Authors: David Fuller
"He
also writes that Cassius is dead," said Ellen.
She
saw Quashee falter, saw Mam Rosie go to her, but then Beauregard stepped in to
lend his support, leaving Mam Rosie stranded with her hands reaching. Ellen had
not been aware of the connection between Quashee and Cassius, and she wondered
when it had happened.
Ellen
looked again at the words at the bottom of the page, and spoke aloud, but so
that only she could hear: "So. He did not keep his promise."
The
buckboard rolled down the road in the twilight, returning to the Chavis farm.
He watched Weyman, drowsy on the bench, reins held lightly in his palms, and he
thought to step out in front of the horse, but then thought better of it, as he
did not want to shock Weyman into accidentally running him down. He stayed
where he was among the trees, and as the buckboard moved past, he emerged and
leapt up in the back, putting a hand on Weyman's shoulder from behind.
Dear
Lord Jesus! said Weyman, shocked beyond reason that someone was behind him, and
then shocked again to realize it was Cassius.
Good
seeing you, too, Weyman, said Cassius.
What
the hell're y'all doin, scarin old Weyman like that, gave me such a fright I
ain't likely to recover.
See
anyone else on the road? said Cassius.
Quiet
out here. Jesus Lord, never thought to see y'all again, said Weyman.
Here
I am, said Cassius.
Figured
you for Canada.
Made
a promise to come back.
Now
that is the Cassius I know, y'all belong here, with me.
Picked
up some things for you along the way.
Now,
that is some good news, business been quiet. You got 'em now?
No,
but get away tonight and we'll meet. Come to Emoline's.
Weyman
looked over his shoulder at Cassius's face.
Maybe
we could meet somewheres else, said Weyman.
Emoline's
is best, nobody bother us there. Travel on foot, so you don't let your old
Master Thomas know.
I don't
know, Cassius, I ain't real comfortable with ghosts.
Never
knew you to be superstitious, Weyman. Way I figure, she'll protect us.
Weyman
considered, then nodded.
Good,
said Cassius. I'll be getting off right up here, before you go around that
bend. And Weyman. Don't say you saw me.
Don't
say?
Not
to Bunty, not to your Thomas, not to your Thomas's wife.
Why
don't you want me to say?
You
want I should give the goods to someone else?
No, I
gotta have 'em, I won't tell nobody if that's what you like.
After
tonight, you tell anyone you want, said Cassius with a smile, and he leapt off
the back of the buckboard and was gone into the trees. He saw Weyman look
around after him, and thought Weyman was questioning if Cassius had really been
there.
Cassius
settled to wait in the woods until it began to grow dark, then made his way
toward town. He stopped at the little bridge and watched the motion of the
water as it rushed by under him until the last of the light left the sky. When
he could no longer see, he stayed awhile longer just to listen.
Cassius
held a lantern in one hand and Emoline's pages in the other, with the page that
diagrammed her garden on top. He looked at the hole in the ground where plants
had been wrenched out, and on her map he confirmed it as the location of the
jalap bindweed. He paused then, glancing at the names on the other sheets, and
was reminded that Emoline refused to tell the fortunes of blacks; the burden
and pretense of influencing the future was left to the whites. He folded the
paper and replaced it in his pouch. He looked at the rows of vegetables and
remedies, all dead or dying. No one had come to harvest her garden. They were
all too superstitious. Her daughters would do it in the spring.
He
went inside to wait.
Weyman
came some time later, and he looked shaken. He had narrowly avoided the
patrollers. They had been drinking and their moods were foul, hoping for
trouble. He was concerned that he would encounter difficulty returning to the
Chavis farm.
Don't
worry about that, said Cassius. I'll fix it.
How
you do that? said Weyman.
Write
you a pass.
Write
me a pass?
Been
doing it for years.
Y'all
can write?
Cassius
nodded.
Read,
too?
Read,
too.
Don't
that beat all, said Weyman. That some little secret you been keepin from
Weyman. I could'a used you in my business.
Could
be why I didn't say.
Speakin
of business, what you bring back for me?
Left
it outside, said Cassius.
Cassius
led him to the garden and they stopped at the hole in the ground where the
jalap had once grown.
Where
is it? said Weyman.
This
is it, said Cassius.
Ain't
nothin here but a hole in the ground.
That's
because I brought you a mystery.
This
ain't funny, y'all. You got somethin for me or not?
You
were getting remedies from Emoline.
What
you on about, Cassius?
Something
you couldn't remember. Started with one of the letters of the alphabet, what
was it you said? "M," I think you said "M." But it wasn't
"M," was it, Weyman?
