CHAPTER ELEVEN
_Mr. Sanders in His Cups_
When Nan came in sight of the court-house she saw a crowd of men andboys gazing at some spectacle on the side opposite her. Some werelaughing, while others had serious faces. Among them she noticed FrancisBethune, and she also saw Gabriel, who was standing apart from the restwith a very gloomy countenance. Arriving near the crowd, she paused todiscover what had excited their curiosity; and there before her eyes,seated on the court-house steps, was Mr. Billy Sanders, relating to animaginary audience some choice incidents in his family history. His hatwas off, and his face was very red.
As Nan listened, he was telling how his "pa" and "ma" had married inSouth Carolina, and had subsequently moved to Jasper County in Georgia.In coming away (according to Mr. Sanders's version), they had fetched ahalf dozen hogs too many, and maybe a cow or two that didn't belong tothem. By-and-by the owners of the stock appeared in the neighbourhoodwhere Mr. Sanders, Sr., had settled, found the missing property, andcarried him away with them. They had, or claimed to have, a warrant, andthey hustled the pioneer off to South Carolina, and put him in jail.
"Now, Sally Hart was Nancy's own gal," said Mr. Sanders, pausing to takea nip from a bottle he carried in his pocket. "She was a chip off'n theold block ef they ever was a block that had a chip. So Sally (that wasma) she went polin' off to Sou' Ca'liny. The night she got to whar shewas agwine, she tore a hole in the side of the jail that you could 'a'driv a buggy through. Then she took poor pa by one ear, an' fetched himhome. An' that ain't all. Arter she got him home, she took a rawhide an'liter'ly wore pa out. She said arterwards that she didn't larrup him forfetchin' the stock off, but for layin' up there in jail an' lettin' hiscrap spile. Well, that frailin' made a good Christian of pa. He j'inedthe church, an' would 'a' been a preacher, but ma wouldn't let him. Sheallowed they'd be too much gaddin' about, an' maybe a little too muchhoneyin' up wi' the sisterin'. 'No,' says she, 'ef you want to do goodprayin', pray whilst you're ploughin'. I'll look arter the hoein'myself,' says she."
Mr. Sanders was not regarded as a dangerous man in his cups, but on onewell-remembered occasion he had fired into a crowd of men who wereinclined to be too familiar, and since that day he had been given a wideberth when he took a seat on the court-house steps and began to recitehis family history. While Nan stood there, Mr. Sanders drew a pistolfrom his pocket, and, smiling blandly, began to flourish it around. Ashe did so, Gabriel Tolliver sprang into the street and ran rapidlytoward him. Some one in the crowd uttered a cry of warning. Seized bysome blind impulse Nan ran after Gabriel. Francis Bethune caught herarm as she ran by him, but she wrenched herself from his grasp, and ranfaster than ever.
"Stand back there!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders in an angry voice, raising hispistol. For one brief moment, the spectators thought that Gabriel wasdoomed, for he went on without wavering. But he was really in no danger.Mr. Sanders had mistaken him for some of the young men who had beentaunting him as they stood at a safe distance. But when he saw who itwas, he replaced the pistol in his pocket, remarking, "You ought to hangout your sign, Gabe. Ef I hadn't 'a' had on my furseein' specks, I'mafear'd I'd a plugged you."
At that moment Nan arrived on the scene, her anger at white heat. Shecaught her breath, and then stood looking at Mr. Sanders, with eyes thatfairly blazed with scorn and anger. "Ef looks'd burn, honey, theywouldn't be a cinder left of me," said Mr. Sanders, moving uneasily."Arter she's through wi' me, Gabriel, plant me in a shady place, an'make old Tar-Baby thar," indicating Tasma Tid, who had followedNan--"make old Tar-Baby thar set on my grave, an' warm it up once inawhile. I leave you my Sunday shirts wi' the frills on 'em, Gabriel, an'my Sunday boots wi' the red tops; an' have a piece put in the Malvernpaper, statin' that I was one of the most populous and public-sperretedcitizens of the county. An' tell how I went about killin' jimson weedsan' curkle-burrs for my neighbours by blowin' my breath on 'em."
What Nan had intended to say, she left unsaid. Her feelings reactedwhile Mr. Sanders was talking, and she turned her back on him and beganto cry. Under the circumstances, it was the very thing to do. Mr.Sanders's face fell. "I'll tell you the honest truth, Gabriel--I neverknow'd that anybody in the roun' world keer'd a continental whether Iwas drunk or sober, alive or dead; an' I'd lots ruther some un 'd sticka knife through my gizzard than to see that child cryin'."
He rose and went to Nan--he was not too tipsy to walk--and tried to layhis hand on her arm, but she whirled away from him. "Honey," he said,"what must I do? I'll do anything in the world you say."
"Go home and try to be decent," she answered.
"I will, honey, ef you an' Gabriel will go wi' me. I need some un for tokeep the boogers off. You git on the lead side, honey, an' Gabriel, yoube the off-hoss. Now, hitch on here"--he held out both elbows, so thateach could take him by an arm--"an' when you're ready to start, give theword."
Nan dried her eyes as quickly as she could, but before she would consentto go with Mr. Sanders, insisted on searching him. She found a flask ofapple-brandy, and hurled it against the side of the court-house.
"Nan," he said ruefully, "that's twice you've broke my heart in aquarter of an hour. Ain't there some way you can break Gabriel's?" Hepaused and sniffed the fumes of the apple-brandy. "It's a mighty goodthing court ain't in session," he remarked, "bekaze the judge an' juryan' all the lawyers would come pourin' out for to smell at that wallthere. You say they ain't no way for you to break Gabriel's heart,too?" he asked again, turning to Nan.
