The Land Page 8

  “What they do?”

  “Mainly they talk about our daddy and say how our whole family cotton to Negroes.” Robert moved away from me then, and though I hated to admit it, he seemed embarrassed.

  “You let them just talk about our daddy?” I questioned.

  Robert turned quickly. “Course not! Gotten into more than one fight ’cause of what they said!”

  Now it was I who studied him. “You tell our daddy?”

  “What for? He’d figure for me to take care of the Waverlys myself, just like you had to do that time about Mitchell and those other boys. Thing is, though, that school is hard enough as it is, and it just makes things worse for them to go around spreading their stories the way they do.”

  “I suppose things aren’t all that good for either one of us right now,” I said.

  Robert agreed. “Wish we could’ve both just stayed here.”

  “I know. But, Robert . . . I don’t figure that’ll ever be again.”

  I took Robert’s advice about Jessie Pinter, and when I went back to Macon, I told her the story Robert had told me. I told her stories too that I hadn’t heard from Robert, but were stories that were spoken in low voices in the fields and around late-night fires. I told that girl Jessie that if she thought of me as her friend, then she needed just to leave me alone. I was there to study and learn, not there to be friends with anybody. She listened to me and turned away, and made a point from then on of speaking to me only when necessary.

  During this time I was staying in Macon, I got to go home about once every couple of months. My daddy, George, or Hammond, if they were home, or sometimes a field hand who worked my daddy’s land, would come to get me. That first year I was away, I was always looking forward to going home because I was so homesick. My daddy always tried to arrange for Robert and me to come home at the same time, and when we saw each other, we would talk the night away, filling each other in on all that was happening in our lives. When the summertime came after the first year, Robert got to spend the whole summer at home, but I could only stay a few days at a time because of my apprenticing. But then there came a long string of weeks that I couldn’t go home at all. Josiah Pinter said there was too much work to be done, and he needed me. He wrote my daddy and said he’d bring me down himself as soon as the work let up. Well, Josiah Pinter did take me home, but by the time he did, Robert had gone back to school, and I didn’t hear from him regular like I had the school year before. He wrote only once, a short letter, and said his schoolwork kept him busy. When I finally did see Robert again, he filled me in on the Waverlys. “You know they lost their mama a month or so back.”

  “Yeah?”

  “They were out of school for a few weeks.”

  “Well, you weren’t writing, so I didn’t know. Were they any better when they came back?”

  “’Bout the same.”

  “Then they’re still giving you a hard time.”

  “Oh, they’re not so bad,” said Robert.

  “What do you mean, not so bad? What’s not so bad about them?”

  “Well . . . I mean they just regular fellas.”

  “Regular fellas?” I stared at my brother, then murmured, “Uh-huh,” in a way we both understood. Robert looked at me too and turned away. We said no more about the Waverlys.

  The next time I got to go home, it was Christmas Eve and Josiah Pinter again took me. My daddy wasn’t on the place when I arrived, but would be coming soon. Cassie and Howard were expected, and George and Hammond too. It was going to be a grand Christmas. I was told Robert was already home. “Well, where is he?” I asked my mama.

  My mama looked at me as if she wasn’t too happy about my asking about Robert. “He went off with them Waverly boys.”

  “Waverly?” I questioned. “Percy and Christian?”

  “They the ones. Came home from school with Robert two days ago.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “Ain’t Robert told you they were coming?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t heard from him for a spell.”

  My mama sighed. “Well, anyways, they here.”

  I was puzzled. “Now, why would he bring them home? He doesn’t even like those boys.”

  “Well . . . things change,” said my mama. “Robert wanted to invite them here, and your daddy thinking on them losing their mama this year, he gone ahead and invited their daddy and that younger boy too. Gonna be a lotta menfolks round here this Christmas.” She looked pointedly at me. “Hope Robert can find time for you.”

  “Now, what you mean by that?”

  My mama started to speak, then turned away to busy herself with something. “Go on and look for him if you want. That’s what’s on your mind.”

