My Old True Love by Sheila Kay Adams Page A

twenty thousand men.” He waved his arm at all of us standing there, “Be up to
us
to come up with the rest of ’em.”
    Greenberry Chandler said, “Far as I’m concerned, they ought to take all the niggers, load ’em on one of them big boats, take ’em about ten mile out into that big blue ocean and dump the lot of ’em.”
    “Eh law, Greenberry,” Sol Bullman said. “That’s the most words you strung together at one time since you married that big-mouthed sister of mine!” We all busted out laughing, for he was married to Hattie. She come from a long line of midwives and she had a way about her that said do not mess with me in any shape, form, or fashion. Most of us had been brought into this world by the rough, work-hard hands of her grandmother, mother, or in mine and Larkin’s case, Hattie herself. It was a good thing Greenberry was a quiet man.
    “But what about Tillman?” Andrew said.
    I had not thought of Tillman Chandler in years. He used to claim me for his sweetheart but I did not claim him. He was tall and skinny, and if you was looking at Zeke you would know that I like men of a different sort. I did recall that Tillman had married a woman from Asheville whose daddy died not long after they’d set up housekeeping and that he had come into over two hundred acres and most of it good flat bottom land. It had never even flittered through my head that he would have to have slaves. But then why would it? They was no slaves in Sodom unless you counted the ones what was white and female.
    “Damned if I know what to do about it,” Ruben said to them. His eyes never moved from the graceful curve of that bird’s wing. “But I do know it’s a mess, a pure-D mess. Don’t believe I understand all I know about this nigger thing anyhow.” He raised the bird, give it a good long eyeball, blew on it, and went back to carving. “Never seen a man of color myself.”
    “Saw two of ’em last week when I was down in Warm Springs.” Zeke said. “Black as the ace of spades.”
    “Well,” Ruben said, “I can just about guarantee it’ll come to war. They’s too much fussing back and forth amongst ’em in Raleigh andup in Washington.”
    “Goodness, fellers, I reckon not.” This was from old man Swan Ray. He started just about everything he said with
goodness
or
here there
. “Here there, it wouldn’t be nothing to us one way or t’other. War amongst rich folks, ye ask me.”
    “Mayhap,” Daddy said. “But somehow it always manages to work itself back around to being a poor man’s fight.”
    “If you’uns could hear half of what I hear on my drumming route,” Wade said, “you would know it will come to war. That’s all I hear, ’specially down south of here.”
    Wade was from off down toward Hendersonville and had married Vergie Ray, who was Swan’s daughter.
    I was so caught up in what was being said that I jumped like somebody had poked me in the ribs when Big John Stanton’s deep voice come rumbling out right there beside me. The
Big
part of his name was put there for a reason but I swear he could slip up on you and you would never know it till he wanted you to. We was not related to the Stantons but Larkin’s daddy was one. Their grandma was full Cherokee and you could surely see it in both of them. She was never heard from again when they was all rounded up and took off.
    Big John crossed arms big as fence posts over his chest and said, “Let it come, boys. I for one wouldn’t mind a good fight.”
    “Maybe so, son.” Wiley took his hat off and went to smearing that wet handkerchief around on his shiny bald head. “You’re young and most of us ain’t. But you’d still have to fight one side or the other.”
    “Hell, Wiley, I’m for joining the side that looked like it were going to win.”
    Lord have mercy, did that not set everybody to talking at once.
    And would you not know that it was just then that Hackley comeup to me and Larkin. He was wearing the white shirt Mommie