by Dickie Erman
“Two women” Collette pondered to herself, as she tried to imagine what the paintings revealed. “Well, that’s certainly not something we have here” she said out loud, then wondering if she sounded like a naïve school marm.
Partly the alcohol, partly the idea itself, but Collette couldn’t shake the sudden feeling of aroused curiosity. She then realized that her eyes had been focused the last few seconds on Caroline’s breasts. She snapped out of it and refocused, but it was too late. Caroline saw. She gave Collette an accepting smile, then gently took her hand.
“It’s OK” Caroline comforted her. “The whole thing hit me like a ton of bricks when I was first introduced to their ‘enlightenment’ age. My, my. I do hope dinner will be served soon”.
She leaned forward and whispered into Collette’s ear: “I’m starving”.
13
A MANA GENTLY KNOCKED. The Doctor rolled back and forth a few times, then opened his blood shot eyes.
“What the …” he mumbled, not remembering how he got into this bed. Trent and Jeb had escorted him up the two flights of stairs last night, when it became obvious to everyone that the good Doctor was about to pass out. Not so much of an escort though, as the two men put one arm under each of the Doctor’s, and basically hoisted him as he half dragged, half walked, each step of the way.
The Doctor starred at the door for a moment as he struggled to realign his garbled senses. “Er … come in” he half shouted, not knowing who was standing outside.
“No need sir” Amana responded, not wanting to enter.
“Misses Winters axed me ta tell ya’ that breakest is rady and to cum on down as soons ya’ want”.
“I’ll be down soon” he muttered. He saw that he was still wearing the clothes he wore last night. “Hmm …” he thought. “I suppose I could change into my own dirty clothes but … the hell with it. Maybe the Colonel won’t notice that I’ll leave here with these good clothes on”.
Trent and Collette were sitting at the breakfast table when the Doctor shuffled in.
“Good mornin’ sir” Trent greeted him. How’d you sleep”?
“Never better” the Doctor answered, hoping the Colonel wouldn’t broach the subject of last night’s binge. “Boy, I could sure use some coffee”.
“Here, let me pour you some” Collette offered. It took every ounce of her Southern upbringing to be polite to this pig. “Sadie’s made a scrumptious breakfast for you two men”.
The Doctor scanned the table. “Sure nuf” he thought.
The smell of bacon, biscuits and gravy, hushpuppies, it was enough to almost forget his hangover.
“Looks delicious, Mrs. Winters. I must say I am hungry” as he piled enough food on his plate to feed two men. Trent stared in disgust as the Doctor shoved forkful after forkful into his mouth. Collette simply stared out the window.
“When you’re done, we need to take a look at Gabe’s leg” Trent stated. “You’ll find Mr. Tolivar nearby. He’ll take you back to the cabin. I’ll meet you there in say, thirty minutes”.
“That’ll be fine Colonel” he replied. “Yup. I’m hopin’ my medicine took effect and reduced the swellin’ considerably”.
“Well, we’ll know soon enough” Trent replied, then walked out the door.
“Your husband’s a good man” trying to engage Collette in conversation. She was so infuriated with his behavior at the dinner table last night, she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. Halfway into the third course, he was so hammered that he fell off his chair and shattered her imported French vase made from Francois du Maurier, a world renowned glass blower.
“Yes” was the only response she could muster. “You must excuse me. I have many errands to run this morning”. And, with that, she left the room.
“Uppity bitch” he thought to himself. “These people may have money, but they ain’t always got manners” he said in self-defense. “Well, I got at least twenty five minutes. Might as well fill my belly” as he belched out loud.
The Doctor found Tolivar standing near one of the great oaks that lined the pathway to the mansion.
“Good morning sir” the Doctor greeted. “Yes, indeed. Fine mornin’” as he belched and farted for the umpteenth time.
“Yes, Doctor. I suppose you’re ready to go tend to Gabe? I already spoke with the Colonel. He’ll be meetin’ us thar shortly”.
