Sweetsmoke by David Fuller Page B

said Abram.
        Little
bit like he goes out of his way to be a horse's ass, said Cassius. No one can
say I wasn't pleasant as a man can be.
        You
get to eat? said Abram.
        Cassius
nodded. Got something from Mam Rosie.
        Because
Savilla saw you were goin be late so she made extra in case you was hungry. You
could'a had my portion. Can't eat nothin with my tooth.
        Savilla's
a fine woman, Abram. You tell her I thank her, but that I'm all right tonight.
Time you got that tooth pulled.
        Then Cassius
caught himself. He had been about to tell Abram to visit Emoline in town, she
had poultices that could lessen the pain of an extraction.
        Tooth
ain't nothin, said Abram. Ain't nobody right. You hear 'bout Banjo George? Got
the bilious fever.
        Banjo
enjoys complaining so much he makes his own pain, said Cassius.
        Ain't
nobody right.
        Abram
stood up. He looked at the tobacco leaves hanging off the rafters drying near
the ceiling.
        Some
of them gettin the mold, you best dry heat 'em.
        Cassius
nodded.
        Been
out to the traps?
        Not
in a few days.
        Abram
nodded. Abram was glad to have his wife cook for Cassius, as Cassius was a
lucky trapper and he brought to her whatever he caught, to share with her
family.
        All
right tonight, said Abram with a thoughtful frown, as if memorizing Cassius's
exact words so he could repeat them to his wife. Cassius could see that Abram
had something else on his mind, and he did not care to hear it.
        I'm
just going to get some sleep, said Cassius, hoping to ward it off.
        I'se
heartily sorry, Cassius. If it be all right to say so.
        Not
necessary to say—
        Had a
real good likin of that woman and she did not deserve to go in such a way.
        That's
kind of you—
        She
always decent to me and mine, and I think that be all I got to say 'bout it.
        Cassius
had known that Abram could not be stopped from saying what he had come to say.
Once Abram set on a path, he had to offer his condolences about Emoline Justice
or eventually burst.
        Well,
said Cassius. Maybe she's the lucky one. You remember to tell Savilla I thank
her.
        All
right tonight, said Abram. Cassius caught a whiff of Abram's breath and knew
that his tooth had to go.
        Abram
was a decent man and in the raw caverns of Cassius's mind, Abram's concern and
empathy were a balm. But it was a relief when he was gone.
        
        
        Cassius
lay on his pallet and listened as the quarter settled. Children's voices
drifted off as bathing ended and bedtime stories concluded. Low conversations
among men replaced them, as well as the activities of women, finishing candles,
washing clothes, or mending their only frocks or their husband's one pair of
trousers.
        Insects
and crickets voiced their songs as the air cooled. His mind drifted and touched
briefly on Mam Rosie. She had raised him, but Hoke had named him. Which act was
more important to his personality? he wondered. Hoke Howard was not his father;
his mother had been pregnant when Hoke bought her, although he had not bought
Cassius's father. He had sold her four years after Cassius was born, and
Cassius wondered if an incident had precipitated her sale. He thought not;
Hoke's fortunes had always been up and down, and the turnover in slaves and
horseflesh was considerable, new favorites purchased when he was
enthusiastically flush, sold off when things went sour. Cassius considered Hoke
Howard's name. If Cassius was named on a flight of whimsy, Hoke was named with
grave consideration. The third Hoke Howard bore a name of substance with extensive
roots. His great-grandfather Horace had built Sweetsmoke; his grandfather, the
first Hoke, had made it a monstrous success; his father, the second Hoke, had
further expanded it; and he now commanded it. If Cassius was a name from a
book, Hoke was a name with great