Stories of Erskine Caldwell (12 page)

“Viva el General!”

“Viva Mexico!”

“Viva el General!”

The clamor lasted for a long time, and the vendors around us had joined in so enthusiastically that it was several minutes before we could secure anyone’s attention.

“What did the General say that pleased the people so much?”

The lottery-ticket vendor gripped us excitedly by the arm, shouting into our ears.

“The General said it is a beautiful day!”

In the excitement of the moment we had failed to be aware that one of the shoeshine boys was polishing our shoes, and he startled us by raising his voice and repeating what the General had said. We looked up into the cloudless, pale blue desert sky. It was one of the most beautiful days we had ever seen in Mexico. The sun beamed down upon us like the smile of a benevolent friend, warming us to the core. We stood there in its kindly glow, feeling in the depths of our hearts that no truer words had ever before been uttered. There in the heat and clamor, breathing deeply of the pungent aroma of the scorched desert sand, we repeated to ourselves the hope that the General, who had made us aware of the beauty of the day, would secure all the votes and become the next president of his country.

(First published in
Town and Country
)

W
AS READING A PIECE
in the Boston paper last night about the smartest people in the whole country coming from the State of Maine. Said at the time, and I’m still here to say it: you can take your pick of any ten men in the whole Union, and I’ll back one Varmonter of my own choosing against them any day. Take ten men from any of the states you can find them in, and all of them put together won’t have the smartness that my lone Varmonter has got. Have lived in the State of Maine all my life, ninety-odd years of it, but I’ve always said that if you want some smartness you shall have to go to Varmont to get it. Varmont is where it comes from. Now, you take the farmers. Varmont farmers is that smart they can’t keep from making money while the farmers in other places is all losing money. And here is why they are so smart: not so long ago there was a Varmont farmer over here, riding around in his big auto having a good time and laughing at us farmers here because we hadn’t made enough money to retire and maybe take a trip to Florida on, in even years. I asked this Varmont farmer how it was he had made so much money running a farm. And this is what he told me: “Friend,” he said, “the secret of making money out of a farm is this: Sell all you can; what you can’t sell, feed to the hogs; what the hogs won’t eat, eat yourself.”

After he finished telling me that, he drove off laughing in his big auto to look at some more Maine farmers working and sweating in the fields because they ain’t got sense enough to make money to retire on, and maybe take a winter trip to Florida, in even years.

That sporting farmer wasn’t the first Varmonter I’d known, though. I used to know another one when I was a young man on the Penobscot.

This was a young fellow we called Jake Marks, one of them old-time Varmonters who used to come over here to the State of Maine driving teams of oxen before the railroads was built across the mountains. This Jake Marks was a smart one, if there ever was a Varmonter who warn’t. He used to drive his oxen over here hauling freight back and forth all the time. It was a long haul in them days, when you stop to think how slow them brutes travel, and Jake had a lot of mountain to cross coming and going. I don’t recall how long it took him to make one of his trips, but it was quite a time in them days when there warn’t no State roads, only trails wide enough for a yoke of oxen.

Jake was a real young man at that time, I should say about twenty-five, maybe twenty-seven. He warn’t married then, neither. But pretty soon he took a liking to a young and handsome filly who cooked his meals for him at the house in Bangor where he put up while he was changing cargo between trips. She was just the kind of young filly that Jake wanted, too. She used to come into the room where he sat waiting for his meal and make herself real frisky in his presence. Jake, he was tormented something awful by the way she cut up in front of him, and he used to have to get up out of his chair sometimes and walk real fast around the house three-four times to get control over himself.

But this Jake Marks was a cautious man, and he never undertook a deal until he had thought it out a lot beforehand and saw that he had everything on his side. Then, when he had thought it all through, he turned loose and went after whatever it was he wanted like a real Varmonter. All them old-time Varmonters was like that, I guess; anyway, the ones who used to drive ox freights over here to the State of Maine was, and Jake was just like all the rest of them.

This young filly of Jake’s got so she pestered him about marrying of her all the time he was resting up between trips. Jake, he wanted her, all right. That was one thing he was wanting all the time he was over here. But Jake, he was taking his own good time about it, I’m telling you. He was figuring the thing out like all them Varmonters who drove ox freights did. He had to be real certain that everything was on his side before he made any signs. He took the rest of the season for figuring the thing out, and he didn’t make motions of a move toward the young filly that year at all.

The next spring when the frost had thawed out of the ground and when he could make his first trip of the year over the mountains, Jake he called at the house where this young filly stayed and told her to get ready to be married to him when he got back to Bangor on his next trip. That suited the young filly first-rate. She had been uneasy all winter about Jake, taking too much at heart all the gossip that was talked about them Varmont ox freighters. But when Jake told her to get ready for marrying, she knew he would keep his promise right down to the last letter and come and marry her like he said he would.

So, Jake he went back to Varmont with his freight, promising to be ready to marry the young filly the same day he got back to Bangor on his next trip.

And just as he promised, Jake came back to get married to the young filly. He went straight to the house where she stayed, and there she was all waiting for him. Jake told her to get ready right away for the marriage, and then he went out to find a preacher somewhere. When he got back to the house with the preacher, he called her down to the room where all the guests had gathered to see the ceremony performed.

The minute she stepped into the room where Jake and the rest of the people was, Jake took one look at the young filly and told her to go back upstairs to her room and take off her dress. Well, that was all right and proper, because in those days there was a law in the State of Maine to the effect that a man could make what was called a shift-marriage. That was to say, the man could make the woman take off the dress she was wearing while the ceremony was being performed, and in that case he could not be held legally responsible for her past debts and would not have to pay them for her if he didn’t have a mind to. Well, Jake he had heard all about this shift-law in Maine, and he was taking full advantage of its benefits. That was what he had been figuring out all the time he was driving them slow-footed oxen back and forth between Bangor and Varmont. Jake, he warn’t no man’s fool. Jake, he was a Varmonter.

