Sweetsmoke (34 page)

    "I'm
no abolitionist, after all, those people are godforsaken lunatics, but you sir
make a fine case against slavery."

    Grateful
to hear it.

    "You
mock me," said the man, with a convoluted smile.

    Not
without cause.

    "I
haven't carried on a conversation in a good long while, perhaps one time you'll
join me?"

    Cassius
laughed to himself and shook his head.

    "What
a foolish man you are," said the man to himself, "you mustn't put
pressure on this sad fellow. They have proven that negroes have smaller brains,
although I met one in the woods who seemed unusually intelligent for his
race."

    Thank
you, said Cassius not bothering to disguise his sarcasm.

    It
was dark. Cassius could no longer make out the trestle and bridge.

    "I
think I will climb my pole." Morningside came to his feet.

    Your
pole?

    "Have
you not met my pole? I gather intelligence from it for my government."

    You
think that wise?

    "I
have done it many times before."

    There
are men out here looking for you.

    "You
have an opinion. I am enchanted. A negro with an opinion. How good of you to
share it with me. But do leave this decision to me. The men are gone."

    Your
friend Barnes, what did he do before you—?

    "Have
you ever seen a climbing iron?" Suddenly the man was excited.

    No.

    He
scrambled to a place a few yards away; Cassius could barely see that he pulled
something from a hiding place in the dark, and came back with it in his hand.
There was just enough light for Cassius to make out a pair of metal bars with
one end a spike. Morningside attached them to his boots so that the spike was
worn like a bayonet, and Cassius saw the cleverness in the design and how it
would allow him to climb the pole.

    Cassius
followed him up the side of the ravine to the cleared space, across which were
the tracks and the telegraph poles. Morningside set down his haversack. Cassius
remained in the brush as the man set out across the open toward the telegraph
wires. Midway across, he pointed to a telegraph pole that Cassius was unable to
see, as it was deep in shadow. The next moment the man was in flight, feet off
the ground, twisting unnaturally in air, the tatters of his clothing bursting
out in every direction, his flight concluding as quickly as it had started as
his body flopped suddenly to the ground. The retort of a gunshot was almost
instantaneous but still too late for the man to have known what hit him. The
open ground came alive with men closing in from three sides, seven of them
emerging at once. Cassius held still a moment as they converged on the body.

    "Look
there! Over there, I see something!" One of the men pointed directly at
Cassius.

    Cassius
grabbed Morningside's haversack and scrambled down the incline just far enough
to be out of sight. He knew he could not outrun these men. He tore off his shirt
and his trousers, rolling them into a ball with the two haversacks. Naked, he
moved back to where they had seen him and he hid the light-colored objects
underneath his body as he curled up on fallen leaves around the trunk of a
small bush. His skin was his ally, becoming one with the shadow under the bush.
Voices came closer, and a horse cantered directly at him. He thought he had
made a mistake, wishing he had run, at least then he would have had a fighting
chance. Two men crashed into the brush beside him, running in the direction he
had originally gone. More horse hooves came on, moving along the edge of the
brush.

    A
voice above him, close, oh so close, said, "Spread out, he can't get
far."

    The
man on horseback stayed right there, almost on top of him, and Cassius made his
breathing shallow, as insects crawled on his skin.

    The
man above him bit into an apple and chewed with an open mouth. His horse
dropped its head and munched on something near Cassius's feet. Cassius had a
moment of terror, that the horse would step on him and he would cry out.

    Another
horseman rode up.

    "Haven't
found him, sir."

    Cassius
took this opportunity to glance up, assuming that the man and his commanding
officer would be facing each other. The officer's lantern allowed Cassius to
see that he was a small man sitting his horse, wearing a tan slouch hat. The
officer wore his hat with an unusual affectation: He folded up the front of the
hat's brim so that it looked as if the wind held it vertical against the crown.

    "Assuming
there was another man," said the officer, spitting.

    "Sir?"

    "Lewis
sees things. Ghosts and such. Goddamned rot."

    "Captain,
Lewis has seen the elephant."

    "Yes,
I know, and you'll get your own damned chance when Lee hands over to me the
command he promised."

    Captain.
Captain Solomon Whitacre. Cassius moved his head for a better look. Whitacre
had a lantern, and he opened it to light the end of his cigar with the burning
wick.

    Cassius
would not have recognized Whitacre from the glimpse he'd had of him the night
of the Big-To-Do. Solomon Whitacre was a small man with a full beard but no
mustache. By the way he extended his pinkie when lighting his cigar, Cassius
thought he had the manners of a gentleman, but he wondered about the man's
abuse of the language. Whitacre seemed unnecessarily coarse.

    "You
see the clothes on that whore's chinch?" Whitacre said, motioning to
Morningside's body. "Mr. Fancy Hat in rags. Been out here weeks. If he had
a partner, surely one of them would have gone off for food."

    "I
imagine that's true, Captain."

    A
second rider joined him. "Nothing, sir. But he's out there somewhere. We
may need to wait until morning."

