Tobacco Road

by Erskine Caldwell

  "Who's that?" the man said. "Is he your kid?"

  "That's Dude Lester. Everybody's heard of the Lesters on the tobacco road. Me and Dude is going to get married to-day. As soon as we can get the new automobile we're going to ride around to the courthouse and get leave to marry."

  The salesman shoved the check-book into her hands, and ran to the door of the office.

  "Come here quick, Harry!" he said. "I got a real sight to show you."

  An older man came out of the office and walked over to where Bessie and the salesman stood.

  "What's up?" he said, glancing from one to the other.

  "This woman here is going to marry that kid, Harry-- what do you know about that! Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

  The older man asked Dude how old he was.

  Dude was abàut to tell him that he was sixteen when Bessie pushed him behind her.

  "That's none of your business, how old he is. I want to buy a new automobile. That's what I came here for. I walked five miles this morning to get here, too."

  The' two men were whispering to each other when she had finished talking. The older one looked at her face, and when he saw the two large round holes in her nose, he stepped forward and tried to see down into her nostrils. Bessie covered her nose with her hand.

  "Good God!" he said.

  "Ain't it a sight, though?" the salesman said.

  "Has she got any money?" Harry asked him. "Don't waste no time fooling with her if she ain't. There's a lot of them just like her who come in here from the country and never buy nothing."

  "She's got a check-book from the Farmers' Bank in Augusta, and she said she's got eight hundred dollars in her account. The stub shows it, too."

  "Better call them up and find out about it first," Harry said. "She might be telling the truth, and she might be lying. Some of them people out in the country do some tricky things sometimes. She might have found the check-book and filled it out herself."

  They went back into the office talking about Bessie's nose, and closed the door. After the salesman had called the bank, they came out again where Bessie and Dude were waiting.

  "How much do you want to pay for a car?" the salesman said.

  "Eight hundred dollars," Bessie told him.

  Harry nudged the salesman with his elbow.

  "Now, this is a nice little job here," he said, leaning against the fender of a new touring model. "It's eight hundred dollars. You can drive it away to-day, if you want tO. You won't have to wait for the tags. I'll get them for you some time next week. You can drive a new car anywhere in the State for seven days while you are waiting for the tags to come from Atlanta."

  They winked at each other; every time they wanted to put over a quick sale they told that lie about the registration laws.

  Dude went to the car and blew the horn several times. The tone of it pleased him, and he grinned at Bessie.

  "Do you like it, Dude?"

  "Ain't nothing wrong with it," he said, blowing the horn again.

  "We'll take that one," Bessie said, pointing at the car.

  "Let's see your check-book," the other man said, jerking it out of Bessie's hand before she could give it to him.

  He took the check-book, tore out a blank, and hastily filled it out for eight hundred dollars.

  While the man was writing the check for Bessie to sign before she could change her mind or leave the garage, the salesman was again trying to look down into her nose. He had never seen anything like it before in all his life.

  "Sign your name here," she was told.

  "I always have to make my mark," she said.

  "What's your name?"

  "Sister Bessie Rice."

  "You must be a woman preacher," the man said. "Ain't you one?"

  "I preach and pray, both."

  She touched the end of the pen while an "x" was crossed after her name on the check.

  "The automobile's yours," she was told. "Is the boy going to drive it home for you?"

  "Wait a minute," Bessie said. "I clear forgot about praying--let's all kneel down on the floor and have a little prayer before the trade is made."

  "It's all over with now," one of them said.

  "No it ain't, neither," Bessie insisted. "It ain't over till the Lord sends his blessings on it."

  The two men laughed at her insistence, but Bessie had already knelt down on the floor and Dude was getting down on his knees beside the automobile. The two men stood behind her so they would not have to kneel on the floor.

