Part 21 (2/2)
”Now, that's downright dull, son. Say, though, what about 'Isaac Newton'? You heard of him, right? You put that on your piece, and folks'll pay attention to it, even if they don't know who he is or what he did. Most of 'em have heard that name and know he was something.”
And so my piece was published under the name ”Isaac Newton.”
And Mr. Morton, joking, took to calling me ”Sir.”
I heard nothing of Chaney or Samson that evening, and by and by I was so hungry that I couldn't stay anymore but went off to find something to eat for my supper.
Back at the livery stable, I had hidden my case in what had appeared to be a disused trunk of some sort, in which there were dusty bits of harness and a blanket or two. I found it sure enough, but as I was pulling it out, thinking distractedly of Thomas, the Negro man who oversaw the place came up behind me and put his hand on my arm.
I started, set my case down, and turned around.
”Nah, young ma.s.sa, ya cain't sleep heah na mah.” This surprised me, since he hadn't said anything when I'd taken Athens away.
I shook my head, pretending to understand him less than I actually did.
”Got ta be off, ma.s.sa. This is Ma.s.sa Harry's livery. Ain' nabody 'lowed to sleep in da hay. You done it once, but I ain' gonna 'low it agin.”
I croaked, ”I'll help you with the horses.”
”You sick, young ma.s.sa?” He stepped back.
I put my hand to my throat-this was almost a reflex by now, and anyway, croaking was making my throat a little raw. ”No, just hurt myself when I was a baby. I can help you throw out the hay to the animals and clean up. I don't want to get in a room with anybody.”
”Well,” said the man, ”they's plenty o' drunks about.”
I felt in my pocket and pulled out a dollar, but the man turned his head, then said, ”Ma.s.sa Harry don' like me to have no cash money. Ifn he was to find it on me, he'd think I was planning to run for sure.” Then he eyed me closely and said, ”You got a petticoat in your case, theah.”
”I do?” I whispered.
”Well, you done lef' the case, so I spied into it.”
”I don't mind.” But I did, though only because I thought that he would know I was a woman. But he wasn't looking at me at all closely, as a few others had, and he said, ”You got a use fo' dat petticoat?”
”No, not exactly.”
”Well, my gal would love dat thing.”
”How long can I stay, then?” I worked up a pretty loud croak.
”Long as you like, long as you keep out of Ma.s.sa Harry's way. You kin spy him out easy enough, 'cause he weahs an eye patch and leans on a stick. He don' come around much, but he's mad when he do.”
”Why's that?”
”Well, he's mad all the time. Missy says he done got hit on the haid sometime. I don' know.”
”Shall I help you with the horses? I'm fond of horses.”
”Nah. Dat petticoat's enough. I got mah ways heah, an' Ma.s.sa Harry, he got a way o' knowin' ifn I'm workin' enough. He figures if I ain' workin' enough, then I'm plannin'.”
”Don't be planning,” I whispered suddenly.
”I ain' plannin'. Mah gal's up to Lexington. I ain' gonna run from dat gal!”
I didn't know who had urged the man not to plan, whether it was Lidie or Lyman. I said, ”What's your name?”
”Nehemiah.”
”Thank you, Nehemiah. I am L-Mr. Lyman.” I caught myself, because although Thomas would have invited the man, clearly a slave, to call him Thomas, Lyman, of Palmyra, Missouri, would certainly have not. I opened my case and pulled out my petticoat. Nehemiah took it, looked it over, balled it up, and thrust it under his arm with a friendly smile. I smiled back at him, realizing that I understood him readily now; his way of talking just took a little getting used to. He said, ”Nah I'se turnin' in fo de night. You bettah sleep back in da corner theah. Ain' n.o.body gonna see you back theah.” And he went off.
Even though it had been a long day, I sat up in the hay for quite some time, marveling at my new situation and listening to the horses chewing and grunting nearby. In such an unpeaceful place, they made only peaceful sounds.
CHAPTER 21.
