Journeyman (8 page)

“You’ve picked the wrong one there,” Lorene laughed. “Tom wouldn’t pay money. He used to throw me down for nothing when I lived here. No, Tom wouldn’t start paying now.”

Semon was not through.

“There’s Clay,” Semon intimated. “What’s wrong with trying him?”

Lorene laughed at him.

“That’s silly. Clay wouldn’t, either. It’s a crazy idea of yours to think Clay would. I used to be married to him. Why should he?”

Semon turned to contemplate the magnolia tree in front of the house. After a while he turned back to Lorene.

“I think I can work it,” he stated. “If Tom Rhodes comes down here with that jug of his again, it ought to work out as slick as grease.”

She turned suddenly and looked Semon straight in the eyes. A faint smile came to her lips. She knew men who planned just as he did, but none of them had worked in a guise like Semon’s.

“What are you, anyway?” she demanded. “Are you a preacher or a pimp?”

Semon looked offended. He sat up and glared down at her angrily.

“I’m a man of God,” he said sternly. “And don’t you forget it, either.”

“You get him to agree, and I’ll do my part,” she said at last. “But it looks to me like you’re crazy. Trying it with Clay won’t work. He wouldn’t give you a dime.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Semon said. “You do just like I tell you, and we’ll see.”

He got up and stood beside her chair, looking down at Lorene and contemplating her.

“I’m going to take a little walk up the road,” he announced. “I might see Tom Rhodes up that way.”

I
T WAS A HOT
and tiresome walk through the sand and dust to the house where Tom Rhodes lived. Semon had to stop several times to rest beside the road. At last he got within sight of the place, and by that time he was dusty and short of wind. He had to take off his coat half way there, and he swung it at his side trying to fan the burning heat away.

There was no one to be seen at Tom’s house when he first got there. As he went towards the barn, however, he saw a Negro man shucking corn in the door of the crib. He called the man to him.

While the colored man was shuffling towards him, Semon found shade under a willow. The heat was coming down with more intensity than ever, and he was not accustomed to walking in the hot sun.

“Where’s Mr. Tom?” he asked the Negro.

“He’s out around the barn somewhere. Do you want to see Mr. Tom?”

Semon nodded wearily, fanning himself with his wide-brimmed black hat.

The man went off towards the barn, stirring up the dust with his wide-soled shoes. He was gone for several minutes. When he came back into sight, he pointed his hand at Semon. Tom came around the corner of the barn a moment later.

“I was afraid you’d forget your promise,” Semon said.

“What promise?”

“That you were going to bring another jug down to Horey’s house.”

“I’ll be doggone,” Tom said, coming into the shade. “Did I say that? I must have forgot all about it.”

“I thought you might. That’s why I walked up.”

“You’re hell on Georgia dew, now, aint you, preacher?” Tom laughed. His red face shook with mirth. “You’re the drinkingest preacher I ever saw in all my life.”

“Corn whisky is a man’s drink,” Semon said. “And I’m a man. I reckon that’s why I like it so much.”

“You just wait till I send for some,” Tom told him, “It won’t take long to get it.”

He walked off immediately, calling the Negro. Semon sat heavily on the ground, leaning back against the willow and fanning himself in the shade.

Tom came back, urging Semon to get up.

“We’ll get in the car and be ready to leave as soon as that darky gets back. It won’t take him long. He’s only got to go down to the cow shed in the pasture a little way.”

Semon pushed himself to his feet and followed Tom to the barn, where the automobile was standing in the sun. They got in and Tom started the motor.

“Make much time with Lorene last night?” Tom asked, nudging Semon with his elbow. “It didn’t use to take long to do that. Not after she made up her mind to leave, anyway. But I don’t reckon she’s changed much in a year or two. She still looks the same to me.”

Semon understood then that Lorene knew what she was talking about when she had said that Tom would not fall into their scheme. Semon set that idea definitely aside.

Frank, the colored man, brought the jug and set it in the back of the car. He had spilled a little of the liquor on the outside when he had filled it hurriedly from the keg, and the fumes came up like flame out of the rear seat. Semon sniffed the odor greedily. He was ready to go back to the Horey place.

The car made good time through the deep sand. Tom did not bother to slow down when he came to an unusually deep bed of sand; he opened the throttle wider. Once the car leaped almost over the ditch, but Tom did not slacken his rate of speed. He kept on going, sometimes not even looking at the road ahead. Semon was relieved when they reached Clay Horey’s.