“Yes. Now seems the time” the Doctor replied. “Let’s go”.
As they walked toward Gabe’s cabin, the Doctor knew the leg was coming off. Had he been a real doctor, he would’ve known that chloroform could be used to safely put a patient to sleep. Had he been a real doctor, he would have known that it was now available, in New Orleans, albeit in its infancy. No, Gabe would have to undergo the knife with only alcohol to numb the pain.
Trent was standing outside the cabin door when the two men approached.
“It doesn’t look good, Doctor” he said, motioning to Gabe, still lying in the cot wearing the same clothes and the blood soaked bandage. Two women field workers were kneeling down next to him, one gently wiping his face and arms with a wet cloth to keep him cool.
“Get otta’ here, and back to work” yelled Tolivar. “He don’t need your help, you lazy niggers”.
They dropped their cloths and scampered out as fast as they could, avoiding Tolivar’s boot as they shimmied past the door.
“Let’s take another look-see” the Doctor said, again setting his fat ass down on the side of the cot. Gabe was barely conscious. His whole body shook with fever. There was now little perspiration. He’d sweated so much during the night that he was dehydrated and unable to swallow water. The Doctor slowly unwrapped the bandage to reveal an even more grotesque wound than the day before.
“Oh yes” he said to Trent. “This is not good. I must say I’m a little disappointed that my new medicine didn’t work this time”.
Trent recalled last night’s conversation with the Senator and Doctor. “New medicine” he thought to himself. “Bullshit”.
“I’ll need lots of towels” the Doctor ordered Tolivar. “And water. Lots of water. And bring me … a sharp hunting knife”.
“I’ve seen this done before” Tolivar offered. “Would you rather have a machete?”
“I said a hunting knife” the Doctor yelled. “Bring me a goddamned hunting knife. And a sharp one at that!” Tolivar hurried out the door to fetch his knife.
Trent, too, had witnessed this scene many times. He’d fought in several Indian skirmishes in his military days. He’d watched many a field surgeon amputate soldiers’ hands, arms, and legs. Gruesome sights, all of them.
“Colonel, he’ll need some strong drink. A whole bottle, if we can get it down ‘em. And some strong thread, and a thick sewing needle”.
Trent was incredulous. “How does this ‘doctor’ show up here without bringing any of these things?” he fumed to himself. He went to the door.
“You, you there!” he yelled, pointing to an over-weight negress walking nearby. “Run to the house and tell the Mrs. to give you lots of sewing thread and strong needles, and bring them back here, quick!” The woman froze, having never dared walk even close to the house before.
“Go I say. Run!”
“Damn!” Trent stammered out loud, remembering he forgot to tell her to bring a bottle of whiskey. She was now likely out of shouting distance. “Wouldn’t matter anyway” he thought to himself. “She looks useless to carry out instructions”.
“I’ll go and fetch the items myself” he said to the Doctor. “Be back in a few minutes”.
“No hurry. Ol’ Gabe here ain’t goin’ nowhere, soon” the Doctor chuckled.
When Trent returned, the Doctor touched the bottle to Gabe’s lips and tipped the bottom up. The whiskey just spilled over his mouth, dribbling down his chin as he coughed and spit. This was repeated several times until the Doctor looked at Trent, then shook his head as he stopped his effort.
“He ain’t takin’ it” he said. Gabe�
��s eyes were bulging with fear as he looked at the Doctor. “I just have to do it as is”.
With that, he took Tolivar’s knife and cut what remained of the right pants leg completely off. The Doctor had amputated before, without much success. No thought of cleaning the blade, before incision, ever crossed his mind. He aimed the knife just below the right knee, then drew back slightly to begin sawing.
Then he stopped, looked up at Trent, picked up the bottle and took three long gulps.
Gabe lost consciousness within seconds. The matter was done in less than ten minutes. And so was Gabe.
The Doctor poured water over his own bloody hands, and dried them with a clean towel. He soaked another towel with water, and rubbed it over Gabe’s contorted face. Nothing. He then poured water directly onto Gabe’s face.
