The Land (35 page)

I didn't see John Wallace again until he came back into these parts some years later and a man grown. By that time he was changed, but he never mentioned either of us being on that ridge again, at least to my knowing. But it wasn't John Wallace I was worried about that day as he left the forty. It was Digger. I worried, for no matter how drunk and cowardly Digger was, he was still a white man.

 

The day after John Wallace left, Mitchell and I came from chopping and found Wade Jamison helping Nathan hack branches from the fallen trees. We called Nathan over. “What's that Jamison boy doin' here again?” demanded Mitchell.

“He helpin' wit' the brush,” mumbled Nathan.

“How come?”

“Said he wanna help.”

“There's no money to pay him,” I said.

“He don't care. He jus' said he wantin' t' help us out.”

“I don't like it, Paul,” said Mitchell. “We already had that one white boy round here, and look where that got us.”

“I'll talk to him,” I said.

“Don't make him go, Paul,” pleaded Nathan. “Wade's my friend.”

Mitchell scowled down at him. “Friend? Boy, you still carryin' that foolishness round in yo' head?” Nathan didn't say anything, and Mitchell walked off in disgust.

I looked at Nathan, then went over to talk to Wade. “Your daddy know you're doing this?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“He ask you why?”

“Yes, sir, and I told him about how hard you all are working and I didn't want you to lose your land.”

I looked long at Wade Jamison, then said, “Why should you care?”

“Because you make good neighbors,” he answered without hesitation.

“I suppose you know about my agreement with Mister Granger.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Nathan told you?”

“Told me, all right, but my daddy already knew.”

I was silent. I didn't like everybody knowing my business. “I can't have you working here. I appreciate your willingness to help us, but I can't have it.”

“I don't need pay,” said Wade.

“Maybe not, but everybody works here gets paid in some kind of way, and the thing is, I'm not figuring on paying another hand.”

“But you don't pay Nathan.”

“Not in money.”

“I know. He told me about you teaching him cabinetmaking.”

“Nathan's told you a lot.”

“We're friends.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was thinking, you let me work here this summer, you could teach me cabinetmaking too. I'd like to learn. That could be my pay.”

I studied the boy with his blond hair and his blue eyes. He looked much like Robert. I shook my head. “I can't do that.”

“'Cause I'm white?”

The boy was blunt. I decided to be the same. “That's right.”

“I don't understand.”

“I think you understand enough. What you don't, ask your daddy.”

Wade Jamison looked at me. “Can I stay on 'til it's time for the next load to go down the creek?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Like to complete what I start. I'd like to help out until Mister Granger doesn't need so many trees, and Nathan said the next time Mister Granger comes with his men, you'd have all the extra trees he's been wanting chopped by then.”

I thought on it. “It's important to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. You tell your daddy what you're doing, though, and make sure it's all right with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Wade—”

“Yes, sir?”

“I'll pay you wages for this week's work.”

The boy's lips parted as if to object to that, but then he seemed to sense my need to pay him for his work, and he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, and went back to chopping the branches.

The day following that talk with Wade, Charles Jamison himself rode over to the forty. He looked around and commended me. “You've certainly gotten a lot of clearing done. Looks like you'll soon be ready to do some farming.”

“I hope so,” I said.

“You know, my boy Wade's taken a real liking to working here on your place.”

“He's been a big help. But I told him his being here had to be all right with you.”

Charles Jamison nodded to that. “Understand you told him too you didn't want him working here.”

I thought on my words. From all I'd heard and from my few dealings with Charles Jamison, he was a fair man. Still, I couldn't get over the fact he was a white man. One unwise word and I figured I could find myself in deep trouble, Charles Jamison being a fair man or not. “I decided not to take on another hand right now,” I said. “We've just about got all the trees we need cut for the next run down the creek.”