  "Dear God, we poor sinners kneel down in this garage to pray for a blessing on this new automobile trade, so You will like what me and Dude is doing. This new automobile is for me and Dude to ride around in and do the work You want done for You in this sinful country. You ought to make us not have wrecks with it, so we won't get hurt none. You don't want us to get killed, right when we're starting out to preach the gospel for You, do You? And these two men here who sold the new car to us need your blessing, too, so they can sell automobiles for the best good. They is sinful men just like all the rest of us, but I know they don't aim to be, and You ought to bless their work and show them how to sell people new automobiles for the best good, just like You would do if You was down here selling automobiles Yourself, in Fuller. That's all. Save us from the devil and make a place for us in heaven. Amen."

  Dude was the first to get on his feet. He jumped up and blew the horn six or seven long blasts. The two men came around in front of Bessie, wiping the perspiration from their faces, and laughing at Dude and Bessie. They looked at her nose again until she put her hand over it.

  Dude and Bessie got into the automobile and sat down. Dude blew the horn again several times.

  "Wait a minute," the salesman said. "We'll have to roll it outside first and fill up the tank with gas. You can't drive it like it is now."

  Bessie got out, but Dude refused to leave the horn and steering wheel. He sat where he was and guided the car through the door while the men pushed.

  After the gasoline had been pumped into the tank, Dude started the engine and got ready to leave. Bessie got in again, sitting in the centre of the back seat.

  "Where you going now?" the salesman asked Bessie. "To get married?"

  "We're going around to the courthouse to get leave of the county," she said. "Then we'll get married."

  The two men whispered to each other.

  "Did you ever see a nose like that before, Harry?"

  "Not when I was sober."

  "Look at them two big round holes running down into her face--how does she keep it from raining down in there, you reckon?"

  "I'll be damned if I know. Maybe she puts cork stoppers in them to keep the water out. She would have to do something like that in a hard shower."

  Bessie leaned over and prodded Dude.

  "Drive off, Dude," she said. "Ain't no sense in staying here no more."

  Dude put the car into gear and turned the gasoline on. Being unaccustomed to the new model, he did not know how to gauge the amount of gasoline, and the car jerked off so quickly that it almost lifted itself off the ground. The two men jumped out of the way just in time to keep from being hit by the fender.

  Bessie showed Dude which way to turn to find the courthouse. When they reached it, Dude got out reluctantly and followed Bessie inside. He wanted to stay in the car and blow the horn, but Bessie said he had to go with her to get the license.

  The Clerk's office was found at the end of the hail on the first floor, and they opened the door and went inside. There was a cardboard sign on the door that Bessie remembered seeing when she came there with her first husband.

  "I want leave to get married to Dude," she stated.

  The Clerk looked at her and spread out a blank on the table. He gave her a pen and motioned to her to fill it in with answers to the questions.

  "You'll have to write it for me. I can't write the words down."

  "Can't you write?" he asked. "Can't you sign your name?"

>   "I never learned how," she said.

  He was about to say something, when he looked up and saw her nose. His eyes opened wider and wider.

  "All right, I'll put it down for you. But it ain't my business to do that for you. You ought to do it yourself. I don't get paid for writing people's names for them."

  "I'll be powerful much obliged if you will do it for me," she said.

  "What's your name?"

  "Sister Bessie Rice."

  "You must be preacher Rice's widow, ain't you?"

  "He was my former husband."

  "Who are you going to marry, Sister Rice?"

  "That's him back there by the door."

  "Who?"

  "Dude. His name is Dude Lester."

  "You ain't going to marry him, are you?"

  "That's what I came here to get leave of the county for. Me and him is going to get married."

  "Who--that kid? Is he the one who's going to marry you?"

  "Dude said he would--"

  "That boy ain't old enough to marry yet, Sister Rice."

  "Dude, he's sixteen."

  "I can't give you a license--you'll have to wait a while and come back next year or so."

