Varina(67)

Before they reached the wagon, though, Burton came onto the gallery carrying an oil lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. He said, Ease up. Safe to come back, I think.

Inside, a huddle of people crowded around the fire, remnants of two or three families formerly enslaved. A grown man and three grown women and some exhausted and frightened children and two crying babies. And also a greasy blond boy about sixteen.

Ryland held out a stubby pistol for V’s inspection. It rested in his palm hardly weightier than her little suicide shooter.

Ryland said, Not even any live loads in it. I pulled it off that one.

He nodded toward the white boy, who grew less beard than the fuzz on a mullein leaf. Yellow strands of sticky-looking hair drooped across his forehead in front and hung limp to his shoulders in back. Everything about him glowed pallid and shiny. He wore what had once been a fine suit, now fraying at the collar and sleeves and cuffs, its carefully tailored structure wrinkled and broken down and bagged until it rode him like a spirit from the past.

V looked to the women and said, Are your people all right?

The white boy said, Address your questions to me.

Ryland looked around at Bristol and said, Good Lord, that little one features himself the leader.

V said, Ryland, step back, please.

The greasy boy lifted his two forefingers and abruptly hooked his hair behind his ears, as if he considered that a gesture of authority or at least defiance.

V looked him straight in the eye, and he glared back about two seconds and then looked down.

She said, Son, we’re short on supplies, but would you like a biscuit with a little piece of bacon? Or a biscuit with some of your honey or jelly? One of those three choices, not all. We’re sharing here and what we have has to go around.

You could see the gears engaging and the wheels beginning to grind with some effort.

—Bacon, he said.

—Bacon, please? V said.

The boy just glared.

—All right, V said. We’ll try again when you find yourself more composed. Meanwhile enjoy the warmth of the fire we built. By the way, what’s your name?

—None of your damn business what my name is.

V looked back to the women, and one of them said, He’s Elgin.

V said, And what’s your name?

—Belle.


THEY PASSED AND SHARED FOOD, including a bacon biscuit for Elgin, still sulled. He took a bite and stewed awhile and finally spoke up with great pent emotion. He swore that with the death of the Confederacy he would pine down to nothing within a few months and be the last of the Confederate dead.

V said, Elgin, if all you have to say is nonsense, stop talking. While you’ve been here hiding, everything has changed. It’s not the same world out there. You need real plans, not fantasies.

—I heard the government and army are moving to Texas. I might volunteer.

Ryland and Bristol both coughed a laugh.

—I’ve heard that same rumor about Texas, over and over, V said. Nobody sane believes it. The war’s dead and done. Lost. Think of a real plan. Starting with, for example, who holds title to this place?

The boy looked puzzled. He said, How’s that your business?

Belle said, Probably he owns it. His daddy went out on the porch to stop raider trash picking through the leftovers after Sherman’s army. Carrying a shotgun against a half dozen. He didn’t even get one barrel fired before they cut him down.

—And the mother? V said.

—Died first year of the fighting, Belle said.

—Brothers or sisters?

—Nope.

—Son, V said to Elgin, think hard about this place. It’s a real thing, not some theory or philosophy or crazy dream. It could feed all of you.

—I ain’t feeding every stray slave in Georgia. And I ain’t feeding y’all neither.

Ryland—real sarcastic—said, Brother Elgin, correct me if I’m wrong, but ain’t we mostly feeding you? You’re offering us shelter in return. Calm down and consider something. In your position, what would Jesus do? He’d say something about inviting strangers in, about how he loves a cheerful giver.

Elgin stood up and all-fervent said, Probably Jesus would yank you by your neck and then beat you to the ground like a drunk foreman with a long tomato stob. Don’t be talking Jesus to me. Just say Jesus one more time and see what happens. Come on. Say his name.

—You forget, Ryland said, rising to his feet, we’re the ones with guns.

Since everybody else was doing it, Burton stood up too. He had his right hand in his coat pocket. Delrey stayed where he was, leaning against the wall with the shotgun angled half down, watching close.

Bristol kept his seat and regarded the moment.

He said, Ry, maybe sit your ass down and shut your mouth for a whole minute.

Ryland sat. And then the others did too.

Bristol said, Can we leave Jesus alone? He deserves a rest now and then.

When his minute ended Ryland said, I’m curious, Elgin. With all your strong feelings about the Confederacy, how come you weren’t in on the fighting? You’re old enough.

Elgin said, I paid a dirt farmer to take my place, like the law allows.

Ryland said, A study in courage. Mr. Elgin puts his money where his big stupid mouth is.

Bristol laughed, and so did Delrey and V.

Elgin’s face blazed holly-berry red.

Belle said, You have to allow for him. He’s lost so much. Ten years ago on this place, three hundred of us, nearly. Cotton growing to the sky every way you looked. Hog pens and pastures with cows. Lots of cotton, lots of corn and vegetables.