Sabrina's Man

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Shut up or I’ll break your head, Petit.”

  Quickly Waco turned to see that Ring Gatlin, a hulking brute of a man, was glaring at Cecil. “Take it easy, Ring,” he said.

  Gatlin was the bully of the prison. He had whipped everybody except Waco Smith. The two had fought it out under the hot sun, and the guards had merely laughed and watched. Waco had walked away, but Gatlin lay unconscious, his face cut and slashed.

  “You makin’ this your fight, Waco?”

  Waco didn’t answer. He just simply stared at Ring to see if he would make a move. Then he shrugged and said, “Come on, Cecil. Let’s see what we’ve got to eat.”

  The two men filed into the mess hall, which contained six-foot-long tables with benches. At one end there was a mess line, and the prisoners were lining up in front of it. When Waco looked down at the food that was in metal pans, he said, “Well, Cecil, no good old fish or gumbo tonight.”

  “No, I didn’t reckon there would be.”

  The two men filled their plates, walked back, and sat down at a table. Waco stared down at the food, which amounted to a tough piece of pork, beans not fully cooked, and rough bread. There was also a small amount of cold rice. Cecil went at his food like a starved wolf, for as skinny as he was he ate ferociously. As the two men ate, there was little talking.

  After all the men had been fed, the guard blew a whistle. “All right. Get into lockup.”

  Cecil and Waco made their way out of the mess hall and under the watchful eye of one of the guards went with other inmates down through a long corridor. On each side were steel bars fencing in a small cell no more than ten by ten. They stepped inside, and Waco sat down on the lower bunk. He was so much larger, and Cecil found it easier to scamper up into the top bunk.

  For a while the two men rested up. Waco felt even the bad food allowing strength to flow through his body. He said, “You ought to sleep good tonight, Cecil, after a day’s work like that.”

  “I reckon I will.”

  The two lay still for a time, exhausted by the hard labor. Finally Waco heard a scratching sound, and a bluish light illuminated the cell.

  Cecil had the stub of a candle that he had obtained somehow, and now he came down from the top bunk and set it down on the edge of Waco’s bunk. “I’ve been readin’ here in the Bible somethin’ that you ought to know about.”

  “I don’t guess I’m interested.”

  “You ought to be. It’s about a guy like us.”

  Waco looked at Cecil with what little fondness was left in him. The two had grown close, especially after Waco had saved Cecil from a beating by Ring Gatlin. “Why don’t you give up on me? You’ve been preachin’ at me for three years now.”

  Indeed, Cecil had been converted when a visiting minister had spoken. He had become a fervent Christian and had obtained a Bible, which he read in all of his free time.

  “God ain’t never give up on nobody, Waco. Now you just listen to this.” He began to read. “This is when they crucified Jesus. Nailed Him up on a cross, and it says here in Luke 23, verse 32, ‘And there were also two other, malefactors…’ That means criminals, Waco. They were ‘led with him to be put to death. And when they were come to the place which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left.’Then, Waco, the Bible says people made fun of Him, the rulers mocked Him, and the soldiers made fun of Him, too. They called out, ‘If thou be the king of the Jews, save thyself.’ And here’s the part I want you to hear. Starts on verse 39.

  “ ‘And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss.’

  “Now listen to this, Waco. Are you listenin’?”

  “Yes, I’m listening, Cecil.”

  “ ‘And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.’ Waco, you’ve got to remember this guy lived like us. He was a criminal, and Jesus was the Son of God, but he asked Him to help him. ‘And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.’ ” Cecil chortled, shook his head, then slapped Waco’s broad shoulders. “Ain’t that somethin’ now. There’s a guy no better than us. He was in jail just like we are, and he was gonna die that day, but Jesus said he would be with Him in heaven. Ain’t that a great story, Waco?”

