Soul Catcher (53 page)

^{"For you! And what you think it be like for her? Going back there. You know that girl's with chile?"}

^{He nodded.}

^{"That baby doan deserve to be born a slave. It's drunk of freedom, and slavery would only taste of gall in its mouth."}

^{"That wasn't my doing."}

^{The old woman smiled, exposing her pointed pink tongue. She tapped her pipe clean on a rock. "It all white folks' doing. Every single one a you to blame for it."}

^{"Wasn't me put that baby in her."}

^{"Maybe not. But bringing her back there you might as well."}

^{"I've been more than fair to her," Cain said.}

^{"Fair?" the woman exclaimed. In one sudden motion she pulled a knife from her boot and placed it against his throat. "You listen to me, soul catcher," she hissed, her eyes flaring with anger, her wrinkled face turning hard as stone. "I could make sure you don't bring her back. I killed white men before. Don't mind doing it again neither. Wouldn't take but a flick a this here knife and we wouldn't even be talkin'."}

^{Cain could feel the blade against his throat. His gun was under the blanket, but he didn't have the strength to fight her.}

^{In the next second, though, her face changed, softened. With her other hand, she reached up and stroked Cain's cheek lightly. Her hand was hard and calloused, yet smooth as a piece of sanded pinewood. He thought of Lila's hands.}

^{"But she says you a good man and I'm willing to believe her."}

^{Just then they could hear Rosetta approaching. The old woman slipped her knife back into her boot.}

^{"How's he doing?" Rosetta asked.}

^{"Just fine," the old woman replied, staring down at Cain.}

^{They ate supper together and then turned in for the night. As he lay there, Cain thought of the blind man's prophecy again, that two souls would be entrusted to his care. At first he'd thought it had meant the two slaves. Then later, when he learned that Rosetta was pregnant, he thought perhaps it meant her and her unborn child. But now he wasn't so sure. Maybe one of the souls the blind man had meant was his own, which he thought peculiar, as he didn't reckon on having a soul to save. Still, it was a thing to ponder on.}

^{In the morning Maddy got on her mule.}

^{"You set tight for a while, young feller," she warned Cain. "Don't wanna go opening up that wound of yours."}

^{"Thank you," Rosetta said.}

^{"Take care a him," Maddy said to her. "See that he stays out a trouble." Then, to Cain, she said, "Think about what I said. And don't go gettin' yourself shot up no more."}

^{Chapter 18.}

^{I
t was several more days before Cain was strong enough to ride.}

^{Even then, Rosetta reminded him of what Maddy had told him, that the wound could open up and start bleeding again. But Cain figured that the little crookback already had nearly a week's head start on him, and he worried about ever seeing Hermes again.}

^{"You wanna go killin' yourself over some horse?" she cautioned him as they rode along.}

^{"He's not just some horse."}

^{"That's the thing I can't figure, Cain."}

^{"What's that?" he asked.}

^{"You white folks put your niggers in chains, work them till they drop, flog them near to dying. But then you go and risk your neck for a dumb animal."}

^{They rode west toward Hagerstown, Cain on the bay, Rosetta beside him on the mare. She would ride for miles without so much as a word. He'd glance over at her, and she'd be staring straight ahead. So quiet was she that he sometimes almost forgot she was there. He even found himself missing Little Strofe's mindless prattle. Except for the ache in his side, the journey was almost to his liking. The day stretched out sunny and seasonably warm for May, the slowly greening mountains outlined against the pale blue of the sky. Lilac and mountain laurel, dogwood and rhododendron bloomed along the lower ridges. Now and then, he'd spot a red-tailed hawk or an eagle, circling lazily over a field. As they approached the small town of Thurmont, the sky turned preternaturally dark, as if by a sudden eclipse, and the air stank foully of fire and ash. There was a metallic taste in Cain's mouth that reminded him of the way the air in war tasted. They soon learned the cause. At the base of a mountain was an iron foundry with several smokestacks belching black smoke. Behind the foundry, an entire mountainside had been stripped bare by mining. In the road, they passed miners and colliers and founders trudging off to work. They stopped to ask several if they'd seen a man come through fitting Dr. Chimbarazo's description. The workers who spoke English at all did so with a heavy German accent. None had seen the little crookback.}

^{Around noon, though, they came upon a teamster driving a wagon pulled by a couple of Belgians. The wagon was filled with barrels of whiskey.}

^{"You see a stumpy little fellow in a black caravan pass this way?" Cain asked the driver. "Calls himself Dr. Chimbarazo."}

^{The man, about Cain's own age, had reddish blond hair and was stoutly built; he wore leather sherryvallies over his pantaloons and a dark slouch hat.}

^{"Passed him about four days back," the man explained. "Tried to sell me some of his elixirs."}

^{"Which way was he headed?" Cain asked.}

^{"West. Toward Hagerstown."}

^{"Did you take notice of his horse?"}

^{"Bay colored if I recollect."}

^{"And his face."}

^"Blaze."

