the train—it was the Special for Washington and New York, the cannonball wafting the rich women in diamonds and the men with dollar cigars in suave and insulate transmigration across the earth—already moving again so that Sam had only time to wave back at us from the step, diminishing eastward behind the short staccato puffs and the long whistle blasts and at last the red diminishing twin lamps, and the two women standing among the grips and bags on the vacant cinders, Miss Reba bold and handsome and chic and Minnie beside her looking like death.
'We've had trouble,' Miss Reba said. 'Where's the hotel?' We went there. Now, in the lighted lobby, we could see Minnie. Her face was not like death. Death is peaceful. What Minnie's fixed close-lipped brooding face boded was not peaceful and it wasn't boded at her either.
'Yes, Mrs Binford,' the clerk said. 'We have special quarters for servants, with their own dining room—'
'Keep them,' Miss Reba said. 'I said a cot in my room. I want her with me. We'll wait in the parlor while you make it up. Where is it?' But she had already located the ladies' parlor, we following. 'Where is he?' she said.
'Where is who?' Everbe said.
'You know who,' Miss Reba said. And suddenly I knew who, and that in another moment I would know why. But I didn't have time. Miss Reba sat down. 'Sit down,' she told Minnie. But Minnie didn't move. 'All right,' Miss Reba said. 'Tell them.' Minnie smiled at us. It was ghastly: a frantic predatory rictus, an anguished ravening gash out of which the beautiful and matchless teeth arched outward to the black orifice where the gold one had been; I knew now why Otis had fled Parsham even though he had had to do it on foot; oh yes, at that moment fifty-six years ago I was one with you now in your shocked and horrified unbelief, until Minnie and Miss Reba told us.
'It was him!' Minnie said. 'I know it was him! He taken it while I was asleep!'
'Hell fire,' Boon said. 'Somebody stole a tooth out of your mouth and you didn't even know it?'
'God damn it, listen,' Miss Reba said. 'Minnie had that tooth made that way, so she could put it in and take it out—worked extra and scrimped and saved for—how many years was it, Minnie? three, wasn't it?—until she had enough money to have her own tooth took out and that God damned gold one put in. Oh sure, I tried my best to talk her out of it—ruin that set of natural teeth that anybody else would give a thousand dollars apiece, and anything else she had too; not to mention all the extra it cost her to have it made so she could take it out when she ate —'
'Took it out when she ate?' Boon said. 'What the hell is she saving her teeth for?'
'I wanted that tooth a long time,' Minnie said, 'and I worked and saved to get it, extra work. I aint going to have it all messed up with no spit-mixed something to eat.'
'So she would take it out when she ate.' Miss Reba said, 'and put it right there in front of her plate where she could see it, not only watch it but enjoy it too while she was eating. But that wasn't the way he got it; she says she
nut it Kor-t-
Crossing.' So we went across to the depot, not far, the three of us walking together, mutual overnight hotel guests. I mean we—they—were not fighting now; we— they—could even have talked, conversed, equable and inconsequential. Everbe would have, only Boon would need to speak first. Not far: merely to cross the tracks to reach the platform, the train already in sight now, the two of them (Boon and Everbe) shackled yet estranged, alien yet indissoluble, confounded yet untwainable by no more than what Boon thought was a whim: who (Boon) for all his years was barely older than me and didn't even know that women no more have whims than they have doubts or illusions or prostate troubles; the train, the engine passing us in hissing thunder, sparks flying from the brake shoes; it was the long one, the big one, the cannonball, the Special: the baggage cars, the half Jim Crow smoker, then the day coaches and the endless pullmans, the dining car at the end, slowing; it was Sam Caldwell's train and if Everbe and Otis had travelled to Parsham in the caboose of a scheduled through freight, Miss Reba would be in a drawing room, if indeed she was not in the president's private car; the train stopping at last though still no vestibule opened, no white-jacketed porter nor conductor, though certainly Sam would have been watching for us; until Boon said, 'Hell. The smoker,' and began to run. Then we all saw them, far ahead: Sam Caldwell in his uniform on the cinders helping Miss Reba down, someone—another woman—following her, and not from the smoking car at all but from the Jim Crow half of it where Negroes travelled; the train—it was the Special for Washington and New York, the oannonball wafting the rich women in diamonds and the men with dollar cigars in suave and insulate transmigration across the earth—already moving again so that Sam had only tune to wave back at us from the step, diminishing eastward behind the short staccato puffs and the long whistle blasts and at last the red diminishing twin lamps, and the two women standing among the grips and bags on the vacant cinders, Miss Reba bold and handsome and chic and Minnie beside her looking like death.
'We've had trouble,' Miss Reba said. 'Where's the hotel?' We went there. Now, in the lighted lobby, we could see Minnie. Her face was not like death. Death is peaceful. What Minnie's fixed close-lipped brooding face boded was not peaceful and it wasn't boded at her either. The clerk came. 'I'm Mrs Binford,' Miss Reba said. 'You got my wire about a cot in my room for my maid?'
'Yes, Mrs Binford,' the clerk said. 'We have special quarters for servants, with their own dining room—
'Keep them,' Miss Reba said. 'I said a cot in my room. I want her with me. We'll wait in the parlor while you make it up. Where is it?' But she had already located the ladies' parlor, we following. 'Where is he?' she said.
'Where is who?' Everbe said.
'You know who,' Miss Reba said. And suddenly I knew who, and that in another moment I would know why. But I didn't have time. Miss Reba sat down. 'Sit down,' she told Minnie. But Minnie didn't move. 'All right,' Miss Reba said. 'Tell them.' Minnie smiled at us. It was ghastly: a frantic predatory rictus, an anguished ravening gash out of which the beautiful and matchless teeth arched outward to the black orifice where the gold one had been; I knew now why Otis had fled Parsham even though he had had to do it on foot; oh yes, at that moment fifty-six years ago I was one with you now in your shocked and horrified unbelief, until Minnie and Miss Reba told us.
'It was him!' Minnie said. 'I know it was him! He taken it while I was asleep!'
'Hell fire,' Boon said. 'Somebody stole a tooth out of your mouth and you didn't even know it?'
'God damn it, listen,' Miss Reba said. 'Minnie had that tooth made that way, so she could put it in and take it out—worked extra and scrimped and saved for—how many years was it, Minnie? three, wasn't it?—until she had enough money to have her own tooth took out and that God damned gold one put in. Oh sure, I tried my best to talk her out of it—ruin that set of natural teeth that anybody else would give a thousand dollars apiece, and anything
