Sweetsmoke

by David Fuller

  Cassius saw Hoke make mental plans to punish him.

  "Your first order of business as my butler, Beauregard, is to help me take Tempie into the tobacco shed, where she will remain until I decide what to do with a thief."

  Yes sir, said Beauregard sadly, as his first order of business was distasteful.

  "You come along as well, Cassius."

  Quashee turned in a circle in Tempie's dress, uncertain as to what was to happen. Her father had been graced with a big house position, but she did not know if she was to be similarly rewarded or soiled by Tempie's plot.

  "You gonna whip her, Gran'daddy?" said young Master Charles, eagerly following the men and Tempie.

  "You stay with your Grandma Ellen, Charles," said Hoke.

  Ellen came down off the porch and took Quashee's arm. "You come inside with me, Pet will get you started."

  Pet stared at Quashee with loathing. Mam Rosie walked over to Pet and took hold of her ear, gripping it hard and twisting it.

  Ow! said Pet. Quit that, Mam Rosie! Ow ow ow!

  Mam Rosie yanked the ear in the direction of the big house and let go, and Pet raced to the steps of the porch and hurried inside ahead of Ellen and Quashee.

  Beauregard held Tempie Easter's arm, gently guiding her to the tobacco shed with Hoke and Cassius following. Inside the shed, she was chained with the same bracelets to the same ring bolt in the same position Cassius had known for three days five years before. You want me to fetch the whip, Master Hoke? said Beauregard very softly.

  Cassius imagined Beauregard's mixed feelings. His new job was to anticipate the Master's every whim, and so he would know to offer the bullwhip. But no black man wanted any part in the violent correction of a family member. Nevertheless, Beauregard understood that this woman had tried to destroy his daughter, and would have destroyed him.

  "No, Beauregard. She is not worth as much with stripes."

  Cassius saw the sag in Hoke's shoulders as he made a decision that concerned his property.

  Cassius followed Hoke out of the barn.

  "Beauregard, you go on up to the house, have Pet show you the ways. Cassius?"

  Cassius stayed behind with Hoke.

  "The trader is in town. He is here with a landowner from Louisiana, a cotton and rice man. Even with the embargo, they bring in a crop so they are buying people. I had said we had no one for him." Hoke sighed. "Cotton boys need people, we oblige with our runaways and troublemakers." Hoke looked at Cassius, emphasizing the word "troublemakers." "Tomorrow I will go to town to see this man and take that girl." Old Hoke looked at the green snuff box in his hand. Finally he said, "You will drive me."

  Cassius nodded and watched Hoke walk back to the big house. Cassius understood that Hoke had likely not made up his mind whether he was to sell two of his people, or only one.

  Cassius held the reins of the carriage, Hoke beside him as Sam pulled them down to the main road. Tempie Easter sat up straight in the black cushioned rear seat of the planter's fancy vehicle, hands shackled in her lap. A gunnysack was wedged under the seat beneath her knees. Cassius did not know who had packed it and stowed it there, but assumed it contained her fancy clothes. He thought the idea that she might be allowed to keep her things was optimistic. Tempie said nothing and made eye contact with no one. Her eyes were dry and her face was calm. Hoke occasionally looked at Cassius pensively, as a teacher might ponder whether a student was absorbing a lesson.

  Sam brought them under the chateau gate, then left onto the main road, drawing the carriage wheels into the ruts. After a few minutes, they rode past a tobacco field and Cassius saw the hands collecting hornworms. One by one they stopped and stood up to watch the carriage carrying Tempie roll by. Cassius saw Big Gus straighten but after a moment, Big Gus saw Joseph come up as well. Cassius watched Big Gus move, raising his cane while still five or six strides away. Cassius wanted to warn Joseph, but he could only watch as Big Gus connected with the back of Joseph's thighs. Joseph went to the ground, out of sight. The hands nearest Joseph looked in his direction, then returned to work. The hands who had not witnessed Big Gus's assault watched the carriage roll out of sight.

  In town, Cassius guided Sam to the livery. Hoke got down and walked into the barn while Cassius remained in the seat. He turned fully around to look at Tempie, but she did not look back at him. He had no words for her. She would have put Quashee in just this position, but during the entire ride, his heart had dragged behind them in the dust of the road.