    "Morning?"
said Whitacre. "God's balls, Lewis, I'm not waitin till mornin. Far as I'm
concerned, there warn't no second man. We got our spy, and I am anxious to take
my leave of this place. If we stay longer, they'll order us to wait on the
harvest. Let some other backwater captain rape the people of their crops, I am
dog tired of scrapin this damned county bald. No, we are goin to join the
wagons and follow them to Lee. The whisper is, Lee will take the fight to the
Yanks. Imagine it, boys, an invasion of the North. If I get that command, I promise
you won't miss out. You either, Lewis, don't want to miss the last battle of
the war. Once we take the fight to the Yanks on their ground, they'll give it
up."

    "Yes,
sir."

    "Lieutenant,
assemble the men and convene on the far side of the bridge, we're goin
north."

    Whitacre
turned his horse and rode away. The two others held their ground.

    "You
really see someone, Lewis?"

    "Don't
matter now. Reassemble on the other side."

    Cassius
was left alone. He stayed on the ground, motionless for a while longer,
listening to the distant voices, shouts, and horse hooves, and finally to
nothing more than the sounds of the night aging around him. He sat up. He was
alone. They had taken Morning- side's corpse, but he had the man's haversack
with his papers. He slapped at the places on his body where he had been bitten,
then put on his clothes. He took the papers from Morningside's haversack and
hid them in the band of his trousers. Then he stepped onto York Road, to follow
it south to return to Sweetsmoke.

    Cassius
walked until the moon came up, at which time he moved off the road to sleep. He
dreamed of Emoline moving through an open field, then suddenly flying with her
legs and arms snapping off in every direction. In his dream, he combed the
field to find each piece so that he could put her back together. He was
awakened by a nudge on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find Ralph standing
over him. He looked around and saw that the place he had chosen in the dark,
assuming it would be concealed from the road, was obvious to any passerby. They
said nothing to each other and climbed into Ralph's buggy, and Carolina pulled
without Ralph doing a thing. Ralph and Cassius exchanged a look. Cassius
understood the question in Ralph's eyes and shook his head no.

    "Dead?"
said Ralph.

    Cassius
nodded. Ralph looked away.

    Remember
the last day of June? said Cassius.

    "The
day she died?" said Ralph.

    Remember
what you were doing?

    "Same
as yesterday. Same as tomorrow. Odd job here, odd job there. Want to know if I
killed her?"

    No,
said Cassius. He already knew the answer.

    Cassius
stared off and then he was asleep and the next thing he knew, they had stopped.
He roused to find they were close to the town near Sweetsmoke. He climbed down
and thanked Ralph for his help.

    At
the fork Cassius turned toward town walking away from Sweetsmoke, but he took
the small road that ran around the town to reach the northeast section, and on
the outskirts approached Hans Mueller's
bierhaus.
As he approached, he
saw that Mueller had fashioned a sign, and Cassius took a moment to consider
it. "Bierhaus." The letters were ornate, painted in a style of
writing with which he was unfamiliar. The capital
B
was identifiable as
a
B,
but was preceded by an outstretched bar at the top, a forelock
perhaps, and there was a thick decorative bar parallel to the main ascender.
The round backs in the
B
were made with straight lines that came to hard
corners. This was all in imitation of a broad pen nib. The dot over the
i
was very nearly a diamond shape, again as if made by the slash of the same
broad nib.

    Mueller
had built his
bierhaus
as an extension of his home. Cassius stepped
inside, into coolness and the sour urine smell of old beer, with a great deal
of uncertainty about the reception he was to encounter. The room was long and
narrow, furnished with two long tables side by side, both with equally long
benches that in the old country might have encouraged conviviality and
conversation.

    Cassius's
eye was drawn to the intricate woodworking in the furniture, done in a style he
found unfamiliar. In particular, he noted a clock on the wall. It was handmade
in the form of a house, and on its face was painted a garden scene, chipped and
worn, perhaps from travel. Around the entire clock house was elaborately carved
latticework. He would have liked to spend more time, as carpenter and
woodworker, examining it, but he turned his attention to the room. The sole
patrons were two German men, one with a tall elaborate stein. They met his
eyes, then turned away. Mueller was at the far end inspecting his glassware and
when he saw Cassius, he took a step toward him.

    "You
cannot be in here."

    I
look for a man.

    "I
am a man, so you have found one, now go."

    Not
you.

    "As
you see, just these gentlemen and no one else.
Auf Wiedersehen
."

    Cassius
held his ground for a moment, and as he was about to back out the daylight
behind him was blocked and the long room grew darker. He turned to see Gabriel
Logue filling the doorway.

    "It
appears to be my old friend Cassius," said Logue.

    I'm
here to find you, said Cassius.

    "Once
again you expected me?"

    Said
so yourself. When in town, you're here.

    "Damned
imprudent of me. Why'd you think I'd be here on this particular day?"

    Hoke
said, and I hoped you weren't gone.

    "I
thought your master was indisposed."

    Said
he had to meet the angel. I thought he meant death. Then I knew he meant you.

    Logue
nodded and Cassius detected a thaw. "Well sit down, then."

    Cassius
hesitated. This was not proper. Even if Logue insisted he was under his
protection, this was likely to turn Mueller against him, and Mueller was a
patroller.