Exhausted, the Doctor let his shoulders slump.
“Well, we did all that we could” he said to Trent, without looking him in the eye.
“We?” Trent scoffed to himself. He didn’t blame the Doctor for Gabe’s death. He had gangrene and the leg had to come off, whether this doctor did it or another. It was the way it had all progressed that left Trent disgusted. The Doctor’s entire presence on the plantation had been devoid of any honor or refinement and, most unfortunately for Gabe, medical skills.
He had a whispered conversation with Tolivar just outside the cabin door.
“Doctor” Trent said in an authoritative voice as he stood on the threshold. “I need to thank you for your efforts, and wish you a safe trip back. Mr. Tolivar here will see that you get paid”. He walked away briskly, still repulsed at the Doctor’s presence.
The Doctor started to answer, not wanting to terminate the relationship he believed he had been so cunningly cultivating with the Colonel. He looked up at Tolivar like a frightened child, wanting to plead his case and ask forgiveness.
“Ah” Tolivar said. “Forget it. You did the best you knowed how. Come wid’ me and I’ll getcha paid. And who knows? Thar’s always a darkie or two that needs medical attention around here. I’ll put in a good word for ya’ wid’ the Colonel”. He then ordered a nearby field hand to fetch the Doctor’s horse and buck-board.
As the Doctor rose, he remembered the Colonel’s clothes he was still wearing, although now, they were drenched in blood. He started to ask Tolivar about having them washed before he left, but then thought better of it. Better to leave with fine clothes that he could soak and clean, then to have Mrs. Winters return his old tattered rags.
14
A FEW WEEKS PASSED since Ruth’s death, and the time seemed right.
“I’ll speak with Mr. Tolivar” Trent told Collette. “I’m sure he’ll know of someone who’ll work out just fine”.
“Thank you. I know you’ll make the right choice”.
That afternoon, Trent walked the two hundred yards from the mansion to Tolivar’s living quarters. It was actually a small, modest house. Nothing close to the grandiose luxury of the mansion but, compared to the slaves’ quarters, it was palatial. Collette had regularly given him furniture, plates, and other household items that she needed to discard in order to make room for the ever-arriving new purchases she made.
Tolivar was a hard-drinking, angry man, with a quick temper and dark heart. He’d worked too many years in his profession, and it’d taken its toll. He hated nearly everyone and everything, but particularly slaves. He saw them as no better than expensive animals, and he had no qualms about whipping the skin off their backs, or brutally beating them, man or woman, when he felt they needed punishment for an act of rebellion or disrespect, real or imagined.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Tolivar” the Colonel greeted him.
“I see you’ve got twenty more acres planted. That’s about eight thousand plants”.
“More like ten thousand” Tolivar corrected him, a slight smirk on his face. He respected the Colonel for his land and wealth, but resented the fact that it was inherited, not earned. What little Tolivar had, he’d acquired through hard work and little help.
“Good, good” the Colonel said.
“Say, I wanted to talk to you about something. Since Ruth passed away, Mrs. Winters has had a difficult time. With the entertaining we’re planning, and more guests arriving, she needs more help. I want to select one of the females to be a house servant. Not a regular looking field worker, though. They’re too muscular, too used to dirt and filth.
“I need someone who’s easy to look at, who speaks some English, someone who can respect and appreciate finer living conditions and not try and take undue advantage”.
Tolivar stared into space while he thought about the Colonel’s request.
“Well, some darkies would surely fit your bill better than others. Most of ‘em pretend not to speak English, ‘cuz they fear I’ll demand more from them. Some are smarter than others, but they all stink. Can’t blame ‘em for that, but they’d smell even if they washed more than the once a week we let ‘em”.
His expression turned serious as he looked the Colonel in the eyes. Tolivar lowered his voice, as if he was about to reveal a secret.
