Sweetsmoke

by David Fuller

  She glanced out the open door, to the greeting room where Sarah swept down the stairs in her blue dress, her servant trailing behind. How well Sarah wore that dress. How thoroughly Sarah had taken charge of the household. She had stepped in to fill the void Ellen had left when Ellen took over Hoke's business. Sarah now managed the servants like the general of an army. It was as if she had stored up a fount of strength while lingering in her bed all those months. Anne simpered with discontent, chafing under her control, while Genevieve was beside herself with indignation. Ellen could not imagine why, as neither Genevieve nor Anne had shown the slightest interest in maintaining the big house. Perhaps it is my fault, thought Ellen. I encouraged Sarah, after all. But what a welcome surprise on that morning, when Sarah had risen, like Lazarus, from her bed, to join the household at the table, fully dressed with her hair carefully pinned. No one had spoken a word about it at the time, as if her presence were the most natural thing in the world. But afterward, out of Sarah's earshot, it was all anyone could speak of for a full week. And how Quashee had blossomed! As Sarah shouldered the household burdens, Quashee emerged as the predominant servant. Pet had tried, God knows, to manage the household when Ellen was in charge, but she was too clumsy, too easily distracted. Despite the graceful way Quashee instructed her, poor Pet now dwelled in a perpetual sulk, at loose ends.

  Ellen ran her fingers along the side of the desk and happened upon a gouge. She bent to examine it with a scowl, realizing it was fresh and she had been the cause, at the moment she had thrust aside the chair. She closed her eyes in melancholy irritation. Hoke would no longer care about the degradation of his desk, but she remembered how he had loved it, how proudly he set his hands flat against it to feel the smooth wood, and she mourned the man who no longer existed.

  Ellen became aware of a sudden bustle of activity and saw Sarah rush to the front door. Out the window, she saw the carriage returning from town, Beauregard arriving with the post.

  She rose from her chair, her heart tinging high in her chest as it always did when there might be news. She feared that she would discover he had been dead for days or weeks while she had blithely continued her petty existence. She joined her family as they poured from the house and closed in from around the yard, Genevieve and Nanny Catherine, Mrs. Nettle and Anne, Pet and Mam Rosie, Quashee following Sarah, and even young Charles and the other children, all hungry for news. Hoke was not there, but he would come eventually, in his good time. Beauregard stayed on the buck-board's bench, holding Sam's reins, waiting for his missus to join them; he had been well trained by John-Corey. Sarah nodded to him as Ellen arrived, and he spoke:

  Letter come from Master Jacob, Missus, said Beauregard.

  "Let me have it, then," said Ellen.

  She opened the envelope and removed the folded letter. Her entire family watched, and with so many expectant eyes upon her, she found herself moving more slowly than usual. She read his handwriting, Dear Mother, handwriting that was altered by a slight tremor. She imagined him less arrogant since he had gone to fight. It saddens me greatly to hear of my father's unfortunate accident. He was not coming home. Cassius had reached him, and he was not coming home. Her eyes flew down the page where she found excuses in a tone that rang hollow. At the bottom of the page, beneath his signature, in a rushed hand, she read the words Cassius was killed at Sharpsburg.

  She looked up at everyone, saw their anxious eyes.

  "He will not be coming home. Jacob will remain with his cavalry and fight on for his country, as is the right and proper thing."

  A general sigh filled the air, a deflation of expectations, and already they began to move away, knowing the letter would reach their hands sometime later in the day, when they would have their own opportunity to savor Jacob's every word.

  Ellen noted Sarah's reaction, and thought that, in her erect carriage, she expressed relief. It meant for Sarah that she would continue in her current position without the interference of a husband.

  "He also writes that Cassius is dead," said Ellen.

  She saw Quashee falter, saw Mam Rosie go to her, but then Beauregard stepped in to lend his support, leaving Mam Rosie stranded with her hands reaching. Ellen had not been aware of the connection between Quashee and Cassius, and she wondered when it had happened.

  Ellen looked again at the words at the bottom of the page, and spoke aloud, but so that only she could hear: "So. He did not keep his promise."

