Afterward, when the mourners had left us to ourselves, Cassie, Howard, their baby, Emmaline, and I sat at the table laden with food in my mama’s little house. We hadn’t eaten much. I hadn’t wanted any food, but it was warming to know folks had cared enough to bring it. “You know, Paul,” said Howard as he finished his coffee, “you’re welcome to come back to Atlanta with us. You don’t need to stay here alone.”
I nodded and kept my eyes on Emmaline, who was more than a year old now and was jumping as I held her.
Cassie leaned over and put her hand on my arm. “He means that.”
“I know.” I glanced at Howard. “Thank you,” I said, then looked again at Emmaline.
“You see Mama in her?” Cassie asked.
I nodded. “Her eyes . . .”
“Eyes, hair, nose, chin. Boy, she’s Mama through and through. Sometimes I think I should have gone ahead and named her Deborah after Mama, but you know Mama asked me to name her Emmaline after her mama. Think I’m going to add Deborah to her name now, though, because every time I look at her, I see Mama.” Cassie pulled herself up and began to clear the table. She was pregnant again and expected the new baby in the summer.
“Wait a minute, Cassie,” I said, starting to stand. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“Ah, boy, sit down and play with your niece. You haven’t seen her in a while. You need to spend as much time as you can with her.”
Then, without Cassie’s asking, Howard got up and began to help with the table. It seemed a job he was accustomed to doing, and a job he seemed not to mind. The two of them cleared the dishes and the two of them washed and dried the dishes, all while I played with Emmaline. I got on the floor, lay on my stomach, and let her crawl over my back. I gave her horseback rides, stood and lifted her into the air, and let her fly like a bird in my arms. She giggled and had a great time, unaware of the sadness of the day. I laughed too, but the laughter was only for her.
When Emmaline finally fell asleep and was in her bed for the night, Howard decided to take a walk, and Cassie and I were left alone to comfort each other. “I never told her, Cassie,” I said, soon after Howard was gone, “I never told our mama I was sorry for those things I said about her and our daddy . . . you remember.”
“I do.”
“I was sorry . . . I am sorry . . . but I never told her.”
“Mama probably figured you were. You didn’t have to say it.”
“You were right, you know. I had no business trying to be her judge.” I then broke down crying and Cassie held me. She took me into her arms and consoled me like the little mother she’d always been to me.
“No, you didn’t,” she agreed when my tears subsided and I pulled away. “You were too young to go judging anybody. You know, Mama told us both our daddy was the only one. She’d been with only him, and she told me that was to her as if she’d been his sworn wife.”
“You think he cared about that?”
“I don’t know. I can’t get inside our daddy’s head.”
“Well, whether he did or he didn’t, I know one thing, Cassie. I ever have a daughter, I’ll never let her go with a white man.”
“You said that before.”
“I mean it. There’s just too much sorrow to it.”
“I suppose,” she said, her voice dropping. She sighed and then spoke of other things. “You know that box of Mama’s, Paul, the one she showed us a few years back? Well, she had me take it to Atlanta with me last time I was here . . . almost like she knew. . . . Anyway, there’re things in there belong to you.”
“You hold on to them, Cassie. I’ve got no need for them right now.”
“I can bring them next time I come, though I don’t know when that’ll be, now that Mama’s gone. Course, you could come to Atlanta and get them. Honey, Howard and I, we’ve talked about it. You could stay with us. You’re my family, and you know how much I’d love it—”
“I know. I know, Cass. But I figure to stay here, at least for a while.” I didn’t say it to Cassie then, and I’m not sure why, but I wasn’t yet ready to leave my daddy’s land. Even though I spent much of my time in Macon, I still considered this place home. “Don’t worry about it, Cassie. Just you take care of what Mama wanted me to have.”
After some while I left Cassie and went down to the grave-yard to say good-bye to my mama alone, but when I got there, I saw my daddy standing over her grave. His hat was in his hands, and I thought I heard the sound of weeping. Maybe I was wrong about that. Anyhow, I didn’t want him to see me, so I backed off and I left. I wanted to say good-bye to my mama alone.
I walked for some while in the misty rain and ended up on the slope that overlooked my daddy’s land. I sat down on a stump and surveyed the valley before me. My daddy’s house was right below and, beyond the house, the yard and flower garden, and beyond the backyard, the vegetable garden. The stables and the pasture weren’t all that far from the house. My daddy always liked to have his horses near. Beyond the pasturelands where the horses and cattle grazed were the forests. The cotton fields could not be seen. They, along with all the sharecropping shanties and the people in them, were on the other side of the woods, hidden from view. So was my mama’s house. It was mid-spring, and all the grasses were emerald green and all the plants were in bloom. There was only beauty before me.
It was almost dusk, and I could see lanterns beginning to glow inside my daddy’s house. Though it was growing late, I continued to sit in the damp, and I didn’t stir until Mitchell happened upon me. He gave me a nod and I returned it; then he sat on a stump a few feet from me without a word. Mitchell had gone away some while ago, as he had said he would, but then had come back. I’d heard his mama had sent his brother Jasper to get him, and for whatever reason, Mitchell had returned. “How you doin’?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I shrugged.