  That was what was on my mind, so I left my mama straightaway and went to find Robert. I ended up running into Mitchell instead. “Heard you was comin’ home,” he said.

  “Just got back. How you doing?”

  “Same as always. How long you here for?”

  “Through the New Year.”

  “Well, that’s probably longer than me.”

  “What you mean?”

  “I’m finished with this place. I’m movin’ on.”

  “Yeah?” I said, somewhat surprised. No matter what Mitchell’s and my differences, no matter how my thinking had begun to change over the years, I still figured this land was home to both of us. “So, where you going?”

  Mitchell shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Just figure t’ go.” At that point Mitchell turned, looking a ways off, and I noticed there was a swelling on the side of his face.

  “You been fighting again?” I said, not fearing to speak my mind to Mitchell any longer.

  Mitchell looked back at me. “Could say that.”

  I grinned. “Other fella look worse, I expect.”

  “Naw,” said Mitchell. “I ain’t even hit him.”

  I didn’t say anything to that. Mitchell looked at me in an understanding. It was no secret Willie Thomas, too often to my figuring, took a whip to Mitchell. He was known to put a whip to his other seven children as well, and even to his wife. Though I had no love for Mitchell, I had asked my daddy once if he could put a stop to Willie’s beatings, but my daddy said no. “That’s their business,” he said. “Before the war, maybe I would’ve gotten into it, but now I figure I’ve got no place in a man’s private affairs. Willie’s a good worker and I’ve got no quarrel with him. He runs his family and I run mine.”

  “Well, I’ve got t’ get goin’,” said Mitchell, turning his back to me.

  “I don’t see you tomorrow, have a good Christmas.”

  “Yeah . . .” said Mitchell, glancing over his shoulder at me. “You too.”

  When I first started looking for Robert, it was about midday, so I figured Robert and the Waverlys would be back to my daddy’s house for dinner, but they weren’t. My daddy was there now, and Mr. Waverly and Jack were with him. I greeted my daddy, then waited on the veranda for Robert. When dinner was served without him and the other two Waverly boys, I went looking for him again. I finally caught up with him, Christian, and Percy walking on a road off our place headed toward home. They had the Appaloosa with them. The Appaloosa’s head was bent, there was foam on his coat, and he was breathing hard. Christian held the reins. I didn’t even speak to Robert as I hurried over to Appaloosa. “What happened?” I said. I tried to pat the Appaloosa’s head, but he reared back, and Christian dropped the reins. I grabbed them, then, talking softly to the animal, I tried to calm him down. “It’s me, Appaloosa. It’s me, Paul,” I said. I didn’t have any apple wedges in my pocket, so I just backed him away from the others, talked gently to him, stroked him, then took the chance of laying my head and my chest against him so he could feel me breathing as he breathed.

  Christian and Percy laughed. “What the hell are you doing?” Christian asked.

  I ignored them. I closed my eyes, holding the horse’s head against mine. Appaloosa’s breathing was short and hurried at first, but finally it
steadied and calmed.

  The Waverlys were still laughing when I opened my eyes and asked again what happened. When Robert didn’t say anything, Christian spoke up in his stead. “So, Robert, this is the way y’all teach your niggers to greet folks?”

  “I . . . I told you,” said Robert to Christian, “we don’t use that word.”

  “Why not? A nigger by any other name . . . but what the hell! We’re guests here and we’ll try to respect that, won’t we, Percy?”

  “Most certainly,” agreed his brother.

  “Robert,” I said, ignoring the Waverlys, “what’s happened to Appaloosa here?” Now, Robert and I over the years had discussed giving our horse a name, but I loved the sound of the word “Appaloosa” and how it rolled off the lips. I also loved the image of the West and the Appaloosas, and their name had come out of the West. Since the horse was more mine than Robert’s—for Robert had never once mounted the Appaloosa since the day we’d won him on the bet—he had gone along with calling him whatever I chose. So we simply called him Appaloosa. “Robert?” I said, when he said nothing, but then Appaloosa neighed as if to answer my question himself. I turned back to him, patted his sweaty coat, and for the first time saw the blood. I looked again at Robert and the Waverlys. “What’s this?”