  He did not remember a time when the livery had not been there. The front faced south in the full sun, and the whitewash paint cracked and crumbled in scaly patches exposing silver wood beneath. Sunlight leaned in through the open double doors and straw dust glowed against the interior gloom. At the far end, a bright rectangle stood out, the door to the auction tent. Hoke's silhouette momentarily filled the rectangle and was followed by the silhouettes of two men, all of them coming this way. Hoke stopped in the entrance and two white men came out in the sun to take Tempie down. Standing on either side, they compelled her into the livery. Hoke stared at the empty back of the carriage, then looked at Cassius and nodded that he come along. A groomsman took Sam's bridle and led the rig away as Cassius followed Hoke.

  Hoke and Cassius entered the gloom of the livery and Cassius smelled dry hay and wet horse, animal feces, leather, and man sweat.

  He walked a few steps behind Hoke, who did not look back. Beams sliced through unevenly butted staves and yellow blades of sun cut across them in the dark. They approached the far door where the two men had taken Tempie. Cassius and Hoke stepped through into a tented outdoor space. A small wooden platform dominated, in front of a collection of chairs. A triangle of sun rested on the far side of the white tent and gave the auction area a perversely warm and welcoming light. Outside Cassius heard the shrilling of grasshoppers.

  Hoke looked at Cassius and his eyes were burdened with the helplessness of a terrible knowledge. In dismay, Cassius felt Hoke's empathy enfold him and finally understood his punishment. He did not intend to sell Cassius. Cassius was to witness the results of his actions, actions that had brought Tempie to this place, and thus be forced to confront his conscience. The bleached muslin of the tent, warmly lit and close, embraced a history of anguish and grief and apprehension, the last place so many, God, so many people, would ever see their sons and daughters, their mothers and fathers and grandparents, their sisters and brothers and playmates before they were sold, and as the side of the tent bowed and shuddered in a soft breeze, Cassius heard a collective moan.

  "This is my man Cassius," Hoke said to a small man. "Cassius, say hello to Lucas Force."

  Cassius had heard the name, the traveling slave trader, a name that ran cold through the veins of any black man or woman. Lucas Force was the man who had taken the baby boy five years ago in the cold. He was short with wiry black hair, narrow arms and legs, with tiny feet and hands and a protruding, overindulgent stomach. Cassius had a sudden desire to puncture the man's belly with a sharp object, as if he could expulse beer gas and reduce his middle to normal size. Lucas Force blinked twice as often as other men, thus drawing attention to his thick eyebrows and long black eyelashes. Cassius saw that his hands were pale and delicate and his nails were clean and perfect. Lucas Force's eyes ran up and down Cassius, but as he would not get his hands on him, he looked away.

  "Mr. Howard, meet Mr. Plume of Louisiana. Mr. Plume and I have had a successful journey and have already sent two coffles south to his plantation. Cotton and rice is your game, is it not, Mr. Plume?"

  Mr. Plume did not bother to rise from the chair on which he was perched. He continued to lean forward on his cane even while sitting, and in Cassius's eyes he appeared to be the most confident man he had ever seen. Soft brown curls rolled out from under his hat, his eyes were sleepy and his expression was preternaturally calm. His chin was smooth as if his beard hairs dared not compel the man to shave. His suit was the subtlest shade of gray, and when he finally chose to
stand, Cassius saw that he was not much taller than Lucas Force, while seeming to overwhelm the tent.

  "My dear Mr. Howard, how delighted I am to make your acquaintance," said Mr. Plume, and his slight drawl and soft voice seemed to emerge from a core of iron. "When I heard that you had a young woman for sale, I told Mr. Force here that we were obliged to delay our return as I am acquainted with your reputation for knowledge of the flesh. I take it your man Cassius is not to be made available?"

  "No," said Hoke.

  "Not yet, then," said Mr. Plume, and smiled as his eyes cut into Cassius. Cassius was startled to know that Mr. Plume saw through him, read his mind, and knew more completely what Cassius had done, had thought, and was planning to do than Cassius knew himself. If Mr. Plume was ever to become Cassius's owner, Cassius would never again have the opportunity to consider independent action. He would be driven night and day and if he exhibited reticent behavior, this Mr. Plume would reach down inside Cassius with a sharp-edged spoon and scrape out of him any small dreams of freedom that he might have accrued. He was relieved when Mr. Plume looked away, but felt a raw sensation inside his chest that lingered.

