The Land: List 3

It was known for a fact that Jessup had been the operator of a turpentine camp, a camp set up to drain all the resin from the pines, and many of those bosses could be brutal.

By the time I returned to the camp, the cook had a fire going and pots of chicory brewing and grits boiling.

“You know, Paul Logan, I don’t like you. You come in this here camp lookin’ and talkin’ like a white man and callin’ yo’self colored.” He looked back at me. “Now, one thing I can’t stand is a uppity..."

Leastways he keeps shut, not talkin’ citified like you.

“Well, that’s a fact.” Mitchell was blunt as always. “But you know part of that, that’s your own fault, Paul. You keeps yourself separate from the rest, and they thinks it’s ’cause you thinkin’ you better’n them.”

The two of them then went at it. Another fellow came at me, but I held my own. Two more of the men from the camp jumped into the fray; the rest stayed out of it.

I answered her brusquely. “He saw to it.”

You ever decide to go into the furniture business, I know a good person to see is a man by the name of Mister Luke Sawyer in Vicksburg. He’s had skilled wood craftsmen working for him before. He runs a mercantile, and he’s a fair man.

As a boy, even though I worked for my daddy, I felt my soul was vested in all I did.

However, he still had his quick temper and sullen ways, and that meant trouble too many times.

“This is my load,” I contended. “It’s not on you.”

Mitchell nodded, mulling over what I was saying.

She surprised both Mitchell and me with a feast of fried chicken, ham hocks and collard greens, corn bread, and even pecan pie.

Maylene accepted my gratitude with the same shy smile with which she had first greeted me, then admonished, “Y’all eat up now. I’m a good cook.”

“What’s this about?” I said, showing my face full in the waning firelight.

There was no man-made light, and I took solace from that.

J. T. Hollenbeck looked me over, scrutinizing my worth, I suppose.

There were some tools hanging on the wall, a fireplace was in the corner, and a lathe sat in the middle of the floor. Planks of lumber were leaning against the wall and dust was settled around the room.

Both were tall and stately, with pretty faces and skin the reddish brown of pecans.

“You best be watchin’ yo’s,” warned the young woman, undaunted. “I said leave this child be and I mean it. Come on with us now, Henry.”

He had a bad cleft lip, which no doubt had been the object of the boys’ taunts.

I looked at Luke Sawyer, and had he been a man of color, I would have laughed, and he no doubt would have laughed with me. Instead, I shook my head somberly.

Once Mitchell had gone on the road, I started back to work. I had long ago given up the notion of the Sabbath as a day without toil.

“Miz Crenshaw says when you worked for her, you were so good, she loaned you out to some of her neighbors who needed help with some of their finer horses. Says you even raced for her and some others, and every race you rode, you won! I think you’re being too modest, Paul.”

A corral was at the far end of the pasture and a herd of horses was penned inside.

He was a palomino. Both he and another stallion, a black one, had been tethered on opposite sides of the corral.

Man brought them in a few days ago on a barge ’cross the Mississippi.

Luke Sawyer’s glance at me was coy. I figured he knew where I was leading with this.

Luke Sawyer looked at me askance. “They’re all that good?”

“And one other thing, Paul. I’ll give you to the end of our work year agreement for you to have them properly trained and for me to sell. Another thing too. Any furniture we agree to do, that still has to be done.”
“As long as I’ve agreed to the orders,” I stipulated.

There was no time for socializing, even if I’d been inclined to do so.

The words were almost a question, though they were forthright and without fear.

She switched the bucket to her other hand as if to alleviate its weight.

“No, sir, thank ya. This water goes to the kitchen, and one thing my mama can’t abide is a lotta folks in her kitchen.”

I had picked up the habit of pipe smoking in the lumber camps, and it was the only frivolous thing on which I spent my money.

“Now, you best stay on that side the wire, Mister Logan,” he advised. “These ole hogs can get t’ be a bit ornery..."

But even while I was instructing Nathan on how to fit the dowels of the boards for a drawer together, I was aware of Caroline across the room delicately painting bright splashes of yellows and reds and greens, oranges and blues, creating the bright flowers and the grasses too of her mother’s garden.

I smiled at her and untied the rope as all the Perrys crowded near. I lifted the tarp from the rocker and a raucous shrill rose from them all.

Amidst it all, Sam Perry dispatched Nathan and another of his boys to get his wife, who, I learned, was with Risten at her place.

“It’s your chair, Mama,” said Caroline with a chiding glance at Nathan. “Ain’t nobody sat in it yet. You be the first.”