Soul Catcher (33 page)

^{"Well, boys," he said with mock indignity, turning to look at his comrades, "we can see when we're not wanted. Just trying to be hospitable is all." The one with the skunk beard laughed. Glancing at Rosetta again, the leader said, "That there is one fine-looking nigger wench you got."}

^{Cain mounted, then reached down and pulled Rosetta up behind him. Then he wheeled Hermes around, nearly bumping the man's bay.}

^{"I bet she'd fetch a goodly price at auction," the leader said.}

^{"You boys have a good ride back," Cain said.}

^{Later that day they stopped at a stream to water the horses and rest for a while. It had turned unseasonably warm for April, and they were all sweating profusely. Strofe had taken off his boots and was soaking his feet in the stream, while his brother lay on the cool grass with his hat over his face and slept. Having placed a feed bag filled with oats on Hermes, Cain was now busy currying him. He watched as Preacher sauntered over to where the two Negroes sat manacled on the ground near a rotted cedar stump.}

^{He squatted down. "Wanna drink?" he asked, offering Rosetta his canteen.}

^{"Already had one."}

^{Preacher took off his new derby, then removed the blue kerchief from his neck and wiped his face with it. "Sure is a hot one. Ain't never pictured the North this hot. 'Least not in April."}

^{Rosetta looked off toward the stream.}

^{"Here," he said, extending the kerchief toward the girl. "You could use it to cover yourself."}

^{She shook her head without looking up at him.}

^{"G'won and take it," Preacher said.}

^{"I don't want it," she replied, her voice low but firm.}

^{"You done lost yours and I'm offering you this one. Take it."}

^{"I told you, I
don't
want it," she repeated more emphatically.}

^{"What's the matter, I ain't good enough to give you something?"}

^{This time she glared at him. "You ain't got nothin' I want."}

^{"Don't you get cheeky with me. Ain't nothin' I hate more than a uppity nigger."}

^{"I
ain't
being uppity," she said. "I just don't want your damn kerchief."}

^{"You watch your tongue, girl," he said, pointing a finger menacingly at her.}

^{She looked at him scornfully.}

^{"You hear me?" he asked.}

^{Cain stopped brushing Hermes and looked over at Strofe, who was pulling on his boots. He was going to intervene, but Strofe beat him to it.}

^{"All right, Preacher, that'll do."}

^{"No, this here nigger's got to learn her some respect," he said. "Eberly don't want to do it, somebody got to."}

^{"Leave her be," said Strofe. "You lay a hand on her and Mr. Eberly'll hear about it."}

^{"You think I'm scared of that old coot?"}

^{Rosetta smiled at him and said, "If you ain't, you're dumber'n you look."}

^{Preacher reached out and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder.}

^{"What you need is to be brought down a peg or two. Somebody oughta learn you some manners."}

^{"And I suppose that'd be you?"}

^{"You damn right. Nobody else seems to have a mind to."}

^{Then she said something that surprised Cain a little. Staring coolly at Preacher, she said, "If'n I told Mr. Eberly you grabbed like this, he'd have you whupped."}

^{"Hell, he would," Preacher scoffed.}

^{Rosetta smiled at him. "Whup you just like a field hand."}

^{Cain could see both the anger and the humiliation in Preacher's eyes. He wanted to hurt her.}

^{"You hear me, Preacher," Strofe called over to him. "I said that's enough, you want to get paid."}

^{Preacher continued to stare at Rosetta. Finally, he stood and walked over to his horse and began to saddle him.}

^{"Tha's what wrong with this damn country," Preacher said.}

^{"What's that, Preacher?" Little Strofe asked.}

^{"Why, they ain't no respect is what. Niggers is running things."}

^{As they were getting ready to leave, Rosetta asked Cain, "Could I wash myself? I ain't washed in a while."}

^{"Maybe later. We got to get moving on." Once they were mounted and riding, he turned to her and said, "Would Eberly really have him whipped?"}

^{"He'd kill 'im on my account," she said with something akin to pride.}

^{* * *}

^{T
hey skirted New York City well to the north, crossing the Hudson at Dobbs Ferry and angling southwest through New Jersey's flat tidal marshes and pinelands, passing the small farms that supplied the big metropolis to the east. Though the afternoon sky was cloudless, a light haze hung in the salt-scented air, giving to everything the soft- edged look of things recalled in memory. Just outside of Paterson, Preacher's horse came up lame, and they had to ride into the city to find a livery. While there, Cain rode over to a general store to buy some sugar for Hermes and some whiskey for himself.}

^{He asked the clerk, a blond fellow with thick, rubbery lips and yellow pigeon eyes, if he'd seen a band of about ten men ride through.}

^{The man pursed his fat lips, like he was trying to fart.}

^{"They'd be led by an old man on a white plow horse," Cain explained.}

^{"There was some federal troops went through yesterday."}

^{"No, these would have been civilians. They were heavily armed."}

^{The man shrugged as he wrapped Cain's things in paper.}

^{"I'd like to get a bar of soap, too," Cain told the man.}

^{That evening they made camp in some woods near a railroad bridge over a broad, slow-moving tidal river. Several times they could hear the whistle of the train as it approached. For supper, Little Strofe fried up some corn pone and what was left of the side of bacon the old woman had left them, though it had started to smell like unwashed feet.}

