you, Jenny? Are you goin' north with us from Baton Rouge?”

“No, Marcus.” Jenny sat off to one side, lost in her own thoughts. “Not now. I have a few things to do in New Orleans still. Maybe then… maybe afterwards.”

Marcus and Sally had each other, but Jenny had no one. Of course she would contact Louis when she got to New Orleans, and of course he would help. But could he help enough? Could he act quickly enough?

She dismissed her own worries. Louis always acted discreetly. That's how he had survived so long. That's how he had prospered, carefully treading his way in white society and carefully tending his way in the high Creole culture of New Orleans.

There was everything to look forward to, but Jenny had a terrible sense of loss and sadness. It was the hardest thing she ever did.

It was not Cottoncrest that she would miss. Not the house. Not Little Miss, although she like the old lady, particularly when Little Miss was more alert and would joke with her in French. And she wouldn't miss the Colonel Judge. He had been pleasant but aloof, and he had gotten worse and more angry and silent toward the end.

And although Jenny would miss Rebecca, would miss her every day from now on, would miss her graceful manners and warm smile and the many hours they would spend talking, that was not the hardest thing.

The hardest thing was not losing Rebecca. The hardest thing was leaving the twins.

Today

“Anyway, there I was, without a whole lot of money, and I had to rent a car. I knew that if I didn't rent one soon, I'd spend all my money wandering around New Orleans, for I found the city, in all of its crass gaudiness and mildewed decrepitude, endlessly fascinating.

“Back in those days there were lots of little places you could rent cars, mom-and-pop establishments with a half-dozen ancient, battered vehicles. If you were willing to bargain, you could get an even better price.

“Several of the places I went to wanted too much or had a limit on how far you could drive. I knew I had to put a lot of miles on the car just to get from New Orleans out to Cottoncrest, and I needed something cheap but reliable.

“Finally, I found Wings on Wheels off of Elysian Fields Boulevard. The name was far grander than the place or its wares. They had one recent-model Oldsmobile—remember, this was 1961—its hood crumpled from a crash, and the lime-green finish on the passenger side was all scarred up, but the big rounded wings extending backwards from the trunk were still intact.

“I was taken with that Oldsmobile. Mrs. Schexnayder, the owner, could see that. We were eventually able to cut a deal, and I rented the car. I had to pay for a full week, cash up front, but I was to get a portion back if I returned the car early.

“I thought it was appropriate to be in a big car like that. Grandpapa Jake would have loved it. He liked cars. Hated trains but loved cars. He used to tell me about how he and my great-grandmother, Roz, used to drive around on hot summer evenings to keep cool, her long hair blowing out the open windows.

“Grandpapa Jake loved that woman.
A sheyne shidduch,
he would say. It was a beautiful match.

“He loved to tell the story about how they met. He used to say that he never had a glass eye for her, unlike the glass eye she had for Yossel. That was a joke. You see, Roz had been engaged before she married Grandpapa Jake. In fact, they met at the engagement party. Moshe had brought Jake with him to meet the girls who would be there, but after scouting the room, the only girl who appealed to Jake was one with the white blouse and the blue skirt.

“Moshe was shocked. ‘Jake,' he explained, ‘that's the future bride. She is spoken for. Look at all the other girls in this room. Here in America you don't need a
shadchen
'—that's a marriage broker—‘You can almost have your pick of any of them. But not her!'

“Grandpapa Jake was never deterred by anything. ‘
Ven nit di shainet maidlech, volt men gehat dem yaitzer-horeh in der'erd,'
he told Moshe. If not for pretty girls, temptation would be unheeded. ‘What does she see in him, anyway?'

“Moshe tried to explain. Yossel had neither the greatest looks nor the greatest personality. He was moody and temperamental, but he was learned and studious. Already his studies and his commentaries showed that he had the makings of a great rabbi. He was a fine catch for any girl.

“Grandpapa Jake would have none of this. He said love is blind, but I'll open her eyes. Actually, what he said was
chossen-kalen hobn glezerne oygn.
Bride and groom have glass eyes. But that's what it means. Love is blind.

“It was almost too late. The families were making a first toast to the couple as part of the official engagement announcement. The goblets of red wine were lifted high, but Jake forced his way through the throngs toward the front of the room, until he was standing directly in front of Roz. He stared at her intently, as if piercing her soul.

“Grandpapa Jake told me that he did pierce right through her glass eyes and into her heart. Before that moment she had not noticed him at all. But when she saw his handsome face and intent gaze, she stumbled. Just a little, but it was enough. The red wine spilled from her glass all over her white blouse. Grandpapa Jake said it was as if her heart had poured out toward him.