After a while Jake’s young filly came downstairs dressed according to this here shift-law. She had on what women wore under their dresses in those days, and that was all she had on. But Jake, he warn’t satisfied, not completely. He told her to go back upstairs and take off everything she had on. Jake, he was a hardheaded ox freighter from Varmont, all right. He had figured all this out while he was driving them slow-footed oxen back and forth across the mountains.

In a little while his young filly came into the room again where Jake and the preacher and all the guests was, and she didn’t have nothing on, except that she had a bedsheet wrapped around her, which was a good thing, I tell you. She was a handsome-looking filly if there ever was one. They all got ready again for the ceremony, the preacher telling them where to stand and what to say to the questions he was getting ready to ask them. Then, just when they was beginning to get married, Jake he told his young filly to drop the bedsheet on the floor. Now, Jake he warn’t taking no chances over here in the State of Maine. That shift-law said that if a woman was married without her dress on, her husband couldn’t be held liable for her past debts, and Jake he figured that if the young filly didn’t have nothing at all on her, there wouldn’t be a chance in the whole world for to dun him for what she might owe, while if she had clothes on that he didn’t know the true and legal names of, a storekeeper might try to say her underclothes was her overdress. Jake, he was thinking that he might by chance get cheated out of his rights to the full benefits of the shift-law if he didn’t take care, and Jake he warn’t after taking no chances whatsoever over here in the State of Maine when he was so far away from Varmont. He was as cautious where he sat his foot as the next ox freighter from Varmont.

“Drop the bedsheet on the floor,” Jake he told the young filly again. The young filly was getting ready to turn loose the bedsheet and let it drop on the floor like Jake told her to do, when the preacher he grabbed the bedsheet and held to it tight around her so she wouldn’t show none of her naked self to him and Jake and the rest of the people in the house. “No! No! No!” he yelled, getting red in the face and shaking his head at Jake. “That won’t do, my man — that won’t do at all! That would be indecent here before all of us! That can’t be done! I’ll never allow it!” But the preacher he didn’t know Jake Marks. Jake was one of them Varmont ox freighters, and he was as hardheaded about what he wanted as the next one to come along. Jake, he told the young filly again to drop the bedsheet on the floor, and to drop it quick if she wanted to get married. The handsome young filly was getting ready to let go of it like Jake said to, because she was that crazy about Jake she would have stood on her head right then and there if Jake had told her to do it, but just when she was getting ready to let go of it, the preacher he grabbed the bedsheet again and held it fast with both hands.

The preacher started in trying to argue with Jake about it being indecent for the handsome young filly to stand there naked while she was being married, but Jake he had his head set on getting the full benefits of the shift-law and he wouldn’t give in an inch.

Then the preacher said he warn’t going to perform the ceremony if that was what Jake was set on doing, and Jake he told the preacher he warn’t going to get married at all without the bedsheet being dropped on the floor so that none of the cloth was touching the young filly.

Everybody got excited when Jake said that, and the people talked back and forth for an hour or more, arguing first on Jake’s side, because they knew the law on the books, and then on the preacher’s side, because they realized how it might upset the preacher if the handsome young filly stood there naked like Jake was set on having her do. The young filly didn’t care which way the ceremony was done, just so long as Jake married her. She was willing to drop the bedsheet for Jake the minute the preacher let her. She was all excited about getting married, just like Jake had been all the time.

After a while the preacher gave in to Jake just a little. He saw what a fool he was, trying to argue with a Varmont ox freighter.

“If she’ll go inside the closet and shut the door so nobody can see her nakedness, I’ll perform the ceremony,” the preacher told Jake.

“That’s all right by me,” Jake said, “but I’ll be compelled to have some witnesses on my side in case anybody tries to dispute me about us being married under the shift-law or not.”

They finally settled that part when the preacher agreed to allow two of the older women to go in the closet with the young filly, just to make sure that everything was done in a legal manner. The preacher he didn’t like to have Jake going in a closet with the naked filly, but he was pretty well worn out by that time after arguing for nearly two hours with a Varmont ox freighter, and he said he would have to allow Jake to go in the closet, too.

Jake went in the closet where the filly and the two older women were.

“Now, you just look once, Jake,” the preacher said, shaking his head back and forth, “and then you shut your eyes and keep them shut.”

Jake was in the closet saying something to the young filly, but nobody in the room could hear what it was. The preacher he reached over and made a bit of a crack in the door while he was marrying them so he could hear their answers to the questions. And all that time Jake he was in there striking matches to make sure that the young filly was not putting the bed-sheet on again, and to be certain that he was getting the full benefits of the shift-law.

When it was all done, the preacher he took the money Jake handed him and went off home without waiting to see what shape the young and handsome filly was in when the closet door was opened. When they came out into the room, the bedsheet was all twisted up into a knot; Jake handed it to her, and she didn’t lose no time in getting upstairs where her clothes were. Jake he had told her to hurry and get dressed, because he wanted to get started with his ox freight back to Varmont.

They started home to Varmont right away, the handsome young filly all dressed up in her wedding clothes and sitting on top of the freight cargo while Jake he walked along beside the wagon bellowing at the oxen.

When Jake came back to Bangor on his next trip, a storekeeper tried to present him a bill for a hundred and forty dollars. The storekeeper told Jake that the young filly had bought a lot of dresses and things just before she got married, and he wanted to know if Jake had married her under the shift-law.

Jake just laughed a little, and started unloading his cargo.

“Well, was you married that way, or the other way?” the storekeeper asked him.

“You tell me this first,” Jake said, “and then I’ll answer your question. Does the State of Maine have a shift-law on the books?”