^{Preacher took one mouthful and spit his food onto the ground. "Dang, I'm sick and tired of your fixin's."}

^{"If you d-don't like my cookin', whyn't you d-do it yourself," Little Strofe replied, growing bold enough to stand up to Preacher.}

^{"M-maybe I will."}

^{Preacher got up and went over to his horse and began to saddle him.}

^{"Where you goin'?" Strofe asked him.}

^{"Git me some decent grub for a change. 'Stead of his damn hog slops."}

^{"You ain't back by morning, we leave without you."}

^{"Don't you worry none. You ain't cuttin' me out a my share of the re-ward."}

^{After he was gone, Cain took two plates of food and brought them over to where the girl and Henry sat manacled to trees several feet apart.}

^{"Here," he said, setting the plates down beside them.}

^{Rosetta took her plate but didn't start eating right away. She stared out over the river.}

^{"Can I wash," she asked him. "I feel unclean. You know . . . woman's troubles."}

^{He hesitated, wondering if it was just a trick of hers to escape.}

^{Finally, he went over to his saddlebags and got the bar of soap he'd bought. He told Strofe he was taking the girl down to the river so she could wash herself.}

^{"You think that's a good idea?" said Strofe as he took a sip from his bottle of applejack.}

^{"I'll watch her."}

^{"You oughtn'ta coddle them like that." Then he shrugged and said, "She runs, it's on your head."}

^{From his vest pocket, Cain took out his key and unlocked Rosetta from the tree. She still had a pair of shackles on her wrists.}

^{"Can I take a bath, too?" Henry asked.}

^{"You sit tight," Cain told him.}

^{"These here irons been galling my wrists, massa. They all bloodied."}

^{"I'll look at them later."}

^{He led Rosetta through some bushes down toward the river. The water was high and sluggish here and gave off the faint scent of the sea. Behind them, the sun had set, and it was getting on toward dusk, though with the quarter moon coming over the river there was plenty of light to see by. Evening had brought out the peepers and their metallic racket. Bats were dipping and wheeling in the air above the river, going after insects. A big fish broke the surface of the water near the shore, its ripples widening out. And eastward, through the haze, Cain could spy the lights of the city, like a gigantic riverboat all lit up and sailing through the evening.}

^{"Here," he said, handing Rosetta the soap. She stood there, holding out the shackles to him.}

^{"I can't hardly wash myself with my hands tied, now can I?" she told him. "'Sides, where I gonna run off to?"}

^{"Last time you tried to swim away."}

^{"You saw how good I was at that," she said, a hint of a smile softening her mouth just a little. "And if'n I did try to run, you can always shoot me with that gun a yours. I bet you're pretty good shootin' unarmed women."}

^{He knew she was trying to get his goat and he wouldn't let her.}

^{"Then again, you wouldn't get your re-ward for bringing me back. And Mr. Eberly be mad at you. Wouldn't do to make him mad, now would it, Cain?" It was the second time she'd called him by his name.}

^{"That'll be enough. That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble someday."}

^{"My mouth say what my heart tell it to. Tha's something my mama taught me."}

^{As he unlocked the shackles, he asked, "I suppose you'd prefer to be back with those Howards."}

^{She shrugged noncommittally.}

^{"They treat you all right?"}

^{"What's it matter to you?"}

^{"It doesn't. It's just that Eberly didn't want anyone laying a hand on you."}

^{"No, he wouldn't," she said, staring at him. "I liked the Missus just fine. Mr. Howard had him hungry eyes. Like a lot of white men."}

^{When the shackles were off, she turned and walked down to the water's edge. Sitting on a piece of driftwood, she began to undress. She first removed the heavy brogans and stockings, then reached behind her and untied the apron. Standing, she unbuttoned her dress down the front, slid it over her angular shoulders, let it fall and stepped out of it. She folded the clothes neatly, placed them in a pile on the wood, and stood wearing only her cotton shift, which came to her calves. With a toe she tested the water, and Cain saw an unmistakable shiver course through her. Though the spring evening was warmish, the water had to be pretty cold still. Finally, she waded in. As she went deeper, she lifted the hem of the shift so it wouldn't get wet. When she was in up to her waist, she turned and looked modestly over her shoulder, back up the bank toward Cain. In deference to her silent request for modesty, he half turned away, keeping her still in the corner of his vision. Only then did she lift the undergarment completely over her head; she balled it up and tossed it back toward the bank. With her back to Cain, she wet the soap and began to wash herself. She moved her hands in short, efficient circles, not luxuriating in the act of bathing, but harshly, as if it were a form of self-flagellation. She washed herself, he felt, the way she might wash her master's clothes, with a perfunctory brusqueness.}