Only Killers and Thieves(70)

Tommy watched the column snaking on ahead, following the reverend’s tracks. A feral band of men, and Billy as wild as any of them, his shirt flapping open and his hat tilted back and his hand resting on the revolver at his side. Tommy didn’t know him, not after last night, not after what he’d done. And this morning, shooting that native . . . his mind wasn’t his own anymore, he’d been twisted, twisted by Sullivan and Noone.

Noone—Tommy watched him at the front of the line, shoulders back, paling-straight in the saddle, not even so much as a twitch. While the others fidgeted and drank and spat and smoked, Noone simply rode, studying the horizon with those eyes Tommy had seen chalk-white in the darkness, as his hand crept over Kala’s skin.

Tommy winced at the thought of it, set his jaw, nudged Beau forward along the line. As he passed, Billy asked him, “What you doing?” but Tommy didn’t look across, then kept his head down as Sullivan shouted, “Watch out, fellas, here he comes! Tommy the nigger hunter and his pickaninny bride!”

He passed by the troopers. Felt them stare at him one by one. He glanced only at Rabbit, exchanged a brief nod, the beginnings of a smile on the young trooper’s face before Tommy looked away. He was always bloody smiling. Couldn’t be happier, it seemed. Like this was all good fun to him, one big bloody game.

Tommy drew alongside Noone. Sullivan yelled another catcall. Noone didn’t look at Tommy but kept his eyes on the horizon as he spoke: “The rich have plenty money but very little class. Have you noticed that, young man?”

He nodded hesitantly. Behind him in the saddle he felt Kala squirm.

“You want to talk about this morning? About your father, maybe?”

“Kala,” Tommy croaked. He cleared his throat. “The girl.”

“I see. Well?”

“What’ll happen to her? The same as the other one in them rocks?”

“You miss nothing, do you, boy? Did your brother notice, I wonder? Did John?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me something, do you smell that? The air is different today, no?”

“I thought lightning. Or gunpowder, I’m not sure.”

“Very good. Look over there.” He pointed north. Far beyond the curve of the horizon the sky was gray and full. “That’s a bushfire, traveling north and east, and quickly, a mile a minute, I would say. You have a sense for these things, Tommy. It’s a skill. You should use it to your own gain. Also, there is rain coming. Can you feel the change in the air? To a black it is intuitive, as obvious as night and day. It must become like that to you.”

“For what?”

“For you to make something of yourself out here. You would become a fine officer one day, I’m sure enough of that.”

Tommy scoffed a short laugh, but a redness crept into his cheeks and neck.

“Come now, Tommy. You are without prospects, without the makings of a life. On your little farm you’d be lucky to last a year, and though you could probably scratch a living as a station hand somewhere—”

“Billy says Mr. Sullivan’ll set us on.”

“John has his own reasons for making you his boy. But do you want to end up like your father? I’m curious—why aren’t you asking about him?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Alright, then,” Noone said, sighing. “What about this girl?”

“I already said—what’ll happen to her when you’re done?”

Noone swayed his head slightly, like scales tilting side to side.

“Sell her, I’d imagine. They fetch a fair price at her age.”

“Sell her as what?”

“Housegirl, most likely, she’s young enough to be taught. There’s always the cane fields but they prefer island negroes up there. Cannibals, I’ve heard it said.”

“Couldn’t we just . . . let her go?”

Noone tutted disapprovingly. Clicked his tongue behind his teeth.

“Only once we’re done, I mean. Once the timing’s right.”

“Were you not listening to me this morning? She’s a breeder, Tommy. The future of her race is right there between her legs. We must appropriate her, domesticate her, sever the bloodline. Remember Darwin: a species adapts or it dies. We must not allow them to adapt. If we take their land, their women, kill their men, sooner or later they will simply expire. It is science. A most fascinating field.”

He said nothing more. His gaze rested on Tommy, then shifted to the horizon again. The land gently inclining now, rising to the north. Tommy rode at his side. So many things in his mind and he could say not one. But then to imagine Kala as a housegirl somewhere—pinafored and bonneted, with food and shelter and a bed—didn’t seem so bad at all. Better than her lying discarded in a ditch, after a half dozen men had done with her whatever they pleased.

“Was there something else, Tommy? Your father maybe?”

“Alright—what of him?”

“You weren’t surprised by what I said? By the kind of man he was?”

“What’s to say I believe you?”

“Well, do you? Did he tell you about his past?”

“You didn’t even know him. The two of you never met.”

“True. Even so, it must be of concern, what you came from—don’t you worry you’re cast in the same mold?”