  During this time, Tempie Easter had been held by the two large men standing on either side of her. Mr. Plume turned to her, leaning on his cane.

  "Remove the shackles, if you would, Mr. Force," said Mr. Plume.

  Lucas Force rushed to Hoke, who handed him the keys, and then hurried to Tempie, smoothly unshackling her hands, which she let fall to her sides.

  Mr. Plume stepped in front of Tempie. Using the gentlest touch of his cane, he compelled her right hand up in the air, shifting his cane just so in order to adjust Tempie's hands, first exhibiting her palm, then the back of her hand and her nails. He did the same with her left hand. He raised the tip of his cane to touch her cheek and she opened her mouth. He examined her teeth, again giving the slightest pressure to the cane so that she turned to the left, then the right, then tilted her head forward and back so he could see her molars, her tongue, and the roof of her mouth.

  He nodded and lowered the cane, took a step back and said, "All right." The two men reached for the shoulders of her dress with fingers the color and thickness of bread dough, but she brought her own hands to the buttons at her throat and undid them one at a time. The two men stepped back and Mr. Plume inclined his head, his sleepy eyes looking that much more lethargic as he watched the slow reveal of her flesh. She finished unbuttoning and with her eyes looking straight ahead she shrugged her shoulders out of the fabric and let the dress fall to the floor, so that she stood naked before him. Cassius knew better than to look away as that would incite Hoke's anger. The two men backed up a step further and Mr. Plume walked around her, carefully inspecting her legs and buttocks, her back and thighs.

  "No stripes," he said approvingly. "Very good."

  He came back to her front. She continued staring directly ahead. He ran the back of his hand around the underside of her breast and watched her nipple respond. He nodded, wedged his cane under his left armpit, and placed his free right hand between her thighs, guiding his finger up into her vagina. He held it there a moment, then removed his hand and brought his finger to his nose. He stood still for a moment as he smelled her, then turned to Lucas Force.

  "Very well, Mr. Force, I will take her." He indicated Tempie's dress that lay on the floor surrounding her feet. "That dress will not do, get rid of it. I believe we have something of sackcloth in the wagon." He addressed her directly for the first time. "You are a Plume now, so remember your name."

  As the white men completed their transaction, one of the two large men brought a sackcloth dress for Tempie. Tempie looked at Cassius with flat emotionless eyes, and she held his gaze for a long time. Cassius realized that the sale of Tempie was more real to him than his own life, as he had come to expect misery and degradation and horror. A moment later the man took her arm and forced her out the back of the tent to the wagon.

  Cassius followed Hoke through the dark livery to the carriage which waited for them in front. Cassius saw that the gunnysack with Tempie's fancy clothes remained in back. Just before climbing aboard, Hoke turned and Cassius saw his stone-cold face, and Cassius knew that Hoke blamed him for what he had been forced to do to Tempie Easter. As Hoke pulled himself up, Cassius heard the clink of coins in the money purse in Hoke Howard's waistcoat pocket, coins he had not had on the trip into town.

  Cassius spoke to no one in the quarters, collecting gear as if he was intent on visiting his traps. He was aware of some sort of uproar, but he paid no attention to it, as he was imprisoned by the uproar in his mind. He took the three loose pages that had been hidden within the leaves of The Iliad. He left quickly, avoiding contact with the hands as he assumed the uproar concerned Tempie. In his rush, he left behind the pass he had forged for the occasion. It was the night of the full moon.

  He hid his hunting gear in deep woods and changed direction, finding his way through heavy brush, helped by the climbing moon, reaching the main road and walking quickly. He watched the sky as a weather front moved in rapidly, stars consumed by the unnaturally straight line of approaching clouds. When the clouds covered the moon, he lit his lantern and baffled the light down to a narrow shaft, to pick out the road before him. He was just beyond the halfway point, near the little bridge, when the rain came and he pulled his hat down low and continued to trudge as the bottom of the ruts grew slick and muddy.