Charles Jamison nodded. “Understand that. He told me. Wade, though, is figuring this is something he needs to be doing because of what all's happened in the past. Now, understand me, I'm not apologizing for anything. My daddy farmed and he had slaves, and his daddy did the same before him. It was considered all right then. By the time I was a boy, thinking was beginning to change, and by the time of the war I already knew that things couldn't be the same, and come the end of the war and the changes came, I accepted those changes because I had to. Besides, it was time. But Wade's been coming up feeling like folks are folks, and he's wanting to make some amends. I'm not feeling the same. What's done is done. My granddaddy and my daddy cared about our land and the folks who lived on it, and I'm not about to apologize for anything they did. But I'm respecting my boy and his feelings, and I'm learning from him, just as I learned from my daddy, who was thinking before the war of eventually emancipating his slaves.”

“But it didn't happen,” I said, a little too bluntly and a little too bitterly. My daddy hadn't freed me either.

“No, it didn't,” said Charles Jamison, looking me over. His voice didn't change. “The war happened instead, and we're all still recovering from that.”

I didn't say anything.

“We being neighbors, I figured these things needed to get said. I'm wishing you luck. You need my help on anything, you let me know.”

I thanked Charles Jamison for his offer, but I didn't figure to ask his help on anything. I liked him and I liked his son, but I didn't intend to be beholden to any white man. Not again.

 

Wade Jamison stayed working for another week on the forty, and when the Grangers came again for their timber, he was there. He watched as the logs were rolled into the creek, then went back to hacking off branches. I watched as Filmore Granger's boy, Harlan, followed him, and I heard Harlan say, “Thought the Jamisons were supposed to be quality folks.”

“What you mean by that?” asked Wade, stopping his work.

“Quality, and here you doin' a nigger's bidding.”

Wade Jamison took his time and said to Harlan, “My granddaddy logged trees, even while the Indians were here. Nothing's wrong in logging and nothing's wrong in taking orders from a man who knows logging.”

“But you here working for these niggers on Granger land!”

“Thought this was suppose to be Logan land after these trees are cut,” challenged Wade. “Now, I'm working for myself, and even if I weren't, I don't see nothing wrong with what I'm doing.”

“Then you a fool,” said Harlan.

The boy Wade stared at the boy Harlan. “Not if I don't think so,” he said, and turned again to his chopping. As agreed, when the last logs were headed down the creek, Wade Jamison left. I admired the boy and hated to see him go, but my thinking was much the same as Mitchell's. A white boy on the place could only lead to trouble.

With the demands of the Grangers lessened now, Mitchell again turned his attention to his upcoming marriage. He and Nathan readied the cabin for Caroline's arrival. They cleaned and swept it, and Mitchell bought some pane for me to make a window so that Caroline could have the sunshine inside. Nathan and I moved our few things to the shed, and when all that was done, Mitchell, Nathan, and I hitched two of the mules to the wagon and headed for Vicksburg. I had arranged for Tom Bee to watch out for the animals and to keep chopping, so I had no worries about the place. It was my first journey off the forty in more than three months.

 

Mitchell married Caroline on a hot day in August at Mount Elam Baptist Church, and I stood up as his witness. Mitchell was nervous and Caroline was beautiful. She wore an ivory dress, and her hair hung long, graced with baby's breath from her mother's flower garden. As she and Mitchell exchanged their vows, I couldn't keep my eyes off her, and despite my loyalty to my friend, I had to fight a heaviness in my heart at seeing Caroline marry someone else, even if it was Mitchell.

After the ceremony, all the people from the church followed the flower-covered wagon carrying Caroline and Mitchell to the Perry farm, where Caroline's family had laid out a tremendous table of hams and fried chicken and roasts, vegetables and breads of all kinds, pies, cakes, and puddings. It was a true feast, and Miz Rachel Perry herself brought me a plate of food. As I stood enjoying her good cooking, Caroline came over and gently touched my arm. “Mister Paul-Edward Logan,” she said, “I understand me comin' to the forty is gonna put you outa your house.”

“No such thing,” I said. “And, please, no more calling me ‘Mister' Paul-Edward, all right? Paul-Edward will do just fine. Even Nathan calls me Paul. After all, we're like family in a way now.”