  The buckboard rolled down the road in the twilight, returning to the Chavis farm. He watched Weyman, drowsy on the bench, reins held lightly in his palms, and he thought to step out in front of the horse, but then thought better of it, as he did not want to shock Weyman into accidentally running him down. He stayed where he was among the trees, and as the buckboard moved past, he emerged and leapt up in the back, putting a hand on Weyman's shoulder from behind.

  Dear Lord Jesus! said Weyman, shocked beyond reason that someone was behind him, and then shocked again to realize it was Cassius.

  Good seeing you, too, Weyman, said Cassius.

  What the hell're y'all doin, scarin old Weyman like that, gave me such a fright I ain't likely to recover.

  See anyone else on the road? said Cassius.

  Quiet out here. Jesus Lord, never thought to see y'all again, said Weyman.

  Here I am, said Cassius.

  Figured you for Canada.

  Made a promise to come back.

  Now that is the Cassius I know, y'all belong here, with me.

  Picked up some things for you along the way.

  Now, that is some good news, business been quiet. You got 'em now?

  No, but get away tonight and we'll meet. Come to Emoline's.

  Weyman looked over his shoulder at Cassius's face.

  Maybe we could meet somewheres else, said Weyman.

  Emoline's is best, nobody bother us there. Travel on foot, so you don't let your old Master Thomas know.

  I don't know, Cassius, I ain't real comfortable with ghosts.

  Never knew you to be superstitious, Weyman. Way I figure, she'll protect us.

  Weyman considered, then nodded.

  Good, said Cassius. I'll be getting off right up here, before you go around that bend. And Weyman. Don't say you saw me.

  Don't say?

  Not to Bunty, not to your Thomas, not to your Thomas's wife.

  Why don't you want me to say?

  You want I should give the goods to someone else?

  No, I gotta have 'em, I won't tell nobody if that's what you like.

  After tonight, you tell anyone you want, said Cassius with a smile, and he leapt off the back of the buckboard and was gone into the trees. He saw Weyman look around after him, and thought Weyman was questioning if Cassius had really been there.

  Cassius settled to wait in the woods until it began to grow dark, then made his way toward town. He stopped at the little bridge and watched the motion of the water as it rushed by under him until the last of the light left the sky. When he could no longer see, he stayed awhile longer just to listen.

  Cassius held a lantern in one hand and Emoline's pages in the other, with the page that diagrammed her garden on top. He looked at the hole in the ground where plants had been wrenched out, and on her map he confirmed it as the location of the jalap bindweed. He paused then, glancing at the names on the other sheets, and was reminded that Emoline refused to tell the fortunes of blacks; the burden and pretense of influencing the future was left to the whites. He folded the paper and replaced it in his pouch. He looked at the rows of vegetables and remedies, all dead or dying. No one had come to harvest her garden. They were all too superstitious. Her daughters would do it in the spring.

  He went inside to wait.

  Weyman came some time later, and he looked shaken. He had narrowly avoided the patrollers. They had been drinking and their moods were foul, hoping for trouble. He was concerned that he would encounter difficulty returning to the Chavis farm.

  Don't worry about
that, said Cassius. I'll fix it.

  How you do that? said Weyman.

  Write you a pass.

  Write me a pass?

  Been doing it for years.

  Y'all can write?

  Cassius nodded.

  Read, too?

  Read, too.

  Don't that beat all, said Weyman. That some little secret you been keepin from Weyman. I could'a used you in my business.

  Could be why I didn't say.

  Speakin of business, what you bring back for me?

  Left it outside, said Cassius.

  Cassius led him to the garden and they stopped at the hole in the ground where the jalap had once grown.

  Where is it? said Weyman.

  This is it, said Cassius.

  Ain't nothin here but a hole in the ground.

  That's because I brought you a mystery.

  This ain't funny, y'all. You got somethin for me or not?

  You were getting remedies from Emoline.

  What you on about, Cassius?