Mitchell didn’t say anything, and we sat there in silence looking out over my daddy’s land together. After a while I said, “One day I’ll have a place like this.”
Mitchell turned toward me. “What you mean, ‘like this’? Figured you t’ be here.”
“No,” I said. “No, I won’t be here, not here on my daddy’s land. One day I’ll have land of my own. I’ve got to have something all my own.”
Cassie and her family stayed on for several days, and I stayed with them, but when they left, my daddy sent me back to Macon. Then, when summer came and school was out, he sent for me again. He said we were heading to East Texas to buy some horses at a horse fair. My daddy had been doing a considerable amount of reading concerning horses coming out of Texas. What with all the wild horses of the West, the Appaloosas and the mustangs, he had heard that horses of some of the greatest speeds were there, and my daddy being the horseman he was, wanted horses of the greatest speed.
Hammond and George were both on their own by now. Hammond was clerking in a law firm in Atlanta, and George was out west somewhere serving in the Army. That left only Robert and me to go on the trip. I was an obvious choice to go because of how I could ride and handle the horses. My daddy decided to take Robert simply because Robert was his son. Everybody knew he would be of no real help with the horses, so it was certainly expected that others would go along as well to help out. Willie Thomas would come along. I figured, though, my daddy would need one more hand, and I asked him if Mitchell could go with us. “He’s right good with horses now,” I said. “He’s gentle with them, and they trust him.”
“As I recall,” said my daddy, “it was Mitchell who near to crippled Ghost Wind.”
“That was a long time ago. Mitchell’s learned a lot about horses since then.”
My daddy thought on that. “I suppose,” he agreed. “How old is that boy now?”
“He just turned sixteen first part of the year.”
“Sixteen and he can’t ride, can he?”
“That’s because you don’t let him.”
My daddy gave a nod, as if he were considering the matter. “All right
, Paul,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on Mitchell, and I’ll let you know.”
At this time, though Mitchell had befriended me more than once in his way over the years, I still did not consider Mitchell a close friend. He was more of an ally than anything else. Seeing that Robert and I were no longer close, I figured I had no real friends. But I also figured Mitchell needed somebody to speak up for him, the same way Mitchell must have figured I needed somebody to speak up for me on the day we buried my mama. As I’d told my daddy, Mitchell was good with horses. He couldn’t sit a horse well, but he could care for them well, and he was reliable. I didn’t figure I was taking much of a risk in talking to my daddy about him. Only thing that might get both Mitchell and me into trouble with my daddy down the road was Mitchell’s temper, so I warned Mitchell my daddy was going to be watching him.
“So?” questioned Mitchell.
“You want to go to East Texas?” I asked.
Mitchell, as was his way, shrugged in answer. “Makes no difference t’ me.”
“If it makes no difference,” I said, “then just go ahead and mess up and end up not going. You figure you want to go, though, then you treat those horses like you always do, and you keep your temper, even around your daddy.” Mitchell didn’t say anything. He just gave me a look and walked away, but I knew I’d gotten to him.
During the next few days Mitchell did himself and me proud. There was never any question that he’d treat the horses right, but he also held on to his temper. Even when his daddy cursed him and threatened him with his whip, Mitchell kept his silence and my daddy saw. My daddy saw everything, and on the day we set out with the horses to board the train, Mitchell was with us.
When we arrived in East Texas, we found folks from all over the South and the neighboring states at the horse fair. Folks who just plain loved horses and folks who loved the horse racing business had come. First day we got settled, my daddy chose to take a look at the horses available and to show off our horses too. Same day a man from Missouri proposed a wager against one of my daddy’s horses, and my daddy took it.
“Well, who’s going to be your rider?” asked the man of my daddy.
My daddy looked at me. “This boy Paul here.”
The man gave me a look-over and said, “He seems a bit mite to me.”
My daddy nodded, as if he hadn’t considered that. “Could be you’re right. He sits a horse well, though.”
“Well . . . it’s your money,” said the Missourian.
“That it is,” agreed my daddy. He and the man shook hands and we prepared to race right then. My daddy and the Missourian found themselves a stretch of road for the race while Willie Thomas and Mitchell brought my daddy’s horse, a mare by the name of Starburst, over to the field and the Missourian’s folks brought down his stallion. Folks around the fair soon heard about the upcoming race, and as I mounted Starburst, I saw that a goodly number had gathered to watch. My daddy told me to mold myself right into Starburst, to become as one with her, just as I always did when I rode. “Keep that in mind, Paul,” he said, “and Starburst’ll do what needs to be done. You’re no more than a feather on her back.”
I glanced over at the other rider. The fellow was older than I, and had the weight of a man on him. He glanced over at me and he grinned, but it wasn’t a friendly grin; I knew he was mocking me. “Pay him no mind,” said Mitchell. “He’s all teeth, nothin’ else.” I nodded and cleansed my mind of all except Starburst and me. The marks were set, the rules explained, the gun was shot. The race was on. I became one with the mare. Starburst crossed the finish by a full length.
Afterward the Missourian congratulated my daddy and paid him the wager. Other people came around and said Starburst was a mighty fine horse and that I was a fine rider too.