  Waco closed his eyes. He had grown accustomed to Cecil preaching to him, and actually he did not mind. He had developed a fondness for the young man and was determined to see that he was not bullied. “I’ve heard that before. An evangelist came to town, and my grandpa and grandma took me to hear him. He preached the same text.”

  Cecil considered this, and then he said, “Well, why didn’t you get saved, Waco?”

  “Don’t ask me, Cecil. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too lost to be saved.”

  “No, that ain’t right. Jesus said, ‘Whosoever will may come.’ ”

  The two men sat there by the feeble, flickering light of the candle until there was a sound of a whistle, which meant everybody had to be quiet. The guards had ways of enforcing this, so Waco said, “Better put that candle out. We don’t want to burn the place down.”

  Cecil laughed. “Couldn’t burn down this place. It’s made out of stone.” Cecil put the candle out and said, “You think about that criminal, Waco.”

  “Sure,” Waco agreed. He waited until Cecil had scampered to the top bunk then stretched full-length on his cot. It had nothing but a straw ticking, and for a long time he lay there.

  It had become his habit to go to sleep as quickly as he could and to avoid thoughts of what life was like before he had been thrown into prison. But tonight sleep eluded him and he thought back on the time when his grandfather taught him how to break horses. Then he thought of the meals his grandmother cooked. Every morning biscuits six inches in diameter and fluffy.

  He finally began to doze off, but suddenly he came wide awake. He shifted in his bed and sat up, looking around, but he could see nothing in the darkness.

  “What’s the matter, Waco?” Cecil whispered.

  “I don’t know. Something’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t say, but if anything happens, you stick close to me, Cecil.”

  “Ah, nothin’s gonna happen.”

  “Probably not.”

  Waco lay back, but five minutes later he heard the sound of a voice, and then the steel door at the end of the corridor that led to the cells opened. He sat up at once, for he knew that this was not something that happened every night. Suddenly a voice broke the silence, and a man shouted, “Wake up! We’re getting out of this place!”

  Waco stood up then.

  Cecil joined him as they looked out. “That’s Ring Gatlin,” Cecil said.

  “Yeah, and his two buddies, Tad Mason and Shortie Tyler. They’re all three troublemakers.”

  “How’d they get out of their cells, Waco?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ring had keys in his hands and started unlocking the doors. “Come out of them cells.”

  When Waco’s cell door opened, he stepped out to face Ring. “What’s up, Ring?”

  “We’re gettin’ out of this place.” Gatlin had a wolfish-looking expression. “I done killed one guard, so I’ll kill whoever I have to. They can’t hang me but once.”

  “You can’t get out of here. There are guards everywhere,” Waco protested. He saw the wild light in Gatlin’s eyes and knew that the man would stop at nothing.

  “We’re going to shake the warden down and get the key to the weapons room. We’re gonna get a gun in the hand of every prisoner here, and we’re gonna shoot our way out. Anybody gets in our way, that’s their tough luck.”

  Waco shook his head. “You’ll never make it. Count me out.”


  Suddenly Ring snarled, “Get out of that cell, Smith. You’re either with me or against me.” He held the revolver up, pointed directly at Waco’s face. “You either help us do this or I’ll kill you now. And I’ll kill that cellmate of yours, too.”

  Waco knew Ring, and he was not entirely sane. He had no idea how the big man had worked this, but he knew that he was telling the truth about shooting him. He took a deep breath and said, “Well, you’ve got the best of the argument, Ring.”

  “All right. We’ll get you a gun, and then we’re leaving this place.” All the cell doors were open, and there were at least twenty inmates in that cell block. Ring hissed, “Everybody be quiet. We’re going to the warden’s office.”

  Waco kept his eyes open. The three men were all carrying lanterns throwing a feeble yellow light over the scene. They passed the body of the guard whom Ring had killed, turned down a corridor, and stood before a door that said WARDEN CRAWFORD.