I
ain't followin.
It
was "J."
Okay,
it was "J." So?
Jalap
bindweed. Sound familiar?
Maybe
so. All right.
One more
piece of the puzzle dropped into place, and Cassius knew a sadness expanding
inside him.
She
was growing it for you. Remember that? said Cassius. Sure I remember.
You
pulled the whole thing out of the ground.
She
didn't need it no more.
Because
she was dead.
That
right. She dead.
You
pulled it out the night she died.
How
you figure?
Knew
you wouldn't get any more from her, so you took all you could.
Think
I better get goin, said Weyman. What if the patrollers are still out there?
Weyman
looked over his shoulder. He looked back at Cassius. Then he smiled.
This
some kind of joke. I get it, Cassius. You messin with my head, look to see if
you can get me in trouble. Yes, a joke. Let's go inside.
Cassius
followed Weyman back inside Emoline's house, looking at the back of Weyman's
head. Weyman moved to Emoline's favorite chair, the one she had slept in when
Cassius was recuperating. Cassius stayed on his feet.
You
had me goin there, Cassius. Didn't know what you were on about. No.
So
you don't got nothin for me from up North, said Weyman. Not too many people in
the world I care about, said Cassius. A girl back at Sweetsmoke. Maybe one or two
others. Maybe even you. And Emoline Justice. I did care for her. She did more
for me than just about anyone could want. Mended me, but you know that. Taught
me to read and write. Even taught me a new way to think. You think we trust too
much in hope?
Don't
know what you talkin 'bout, said Weyman.
No,
you don't. She gave me hope. Taught me to trust my own thoughts. And then you
killed her.
Weyman's
eyes went strange, he stood up from her chair and Cassius knew he was right.
Something closed down inside of him. He crossed the room and stood over the
stain.
Happened
here, said Cassius. You hit her and she went down and bled.
You
don't understand, said Weyman.
Help
me understand, said Cassius.
She
was wantin me to join her.
To
join her?
She
was spyin for the Federals. Bet you didn't know that.
I
knew that.
Well,
then you understand. She done ask me to help her spy, knew I got some freedom
to move around, bein with Thomas and all. I said no, and she got mad.
She got
mad, said Cassius.
Attacked
me, said I know too much 'bout her spyin.
That
little woman attacked you.
She
done come at me, Cassius. If I hadn't'a killed her, she was gonna kill me.
She
run at you backwards?
You
fuckin with me?
Emoline
was hit on the back of the head. You hit her from behind.
Weyman
sat back down in her chair. He stared at Cassius and was smart enough to hold
his tongue.
She
never asked you to spy for her, said Cassius.
No,
said Weyman.
She
knew better. You couldn't keep your mouth shut if you were in a room full of
bees. But you found out what she was doing.
Came
for jalap, came in the door and saw her puttin stuff in a hiding place. She
told me what it was.
She
was proud of what she was doing, said Cassius, knowing that was consistent with
what he knew of Emoline, a proud woman absolutely certain of her mission. Yes,
he could imagine her telling Weyman about what he had seen.
Weyman
looked off for a moment, then looked back up at Cassius.
I got
it good here. You seen it. I live with whites, eat at the same table, sleep in
the same house, work with 'em every day and I don't got to work no harder than
Thomas. It's the closest I ever be to free. Almost like bein free, only we
ain't never goin to be free, don't matter what that Lincoln says. This the only
way I get a decent life. She was goin to ruin everything I got. I know what it
like otherwise, I done picked cotton till my master died and I got sold to
Thomas. I know what it was, and I know what it can be. I had to kill her, had
to stop her from helpin the Union.
Cassius
was cold inside. His temper did not raise its head.
What
you goin do, Cassius?
Not
going to do anything, said Cassius.
Nothin?
said Weyman hopefully.
Fact
that I know, that you got to live with yourself while I know, that's your
punishment. I know what it would do to your farm if something happened to you.
The Chavises are good people for slave owners. Working people, put all their money
into buying two men to help with their farm. Losing a man to them would be like
a fire burning down their barn with their entire harvest inside, along with
their mule, and all their chickens. Without you, they'd lose their farm.
Without you, they'd lose everything. They couldn't afford a new man. Never be
able to make up for your work.
Cassius,
I ain't sure what to say.
I'm
tired, said Cassius. Maybe you best go.
Yeah,
said Weyman. But maybe you do that thing you said?
What
thing? said Cassius, but he smiled inside, having known that this moment would
come.
You
said you write me a pass.
That's
right. I made the mistake of telling you I could read and write, didn't I? All
right. I think Emoline had some paper over here somewhere.