Journeyman

  “Get up, Clay, and go get Vearl.”

  “What for?” he asked sleepily.

  Dene drew the covers from her head and looked at Clay’s fourth wife in the gray dawn. She did not know what Lorene had come into their room for.

  “Get up, Clay!”

  He opened his eyes wide and looked around the room. Presently he put out his hand and felt Dene beside him. He did not turn over to look at her.

  “Go get Vearl right away, Clay. Get up this minute and get him.”

  “Vearl? What do you want Vearl for?”

  She shook him until he could not see straight.

  “Oh, all right, all right,” he said.

  Lorene pulled the quilt and sheet from him. She knew that was the only way to make Clay get up in the morning. Clay tried to reach for them to pull back over himself, but she pulled them down to the foot of the bed. Dene slid down as far as she could go.

  Clay got up and put on his shirt and pants under the tending eye of Lorene. She threw his socks and shoes to him and went to the door to wait. When he had dressed, she followed him out of the house and down the path to the road.

  All the way down to Susan’s neither of them had anything to say. Lorene ran a little ahead, urging Clay to walk faster. The sun was just coming up, bright red, and the color hurt Clay’s eyes. He squinted until he could barely see anything ahead.

  At the cabin door, Clay called Susan. The Negro woman opened it at once. She had been watching them from the window all the way down.

  “Where’s Vearl?” Clay said.

  “Vearl’s in here asleep,” Susan said. “Howdy, Miss Lorene. I sure am glad to see you again, Miss Lorene.”

  “How are you, Susan?” Lorene said, going to the door. “Get Vearl up right away. I can’t wait to see him.”

  “Your little boy has got to be real big, Miss Lorene,” Susan told her. “He grows just like a radish, he’s that quick about growing.”

  They all went inside. The four children of Susan’s were up and crowding into a corner. They shivered in the early morning air, clinging to the quilts they held around their bare bodies. Vearl was sound asleep in Susan and George’s bed.

  Lorene ran and picked him up in her arms, hugging him to her breast and kissing him frantically. She could hardly believe her own eyes; he had grown a lot in a year and a half. He was getting to be a big boy now.

  “Vearl! Vearl! Don’t you know Mother? This is Mother, Vearl!”

  He woke up and started to cry.

  “I’m going to take him up to the house now, Susan,” she told her.

  Susan followed her to the door.

  “Miss Lorene, do you aim to take him away?”

  Lorene did not answer her.

  “It would break my heart to see the little fellow go now,” Susan said, unashamed of the tears that fell from her eyes.

  Lorene ran out into the yard and started up the road with Vearl holding her tightly around the neck. She did not hear anything that Susan said.

  When Clay and Lorene reached the middle of the road, Vearl was wide awake. He looked at Lorene strangely, struggling to get away from her.

  “Don’t you know me, Vearl?” she asked fearfully, kissing his face and arms. “Don’t you remember Mother? This is Mother, Vearl! Look at me!”

  “He’s got pretty wild,” Clay said. “In another month or two he would be as scary as a rabbit. Couldn’t nobody catch him, ’less it was Susan.”

  Lorene held him tightly in her arms. He was heavy, and the dust in the road was deep, but she did not mind. She held Vearl as though she would never turn him loose again as long as she lived.

  “This is Mother, Vearl. Don’t you remember Mother?”

  “We’d never have caught him if we hadn’t got him while he was asleep,” Clay said, walking fast in order to keep up. “He’s a little wild-cat.”

  “Mother sure is glad to see you, Vearl. I thought I’d never get back to see you. Did you miss Mother?”

  “Where’ve you been,” he asked her.

  “Down in Florida, Vearl.”

  “That’s where the oranges grow. I’ve seen them.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Just lots and lots of them grow down there, Vearl.”

  “Did you bring me some?”

  “I’ll get you some in the store in McGuffin, Vearl,” she said. “I couldn’t carry any with me. They are too heavy to carry all the way here.”

  “Danny and Jim’s poppa brought them some from Florida,” Vearl said.