"I just know my eyes are a sight," she said in reply. "Are they red andswollen, Gabriel?"
"They are somewhat red, but----"
"But what?" she asked, as Gabriel paused.
"They are just as pretty as ever."
"Mr. Sanders, that is the first compliment he ever paid me in his life."
"You'll remember it longer on that account," said Mr. Sanders. "Gabrielis lazy-minded, but he'll brighten up arter awhile. Speakin' of fust an'last, an' things of that kind," he went on, "I reckon this is the fusttime I ever come betwixt you children. I hope no harm's done."
"Well, sir," said Nan, addressing Gabriel with a pretty formality,"since you are kind enough to pay me a compliment, I'll be bold enoughto ask you to take tea with me this evening; and I'll have no refusal."
Gabriel found himself in an awkward predicament. He felt bound todiscover what part the Union League was playing. He had read of itssinister influence in other parts of the South, and he judged that thehour of its organisation at Shady Dale was the aptest time for such adiscovery. He couldn't tell Nan what his plans were--he had no idea thatshe had already guessed them--and he hardly knew what to say. He wasthoroughly uncomfortable. He was silent so long that Mr. Sanders had anopportunity to ask Nan if she hadn't made a remark to Gabriel.
"Yes; I asked him to tea," she replied in a low voice; "he has forgottenit by this time." But Nan well knew why Gabriel was silent; she wasneither vexed nor surprised at his hesitation. Nevertheless, she mustplay her part.
"Give him time, Nan; give him time," said Mr. Sanders, consolingly."Gabriel comes of a stuttering family. They say it took his grandma e'enabout seven year to tell Dick Lumsden she'd have him. I lay Gabriel iscomposin' in his mind a flowery piece sorter like, 'Here's my heart, an'here's my hand; ef you ax me to tea, I'm your'n to command.'"
"I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, but I can't; and it's just my luck thatyou should invite me to-day," said Gabriel, finally.
"You have another engagement?" asked Nan.
"No, not an engagement," he replied.
"Well, you are going to do something very unnecessary and improper,"said Nan, with the air and tone of a mature woman. "You are sure to getinto trouble. Why don't you ask your Mr. Bethune to take your place, orat least go with you?"
"Why, you talk as if you knew what I am going to do," remarked Gabriel;"but you couldn't guess in a week."
At this point Mr. Sanders tried to stop in order to deliver an address."I bet you--I bet you a seven-pence ag'in a spec
kled hen that Nan knowsprecisely what you're up to."
But Nan and Gabriel pulled him along in spite of his frequentlyexpressed desire to "lay down in the road an' take a nap." "It's ashame," he said, "for a great big gal an' a great big boy to be harryin'a man as old as me. Why don't you ketch hands an' run to play? No,nothin' will do, but you must worry William H. Sanders, late of saidcounty." He received no reply to this, and continued: "I'm glad I tooktoo much, Gabriel, ef only for one thing. You know what I told you aboutNan's temper--well, you've seed it for yourself. She's frailed Frank,she'd 'a' frailed me jest now ef you hadn't 'a' been on hand, an' she'llfrail you out before long. She's jest turrible."
Mr. Sanders kept up his good-humour all the way home, and when he hadbeen placed in charge of Uncle Plato, who knew how to deal with him, hesaid: "Now, fellers, I had a mighty good reason for restin' my mind. Youcried bekase old Billy Sanders was drunk, didn't you, Nan? Well, I'mmighty glad you did. I never know'd before that a sob or two would makea Son of Temperance of a man; but that's what they'll do for me. Nobodyin this world will ever see me drunk ag'in. So long!"
It may be said here that Mr. Sanders kept his promise. The events whichfollowed required clear heads and steady hands for their shaping, buteach crisis, as it arose, found Mr. Sanders, and a few others who actedwith him, fully prepared to meet it, though there were times andoccasions when he, as well as the rest, was overtaken by a profoundsense of his helplessness. Some fell into melancholy, and some wereovertaken by dejection, but Mr. Sanders never for a moment forgot to becheerful.
"I don't suppose there is another girl in the country who would makesuch a spectacle of herself as I made to-day," said Nan, as she andGabriel walked slowly in the direction of town.
"What do you mean?" inquired Gabriel.
"You know well enough," replied Nan. "Why, think of a young womanrushing across the public square in the face of a crowd, and doing as Idid! I'll be the talk of the town. What is your opinion?"
"Well, considering who the man was, and everything, I think it was verybecoming in you," replied Gabriel.
"Oh, thank you!" said Nan. "Under the circumstances, you could say noless. You have changed greatly, Gabriel, since Eugenia Claiborne beganto make eyes at you. You seem to think it is a mark of politeness to paycompliments right and left, and to agree with everybody. No doubt, if aninvitation to tea had come from further up the street, you would havefound some excuse for accepting."
Nan's logic was quite feminine, but Gabriel took no advantage of thatfact. "I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, and I hope you'll not be angry."
"Angry! why should I be angry?" Nan exclaimed. "An invitation to tea isnot so important."
"But this one is important to me," said Gabriel. "It is the first timeyou have asked me, and I hope it won't be the last."
Nan said nothing more until she bade Gabriel good-bye at her father'sgate. He thought she was angry, while she was wondering if he consideredher bold.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 12