  Something you couldn't remember. Started with one of the letters of the alphabet, what was it you said? "M," I think you said "M." But it wasn't "M," was it, Weyman?

  I ain't followin.

  It was "J."

  Okay, it was "J." So?

  Jalap bindweed. Sound familiar?

  Maybe so. All right.

  One more piece of the puzzle dropped into place, and Cassius knew a sadness expanding inside him.

  She was growing it for you. Remember that? said Cassius. Sure I remember.

  You pulled the whole thing out of the ground.

  She didn't need it no more.

  Because she was dead.

  That right. She dead.

  You pulled it out the night she died.

  How you figure?

  Knew you wouldn't get any more from her, so you took all you could.

  Think I better get goin, said Weyman. What if the patrollers are still out there?

  Weyman looked over his shoulder. He looked back at Cassius. Then he smiled.

  This some kind of joke. I get it, Cassius. You messin with my head, look to see if you can get me in trouble. Yes, a joke. Let's go inside.

  Cassius followed Weyman back inside Emoline's house, looking at the back of Weyman's head. Weyman moved to Emoline's favorite chair, the one she had slept in when Cassius was recuperating. Cassius stayed on his feet.

  You had me goin there, Cassius. Didn't know what you were on about. No.

  So you don't got nothin for me from up North, said Weyman. Not too many people in the world I care about, said Cassius. A girl back at Sweetsmoke. Maybe one or two others. Maybe even you. And Emoline Justice. I did care for her. She did more for me than just about anyone could want. Mended me, but you know that. Taught me to read and write. Even taught me a new way to think. You think we trust too much in hope?

  Don't know what you talkin 'bout, said Weyman.

  No, you don't. She gave me hope. Taught me to trust my own thoughts. And then you killed her.

  Weyman's eyes went strange, he stood up from her chair and Cassius knew he was right. Something closed down inside of him. He crossed the room and stood over the stain.

  Happened here, said Cassius. You hit her and she went down and bled.

  You don't understand, said Weyman.

  Help me understand, said Cassius.

  She was wantin me to join her.

  To join her?

  She was spyin for the Federals. Bet you didn't know that.

  I knew that.

  Well, then you understand. She done ask me to help her spy, knew I got some freedom to move around, bein with Thomas and all. I said no, and she got mad.

  She got mad, said Cassius.

  Attacked me, said I know too much 'bout her spyin.

  That little woman attacked you.

  She done come at me, Cassius. If I hadn't'a killed her, she was gonna kill me.

  She run at you backwards?

  You fuckin with me?

  Emoline was hit on the back of the head. You hit her from behind.

  Weyman sat back down in her chair. He stared at Cassius and was smart enough to hold his tongue.

  She never asked you to spy for her, said Cassius.

  No, said Weyman.

  She knew better. You couldn't keep your mouth shut if you were in a room full of bees. But you found out what she was doing.

  Came for jalap, came in the door and saw her puttin stuff in a hiding place. She told me what it was.

  She was proud of what she was doing, said Cassius, knowing that was consistent with what he knew of Emoline, a proud woman absolutely certain of her mission. Yes, he could imagine her telling Weyman about what he had seen.

  Weyman looked off for a moment, then looked back up at Cassius.

  I got it good here. You seen it. I live with whites, eat at the same table, sleep in the same house, work with 'em every day and I don't got to work no harder than Thomas. It's the closest I ever be to free. Almost like bein free, only we ain't never goin to be free, don't matter what that Lincoln says. This the only way I get a decent life. She was goin to ruin everything I got. I know what it like otherwise, I done picked cotton till my master died and I got sold to Thomas. I know what it was, and I know what it can be. I had to kill her, had to stop her from helpin the Union.

  Cassius was cold inside. His temper did not raise its head.

  What you goin do, Cassius?

  Not going to do anything, said Cassius.

  Nothin? said Weyman hopefully.

  Fact that I know, that you got to live with yourself while I know, that's your punishment. I know what it would do to your farm if something happened to you. The Chavises are good people for slave owners. Working people, put all their money into buying two men to help with their farm. Losing a man to them would be like a fire burning down their barn with their entire harvest inside, along with their mule, and all their chickens. Without you, they'd lose their farm. Without you, they'd lose everything. They couldn't afford a new man. Never be able to make up for your work.