  Lorene glanced at Clay.

  “Those are some of the pickaninnies up the road a little way,” he told her. He knew she would not know any of the Negroes living up there. “Pete drives an orange truck. He goes down to Florida for a load of oranges and tangerines for Ralph Stone sometimes.”

  They hurried the rest of the way in silence, and when they reached the gate, they saw Semon Dye standing on the front porch. He motioned to them to hurry.

  “Dene’s got breakfast ready and waiting,” he said. Without waiting for them, he went through the hall to the kitchen.

  There was a chair for Vearl, which Dene placed at the table, but Lorene insisted on holding him on her lap. He ate his grits and drank his coffee hungrily, unmindful of anyone in the room. Lorene did not begin to eat until he had finished.

  “Give me some more coffee,” he told Clay.

  Clay went to the stove for the pot and filled his cup. Clay had finished eating, and he did not sit down again.

  “Here’s this bottle of medicine I got for him in McGuffin,” he said, taking the dusty bottle from the shelf and setting it on the table in front of Lorene. I’ve never got around to giving it to him yet.”

  Lorene looked at the bottle a moment and set it aside. Vearl reached for it, but she put it beyond his reach.

  “You’d better take him to the doctor in town,” she said.

  “I’ve been aiming to do that,” Clay said.

  “Go and get ready to take him now.”

  “Now? Today?”

  “Of course. Vearl needs a doctor right away. I can tell.”

  “I don’t know about taking him today,” Clay protested. “I hadn’t thought about doing that. Wouldn’t tomorrow do just as well?”

  “I mean right now,” Lorene told him emphatically. “Vearl needs to see the doctor before it’s too late to do any good.”

  Clay went out on the back porch and got a drink from the bucket on the stand. He spat out a mouthful before he swallowed any. Then he went down the steps towards the barn where his car was standing under the shed. He knew there was no use in trying to argue with Lorene after she had made up her mind that something was to be done. He had never succeeded in bettering her in any argument.

  The car started up without any trouble, and he backed it out and turned around in the yard. He waited for Lorene to bring Vearl out and put him in the seat beside him.

  Lorene finished washing Vearl’s face and hands on the back porch. She combed and parted his hair, and buttoned all the buttons on his clothes.

  “I don’t reckon tomorrow would do just as well, would it?” Clay said. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I like to go to town a lots better on Saturdays than any other time.”

  Lorene did not answer him. She placed Vearl on the seat beside Clay and closed the door. When they were ready to go, she leaned over and kissed him good-by.

  “Take him to the doctor and have him treated, Clay,” she instructed. “If you don’t, I don’t know what I won’t do to you. Vearl needs to see a doctor right away.”

  Clay nodded glumly and drove off. He did not look back. Lorene went as far as the front gate to watch them, and when they had passed from sight down the road, she walked slowly back to the house.

  Semon was waiting for her.

  “I wonder where Tom is,” he said. “He promised to come back today.”

  “I don’t care where Tom Rhodes is, now or any other time,” Lorene said curtly.

  She sat down on the porch and looked
down the road in the direction in which Clay and Vearl had gone.

  Semon sat silently for a while, waiting until she was in a better mood. Presently she turned back to look at the magnolia tree at the fence.

  “Tom said he was coming,” Semon began again. “If he said he was, he ought to keep his word.”

  “He’ll forget about it,” she told him. “I know Tom Rhodes. You can’t depend on him too much.”

  “You didn’t know him before you left and went away, did you?”

  “A little.”

  “He acted like he was real friendly with you yesterday. I thought you might know him pretty well.”

  “I used to know a lot of men in Rocky Comfort before I went to Jacksonville over a year ago. Tom was one of them.” She was silent a moment. “Tom was the first one I knew.”

  “I’ve been thinking that maybe you’d like to ride back with me,” Semon suggested, moving his chair closer. “Next Monday morning I’m leaving for South Georgia, and I wouldn’t mind going all the way to Florida. That is, if you’re going my way.”