^{"What are the chances I could relieve you of some of that whiskey you're toting?" Cain asked the man. He'd not had a drop of whiskey or laudanum in several days and had worked up a considerable hankering. "I'd be happy to pay for it."}

^{The man got down from his seat and walked over to Cain.}

^{"Do you have something to put it in, friend?"}

^{Cain emptied out his canteen.}

^{"Use this," he said.}

^{The man went around to the barrels and filled the canteen, then walked back over to Cain. Before he gave it to him, he had a healthy sip of it himself, wiped his mouth on his hairy forearm.}

^{"There you go."}

^{Cain had a drink of the whiskey. "That's right fine liquor." He started to reach into his pocket to pay the man, but the other held up his hand.}

^{"My compliments."}

^{Cain thanked the man, and they continued on their way. As he rode along, he would take a nip now and then from the canteen. After a while, the pain in his side no longer concerned him as much.}

^{"I thought you give up that poison," Rosetta said to him.}

^{"Well, you thought wrong," he replied.}

^{"That's the devil's drink."}

^{"Me and the devil have been boon drinking companions for some time."}

^{"Eberly used to get slewed on that."}

^{Cain looked over at her, waiting for more. But she fell silent.}

^{They rode on for several more miles before she spoke again. "I have to stop," she said as they rounded a curve in the road.}

^{"We need to push on."}

^{"I'm hungry."}

^{"Looks like a creek up ahead. We'll stop there."}

^{When they reached it, they dismounted and made camp beneath a sycamore tree, just beginning to leaf out in the spring weather. While Rosetta started a fire, Cain led the horses down to the water. He hobbled them, then got his canteen and took a drink, savoring the strong bite of the bourbon whiskey. He stood staring down into the creek, which was clear and sandy bottomed, with minnows darting about like thoughts in an addled brain. Like his own thoughts now. He glanced back over his shoulder at Rosetta, who was chopping wood. In the back of his mind, he heard the voice of Maddy:
That girl done gave you back your life.}

^{Later, when lunch was ready, Cain sat across from her, eating corn pone and salt pork. He hadn't yet gotten his appetite back, and the food merely filled up a space within him. Rosetta, though, ate voraciously, tearing into the salt pork and wiping up the grease with the corn pone and then cutting herself another piece. She must have sensed he was looking at her.}

^{"What?" she asked, glancing up at him.}

^{"I didn't say anything."}

^{"With you, Cain, it's always what you ain't sayin'."}

^{He took another sip from his canteen. "What did you tell that woman?"}

^{"What woman? You mean Maddy? Didn't tell her nothin'."}

^{"She knew I was a slave catcher."}

^{"Anybody could see that. Leastways, any Negro."}

^{"What else did you tell her about me?"}

^"Nothin'."

^{"She said you told her I was a good man."}

^{"Might of. What difference does it make?"}

^{"I'm not."}

^{"You sure do like to think that," she scoffed. From the skillet she picked up another piece of fried corn pone and took a bite out of it. "I usta think you put yourself above them others, the Strofes and that Preacher fellow. That you were high-and-mighty, like Mr. Eberly."}

^{"I'm not a
damn
thing like him," he hissed, taking offense.}

^{"See," she said, smiling that her comment had struck a nerve. "And you're right. You're not. But that's just what I mean, Cain. You have a good heart. Thing is, you want to go and deny it. It's easier that way."}

^{"You don't know a thing about me."}

^{"That's where you're wrong, Cain. I know you. Maybe better'n you know yourself. You like to pretend you don't have a heart. That you're hard like a stone. That nothin' bothers you. You ain't the only one neither. Lots of folks, especially white folks, find it easier to deny their goodness than go through the trouble of doing what they know's right. You think most white folks, even most white southerners, don't know ownin' another human being is dead wrong?"}

^{"Most I know believe in it."}

^{"That's a lie. You know that well as I do. Not in their heart of hearts. It's just that it's easier to tell themselves they believe it's all right. If they didn't, they'd have to give up ever'thing they believed in, everything they got on the sweat and blood of Negroes, and that, they ain't ready to do. That's the way most people live, buryin' things down deep inside them. Take you, Cain."}

^{"What about me?"}

^{The fire started to smoke, and she jabbed at it with a stick. She stared across it at him, her eyes narrowing to gray slits.}

^{"What's buried in your heart, Cain?" she asked.}