  The rain was his ally, driving idlers indoors, and when he reached Emoline's house he did not think he had been seen. He stopped at the fence that surrounded her yard and looked to see the hole in her garden where he had hidden the money. Richard Justice had not bothered to refill the hole, so it collected rain, but not enough to keep the nearby remedy herbs from being swamped. He noticed the other obvious hole in her garden, where an entire area of herbs had been pulled out. He wondered who else other than Richard Justice had come to scavenge, then remembered that he had seen that hole the night he met Maryanne. Seeing Emoline's garden untended brought a wrench of sadness to his chest, a sentimental wounding so profound that he was taken by surprise. He now projected his own anxieties about abandonment onto the rows of growing herbs. She would not be there to harvest them, she would not grind them in a mortar or mix them in a broth or consume them or share them, they would be gradually overrun with weeds and left to shrivel and fade in the fall. He had spent his life resisting such contemptible sentimentality, but tonight his loss struck primal emotions remembered from childhood and he stood bereft under a pitiless rain knowing that Emoline was gone. She had taken his hand and acted as guide through his grief and she was gone. And then he remembered silent Tempie, and knew it was his part in her fate that had brought him to this moment of pain.

  He went indoors tracking mud. He had rushed to town fearing he would arrive too late to meet Emoline's contact and now he was relieved, because he was certain that he had either missed him or that her contact had never intended to be here. Cassius would utilize this time to mourn her and quit this pointless, foolish impulse to expose her killer and exact justice. The broken household items were gone, along with the pots and bottles and remedies; the floor swept, the house tidied. Richard Justice had done more than Cassius had expected. Cassius opened drawers for something dry and found a tablecloth. He used it on the floor, and then on himself. He was soaked and uncomfortable, but the room was warm and close and he did not shiver. After a while, he blew out the lantern and sat quietly in the dark, reflecting.

  He considered the events of the past few days. He acknowledged a change in himself: He had experienced fear again, as unwelcome as it was unexpected. After Marriah, fear had abandoned him and he had grown stubborn and bold, at peace with the prospect of his own death. He considered the risks he had run in the five years past and compared them to the last few days. Choosing to hunt for Emoline's killer had given him purpose. He had protected Quashee, Joseph, and Beauregard, but he was uncomfortable in the role of avenging angel, despite hi
s dislike of Big Gus and the tyranny of white planters and patrollers. He drifted off the subject, relieved that Quashee was now in the big house, away from Big Gus. He liked the idea that he would rarely see her. He had helped her, and now that it was done, he could bury his righteous urge, eradicate his fear, and return to the cold heart that provided him comfort.

  He heard a noise outside. At first he thought it a trick of the rain, but it came again and he identified it as the sound of heavy fabric being shaken out. Any number of visitors might approach Emoline's empty house; her son, or the sheriff. Cassius kept still in the darkness and watched as the door came open a crack, remaining that way for such a long time that Cassius began to wonder if the door had been that way all along and he simply had not realized it. When it finally swung fully open, a man was revealed. He stepped into the room, reached about the wall and floor until he found Emoline's lantern, and lit it. Cassius knew the man immediately.

  "Emoline, where the hell are you?" said the man, holding up the lantern. It was a moment before the man realized he was not alone.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Gabriel Logue was patient. He stood in the doorway, lantern held high, looking directly at Cassius sitting on the stool. His expression did not change and he did not appear to breathe. Cassius would have thought him a statue but for the fact that his eyes occasionally blinked behind his dripping hat. His long tarpaulin coat created a circle of water on the floorboards. Eventually Logue set down the lantern. Cassius stood, keeping his hands visible and open. Logue had not produced a weapon, but he would have one close at hand. Logue was an outsized man, taller and broader than Cassius, appearing more massive in his long coat. Cassius had only once before seen the man, from a distance. Logue stood over six feet tall. His expressive hands were large with a span that brought to Cassius's mind eagle wings. He had a strong nose, a dense mustache, a pronounced chin with a deep cleft that was enough off-center that Cassius intuited it to be a scar. As Logue removed his hat and coat, the lantern below suddenly illuminated one of his eyes, revealing a surprisingly pale blue, and in that moment he appeared unreal. Angel of Death indeed, thought Cassius, and wondered how many men Logue had killed. Then he remembered the man's occupation and thought it odd that he had become a smuggler when he was surely unmistakable in every crowd.