A man out of Alabama, man name of Ray Sutcliffe, told my daddy I was such a good rider, he wanted me to ride some races for him. “That boy of yours got a mighty light weight on him and he sure enough knows how to handle a horse like he was full grown. I’ve got myself a good rider, but he’s been feeling sick of late, and I need another rider. Could sure use that boy of yours.”
My daddy shook his head. “Paul only rides horses he knows.” “Horses I’m talking about aren’t wild or anything,” said Ray Sutcliffe. “They’re my own horses, come straight out of Alabama, not any of these wild, new-breed western horses. In fact, I’ve got a fine stallion, a grey, I want to race, a real winner if he’s got a good rider on his back. I’d pay your boy well. I’d pay you a fee too, on the wager, if I win.”
My daddy smiled. “Well, if anybody could ride a horse and win a wager for you, it would be Paul here. But I still have to say no. I don’t want this boy or the horse getting hurt. Like I said, my boy rides only horses he knows. I thank you, sir, though, for the offer.”
When Ray Sutcliffe left us, I said to my daddy, “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to ride that man’s horse.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, why not? Maybe I wanted to ride for him.”
“Well, if you did or you didn’t, I know better about these things,” said my daddy. “Some of these horses around here aren’t half trained, some of them are skittish, and some of them are just plain mean. Now, I’ve seen some of that man’s horses, and maybe you could ride that grey he was talking about if there were training time, but not just on a first ride. Not all folks train their horses same as we do, and you riding a stranger’s horse is just asking for trouble. You could get thrown, you could get run over; in either case possibly get yourself seriously hurt. No, I’m not about to let you ride any horses except the ones we brought here.”
“Well, I still say I’ve got a right to decide what I ride and for who. I’m not your slave anymore.”
I remember my daddy got real quiet. If I just hadn’t added that last bit, maybe he would have taken the time to talk more to me. Now his mind closed. “Makes no difference about that. I’m still your daddy, and you’re still a boy with a boy’s judgment. I say no about a thing, then it’s finished.”
The young manhood in me got my back up. “Well, you didn’t tell that man from Alabama anything about you being my daddy, just that I was ‘your boy’! Figure that says more than anything else! Now, I want to ride that stallion!”
I’ll never forget the look on my daddy right then. There was temper in him and he could have given me a good walloping right there, but he stayed his hand and gave me my warning. “I’m telling you this just once, Paul,” he said. “You ride that horse or any other horse I say you don’t ride while you’re under my care, I’ll whip you ’til you bleed. ’Til you bleed, do you hear me? Harsh as that might sound to you, a whipping’ll be less painful to you than some crazy horse that could kill you or maim you for life. I’m not going to have that, you understand? That’s all I’m going to say about it, so you mind my words.”
That said, my daddy walked off from me. I watched him go. I knew my daddy meant what he said, but I didn’t heed his words.
It was some three days later when Mitchell and I were brushing down the horses in the stalls my daddy was renting, Mitchell said to me, “That man from Alabama, one wanted you to ride for him, he come askin’ me ’bout you. Came to the stables earlier.”
I stopped my brushing and peered across the horses at Mitchell. “Did? What he want?”
Mitchell kept on brushing. “Wanted t’ know if you were on your own or if you was debted t’ Mister Edward.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“Told him I didn’t know your business. Told him too, he wanna know your business, he best be talkin’ t’ you.”
“My daddy’s dead set against my racing that grey or any other horse he doesn’t approve of.”
“Well, s’pose he got his reasons.”
“Said he doesn’t want me hurt.”
Mitchell grunted.
“Said he’ll whip me bloody I ride without his permission.”
“Good ’nough reason not t’ ride, then. But don’t
be too surprised if that Alabama man come t’ talk t’ you.”
I wasn’t. Early the following morning the Alabama man came to the stables where Mitchell and I were tending to a gelding. My daddy wasn’t around. On this particular morning my daddy and Willie Thomas had gone off into the surrounding countryside looking for horses and weren’t expected back until late in the day. Ray Sutcliffe came right to the point. “I want you to ride for me, boy.”
I looked at him as if surprised.
“I just lost my rider,” he explained. “Came down with the stomach flu again or some such thing, and here I’ve got a race to run by noon. I wanted to speak to the man you work for, but I understand he’s gone for the day. I wanted to do him the courtesy of asking him again, but I need a rider now, and you’re the best I’ve seen. Now, I know Mister Logan doesn’t want you to ride for anybody but him. He made that clear. But if he’s got no hold on you and if you want to ride for somebody else, you can.” He looked at me pointedly waiting for a response.
I gave him one. “He’s got no hold,” I said. Mitchell looked at me, then kept on with what he was doing.
Ray Sutcliffe smiled. “Well, you ride for me today, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
I glanced at Mitchell and took my time before I asked, “Mister Sutcliffe, what’re you figuring as worth my while?”
Ray Sutcliffe seemed surprised that I had put the question to him. More than likely, he was figuring I would just take him at his word about making my riding “worth my while.” “You’d be getting my rider’s pay,” he said. “Same as I’d pay my own rider.”
The Land Page 10