“I can think of two that should work for you. One’s name is Tabika. She’s about twenty, speaks some English. She don’t talk much and mostly keeps to herself. I ain’t had no problem with her disrespectin’ me or anyone else I know of. I think she’d do fine”.
Trent listened to Tolivar, still wrestling with the prospect of his planned infidelity. Collette remained an affectionate wife, eager to return a kiss, a hug, a flirtatious wink. But after the death of their infant and her miscarriage, her body stiffened whenever he tried to touch her sexually. She seemed to still enjoy the feel of his body, his masculinity, but now it was more so because of familiar companionship, not arousal. Collette was more than willing to cuddle with him while lying in bed, to exchange soft and loving kisses. But any sexual advance on his part left her cold and disinterested.
He’d gingerly broached the subject one night after dinner.
“Collette” he started, grappling to find the best way to approach this awkward subject. “I don’t know how to talk to you about this” he said honestly. She sensed the tension in his voice, and sighed, having long anticipated the moment this dreaded conversation would eventually take place.
“I know how devastated you were over the loss of our son. And the miscarriage”.
She tensed, balling her hands into fists, unable to restrain the feelings of despair and anger that have haunted her ever since.
“Neither of us can undo that. But I remember a time, before all of that, when we enjoyed each other’s touch. You enjoyed the feel of my hands on your breasts, along your thighs …” he began to move his hands toward her.
“Stop it” she yelled. “Just stop it! You have no idea how much pain I’ve gone through”.
She’d lost it. Anger lit up her whole body. She had, at least momentarily, lost the ability to hear Trent’s voice, feel his love, his caring.
“Twice I’ve lost a child!” her body trembling. “This … has … affected … me …” she unconsciously stammered, her anger talking in place of her mind. She completely broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands.
He could only stare helplessly, distraught that he couldn’t offer any words to take away her pain. He truly loved her, but the thought of no sexual intimacy left him feeling desperate, without a partner. How could he reconcile his devotion to her, with his own physical needs?
Tolivar continued. “The other woman is Mitilde. She’s probably the same age as Ruth, an’ has a similar personality. She’s a hard worker, minds her manners, and ain’t given me no problems, neither. Come to think of it, I think Mitilde would be a better choice”.
Trent knew there was always the possibility that a spontaneous encounter might result with the wife of a gentleman guest. But such a situation would always be rare and dangerous. He couldn’t afford to impugn his Southern integrity, cause Collette any shame or embarrassment, or worse, end up in a duel. N
o. That fantasy, however alluring, was just that, a fantasy.
He needed someone he could have complete control over. The place of the encounter, the location, the timing, everything. Even then, it was dangerous, yet delectably tempting.
“Actually, I’ve given the matter some thought also” the Colonel interjected. “I’ve seen a light skinned girl, a young woman, actually. She arrived about two years ago. I believe her name is Amana”.
Tolivar thought for a moment. “Oh yea, Amana. I know her well. I don’t think she’d work out for you too good. She started workin’ the hot kettles at first. Had to beat her nearly senseless one time. Seems the work was too hard on her. But I taught her. I taught her real good. She’s been workin’ the fields for the near two years she’s been here.
“Had to whip her once. She thought she’d sneak to the back of the wagon and steal a cup of water. It wasn’t time for a water break. I had to teach her a lesson, and make her an example to the rest of the blacks. I fear she’s the kind that’d steal some of those nice things you have in your home. Not a good idea”.
“I understand” the Colonel said. “But there’s something about her that makes me believe she could be taught good manners. You know, teach her to respect her masters. Teach her to appreciate some of the finer things in life”.
“I got to tell you” Tolivar whispered. “She’s got scars. Course, they’re hidden when she has a blouse top on. But some of ‘em are nasty. I whipped her back pretty good that day”.
“Hmm …” the Colonel took note. “I think I want to give it a try. Have her cleaned up, and bring her to the house in the morning. Actually, make it Saturday morning. That’ll give me time to talk to Mrs. Winters so she can prepare Amana’s new quarters and such”.
