Sweetsmoke

by David Fuller

  For Sweetsmoke.

  "The smuggler, dear Lord, I thought that was ended."

  You thought me a runaway?

  "No, I—After Joseph I did not know—And then Charles saw you steal away in the night, so I was certain of it, and Mam Rosie confirmed it, saying you had told her. But here you are, so how could you be running? Everything around me is intolerable and bewildering, everything."

  Master Hoke can't meet with Gabriel Logue. It falls to you.

  "You tell me it falls to me? You tell me my business? You? One of my people?"

  She spoke as if the decision had been made without her consent and she was forced to accept it.

  Mr. Davis's government would trade worthless paper for your crop. Gabriel Logue will make a fair arrangement.

  "I cannot. No. It is impossible; I cannot speak to that odious man."

  I got no authority and Master Hoke not able.

  "Mr. Davis's government," she said shaking her head. "You sound exactly like Mr. Howard."

  Ellen Howard was disgusted that she was obligated to take action, and further disgusted that one of her slaves compelled her to that action. She did, however, understand that Cassius was correct. With Hoke indisposed, she needed to rise to every call of the Master's responsibilities, including distasteful decisions necessary to maintain Sweetsmoke's survival. She considered whipping Cassius anyway, if not for the bold expression on his face, then for the fact that he perpetually took liberties. He needed to be reminded that if an idea was to enter the mind of a slave, the threat of punishment would be its eternal partner. But while she had the strength to plan his punishment, she had not the will to follow through. She thought to call Mr. Nettle from the fields; he would be glad to exercise the whip. But that thought fled as a familiar twinge grabbed her hip and she slid into the place of discomfort only laudanum could relieve.

  Cassius had seen the moment of danger flare back up and then recede, and he knew it was done. He breathed deeply and his breath pressed through him like fingers digging into hidden places he had given up for dead. He looked past her at Charles hanging on to her skirts and then at Pet in the doorway, and as he came back to life he smiled at them both. Charles looked as if he had been properly disemboweled, and Pet slipped away into the cool darkness of the big house. Only Quashee exhibited relief, her mouth open to welcome oxygen, her back leaning hard against the doorjamb. Nanny Catherine scuttled off with her charges like a hen shepherding chicks, Ellen's daughters wafted away, and Cassius turned to Mam Rosie. He was not surprised to find that she was no longer there. She had told Ellen that Cassius had planned to run when Cassius had been careful to tell her nothing.

  The gentleman is at the bierhaus, Missus. Best you be going this afternoon, as you won't find him tomorrow.

  Ellen nodded, her revulsion now complete as she would need to enter the German section of town.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cassius met her near the stand of trees that shielded the privy from the big house. He waited while she emptied chamber pots and noted the flowers blooming around the structure. She set the pots aside in a clump of tall grass shiny in the sun and they moved back but still out of sight of the big house. Face-to-face with her actual person, he realized that a dream version of her had accompanied him on the road and he knew that he had exaggerated their moment, a single impulsive kiss that she had likely found inconsequential. She glanced nervously in the direction of the big house and he read that as an onerous sign.

  Good to see you safe, said Quashee.

  How is he? said Cassius.

  Doctors came. They bled him, but no change.

  He nodded, and thought about what would happen if Hoke were to die.

  She reached out and took his hand as if reading his mind: He won't die, Cassius. He's strong.

  Her hand was warm and dry and he was reassured, but now he thought of how fragile the connections were when others held the power over their lives.

  Sometime you got to tell me about where you went, said Quashee. But I got to get back soon.

  I'll tell you everything, said Cassius. He smiled then, remembering something else: You ever imagine your Sarah a dancer?

  I wait up every night but she ain't been dancing since. Sorry, Missus hasn't been dancing since. What dance was she on about?

  It's what they do at white dances, call it the waltz, one two three one two three. Pictured herself decked out in a fancy dress. I got to wondering who was dreaming—the invalid from her bed, or the slave breaking into his master's study?

  Is that so, she saw herself in a gown? said Quashee, and her face opened up with the wonder of a child.