  Cassius, I ain't sure what to say.

  I'm tired, said Cassius. Maybe you best go.

  Yeah, said Weyman. But maybe you do that thing you said?

  What thing? said Cassius, but he smiled inside, having known that this moment would come.

  You said you write me a pass.

  That's right. I made the mistake of telling you I could read and write, didn't I? All right. I think Emoline had some paper over here somewhere.

  Cassius crossed to a drawer and found a sheet of paper, a pen and an inkwell that still held some ink, so he didn't have to mix it from powder.

  He sat and wrote. Weyman watched.

  You really doin that, ain't you? said Weyman. Then he laughed happily, the laughter of relief: Y 'all was somethin, keepin such a thing a secret.

  Cassius finished the note and handed it to Weyman.

  This'll get you home, said Cassius.

  Weyman held up the pass as thanks, moving to the door.

  Got enough jalap to last you?

  Enough to last.

  Good.

  Weyman went out the door and Cassius followed to watch him walk down the road in the direction of the Chavis farm.

  Once out of sight, Cassius took the lantern, closed Emoline's front door, and ran in the street to the German part of town.

  He stood outside the bierhaus. He knew that if he entered, they would know he was alive, and then everything he had planned would be near to impossible. But he had to alert Mueller. He was on the verge of writing a note when he saw the fifteen-year-old, Mueller's brain-simple son. Cassius made certain that no one else was on the street, then stepped out and caught the boy's arm just before the boy went inside.

  Can you give your father a message? said Cassius.

  "Message? What you mean?" said the boy.

  Can you remember what I say, and repeat it back to him?

  "Sure, ain't stupid
, you know," said the boy. Cassius thought that the boy was not as brain-simple as he had heard, and he began to doubt his decision. But the boy did not recognize Cassius, so he went on.

  Then listen close. You know that one of the patrollers, Bornock, been accusing your father of taking his gun? said Cassius.

  "I hear 'bout that all the time," said the boy.

  I know where that gun is.

  "You ain't gettin no reward, boy."

  Cassius started, not having anticipated that reaction. He knew he had to play out the moment.

  Maybe just a little something? Cold out here.

  "Nothin for you. Now you come in, you tell my papa."

  Maybe better if you do it. Then he'll be happy with you. Yes?

  Cassius watched the boy's eyes light up. He started to nod, and Cassius nodded with him.

  You go tell your papa. You tell him the man who has Bornock's gun is on the road, walking back to his farm now.

  "Walking back to his farm now," repeated the boy.

  Tell him those words. The man who has his gun is named Weyman.

  "I know Weyman," said the boy.

  Weyman is on the road now and he has the gun. Tell your papa to get his patroller friends, and they'll catch him.

  "I will," said the boy, and he ran into the bierhaus.

  Cassius backed up and hid in the shadows, waiting to see that the message would be delivered. He still had time to write a note if it was needed.

  Mueller came out in a hurry, dragging on his coat and pressing his hat on his head. He ran past Cassius's hiding place and headed for the stable, and Cassius heard him when he was down the street, calling aloud for Bornock and Lang.

  Cassius set out on the road, traveling in the same direction as Weyman. He was already out of town when he heard the horses coming on behind him. He stepped out of sight and the patrollers thundered past, whipping their mounts and kicking up dust. The cold night air tightened the sky and made the stars hard and he felt winter coming on fast now. He came back out and continued walking along the side of the road, letting the beam of his lantern pick out the way.

  He heard them ahead, on the far side of the elbow in the road, and he sat down on the cold hard ground to wait. He could see light from their lanterns poking through the leaves and trees, and he listened to the sounds of what was happening there. Fifteen minutes later they rode fast in the other direction, returning to town. Cassius put out his lantern and sat in the dark by the side of the road and watched them go by. In the quiet that followed, he thought about Emoline and knew that she would not have approved.