She smiled. “I know Mitchell says y'all like brothers.”

“That's a fact.”

“Still, I feel like I'm puttin' you outa your house.”

“Well, don't feel that way. It won't be a problem, really. It'll only be for a short spell, just 'til we get your house built.”

“But I hate to think of all y'all havin' to sleep in the shed.”

“Don't worry about it. I've slept in a whole lot worse places.”

“Ain't that the truth!” said Mitchell, coming up behind Caroline and slipping his arms around her. “Like Paul said, don't worry 'bout it. We'll get you a house built soon enough.” He kissed her cheek, and Caroline glanced back at him with a smile. They looked good together.

That next morning after the wedding, Nathan and I headed back to the forty. We left the wagon and one of the mules with Mitchell so that he could bring Caroline and her things. Nathan rode the other mule. I rode Thunder. I had decided it was time to have the palomino with me. After all, I was paying board money to Luke Sawyer I figured I could now save. Besides that, although Thunder was allowed to graze in Luke Sawyer's pasture and was getting decent feed, he wasn't getting the exercise he needed. No one but I, so far, could ride him. There were enough trees now cut on the forty so that there was open land and plenty of grass. I figured to graze Thunder on that grass and to race him too, at least on the forty. It felt good to be riding him again.

Mitchell stayed a week with Caroline at the Perry farm and that was fine with me. We were on schedule with the trees, and I was figuring by this time next year we'd own the forty outright and have ourselves a crop. When Mitchell came back, I knew we'd have to work hard to make up these few days missed if we were going to stay on schedule, but I figured a wedding was worth it. Most folks only got married once, and what was before Caroline and Mitchell was a lifetime. They might as well start it right.

Caroline's arrival changed many a thing. It wasn't just that she now occupied the cabin with Mitchell, but more it was her presence that was felt all across the forty. One week after Mitchell brought her from her parents' farm, Caroline had a new and much larger garden planted, and it was a garden for which she had broken ground herself. She asked no help from any of us. Right away she had taken over all the household chores too, and that in itself made a big difference, for it freed Mitchell, Nathan, and me for more chopping time. The most welcomed change, though, was in our meals. After Caroline's arrival, there was no longer just grits with a cup of hot chicory for our breakfast, but also eggs, crusty biscuits and sausages, gravy and preserves, and fresh milk. It was that way from then on, for Caroline had brought with her a store of her mama's preserves and canning, as well as her daddy's meats from their smokehouse. She had also brought a rooster and two laying hens, two piglets, and a milking cow. They were all presents from her family to her and Mitchell. Dinner and suppertime were no less than the breakfast, with vegetables and corn bread, preserved beef or venison, and a pudding or a cobbler of some kind. Whatever Caroline cooked was a feast; she was as good a cook as her mother, and no matter how busy Mitchell, Nathan, and I were, Caroline insisted we come eat her good food. “How y'all 'spect t' keep your strength, y'all don't eat. Lots of trees up there still, and I 'spect y'all can cut a few more y'all got good fueling in ya!”

I found Caroline was a precious kind of young woman. She was strong-willed and outspoken. She was loyal. But she also had a temper, and she proved that more than once. I'd already seen her slam her knuckles into her friend's jaw at Mount Elam. Soon after she was on the forty, she let that hand go again across another young woman's face. The young woman, I soon found out, had made the mistake of speaking ill of Mitchell, and she'd made that mistake to Caroline's face. The woman's name was Minnie Scott, and it just so happened that I was coming from chopping when I witnessed Caroline's confrontation with her. This time I didn't hear what was said. I just saw Caroline suddenly haul off and slam Minnie Scott with the flat of her hand. When I got into hearing distance, Caroline was ordering the woman off the forty. Minnie glanced up at me, turned, and hurried away without a word. Caroline, hands on her hips, watched her go, then picked up her hoe. That's when she saw me. She glanced back over her shoulder at the retreating Minnie, and looked at me again. “'Spect you seen that, huh?”