  He imitated Sarah lifting the fabric of her nightdress: Held it so, looking in the eyes of a partner who was a might taller than her Jacob, and did a curtsy.

  That poor, sour old thing. You'd never know, listening to her—Quashee get me water, Quashee I'm too cold, Quashee now it's hot—a gown and handsome partner. Always wondered why she don't want me sleeping in her room. Would've ruined her secret.

  The back door of the big house slammed shut and they heard a child scream and laugh, another one chasing, all out of sight.

  Got to be careful, said Quashee. Pet watches me. She pretends now, like she's my friend, but sometimes I see her face when she thinks I'm not looking. Got to get back before I'm missed.

  When do I see you?

  In the afternoon, she said and picked up the empty pots on her way back to the big house.

  They were not able to meet that afternoon, nor in the afternoons that followed. With Cassius returned, Quashee was under greater scrutiny. They were limited to brief moments of conversation in passing.

  Ellen Howard had gone to see Gabriel Logue on that afternoon, but had not left the plantation since. Nothing about their meeting had reached Cassius's ears. Beauregard had driven her in the carriage, but he had remained outside and she had revealed to him no indication of its success or failure. Cassius had been directed to town the next day to collect the post and newspaper. He had looked for Logue, but by then The Angel was gone.

  Joseph was released from the barn after a week of confinement, and was carried facedown on a litter to Abram and Savilla's cabin where his rehabilitation continued. Cassius was sad to see that his tuft was no longer a unique mark, as the hair on Joseph's head had gone completely gray. Hoke's condition was unchanged.

  Cassius returned to the drudgery of plantation life as July moved into August. He thought often about Whitacre, but did not know how to resolve his promise to himself about Emoline. He often worked close to the big house, to be near Quashee, near Hoke. Cassius was taken for granted. He had not run when given the opportunity, and had so earned Ellen's trust. He was sent with regularity to the town to conduct basic family business. He drove the carriage, but as it was not a buckboard, it resisted transporting supplies, showing wear and distress. Cassius's presence in town became no more unusual than a shadow. He created a routine, stopping initially in front of the dry goods to review the lists posted of the local dead. As most of the men were members of the same unit, when they saw battle, multiple casualties were common. He made a show of pretending he could read, entertaining the townspeople. Thus he was able to spend time perusing the list. To maintain his secret, he would eventually ask one of the passing whites to read him the list, keeping the game alive by saying he had something in his eye or could not make out the handwriting. The white would chortle agreeably, a willing partner in Cassius's charade of intelligence, and while the white read aloud, Cassius pretended to listen. Upon his return, the Howard family would rush to meet him and he would inform them of Jacob's absence on the list. Once they knew Jacob was safe for another day, they would ask for news of others, always double- checking his memory.

  "Are you sure William Anderson was on the list?"

  Oh yes, ma'am, Mr. Morse told it to me particularly.

  The women would mourn the names and make plans to visit widows or mothers. But the ov
erall mood was good, as their Jacob was alive, the war continued to go well for Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia, and they anticipated an overall Confederate victory within weeks.

  He did not seek out Mam Rosie. She would come to him, in time.

  He finished reading The Tragedy of Julius Caesar and was disappointed. He read to discover in what way Shakespeare's Cassius was an honorable man, only to find that those exact words were never uttered. Mark Antony, or Antonius, spoke of Brutus as an honorable man. He said, "So are they all, all honorable men," a reference meant to include Caius Cassius. Brutus was "honorable" many times over, while the honor of his ally Cassius was but inferred. Cassius understood that Mark Antony did not mean what he said. Mark Antony's speech roused the Roman masses and by its conclusion, "honorable" had come to mean "traitorous."

  Within the shadows and hollows of a hot and unusually dry August, Cassius reviewed Hoke's meaning when he had said Cassius was an honorable man. Had he meant to be injurious? Was he enjoying a laugh at Cassius's ignorance? Cassius decided that the irony worked against Hoke. When Hoke had not prevented his son Jacob from taking Marriah to bed, Hoke had been an "honorable" man, while Cassius—to use Mark Antony's sarcastic words—would choose to wrong the dead and wrong himself rather than wrong such an honorable man. When his temper retreated in fatigue, he wondered if perhaps Hoke had known all along that he had wronged Cassius, and had intentionally pointed the irony back at himself.

