The black swan by Day Taylor Page A

bizness goin' fo' hisseff. Wouldn't think that o' him, would you?"
    "Ullah!" Tom said, louder and more insistent.
    "I'd better be going."
    "Set down, Adam. Cain't you see Ah got enuf without you hoppin' up like a frog on the run eve'y time he speak up? Set down, both o' you. Time you did some talkin'."
    Both Adam and Tom obeyed. Tom looked up at Ullah, his eyes twinkling. "We're being bullied."

    UUah turned to Adam. "How much you know 'bout bayou work?"
    "You mean the crabbing and logging? I know some."
    "Well, Tom heah, he a good man fo' some things, but his foot's in mortal danger soon's his han' touches the ax."
    "Looked to me it was a lot more than just his foot when I saw him." Adam, suddenly amused, was having difficulty suppressing a smile.
    Tom glared at him. "Ullah, damn it, I'm not gonna listen to some smart-mouthed boy belittle me in my own house in front of my own wife!"
    Adam looked curiously from Ullah to Tom. He had realized that their relationship was more than just that of servant and master, but marriage between them was something he had never thought of.
    "Yes, she's my wife." Tom glanced crossly at Ullah. *Thanks to your damned meddlin' we'll have to leave heah right away. Next time I tell you I don't want someone nosin' around, listen to me. You don't feed your enemies lemonade and cookies."
    "You our enemy, Adam?"
    Tom pounded the table. "Damn woman! Do you never listen?"
    Like hurricane shutters to protect the house from pounding rain, Adam's eyes closed, shutting him off from what he knew was coming between Ullah and Tom. He didn't know wliat to say or how to get out, short of turning tail and running. But he did want out. He didn't want to see them fight or see Ullah lose, as she would. As he had looked at his mother many times when his father was alive, he now looked at Ullah, wishing he could help and knowing he couldn't. Then he cleared his throat, daring to try—once. "I could show you how to handle that ax, Mr. Pierson."
    Tom glared angrily at Adam. Ullah's voice was subdued when she spoke. "He's tellin' us he's yo' friend, Tom. Cain't you hear nothin' but the words? You run us away from heah 'cause of a boy who wants to he'p us, what you think will happen anyplace else we kin go?"
    Tom sat down heavily in helpless surrender, letting his hands fall to the table.
    Adam watched him with new interest. He hadn't hit Ullah, nor had he abused her verbally as Adam had ex-

    pected, had learned to expect from a man. Intense discomfort gave way to a wary curiosity about Tom.
    "Ben and Beau could help. Ben is good with tools."
    "I might as well take out an ad in the Picayune and give our location to the whole world," Tom said dispiritedly.
    "Why, lis'n there, Adam. You heah that? Sound like a ol' she-cow mooin' outa sorrow fo' herseff. You feelin' that sorry fo' yo'seff, Tom?"
    "Sure as hell am! No one else does," Tom grumbled, more good-naturedly. His eyes met Adam's. "You say Ben is a good hand with an ax?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "He ever hire out?"
    "No, sir. I didn't mean we'd hire out. We'd help. That's all.'^
    Tom watched Adam quietly for a moment. "Tom. Call me Tom. Anybody catches me without my britches has a right to use my first name." He grinned. "I'd be proud to accept your help, Adam." He extended his hand.
    It was the first time Adam ever had, or considered having, the friendship of a grown man. Even now, faced with this stocky, plain-faced man with his eyes once more twinkling with good humor, it \yas not a totally comfortable feeling. "I'll get Ben. And Beau too?"
    "Why not?" Tom said, his capitulation complete and his humor restored. Gently, Ullah's arms wrapped around his neck.
    Adam hadn't exaggerated. Ben West was as handy with the ax as Adam had claimed. The first afternoon Tom looked on with amazement as shakes for the house mounted in neat piles. The next day, with a humility he didn't know he possessed, he became the willing pupil of a fourteen-year-old taskmaster. Alternately gritting his