'That's true and I deserve it, too,' Buster said.
'Hear that, Ruby?' Grandpere said. I didn't respond.
'I'm talking to you, child.'
'I heard you, Grandpere,' I said. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand and turned around. 'But I told you, I'm not ready to marry anyone and I'm still in school. I want to be an artist anyway,' I said.
'Hell, you can be an artist. Buster here would buy you all the paint and brushes you'd need for a hundred years, wouldn't ya, Buster?'
'Two hundred,' he said, and laughed.
'See?'
'Grandpere, don't do this,' I pleaded. 'You're embarrassing me.'
'Huh? You're too old for that kind of thing, Ruby. Besides, I can't be around here watchin' over you all day now, can I? Your Grandmere's gone; it's time for you to grow up.'
'She sure looks good and grow'd up to me,' Buster said and wiped his thick tongue over the side of his mouth to scoop in a piece of crawfish that had attached itself to the grizzle of his unshaven face.
'Hear that, Ruby?'
'I don't want to hear that. I don't want to talk about it. I'm not marrying anyone right now,' I cried. I backed away from the sink and from them. 'And especially not Buster,' I added, and charged out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
'Ruby!' Grandpere called.
I paused at the top of the stairway to catch my breath and heard Buster complain.
'So much for your easy arrangements, Jack. You brought me here, got me to buy you this case of beer and she ain't the obedient little lady you promised.'
'She will be,' Grandpere Jack told him. 'I'll see to that.'
'Maybe. You're just lucky I like a girl who has some spirit. It's like breaking a wild horse,' Buster said. Grandpere Jack laughed. 'Tell you what,' Buster said. 'I'll up what I was going to give you by another five hundred if I can test the merchandise first.'
'What'dya mean?' Grandpere asked.
'I don't got to spell it out, do I, Jack? You're just playin' dumb to get me to raise the ante. All right, I'll admit she's special. I'll give you one thousand tomorrow for a night alone with her and then the rest on our wedding day. A woman should be broken in first anyway and I might as well break in my wife myself.'
'A thousand dollars!'
'You got it. What'dya say?'
I held my breath. Tell him to go straight to hell, Grandpere, I whispered.
'Deal,' Grandpere Jack said instead. I could see them shaking hands and then opening another bottle of beer.
I hurried into my room and closed the door. If ever I needed proof that all the stories about Grandpere Jack were true, I just got it, I thought. No matter how drunk he got, no matter how many gambling debts he mounted, he should have some feeling for his own flesh and blood. I was seeing firsthand the sort of ugly and selfish animal Grandpere had become in Grandmere Catherine's eyes. Why didn't I have the courage to obey my promise to her immediately? I thought. Why do I always look for the best in people, even when there's not a hint of any there? All my lessons are to be learned the hard way, I concluded.
Less than an hour or so later, I heard Grandpere come up the stairs. He didn't knock on my door; he shoved it open and stood there glaring in at me. He was fuming so fiercely it looked like smoke might pour out of his red ears.
'Buster's gone,' he said. 'He lost his appetite over your behavior.'
'Good.'
'You ain't gonna be like this, Ruby,' he said, pointing his finger at me. 'Your Grandmere Catherine spoiled you, probably fillin' you with all sorts of dreams about your artwork and tellin' you you're goin' to be some sort of fancy city lady, but you're just another Cajun girl, prettier than most, admit; but still a Cajun girl who should thank her lucky stars a man as rich as Buster Trahaw's taken interest in her.
'Now, instead of being grateful, what do you do? You make me look like a fool,' he said.
'You are a fool, Grandpere,' I retorted. His face turned crimson. I sat up in my bed. 'But worse, you're a selfish man who would sell his own flesh and blood just to keep himself in whiskey and gambling.'
'You apologize for that, Ruby. You hear.'
'I'm not apologizing, Grandpere. It's you who have years of apologizing to do. You're the one who has to apologize for blackmailing Mr. Tate and selling Paul to him.'
'What? Who told you that?'
'You're the one who has to apologize for arranging the sale of my sister to some Creoles in New Orleans. You broke my mother's heart and Grandmere Catherine's, too,' I accused. He stood there sputtering for a moment.
'That's a lie. All of it, a lie. I did what was necessary to do to save the family name and made a little on the side to help us out,' he protested. 'Catherine just worked you up against me by telling you otherwise and—'
'Just like you're selling me to Buster Trahaw, making a deal with him to come up here tomorrow night,' I said, crying. 'You, my grandfather, someone who should be looking after me, protecting me . . . you, you're nothing more than . . . than the swamp animal Grandmere said you were,' I shouted.