  Cassius grew increasingly unhappy with his name and began to weigh alternatives. But each new moniker he tried on fit him no better than a costume; he tugged and stretched them until abandoning each one in turn.

  Cassius made weary plans to return the book to Hoke's library.

  Work in the fields took on a normal, seasonal urgency. The blight was long defeated, the occasional plucked hornworm now an anomaly. The summer aged. The hands primed and topped the tobacco plants, removing leaves close to the ground, as well as flowers, seeds, and compact leaves from the head of the plant. Harvest was weeks away, its timing to be decided by Mr. Nettle, and he was meticulous in his inspections, shuffling from row to row, touching each plant, contemplating the sun, anticipating precipitation, rolling handfuls of soil in his palms, calculating, calculating. The hands did the same, arguing among themselves about the optimum moment. The sun hung lower in the sky and the days were shorter, with daylight pinched from both ends. Ellen surprised her people with unwelcome visits to the fields, more visits than her husband had been known to make. Her ignorant fingers grasped leaves that seemed to waver and withdraw from her touch. Savilla recognized her urgent desire for a triumphant harvest, and she followed Ellen discreetly, superstitiously touching the same leaves as if to calm them.

  One afternoon in town, Cassius met Weyman loading supplies onto Thomas Chavis's buckboard. Weyman paused and allowed himself to be entertained by watching Cassius rearrange sacks of grain to fit in the carriage.

  I see y'all Sweetsmokes take your dry goods real serious, said Weyman.

  How's that? said Cassius.

  To me, that's just a sack of barley.

  It's barley, so?

  I'm just sayin, barley is barley, and if you don't look out, you goin spoil it.

  It's not spoiled, Weyman. It's fresh.

  Lugging it around in the fancy—nancy carriage, I bet y'all sing it to sleep with a lullaby.

  Cassius caught up to Weyman's joke and joined in: Dry goods getting pretty dear around here, Weyman. You don't treat 'em right, they likely to run off to war.

  Cassius wanted to stay and banter with Weyman, but he had a week—old copy of the Whig as well as a letter from Jacob to his mother, and he was anxious to read them.

  Once outside of town he eased off on the reins and Sam slowed to an amble. Jacob rarely sealed the envelopes that carried his letters and this one was no exception. Cassius opened it. It was cautious and newsy and told him nothing except that at the time it was written, Jacob did not know of his father's illness. Reading between the lines, Cassius understood that Jacob was changed by the war, but that Jacob knew his mother well enough to pacify her with platitudes. Ellen however would not be fooled. He unfolded the Richmond Daily Whig. A battle had taken place at Cedar Mountain and General Thomas Jackson, referred to by his nickname "Stonewall," had driven Union general Nathaniel Banks from the field. Cassius refolded the newspaper, and snapped the reins to lift Sam out of his lethargy. He would learn later that Ellen read the newspaper aloud to her unconscious husband, but he did not hear if she had done the same with Jacob's letter.

  Throughout this time, Quashee continued to be watched closely by Pet and even Sundays when the hands were free, Quashee's presence was always urgently needed at the big house.

  Cassius tested boundaries. Some nights he slept in the quarters, others in the carpentry shed. He noticed no increased suspicion, from either Mr. Nettle or Big Gus. He gradually recognized his opportunity, and began to contemplate a plan to shadow Lee's army in search of Solomon Whitacre. With the decision still unresolved in his mind, he began to mend his clothing and hoard food. He built a new pair of shoes and did not skimp. He carefully measured his foot so that there was room for his large toe to spread when he walked; he used the best leather he could find, leather reserved for the planter family's shoes; he rejected exposed stitching to make the more durable pegged soles, but once that was done, he decided to disguise his handiwork by adding exposed stitching, thereby making the shoes appear of lower quality. Once finished, he scuffed and dripped paint and glue on them.