  Ring lifted the gun and said, “All right. Get ready.” Ring opened the door and stepped inside, and his two friends shoved Waco through the door along with Cecil. Waco saw that Warden Morgan Crawford was shocked. He stood up immediately, a small man with dark hair and dark eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re bustin’ out of this place, Warden. Give us the key to that weapons room where you keep the guns.”

  “I won’t do that, Gatlin.”

  “Then I’ll shoot you and take it off your body.”

  Waco was shocked to see one of the guards go for his gun in spite of being under the guns of the three inmates.

  Ring shot him down, and he lay kicking for a moment then grew still. “You’re next, Warden.”

  “Wait a minute, Ring. I’ll get the key,” Waco said. He walked over to the warden, who was standing with the remaining guard. He had his eyes on the gun that was at the guard’s belt.

  Ring laughed. “Give him that key, Crawford, or you’ll be dead. Get that guy’s gun. Find the key to the weapons room.”

  Waco’s mind was working rapidly. He knew he had no choice, but he also knew he couldn’t go along with Ring. This could never work. He walked across the room. His eyes met Warden Crawford’s. He took the gun from the guard then stepped in front of the warden. “Drop your gun, Ring. You’re not going to do this.”

  Ring lifted his pistol and fired two shots as Waco knew he would. The first shot grazed him, but Waco felt the other bullet strike him. He then shot off three rounds, one at Gatlin and the other two at his companions, before he felt the world turning black. He then fell, conscious only of the smell of gun smoke then of nothing at all.

  Dr. Simmons was talking to Warden Crawford. “He’s going to be all right, but those two slugs hit him. I guess if you have to be shot twice it was pretty good. One missed the lung and lodged in the shoulder. The other creased his head. If it had been an inch to the right, he’d be dead.”

  Warden Crawford had come to the prison hospital and watched as Simmons had patched Waco up. Waco’s shots, to the warden, had been miraculous. He had put all three men down, Ring dead and the other two so badly wounded that the guards were able to come and overpower them. “He saved my life, Dr. Simmons. Do your best for him.”

  Waco came out of a deep darkness. He was conscious of pain, and when he opened his eyes he saw a face peering down at him. “Well, Warden, he’s going to live.”

  The face disappeared, and Warden Crawford’s face appeared. Waco could not put it all together. “How’d I get here?”

  “Well, you got here by saving my life and maybe the lives of half a dozen others. You got Ring dead center. And the other two, after they shot you, you kept firing until they both went down. Waco, I want to thank you for saving my life. I owe you for that, and I always pay my debts.”

  Waco was weak and felt himself drifting off. He tried to put it all together but could not think. He knew somehow that Warden Crawford was saying something very important. He tried desperately to remember it as he drifted off into sleep.

  CHAPTER 11

  Sabrina looked around the room as Dulcie shook her head. The room was piled high with packages of all shapes, and dresses and other garments were hanging from anywhere the two could find a place to put them.

  Finally Dulcie said, “You don’t need no more new clothes. You couldn’t wear all you got now in a year.”

  “Hush, Dulcie,” Sabrina said. She held up a dress that she had not been sure of, and now she shook her head. “This is just a little bit too daring. Look at that neckline. I would never wear it.”

  “Then what you buy it for?” Dulcie shot the question. “I told you when you tried it on it showed too much of you, but would you listen to me? No, you never listens to me.”

  Sabrina suddenly laughed. “I don’t know why you’re fussing so much,” she said, staring at the dress. “You get all my old clothes.”

  “You ain’t got no old clothes.”

  “What are you talking about? I always have clothes that I give you when I buy new things.”

  “You give ’em to me, but they ain’t old. You ain’t never wore out a dress or a petticoat or a pair of pantaloons in your whole life.”

  “Well, you probably have the best wardrobe of any servant in the United States.”

  Indeed, this was true. Sabrina knew Dulcie did not keep all the clothes, for she had friends who needed them, and there were certainly not enough places for her to go where she might wear the fancy dresses. But still she grumbled. “You got enough stuff here to start a store.”

