The Glorious Prodigal by Gilbert Morris

twenty steps just to win a bet. His skin was a glowing ebony and his hair nappy, and a deep inner peace glowed through his warm brown eyes.
    “How Miss Leah doin’?”
    “She ain’t doin’ no good.”
    “Ain’t that too bad. I glad we’s had our chilluns easy.”
    “ We had our chilluns! Where do you get that we? ”
    “Well, you had ’em easy, then. Does that make you feel better?”
    Merle stood over her, watching as she cooked the Thanksgiving meal, and finally she turned and said, “Where’s Mistah Stuart?”
    “Why you ask me that? It ain’t none of my business. Why you always jumpin’ on me for somethin’ I never done?” Merle was peeved, but he saw that Annie was perturbed. “I know,” he said. “It’s bad, ain’t it?”
    “She don’t really know what Mr. Stuart’s doin’.”
    Merle shook his head sadly. “I guess it’s best she don’t know about his carryin’ on.”
    “Well, this is Thanksgivin’, and it’s their weddin’ anniversary. I want you to go find him and bring him home.”
    “Me! How am I gonna bring him home if he don’t wanna come? He’s the boss.”
    “Knock him on the head and bring him home.”
    “I can’t do that!”
    “You’re big enough.”
    “Where we gonna go after he throws us out?”
    “He ain’t gonna do that. He’s guilty as a sheep-killin’ dog.” Annie was filled with indignation. She had grown to love Leah Winslow with a motherly affection, and now she reached out and grabbed Merle’s arm. “We gotta do somethin’,” she said.“You know how he is. He won’t even think about comin’ home until he’s dead drunk. Now you go fetch ’im.”
    “I don’t know where he is.”
    “You go find Mr. Ace. He keeps up with him, and you bring him back. You hear me? Don’t you come back without him.”
    “I’ll do the best I can, but how you expect a black man to boss a white man around is more than I kin see.”
    “If you can’t do nothin’ else, you go to his mama. She’ll figure out some way.”
    “She already done got her heart broke over that man.”
    “Well, it’ll just have to be broke a little bit more, ’cause I ain’t havin’ my baby in there without her husband on their first anniversary. Now git!”
    ****
    The sun was high in the sky, almost at the zenith, as Ace Devainy caught sight of the beginnings of Mapleton. He was whistling a tune, as usual, but he stopped abruptly as the first shacks on the outskirts of town came into view. The air had a sharp bite to it, for it was a cold Thanksgiving. “I expect we might get some snow,” Ace muttered aloud. He sat loosely on the seat of the wagon, clucking occasionally at the matched team of bays that paced in a sprightly fashion down the rutted roads. A late rain had come and churned the roads into a red gumbo, and then the cold weather had frozen it again. The frozen ruts caused the wagon to bounce along in time, making Ace swear softly as his teeth clicked together.
    Unhappiness scored Devainy’s homely face as he slowed the team down. He pulled his soft wide-brimmed hat off and ran his hand through his yellow hair. His stormy blue eyes reflected the agitation he felt inside, and he muttered once, “I’d rather do most anything than try to drag Stuart away from his fun.”
    He sat up straighter as a memory flashed across his mind of the massive form of Merle Waters, who had come to his room earlier. Merle’s black face was embarrassed, but his eyeswere determined as he had explained his mission. “Mr. Stuart needs to be home, Mr. Ace. Annie done sent me to get you and to find out where he is. I got to try to bring him home.”
    Ace had understood the black man’s own agitation. Merle was certainly big enough to simply put most men under his arm and walk away, but it wouldn’t do in the south for a black man to behave like that.
    “I’ll fetch him back, Merle. You go tell Annie that I’ll have him there before dark.”
    “He might not want to come, suh.”
    “He’s