“You’re lucky, then, that you didn’t have to confront the Colonel Judge and all about that. Now that the Jew killed the both of them, can’t be no one knows the truth but you and me.”
Tee Ray withdrew his hands from her grasp and walked over to the stove to pour the coffee. “The truth. You and me. You’re right, Mona. Sometimes it’s better that the truth be hidden. Just thank Jesus they didn’t have no children.”
“That ol’ man!” Mona giggled. “Can you imagine the two of them spendin’ a night of horizontal refreshment?”
Tee Ray walked over to the bed with the coffee.
Mona pulled back the covers. “You sure you don’t have time for some horizontal refreshment yourself? We got time if you’re quick, and you’re always quick.”
For the first time in weeks in the house, Tee Ray’s unshaven face crinkled into a smile. He put the coffee down on the table. “If they had had a child, then will or no will, that would have been it. The child would have inherited Cottoncrest. Now there’s no one but us.”
Tee Ray kicked off his boots and shucked his pants. Climbing back into bed, he reached for her. “Mona, let’s celebrate.”
Chapter 51
The sun was clearing the horizon and the early-morning light cast long shadows as Dr. Cailleteau hitched up his horse to the buggy. He moved slowly. His joints were stiff, and the cold weather made them ache. He grunted as he cinched the horse into the fittings. When he was younger, he was full of muscle and vigor. But the muscle had turned to fat, and the fat had grown to enormous proportions. He now found himself encased in a body that sometimes even he hardly recognized.
The Colonel Judge had been the last of his old friends, and although the Colonel Judge had grown more distant in the past year, there was something about old friendships that persisted even during the hardest of times. Everyone else in town seemed younger and more energetic but less educated and less interesting.
Raifer rode up on his horse. “You about ready, Doc?”
Dr. Cailleteau climbed up onto the buggy, its wooden joints creaking loudly in sympathy with his own. Dr. Cailleteau flicked the reins, and the horse started to walk slowly down the road. Raifer rode high in his saddle next to the buggy.
They paused in front of Bucky’s tiny house. Bucky was waiting for them, sitting on the porch. His horse was saddled and was pawing the ground, its nostrils surrounded by white vapor every time it exhaled in the cold air. Seeing Raifer’s impatient look, Bucky swung onto his horse and followed them.
The center of the town was still quiet except for a bear of a man, his blond hair sticking out of his hat, opening the barn door to the blacksmith shop.
“Mornin’, Jimmy Joe,” Bucky called out. “You goin’ down to Lamou with Tee Ray and Forrest?” Before Jimmy Joe even had a chance to answer, Bucky added proudly, “You know, I’m goin’ down myself as the official presence. Gonna arrest that Jew. Gonna be a grand sight bringing that Jew back, all tied up and ready to face justice.”
Jimmy Joe only grunted noncommittally. He threw open the barn door and started to unlatch the long shutters on the wall. Jimmy Joe didn’t care about the cold. Once he had the fire lit, it would be hot enough. He had several horseshoes to make today. He wasn’t going anyplace where Tee Ray could try to give him commands. Tee Ray was getting too high and mighty. The Colonel Judge’s death had done that. Made Tee Ray think he was better than the rest of them.
Bucky pretended to ignore Jimmy Joe’s lack of response. He dug the rowels of his spurs gently against his horse’s flanks, and the horse broke into a trot as it hurried to pull alongside Raifer and Dr. Cailleteau, who had not stopped as they passed Jimmy Joe’s blacksmith shop.
Bucky felt good. Raifer had put him in charge of the Lamou trip, one that was certain to lead to the arrest of the Jew Peddler. “You can come on later and catch up to us if you want,” Bucky yelled cheerily over his shoulder. Jimmy Joe ignored him.
“Hold it down!” Raifer snapped, as Bucky slowed his horse and joined the small procession. “You don’t have to wake up the whole town.”
Dr. Cailleteau turned to Raifer. “Trying to give that boy instructions on how to behave and expecting him to follow them is like shoveling flies across a barnyard.”
Bucky bristled. “That’s not fair, Doc. Besides, Raifer here tol’ me to be ready to go to Cottoncrest with you and then to go on to Lamou, and you see, I was ready when you got to my place. All prepared in every way. Got my gun here. Got my rifle. Got my handcuffs and my rope. I’m ready for whatever happens.”
Bucky noticed, for the first time, that the back of Dr. Cailleteau’s buggy was filled with more than his black medical bag. “What you got there?” he inquired.
Dr. Cailleteau sighed with exasperation, both at Bucky’s ill- mannered insistence and at his grammar. “I do not ‘got’ anything.”
“Sure you do. I see what-all you got there in the wagon—just don’t know what it is.”
“I have everything I need, Bucky. A blanket and shawl for Little Miss. Laudanum, if she needs it, in case she gets too upset by what’s happening. Moss bedding for her to lie on for our trip back into town if we need to bring her back. Now, Bucky, you have all the answers you should need until we get to Cottoncrest.”
They proceeded along in silence for almost an hour. Finally, around one of the vast curves of the Mississippi River, gleaming a silvery brown in the early-morning rays, they could see the top of the big house at Cottoncrest. They would be there in another thirty minutes or so.
Bucky was several hundred yards ahead of them. When he was out of earshot, Raifer rode up close to Dr. Cailleteau’s buggy. “I’m going to leave you with Little Miss. I’ll send Bucky on to Tee Ray’s cabin to see if he can catch up with him before Tee Ray takes off. Can’t have him stirring up any more trouble than necessary.”
Raifer urged his horse into a gallop and caught up with Bucky. Raifer made Bucky wait until Dr. Cailleteau’s buggy drew alongside, and then the three of them continued on together.
“Bucky, you’ve got to let Dr. Cailleteau be the first there. If Little Miss is really alone, if the darkies have really abandoned Cottoncrest, I don’t know what mood she’ll be in. The Doc has to be the one she sees first. Even if she doesn’t recognize him, he knows how to handle her.”
“It’s a shame, Raifer,” Dr. Cailleteau said. “If she is aware enough to realize that the darkies have left, then she’ll know enough to be heart-broken, for she can’t live at Cottoncrest alone, and that’s been her home for more than fifty years. It’s like her own child, she loves it that much. You know, she’s lost the General, she’s lost her daughter, she’s lost all her sons, and now Cottoncrest may be losing her. But if the coloreds really have left Cottoncrest, there’s nothing else to do but bring her back to Parteblanc and get someone to look after her. Then, dammit, I’ll have to train someone.”
“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.”
Chapter 52
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 R
ouge 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.
PART V
Today
Chapter 53
“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 f
rom 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
Chapter 54
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.
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