  “Well, come on. We’re going to go out to one more place.”

  “One more place for what?”

  “There’s one more place that makes stylish dresses. Just one of a kind. Come on. I want something absolutely different.”

  The two left the hotel and walked down the streets of New Orleans. It was the city that Sabrina loved, for it was so different from any other town or city that she had ever seen. They passed down a street where there were organ grinders and a fair where they were selling all kinds of things that nobody in the world had a need for but bought anyway. They went by the square where Sabrina glanced at a cathedral. It seemed to be doing not nearly so much business as the shops.

  Dulcie followed her as Sabrina went into one of the stores, looking around. “They ought to have something here for me.”

  “I reckon they do,” Dulcie grumbled, “and it’s gonna cost you an arm and a leg.”

  Sabrina had long ago given up looking for bargains. Now she simply bought what she wanted. She noticed that there were, strangely enough, couples there, men with women. The women were Creoles, beautiful women, and she suspected they were the mistresses rather than the wives of the men they accompanied.

  She was interrupted when a man who had come up to stand beside her said, “Well, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Sabrina turned and studied the man quickly. She had become quite a student of males for she had been pursued since she was in her midteens. She was wise enough to know that some of the pursuers were simply after her father’s money, and she had quickly learned to identify that species instantly. “No, we haven’t met, and I don’t think we will.”

  She was studying the man, who was tall and darkly handsome with black hair and eyes a deep brown. He had a trim mustache and a clean-cut jaw, and his clothes were absolutely everything except cheap. The quality and cut of his suit, the perfect-fitting shoulders, the smooth, flat lapels—all were impeccable. He was dressed in a pure white soft silk shirt and a wide, flowering cravat tied meticulously, and his jacket was a fine wool. The price of his boots would have fed a poor family for a month.

  He was a handsome man with a face full of humor and undisciplined imagination. “I take it you are a visitor in New Orleans.”

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  “Well, we are happy to welcome you. My name is William Blakely.” He hesitated for a moment then said, “At this point it’s customary for a lady to give her name.”

  Sabrina
ordinarily would do no such thing, but she knew she would not be seeing this man again, so she said, “I am Sabrina Warren from Memphis.”

  “Fine. Now we are acquainted, and I think we should have lunch.”

  “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “No, not a bit.”

  “Well, what do you do for a living?”

  “Nothing.”

  His honesty and mischievous look attracted Sabrina.

  “My father made a pile of money, so all I do is flit around going to social events.”

  He was a charming, witty man, obviously with plenty of money. Most women would have been flattered with his attention, but Sabrina was merely amused. “Doesn’t it embarrass you to come right out and tell people you’re a parasite?”

  “Not a bit,” Blakely said. “Dad knows when he goes up the flue I’ll have to take over the business. Then I’ll become a boring businessman like all the rest.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No. And I hope you’re not either. . .”

  “I’m also unmarried.”

  His smile widened. “Great. I’ll tell you what. I think it would be suitable if you and I would go to lunch as a welcome to our fair city.”

  Men did not often amuse Sabrina. He was obviously a scoundrel and a wastrel but a wealthy one and a witty one. She turned and said, “Dulcie, you go back to the hotel. Can you find it?”

  Dulcie gave her a disgusted look. “You think I get lost in this place? Of course I can find it.”

  “Well, you go on back and wait for me there.”

  After Dulcie left, Blakely said, “Come on. I’m going to take you to the finest restaurant in New Orleans, and I’m an honored guest. They’ll give us the best they’ve got.”

  They moved outside, and several minutes later he led her into the Boudreaux Café. The tables were covered with snowy white tablecloths, the silver glowed with a richness and a warmth almost alive, and the lights illuminated the richness of the décor.

  A man dressed in a fine black suit came forward. “Well, Mr. Blakely, we haven’t seen you lately.”