Lyman Arquette Finds Success [image]It is a well known fact, that mental excitement tends to weaken the physical system, unless it is counterbalanced by a corresponding increase of exercise and fresh air. - p. 43 THINGS WENT ON in this way for three more days. Each night, I came back to the livery rather late, after Nehemiah had made himself scarce, and in the morning I left with the first light. The angry Master Harry was a man I did not want to run into. Cane, eye patch: meeting such a fellow was not an alluring prospect. I continued to linger at the newspaper office, hoping for another chance to ride Athens, but Mr. Morton had enough articles for his next edition, what with all the news of Lane's army, and so he gave me to Franklin, who taught me to set type. I had the same trouble with setting type that I'd always had with sewing: my fingers were big and clumsy, and the fine work made me fidget and squirm. Franklin, of course, started me on headlines and advertis.e.m.e.nts, lots of white s.p.a.ce and few words. It was tedious, but at least laying the words and letters into the forms backwards meant that I wasn't as aware of what the articles were saying. In fact, setting type was not unlike making tiny st.i.tches-minute and repet.i.tive but aiming for speed. And I had to concentrate, so that the pa.s.sing conversation in the office escaped me, and I fell into contemplating any new life in a rather dreamlike fas.h.i.+on. I was not afraid. Something about the handiwork of it lulled my fears. I knew what they would be if I had them, though-not fears for my safey, nor even fears of discovery, but something more primitive and simple, like vertigo. I could not believe how I had rushed about for those first two days of my manhood: now that I was quiet, I intimidated myself. Existing inside of Lyman Arquette was much harder when all I had to do was grunt and pick type than ever it had been when I had to talk, and ride, and interview, and saunter about upon the street. This was when I almost gave it up-not when I had to exert myself, but when I didn't.
After three days, as July turned into August, I felt time pressing on me, and I resolved to come up with another plan if I was given nothing more to do besides setting type on the following Monday. It was now Friday evening. As I was walking to the livery stable a little earlier than usual, I saw a boy of about my age (as Lyman) with a case of peaches on the back of his wagon. He was selling them to pa.s.sersby for a dime apiece, as much as a meal in some parts of town, but they looked about as bright and peachy as a peach could look, and I reflected that three of them would make supper enough for that night. I handed him my thirty cents, and he told me that for another nickel I could have a fourth, so I put one in my pocket for Nehemiah, should I see him.
I was thinking about Thomas when I turned the next corner, just before the livery, and almost saying to him that I couldn't go on with this, that it would be far better to go back to K.T. and find Frank, when I saw Master Harry, and Master Harry was angry indeed. He had a buggy pulled up by the Nehemiah horse pen, with a team of chestnuts. .h.i.tched to it, and he was sitting on the seat with his wife beside him. Her head was turned down and away, and I could hear him shouting. Well, to tell you the truth, I couldn't resist. I was curious, and so I strolled by as though I had no business with the livery and didn't know Nehemiah at all.
”Boy, I told you them folks owed me for six weeks on them two mules!”
”They tole me they done paid, Ma.s.sa Harry, an' they showed me a paper!”
”They didn't get no paper from me! Cain't you recognize my hand?”
”No, suh. Yes, suh. Well, it did look like yo' hand, suh. I reckon they tricked me, suh-”
Master Harry brandished his stick as if to strike Nehemiah, and his wife gasped, then said, ”Harry, dear! For mercy's sake, not in the public street!”
He turned on her. ”May I strike my property, ma'am, and discipline him?”
”Yes, Harry, but-”
”I said, 'May I discipline my own property, or are we living in Ma.s.sachusetts now?' ”
”Yes, of course, Harry!”
”Well, then.” But he lowered the stick.
”Them Samsons done me out of twelve dollars! That's all your gal's food for a year, Nehemiah.”
”No, suh! She a good gal! She work hard and keep a bright face on, everybody say so, don't she, Missy Sarah?”
”Yes, Nehemiah, but-” The woman cast a fearful glance at the glowering countenance of her husband, which seemed to pulsate with anger and swell around the band that held the eye patch in place. She took a deep breath. ”Nehemiah, of course Master Harry may do as he likes with Josie. You know that.”
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