  “What you think?” said Percy.

  I bit hard on my lower lip, trying to control my anger. “Looks like he’s been whipped.”

  Percy sneered. “Yeah, what of it?”

  I turned to Robert. “You tell me what happened!”

  “Well . . . nothing, Paul . . . nothing much really,” Robert managed, acting himself a bit skittish.

  “What do you mean, nothing? Who’s been riding him?”

  “I rode him,” answered Christian boastfully. “So did Percy. First time he’s been ridden in a spell by someone knows how.”

  I glared at Christian, then back at Robert with disbelief. “You let them ride Appaloosa?”

  “Well . . . yeah . . . why not? He was theirs once, you know.”

  “Yeah, once! They didn’t know how to ride him then, and they don’t know how to ride him now! Just look at Appaloosa!”

  “Hey!” cried Percy to Robert. “You just going to let him talk to you this way?”

  “I’ll talk to him, you, or your brother any way I please!” I spat out angrily. “What you do to this horse? How could you ride him down this way? Use a whip on him? Robert! How could you be so stupid as to ever let a Waverly ride my Appaloosa?”

  “Your Appaloosa?” said Robert.

  “Stupid?” exclaimed Christian. “Boy, you calling a white man stupid?”

  “You got no need to call me names, Paul!” Robert said sharply.

  “Well, what else you call it?” I shot right back. “Look at this horse!”

  “Robert, you gonna let this boy talk that way to you?” Percy cried again.

  “You don’t do something about this smart-talking white nigger, I will!” vowed Christian.

  Robert didn’t object to the word this time. I took note of that, then turned with Appaloosa and headed off the road into the forest. “Where you going?” Robert demanded.

  “What do you care?” I retorted. “You can’t ride Appaloosa yourself, so I reckon you don’t much care how he’s treated or where he goes.”

  “You leave that horse here!” ordered Robert.

  I stopped and looked back at him. “What for? So you and these two other fools can beat him to death?”

  “That’s it!” cried Christian, and sprang toward me.

  Robert grabbed Christian’s arm, stopping him. “Paul!” he said. “You watch your mouth!”

  I just looked at Robert, then went on with Appaloosa.

  “Paul—don’t you turn your back on me!”

  “Robert Logan, what kind of white man are you?” asked Christian. “You do something about this nigger, or I swear—”

  Robert raced after me and yanked me by my arm. “I said to stop!”

  “You stop!” I said, and jerked away. I glared at Robert; he glared at me. I took them all in with my gaze, then turned once more toward the forest. This time Robert took hold of my arm with his left hand and, with his right, hit me a sharp uppercut to my jaw. I stumbled backward, dropping the reins. I hadn’t expected Robert to hit me. I knew he was mad, and so was I, but we’d been mad at each other before, though not in front of strangers. We’d fought each other before, but not in front of strangers. That’s what made this time different. Always before, we’d put our differences aside and stood together when it came to outsiders. Not now.

  At first Robert seemed stunned that he’d hit me. Then he came at me again with a vengeance and knocked me to the ground with a wild rage, flailing at me. I gathered my senses, rolled him off, and let him have it, brother or not. I was in a rage too, far greater than I’d ever been, more than I had been with Mitchell or R.T. or any of the others. Robert had turned on me, and it was a hurt more than I could bear. I slammed at Robert with a fury.

  The Waverlys pulled me off Robert, and then they began to beat at me themselves, the two of them. All the times I’d had to fight Mitchell came in handy now. Though I was smaller than Christian, I managed a hard punch to both him and Percy, then slipped from their grasp. Holding my stomach with one hand, I grabbed Appaloosa’s reins with the other and dashed into the forest. The Waverlys ran after me, but I knew the forest; they didn’t. I slipped onto hidden trails and left them behind.