  "Dear God," Bessie said, dropping to her knees on the floor, "this man says he won't give me leave to marry Dude. God, You've got to make him do it. You told me last night to marry Dude and make a preacher out of him, and You have got to see me through now. I'm all excited about getting married. If You don't make the county give me leave to marry, I don't know what evil I might--"

  "Walt a minute!" the Clerk shouted. "Stop that praying! I'd rather give you the license than listen to that. Maybe we can do something about it."

  Bessie got up smiling.

  "I knowed the Lord would help me out," she said.

  "Has that boy got the consent of his parents? He can't get married unless he's got the consent of both parents, according to the law for his age. What does he want to marry you for anyway? He's too young to marry an old woman like you. Come here, son--"

  "Don't you try to talk him out of it," Bessie said. "If you start that, I'll pray some more. God won't let you keep us from marrying."

  "What do you mean by coming here to marry this old woman, son? You ought to wait and marry a girl when you grow up."

  "I don't know," Dude said. "Bessie, there, brought me along with her."

  "Well, I can't give you a license to marry," the Clerk said. "It's against the law for a boy under eighteen years old to marry without his parents' consent. And no amount of praying can change the law, neither. It's down on the books and it won't come off."

  "Dear God," Bessie began again. "You ain't going to let this man put us off, is You? You know how much I been counting on marrying Dude. You ought not to let nothing stop--"

  "Wait a minute! Don't start that again!" the Clerk said. "Who are this boy's folks?"

  "His Ma and Pa don't care," Bessie said. "They're glad of it. I talked to them both early this morning on the way down here to Fuller."

  "What's his daddy's name?"

  "Jeeter Lester is Dude's Pa, and I don't reckon you would know his Ma if I was to call her name. Her name is Ada."

  "Sure, I know Jeeter Lester, and I don't reckon he does care. Nor his wife, either. I had to give Lov Bensey a license to marry one of the young girls, because Jeeter said he wanted it done. She wasn't but twelve years old then either, and it was a shame to marry her so young. But it's in the law, and I had to do it. She was a pretty little girl. I never seen a girl before in all my life with such pretty yellow hair and blue eyes. Her eyes was exactly the same color as robins' eggs. I swear, she was one pretty sight to see."

  "Dude is older than that," Bessie said. "Dude, he is sixteen."

  "How old are you, Sister Rice? You didn't tell me your age."

  "I don't have to tell you that, do I?" she said.

  "That's the law. I can't give you the license if you don't state your age."

  "Well--I was thirty-eight not so long back."

  "How old are you now?"

  "Thirty-nine, but I don't show it yet."

  "Who's going to support you two?" he asked. "That boy can't make a man's wages yet."

  "I-s that in the law, too?"

  "Well, no. The law doesn't require that question,' but I thought I'd just like to know about it myself."

  "The Lord will provide," Bessie said. "He always makes provision for His children."

  "He don't take none too good care of me and mine," the Clerk said, "and I been a supporting member of the Fuller Baptist Church since I was twenty years old, too. He don't do none too much for me."

  "That's because you ain't got the right kind of religion," Bessie said. "The Baptists is sinners like all the rest, but my religion provides for me."

  "What's the name of it?"

  "It ain't got no regular name. I just call it 'Holy,' most of the time. I'm the only member of it now, but Dude is going to be one when we get married. He's going to be a preacher, too."

  "You'll have to pay me two dollars for the license," he said, writing on the sheet of paper, "Have you got it?"

  "I've got it right here. I don't see, though, why folks has to pay to get married. It's God's doings."

  "There's something else I'm going to ask you. It's not required by law, and some clerks don't ask about it, but being a good Baptist I always feel like I ought to."

  "What's it about?"

  "Has either of you got any disease?"

  "Not that I know about," she said. "Has you, Dude?"

  "What's that?"

  "Disease," the Clerk said again, pronouncing the word slowly. "Like pellagra and chicken-pox, or anything like that. Is there anything wrong with you, son?"

  "I ain't got nothing wrong with me that I know about," Dude said. "I don't know what that thing is, noway."