“Yossel's mother screamed. Spilled wine was a terrible sign of disaster. ‘
Keyn a hore
!!' No evil eye, she cried. But it was too late. This was a sign from God that this girl was not fit for her son. The wedding must be canceled.

“Yossel himself was shaken. He did not believe in the superstitions that his mother did, but then he saw Jake rush up to Roz and hand her his handkerchief to cover the stain. She took it gratefully. In a moment of insight Yossel feared the worst—that the veil had been lifted from Roz's eyes.

“Yossel pointed at Jake. ‘
Mit a nar tor men nit handlen.
' With a fool you have no right to do business.

“Jake started to respond, but Roz quietly intervened, turning to Yossel.
‘A shveigendiker nar is a halber chocem.
' A quiet fool is half a sage.

“Yossel was now doubly taken aback. He was not to be lectured to, not by a mere woman.

“But before Yossel could say anything nasty to Roz, Jake placed himself between the two of them and announced to the entire room, ‘
A nar ken a mol zogen a gleich vort.
' Sometimes a fool can say something clever.

“The crowd erupted angrily at this upstart who dared speak so impertinently to the learned rabbinic student. Moshe quickly rushed Jake out a side door.

“Jake wouldn't see Roz again for almost two years.”

1893

As soon as they reached Cottoncrest, Raifer ordered Bucky to head out immediately to Tee Ray's cabin. Raifer didn't want Tee Ray and Forrest going to Lamou on their own. The Knights hated the Catholics almost as bad as they hated the coloreds. Bucky was to make sure that they got the Jew or found out what the Cajuns knew about the Jew and then leave without causing further troubles.

The Colonel Judge and his family had been staunch Catholics, and although they only attended Our Lady of Mercy in Parteblanc and never went to church in Lamou and wouldn't mingle with the Cajun Catholics, Father Séverin, the Lamou priest, had too many contacts in New Orleans. The last thing Raifer needed was some rich Catholic with influence or, worse yet, some Catholic legislator telling him how to run his business in Petit Rouge. Raifer had made it clear to Bucky that his job, among other things, was to make sure things did not get out of hand in Lamou.

While Dr. Cailleteau went to Little Miss's room to check on her, Raifer inspected the rest of the big house. There was no one there. Up in the attic, where Jenny's quarters were, the room was vacant.

Raifer went out the back door. The kitchen, which was detached from the house as a precaution against fire, was deserted. The fireplace was cold.

The cabins behind the big house where Sally and Marcus and Cubit and Jordan and the others lived were likewise empty. It appeared that everyone had left in a hurry, taking only the barest of necessities. Plates and cups were left on the table. A bag of rice here. A sack of flour there. The coloreds had not taken any of the wagons or the horses, as far as Raifer could tell. They had been careful. They hadn't wanted to be accused of theft.

They hadn't been in Little Jerusalem. They hadn't passed through Parteblanc. They had to be moving through the woods or swamps.

That was all right. He would catch them eventually. He could create some charge that would stick and would bring them back, especially Jenny and Sally and Marcus. There could always be missing silverware or liquor. There could always be theft charged. He'd send out a flimsy when he got back and would telegraph Baton Rouge and New Orleans and all the points in between to be on the lookout for and arrest the fleeing thieves.

He'd make them come back and care for Little Miss. How dare they leave her in her condition? He'd threaten them and tell them they had to stay as long as Little Miss was alive. No need for Little Miss to be a drain on the Petit Rouge Parish budget until someone got the Cotton-crest finances in order, and that might take some time.

Maybe they were just hiding out in the daytime, ready to come back tonight and get the rest of their goods. That made more sense. They had just pretended to run, and then, when they thought it was safe, they would come back and clear out Cottoncrest of all its finery. Raifer might have to post a watch this evening. That would be Bucky's task when he finished in Lamou.

Raifer went over to the barn where the bodies of the Colonel Judge and Rebecca lay. Inside the horses rustled in their stalls. They were hungry. They hadn't been fed. Raifer got the pitchfork and shoveled some fresh hay into each stall. Someone else could clean the stalls out later.

Raifer heard a scraping noise behind him. He knew it. They had come back for the horses. If it was Cubit or Jordan, they'd have a surprise. He pulled out his gun and crouched down behind one of the barrels.

The noise stopped. They must have heard him.

Raifer paused, scarcely breathing. He would catch them.

No sounds could be heard in the barn, just the chirping of birds outside and the distant voices of the sharecroppers in the fields cutting and piling the cane.

Raifer took a scrap of wood from the floor and tossed it toward the barn door, where it made a hollow clatter. That would startle whoever had sneaked into the barn.