  “I wouldn’t like to go off with you and get into trouble,” Lorene said. “How do I know about that?”

  “I’d see after that part,” Semon promised, pulling his chair still closer. “I’ll take you to Jacksonville. I’ve been thinking that maybe I ought to go to Florida. The Lord’s been talking to me about going down there, but I’ve put it off and put it off till I’m almost ashamed to think about it now. But I’ve made up my mind to go Monday.”

  “All right,” Lorene said. “I’ll go with you Monday.”

  Semon leaned forward and put his hand on the back of her chair.

  “Maybe we could stop off along the way a little,” he suggested.

  “What for?”

  “Well, just to stop and break the journey. We could stay a day or two along the way, and still get there soon enough.”

  “That would cost a lot, staying at a hotel.”

  “I figured that maybe we can make expenses without much trouble.”

  “How?”

  “I could sort of speak of you to a few people and get them interested.”

  “I see,” she said, nodding. “That’s all right with me, just as long as everything is split fifty-fifty. But if you hold out on me, there’s going to be hell to pay. I’ll make it hot for you, Semon Dye, if you don’t split even. I don’t take chances with men like you. It’s going to be businesslike.”

  Semon removed his hand from the chair and sat up erect, nodding in agreement.

  “That’s fair enough.”

  “Do you know how to go about it without getting into trouble? I don’t want to get thirty days in some little cross-roads jail in South Georgia.”

  “I know my way around pretty well,” Semon assured her. “I’ve had a little experience that way one time or another. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Lorene regarded him for several moments.

  “Look here,” she said severely, looking him straight in the eyes. “You talk like you do know your way around.”

  “I’ve had a little experience,” he said. “A little.”

  “That’s how I had you figured out.”

  He leaned forward once more, placing his arm over the back of her chair and lowering his head close to hers.

  “I’ve been thinking that maybe we can get started right here before Monday. If Tom Rhodes comes down here today, we ought to be able to get a little money out of him.” He waited to see what effect that had on her. “He looks like the kind of fellow who would pay his way.”

  “You’ve picked the wrong one there,” Lorene laughed. “Tom wouldn’t pay money. He used to throw me down for nothing when I lived here. No, Tom wouldn’t start paying now.”

  Semon was not through.

  “There’s Clay,” Semon intimated. “What’s wrong with trying him?”

  Lorene laughed at him.

  “That’s silly. Clay wouldn’t, either. It’s a crazy idea of yours to think Clay would. I used to be married to him. Why should he?”

  Semon turned to contemplate the magnolia tree in front of the house. After a while he turned back to Lorene.

  “I think I can work it,” he stated. “If Tom Rhodes comes down here with that jug of his again, it ought to work out as slick as grease.”

  She turned suddenly and looked Semon straight in the eyes. A faint smile came to her lips. She knew men who planned just as he did, but none of them had worked in a guise like Semon’s.

  “What are you, anyway?” she demanded. “Are you a preacher or a pimp?”

  Semon looked offended. He sat up and glared down at her angrily.

  “I’m a man of God,” he said sternly. “And don’t you forget it, either.”

  “You get him to agree, and I’ll do my part,” she said at last. “But it looks to me like you’re crazy. Trying it with Clay won’t work. He wouldn’t give you a dime.”

  “We’ll see, we’ll see,” Semon said. “You do just like I tell you, and we’ll see.”

  He got up and stood beside her chair, looking down at Lorene and contemplating her.

  “I’m going to take a little walk up the road,” he announced. “I might see Tom Rhodes up that way.”

  Chapter IX

  IT WAS A HOT and tiresome walk through the sand and dust to the house where Tom Rhodes lived. Semon had to stop several times to rest beside the road. At last he got within sight of the place, and by that time he was dusty and short of wind. He had to take off his coat half way there, and he swung it at his side trying to fan the burning heat away.

  There was no one to be seen at Tom’s house when he first got there. As he went towards the barn, however, he saw a Negro man shucking corn in the door of the crib. He called the man to him.