  "You sure you haven't?" he asked Bessie. "Did your husband leave' you with disease of any kind? What did he die of?"

  "He died of age mostly, I reckon. He was well on to fifty when he was married."

  "Has either one of you got venereal disease?"

  "What's that?" Bessie asked.

  "You know--" he said, "venereal disease. Maybe you call it sex trouble."

  "I used to take a powerful number of bottles of Tanlac, but I ain't lately because I ain't had the money to buy them with."

  "No, not that. What I'm talking about comes from women sleeping with men, sometimes."

  "My former husband had mites on him pretty bad sometimes. I had to wash both him and me off with kerosene to get rid of them."

  "No, not mites. Lots of people get those on them. It's something else--but I reckon you ain't got it, if you don't know what I'm talking about."

  "What other things do you want to know?" Bessie said.

  "That's all, I reckon. Now, you give me the two dollars."

  Bessie handed him the two soiled and ragged one-dollar bills she had been gripping in her hand. She had several more in her skirt pocket, all of them rolled in a handkerchief and the ends tied together. It was all the money she had left, now that the eight hundred dollars had been paid for the new automobile.

  "Well, I reckon you two will get along all right," the Clerk said. "Maybe you will, and maybe you won't."

  "Is you a married man?" Bessie asked.

  "I been married fifteen years or more. Why?"

  "Well, I reckon you know how pleased me and Dude is to get married, then," she said. "All married folks know how it is to get married."

  "It's all right at the beginning, but it don't keep up like that long. After you been married a year or two a man wants to go out and do it again all over, but it can't be done. The law puts a stop to it after the first time, unless your wife dies, or runs off, but that don't happen often enough to make it of any good."

  "Me and Dude is going to stay together all the time, ain't we, Dude?"

  Dude grinned, but he did not speak.

  Bessie had the license in her hand, and she di
d not wait to hear the Clerk talk any more. She pulled Dude out of the room, and they left the courthouse and ran to the new automobile.

  They got in to ride home. Dude blew the horn several times before he started the motor, and again before he put the car into gear. Then he turned it around in the street and drove it out of Fuller towards the tobacco road.

  Bessie sat erect on the back seat, holding the marriage license tight in both hands so the wind would not blow it away.

  Eleven

  The Lesters heard Dude blowing the horn far down the tobacco road long before the new automobile came within sight, and they all ran to the farthest corner of the yard, and even out into the broom-sedge, to see Dude and Bessie arrive. Even the old grandmother was excited, and she waited behind a chinaberry tree to be among the first to see the new car.

  "Here they come!" Jeeter shouted. "Just look at them! It's a brand-new automobile, all right--just look at that shiny black paint! Great-day-in-the-morning! Just look at them coming yonder!"

  Dude was driving about twenty miles an hour, and he was so busy blowing the horn he forgot to slow down when he turned into the yard. The car jolted across the ditch, throwing Bessie against the top three or four times in quick succession, and breaking several leaves of the rear spring. Dude slowed down then, and the automobile rolled across the yard and came to a stop by the side of the house.

  Jeeter was the first to reach the new motor car. He had run behind it while Dude was putting on the brakes, and he had held to the rear mudguard while trying to keep up with it. Ellie May and Ada were not far behind. The grandmother came as quickly as she could.

  "I never seen a finer-looking automobile in all my days," Jeeter said. "It sure does make me happy again to see such a handsome machine. Don't you reckon you could take me for a little trip, Bessie? I sure would like to go off in it for a piece."

  Bessie opened the door and got out. The first thing she did was to take the bottom of her skirt and rub the dust off of the front fenders.

  "I reckon we can take you riding in it some time," she said. "When me and Dude gets back, you can go riding."

  "Where is you and Dude going to, Bessie?"

  "We're going to ride around like married folks," she said proudly. "When folks get married, they always like to take a little ride together somewhere."