  On a night when he planned to sleep in the quarters, he saw Jenny hovering near his cabin. Her intention to speak to him became obvious when she did not rush away. She waited for an opening. He surmised that she had come to offer a truce. He stepped out his door and sat on the extended step that served as a small deck. He nodded to her and took up his whittling knife and set to carving. She stayed a few steps off in the lane.

  I have missed my friend, said Cassius without looking up.

  I was missin you, too, said Jenny.

  Everybody been busy.

  She took a step toward him.

  I brought some things from my garden, said Jenny, opening her apron and revealing carrots, radishes, and okra.

  Glad to have them, I thank you. Sit?

  So I guess you heard, then, said Jenny without moving closer.

  Not sure, said Cassius.

  'Bout Big Gus?

  Not a word.

  She came over and sat, setting out the radishes and carrots in a line.

  Mind you, it a secret from Abram.

  All right, said Cassius, not certain he wanted to know something that was to be kept from a friend.

  Abram been tellin things to Big Gus, confidin, you know.

  Abram and Big Gus?

  Told Big Gus things 'bout you and that little girl.

  Cassius nodded as his mind raced, fitting pieces together. Jenny was speaking to him, for which he was grateful. She continued to hold a grudge against Quashee, but that did not surprise. Abram had betrayed him to an enemy. He set that aside to be considered later and said nothing.

  He's just doin what he can to protect his boy, said Jenny.

  Before or after Joseph ran?

  Both ways, before and after. Even after Joseph got stripes. Big Gus sayin to him that it could still go worse for him.

  Cassius set his mouth in a line.

  So Savilla keep her plan secret from a husband who can't keep a secret from the Driver, said Jenny.

  Poor Abram.

  Maybe, maybe not. One day we's all out there mindin our business and Big Gus he come over to Savilla's row and want to see where she at with her primin and all, so she show him her bag and it only 'bout half-full. Now Big Gus lookin for anythin to keep that family down, so he nod and smile pretendin that everythin okay and such, but he go right to Mr. Nettle and say, Oh Mr. Nettle that wicked Savilla not doin her work!

  Why that son of a—

  No wait, sa
id Jenny. Big Gus come back with Mr. Nettle and they walk on up to Savilla and Mr. Nettle he say, Open your bag, Savilla, and Savilla she open her bag and lo and behold, it full of tobacco leaves. Mr. Nettle look in and then he look at Big Gus and he say,

  Now Gus, don't let me find out you got it in for this family. He got a inkling Big Gus drove poor Joseph to run.

  How about that Savilla, said Cassius with admiration.

  Ain't the half of it. So Big Gus go 'way mad, and he thinkin 'bout what he can do to get even. He don't like it much when Mr. Nettle not trustin him.

  No, I reckon not.

  So we all know Polly been sidlin up to Big Gus 'cause she like the special treatment.

  Polly's no fool, said Cassius.

  And everybody know Fawn can't keep her mouth shut to save her life.

  Fawn can't keep her mouth shut to save her breath, said Cassius.

  So next day come and some of the older ones go over and be primin and toppin near Fawn, and they talk all in a hush so Fawn can't help but listen. And one of 'em say Andrew done it, he run off, like his brother, and Fawn, she hear that and she likely to burst. She go right to her friend Polly and tell her Andrew done run away, and Polly don't even pretend to hide it, she call Big Gus over wavin her arms and tellin him directly. Big Gus get that wide smile he get when he plannin to give it to someone? And he go right to Mr. Nettle and say, Mr. Nettle, sorry to say, but we got ourselves another runaway, and this time it be Andrew.

  But Andrew's ten, said Cassius looking around for any sign of Andrew in the lane.

  Just wait now, so Mr. Nettle he march right over to where Abram and Savilla workin and he say, Your boy Andrew done run this morning?

  Big Gus is with him?

  Right by his side, and Andrew, who been hidin from Big Gus all mornin pop up his head and say, I am right here, Mr. Nettle.

  He's a good boy.

  And Mr. Nettle, he turn on Big Gus and say I done warned you, Gus. I trust you to be fair with all our people and you done undermined my trust.

  He said undermined?