  While the colored man was shuffling towards him, Semon found shade under a willow. The heat was coming down with more intensity than ever, and he was not accustomed to walking in the hot sun.

  “Where’s Mr. Tom?” he asked the Negro.

  “He’s out around the barn somewhere. Do you want to see Mr. Tom?”

  Semon nodded wearily, fanning himself with his wide-brimmed black hat.

  The man went off towards the barn, stirring up the dust with his wide-soled shoes. He was gone for several minutes. When he came back into sight, he pointed his hand at Semon. Tom came around the corner of the barn a moment later.

  “I was afraid you’d forget your promise,” Semon said.

  “What promise?”

  “That you were going to bring another jug down to Horey’s house.”

  “I’ll be doggone,” Tom said, coming into the shade. “Did I say that? I must have forgot all about it.”

  “I thought you might. That’s why I walked up.”

  “You’re hell on Georgia dew, now, aint you, preacher?” Tom laughed. His red face shook with mirth. “You’re the drinkingest preacher I ever saw in all my life.”

  “Corn whisky is a man’s drink,” Semon said. “And I’m a man. I reckon that’s why I like it so much.”

  “You just wait till I send for some,” Tom told him, “It won’t take long to get it.”

  He walked off immediately, calling the Negro. Semon sat heavily on the ground, leaning back against the willow and fanning himself in the shade.

  Tom came back, urging Semon to get up.

  “We’ll get in the car and be ready to leave as soon as that darky gets back. It won’t take him long. He’s only got to go down to the cow shed in the pasture a little way.”

  Semon pushed himself to his feet and followed Tom to the barn, where the automobile was standing in the sun. They got in and Tom started the motor.

  “Make much time with Lorene last night?” Tom asked, nudging Semon with his elbow. “It didn’t use to take long to do that. Not after she made up her mind to leave, anyway. But I don’t reckon she’s changed much in a year or two. She still looks the same to me.”

  Semon understood then that Lorene knew what
she was talking about when she had said that Tom would not fall into their scheme. Semon set that idea definitely aside.

  Frank, the colored man, brought the jug and set it in the back of the car. He had spilled a little of the liquor on the outside when he had filled it hurriedly from the keg, and the fumes came up like flame out of the rear seat. Semon sniffed the odor greedily. He was ready to go back to the Horey place.

  The car made good time through the deep sand. Tom did not bother to slow down when he came to an unusually deep bed of sand; he opened the throttle wider. Once the car leaped almost over the ditch, but Tom did not slacken his rate of speed. He kept on going, sometimes not even looking at the road ahead. Semon was relieved when they reached Clay Horey’s.

  “Are you aiming to preach at the schoolhouse Sunday?” Tom asked him as they stepped out of the car.

  “I am, I am,” Semon stated resolutely.

  “What are you aiming to preach about?”

  “Oh, various things,” Semon said. “This, that, and the other.”

  “I reckon you’ve got such a lot of sermons all made out that all you have to do is just call them up, and they’re all ready to be said.”

  “That’s right,” Semon replied shortly, watching the jug as it was lifted out of the back seat.

  Tom held up the gallon jug, shaking it slightly.

  “The drinks are on me, preacher. Just help yourself.”

  Semon pushed his finger through the glass handle and drew the jug closer.

  “I’ll down my share,” he said; “and there’s enough for others who like it, too. Everybody ought to get his fill today.”

  “There’s more where that comes from. And more in the making. I never let myself run short this time of the year.”

  While they were drinking, they saw Lorene run out on the porch and look down the road. A moment later she was running down the path towards them, and they turned and saw Clay coming up the road from McGuffin.

  “Here comes Clay back now,” Semon said, watching Lorene.

  “It didn’t take him long,” Tom said; “but I reckon he got tired of loafing around town on a week-day. If it was Saturday he wouldn’t have left McGuffin till midnight.”

  Clay turned into the yard and drove towards the barn without speaking to them. He looked as if he were in a hurry to get under the shed.