Mama Black Widow by Iceberg Slim Page B

“Laddie, one of them crew with you at the big house stole Miz Wilkerson’s big stash of money, near ’bout or more four hundred dollars. Did you see the sneaking scamp that done it?”
    Junior swallowed hard, raised himself to his elbows and croaked, “Nah, suh, nah, suh. Papa an’ me alike. Ah sees uh smidget of crookedness on th’ plantashun, Ah tells th’ news right now.
    â€œNah, suh, Ah ain’t seen nobody fiddlin’ wid th’ big iron safe. Even when we finish th’ wurk an’ foot race frum th’ big house, Ah don’ hear no silver dollars rattlin’ nobody’s pocket. Nah, suh, Ah ain’t seen or heared nuthin’.”
    Mr. Wilkerson and Papa stood up. Mr. Wilkerson stroked his chin and said, “Laddie, it weren’t no silver money. It were in greenbacks stashed agin the grandfather clock.
    â€œMah ole woman’s madder than a smoked out hornet. She had a powerful mind to fetch the sheriff tonight to cull out the criminal. But Ah’m a merciful man, and Ah ain’t fer that bloodthirsty sheriff whuppin’ heads and kickin’ asses of the whole damn crew. Ain’t but one guilty.”
    He paused and watched Junior’s spastic tongue irrigate his gray lips.
    Papa shut his eyes and said, “Lawd, draw th’ thief forth fer purgin’ uv his sin an’ returnin’ Miz Wilkerson’s greenbacks.”
    Mr. Wilkerson stroked his hooked nose and impaled Junior on sharp blue eyes for a lone moment before he said, “Lissen, Lil’ Frank, we gonna’ root out the criminal before Miz Wilkerson get that mean sheriff on the place at noon tomorrow. Since Ah knows you innocent and cleverer than them others, Ah’m pintin’ you mah secret investigator.
    â€œAh want you up at daybreak rousing them suspecs and standing the guilty one before me no later than noon. Ain’t gonna’ be no penitentiary and crool treatment. Jes a fair and honest whupping with a piece of horse harness at the punishing spot. You understand me, boy?”
    Too quickly Junior almost shouted, “Sho do, Mr. Wilkerson, sho do, an’ ah be up at ’em early, early, sho will.”
    Mr. Wilkerson’s face had a cunning look as he picked up his lantern. He patted Papa affectionately on the shoulder and walked away into the salubrious and innocent night.
    Papa walked the floor and prayed until daybreak. Mama’s face looked awful with the strain and pressure she was under. She fixed biscuits and hash for breakfast that everybody just picked at. Junior kept his eyes riveted to Mama’s face like he desperately needed guidance.
    Right after breakfast Papa sighed and said to Mama, “Sedalia, Ah best go an’ help Junior hunt out Miz Wilkerson’s greenbacks.”
    Mama squeezed her brow between her palms like she was treating a bad headache.
    Her vacant eyes looked past Papa out to the backbreaking green oceans of early cotton plants when she said, “Frank, Ah tell yu true, it ain’t nuthin’ but uh low-down dirty shame thet po’ niggahs got tu shag down money fer them rich white folks. Ah swear iffen Ah wuz Miz Wilkerson Ah wouldn’t make no commotion. Since Ah ain’t payin’ but forty cents uh hundard no how.”
    Papa turned crimson and hollered, “Sedalia, yu stop thet devilish talk. Wikerson’s don’ pay but uh cent uh hundard, ain’t nobody got uh right tu steal frum ’em. Come on, Junior, let’s git ’bout our bizness. It be noon ’fore we know it.”
    Suddenly there was a burst of sobbing. Everybody in the shack turned toward Carol in a corner. Papa rushed to her and lifted her into his arms.
    He pressed her close and crooned, “Papa ain’t gonna’ let nobody harm his baby girl. Now yu shet off them tears.”
    Carol hugged Papa tightly around the neck and blubbered, “Papa, Ah ain’t scairt fer me. Ah’m scairt