Love and War

Just at daylight, he stole back in, whispered her name, started when she sat up, wide awake. From the raw look of her cheeks, he knew she had gotten little sleep.

He held out his hand. 'I'm sorry.'

They embraced, dismissed the quarrel, and over breakfast she said yes, all right, she'd close up the place and travel to Richmond before the week was out if he could get her a pass. He promised he would. He wrote directions to Orry and Madeline's and went over them with her. Things were all right again. Superficially. For a man and woman to fall in love in times like these was folly, and each had acknowledged it.

Later that morning, he prepared to leave. 'I'll stop in Richmond and tell them you'll be coming.'

They were standing in the dooryard. She put her arms around him, kissed him, and said, 'I love you, Charles Main. You must not worry about me.'

'Oh, no, never. And Old Abe will raise the Stars and Bars in Atlanta tomorrow.'

He mounted, waved, and cantered to the road. After he had gone a half mile he reined in to look back, but a rattling column of caissons raised dust and forced him to the shoulder. He could see only sweating horses and grinding wheels. At last the column passed. The dooryard was empty.

When he returned to the brigade in Sussex County, he lied to Ab, saying the visit had been a fine one.

75

'Miss Jane, I have got to confess —'

He had walked her to the stoop of her cabin in the dusk, tightening up his nerve along the way. She smiled to encourage him.

'I love you. I pray for the day I'm a free man and can ask for your hand.'

He had flirted with the declaration before but never said it outright. The words made her warm and happy. She looked at Andy against a background of cabins and overhanging trees and mist rolling in from the river to fill the spaces between. The hidden sun lit the mist to a dusty rose color. Softly, she said, 'The day will come. When it does, I'll be proud to say yes.'

He clapped his hands. 'Great God! I'd kiss you if there weren't so many people watching.'

Laughing, too, she said, 'I don't see anyone.' She pecked his cheek and ran inside. She leaned against the door, clasping her hands against the cleft of her breast. 'Oh, my. Oh, my.'

Then the smell assaulted her. The smell of a dirty body and spirits. It wrenched her mind, gripped her attention. He was lounging against the whitewashed wall, his eyes bleary. Where had he gotten whiskey? Stolen it from the house?

'How dare you sneak in here, Cuffey. Get out.'

He didn't move. Giving her a sly smile, he reached down and fingered himself. 'I heard what that nigger said. He loves you.' The dark brown hand loosened one button after another until he could show her what was underneath. 'He can't do it near as good as me.'

'You drunken, foul-minded —'

Cuffey let go of himself and ran at her. Jane cried out and groped for the door latch. He caught her shoulder, yanking her so hard she stumbled. Then someone struck the other side of the door, driving her over to the other wall. She hit with a jolt, dazed, not seeing the door crash back or Andy peering in. Anxious blacks crowded the little porch.

Cuffey said, 'Shut that door, nigger. Go do what you do bes' — kiss ol' Meek's backside.'

Andy quickly took it in: Jane slumped by the wall, bracing herself with her hands, Cuffey stuffing his dangling organ back into his pants. Andy tilted his head downward slightly and walked into the cabin.

Cuffey picked up an old stool and swept it in an arc, striking Andy's head. One leg of the stool broke; somehow the splintered end drew blood from Andy's temple. The blood streamed into his eye as he jumped at Cuffey and aimed a powerful but mistimed punch. Cuffey easily avoided it, then jabbed at Andy's eye with the splintered leg.

'Let him be. Wait for help,' Jane pleaded. If Andy heard, he paid no attention. He walked forward like a soldier in a skirmish line, upright, scared, but never wavering. He laced his hands together to create a double fist. Cuffey kicked him between the legs.

Andy doubled over, letting out a clenched, hurt sound. But he stayed on his feet. He lifted his joined hands and struck Cuffey where his neck met his left shoulder, a sideways blow that shot Cuffey against the wall and made him grunt explosively.

'You been begging somebody to do this,' Andy said, looming over the other man, pounding downward with his joined hands. He slammed the top of Cuffey's head. This time Cuffey yelled. Andy began to hammer him like a nail, pushing him down to a crouch, then to his knees, working in sideways blows to the face for good measure. Cuffey's ear bled.

'Watch out, Andy, Mist' Meek comin',' someone called from the street. Jane stood, saw the blacks on the porch disappear and the overseer stride into view, pulling a pistol from his wide belt.

'Who's fighting in here?'

'Cuffey and Andy,' a woman answered, just as Andy raised Cuffey by the front of his soiled shirt. Blood leaked from Cuffey's nose as well as his ear. He blew the blood and mucus into Andy's face.

'I kill you, nigger. You an' everybody on this place.'

'Let him go, Andy,' Meek ordered from the doorway. Andy turned toward the overseer. The blood from his temple blurred his vision a little. Cuffey saw his chance and gave his adversary a shove.

Andy staggered, thrown back against the overseer. Cuffey tore down the flour-sack curtains Jane had tacked over the back window. He flipped one leg over the sill. 'Give me room to shoot,' Meek shouted, pushing Andy.

Cuffey grabbed Jane and swung her into the line of fire. Meek jerked the pistol upward, and Cuffey dropped down outside the window. He bolted away into rose mist that was deepening to gray.

'Stop, nigger,' Meek commanded, discharging one round. Cuffey disappeared behind a live oak. The mist stirred and settled.

Meek swore an uncharacteristic oath. 'Andy, what happened?'

'I was outside and — I heard Jane cry out.' The words were labored; he was still breathing hard.

'I came inside and found him hiding here,' Jane said. 'He said dirty things to me, then unbuttoned his trousers.'

The listeners outside, especially the women, expostulated and groaned. Still angry at losing the culprit, Meek snorted, 'If we gelded all you bucks, things'd be a sight more peaceful.'

Andy glared: 'Listen here —'

The overseer was too mad to pay much attention. And just then a voice rolled out of the deep rose mist behind the cabin.

'I'll kill ever one of you on this place, you hear me?'

'Get some men,' Meek said to Andy. 'Eight or ten at least. It's a bad night to chase runaways, but we're going to catch that one. Then I'm going to sell him off.'

The pursuit ended three hours later, when the mist had become fog. By the light of a fatwood torch he was carrying, Andy reported the failure to Jane. 'I 'spect he's gone for good. Toward Beaufort, most likely.'

'Good riddance,' she said. The dank night and the memory of Cuffey's wild face made her uneasy. She knew what kind of life Cuffey had led. His hatreds — Mont Royal, its owners, the more docile slaves — were understandable. Yet she nurtured the same hostilities and so did Andy, and neither had been ruined by them.

'Maybe I ought to keep watch here on the porch till morning,' he suggested.

'He won't come back.'

'You heard what he yelled after he jumped out the window.'

'Cuffey's been a braggart ever since I've known him. We'll never see him again.'

'Surely hope you're right. Well — good night, then.'

'Good night, Andy.' She touched his face below the strip of linen tied around his head to protect the clotted cut. 'You're a brave man. I meant what I said about being proud to marry you.'