  Finally, when I knew I had lost them, I made my way to the creek with Appaloosa. I took him right into the middle of the water and let him drink. When he’d gotten his fill, I took off his saddle and laid it aside on the bank. Then I took off my own bloodied shirt, dipped it in the water, and bathed him down, minding his wounds. “Don’t you worry,” I told him. “I get you back to the barn and put some salve on you, you’ll be good as new.” Appaloosa heard my words and neighed as if he understood. I made sure he had some comfort, then tended to my own wounds.

  By the time I led Appaloosa back to the stables, the sun was setting in a gray winter’s sky. I returned carrying the saddle, with Appaloosa trailing me. My daddy was standing in front of the barn. Mr. Waverly was there too, along with Christian, Percy, and Jack. Robert stood with them. Inside the barn Mitchell and his daddy were tending to the horses. As I neared, I saw that my daddy was tightly holding a strap doubled up in his hand. His knuckles were white.

  My daddy looked at Appaloosa. “What happened to him?”

  “Ask Christian.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  I glanced over at Robert and Christian. “Robert let Christian and Percy ride him, and this is how they rode him.”

  My daddy didn’t even look at the Waverlys; instead, he kept his eyes on Appaloosa and said to me, “He all right?”

  “Yes, sir. Except for his markings where he was beaten. He’s still bleeding.”

  “Then let Willie have him. He’ll fix him up.”

  At the mention of his name, Willie Thomas came quickly from the barn and led the Appaloosa inside. I started to follow, but my daddy stopped me. “No. You stay here.” We both watched Willie Thomas as he checked over the Appaloosa; then my daddy turned again to me. “Get those clothes off,” he said.

  I didn’t know what he meant. “Sir?”

  “Robert here tells me you hit him. Said you hit Percy and Christian too.”

  “They hit me.”

  “I didn’t ask you if they hit you,” said my daddy. “All I’m interested in knowing about is whether or not you hit them.”

  “I hit them,” I admitted frankly. “But they had it coming. Robert let Christian and Percy ride that Appaloosa, and they—”

  My daddy cut me right off. “I don’t even want to hear it. Doesn’t matter about anything else, about what they did. You’ve got to learn, Paul, and you’ve got to learn now, you don’t ever hit a white man. Ever.”

  I stared at my daddy with disbelief and said, “Since when is Robert a man?”


  “As of now,” said my daddy with finality.

  “Then I suppose that makes me a man too,” I declared defiantly.

  “Not a white man,” said my daddy. “You best be remembering, Paul, you’re not white, much as you might look it.”

  “Well, that’s not my fault, is it? That’s yours and my mama’s.”

  “You leave your mama out of this.”

  “You didn’t.”

  There was quiet between us. There was quiet all around us. At the back of the barn I could see Mitchell’s daddy working on Appaloosa, and even that was quiet. Mitchell stood watching me. The Waverlys were watching me too.

  “Paul,” my daddy finally said in a voice tight but quiet-sounding, as if he were holding hard on keeping whatever he was feeling inside, “you keep that smart mouth and you’re going to end up getting yourself killed. You don’t hit a white man and you don’t sass a white man. Now, strip down.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m going to teach you a hard lesson and I’m going to teach it to you right now. You get those clothes off, or I’ll cut right through them.” My daddy said that and unfurled the strap.

  I gestured toward Robert. “What about him? Is he getting a whipping too?”

  “I’m not worrying about Robert right now,” said my daddy. “I’m worrying about you. Now, strip down.”

  I glanced over at the Waverlys standing there, waiting on my whipping. I looked at Robert too, standing there biting at his lip, the cause of it all, and I said to my daddy, “This isn’t fair.”

  “Who said it was about fair?” My daddy’s eyes settled on mine, and I took off the clothes. I stripped bare as they all watched. I stripped bare and felt as I had never felt before, not just naked, but worn and like an old shoe, soleless. My daddy raised his strap, and the strap cut into me good, but I didn’t cry out and I let no tears fall. He let the strap fall again and again across my back, and I just stood there in my nakedness gazing out across the land I had once thought was mine, feeling my humiliation and thinking on the family I had once thought was mine. When my daddy finished whipping on me, I slowly picked up my clothing, set my gaze on Robert one final time, then ran off naked into the woods.