“Are you aiming to preach at the schoolhouse Sunday?” Tom asked him as they stepped out of the car.

“I am, I am,” Semon stated resolutely.

“What are you aiming to preach about?”

“Oh, various things,” Semon said. “This, that, and the other.”

“I reckon you’ve got such a lot of sermons all made out that all you have to do is just call them up, and they’re all ready to be said.”

“That’s right,” Semon replied shortly, watching the jug as it was lifted out of the back seat.

Tom held up the gallon jug, shaking it slightly.

“The drinks are on me, preacher. Just help yourself.”

Semon pushed his finger through the glass handle and drew the jug closer.

“I’ll down my share,” he said; “and there’s enough for others who like it, too. Everybody ought to get his fill today.”

“There’s more where that comes from. And more in the making. I never let myself run short this time of the year.”

While they were drinking, they saw Lorene run out on the porch and look down the road. A moment later she was running down the path towards them, and they turned and saw Clay coming up the road from McGuffin.

“Here comes Clay back now,” Semon said, watching Lorene.

“It didn’t take him long,” Tom said; “but I reckon he got tired of loafing around town on a week-day. If it was Saturday he wouldn’t have left McGuffin till midnight.”

Clay turned into the yard and drove towards the barn without speaking to them. He looked as if he were in a hurry to get under the shed.

Lorene ran after him, and she got there just as Clay was walking from the car.

“Where’s Vearl?” Lorene asked excitedly.

Clay walked to the house as though he had not heard her. She ran and caught up with him, pulling his arm.

“Where’s Vearl, Clay?”

They had reached the porch by that time, and Tom came through the hall carrying several tumblers.

“Vearl?” Clay said, looking as if he had been taken by surprise. “Oh, Vearl got loose from me. He jumped loose from me before I got more than a mile or so away. I don’t know where he is now. I reckon he went up the creek, though. He’ll show up at Susan’s before dark. He don’t ever stay away all night.”

Tom filled the glasses, placing one in Lorene’s hand. Semon picked up two and gave one of them to Clay.

“And you didn’t take Vearl to see the doctor?” she asked, biting her lips.

Clay drank half of his glass and set it on the floor beside him. Semon promptly filled it up again and handed it back to Clay.

“Vearl? No. I didn’t get him all the way into town. But I happened to run into the doctor, though, and I said something to him about it. He said to give him the bottle of medicine, and bring him to town the next time I came in.”

“I should have taken him myself,” Lorene said coldly. She glared at Clay. “I might have known you wouldn’t.”

“I done the best I could, Lorene,” he said meekly. “That’s the truth, if I’ve ever told it, too. I wouldn’t run counter to you if I could help it.”

“You didn’t half try,” she said. “You didn’t want to take him, and you didn’t try to keep him in the car. You let him jump out because you didn’t want to bother with him.”

She drank the glass of liquor and set it down heavily on the floor beside the chair. Semon picked up Clay’s glass and handed it to him. He raised his own, urging Clay to follow his lead. Clay drank and wiped his mouth.

Clay took out his harmonica and tapped it on his knee. He drew it across his mouth two or three times.

“Let’s have a tune, Horey,” Semon urged.

Clay blew several notes and shook his head.

“It’s a little too early in the day for music,” he said, shaking his head from side to side. “I can’t be playing a mouth-organ before dinnertime.”

After he had replaced it in his pocket, Semon urged him to drink some more.

“Where’s Dene?” Clay demanded, placing the empty glass at his feet.

“She’s around here somewhere,” Tom told him, “I saw her in the kitchen just now when I was after the glasses.”

Clay looked across at Lorene. She was sipping the brimming glass Tom had only a moment before refilled. With several glasses of corn whisky inside of him, Clay liked to look at her. She wore well-fitting clothes, and her dark hair made something turn over inside of his mind.

“Now, there’s a woman for you,” he said, pointing at her with one of his fingers.

“Who?” Tom said.

“Lorene, there.”

“I wouldn’t say too much about her, Clay. Dene is around somewhere. She’ll be listening.”

“That’s right,” Clay said. “I clear forgot about Dene. Now, Dene’s a woman for you.”

“How about Sugar, Clay? Is she one for you, too?”

“Aw, shucks, Tom. You know good and well I don’t mess around with Sugar no more.”

Semon smiled all around. He was delighted with the progress he was making with Clay. He decided to let him talk a little while longer in the hope that he could press another glass of corn upon him.

“Dene satisfy you, Horey?” Semon said, winking at Lorene and nodding approvingly.

“Dene? Well, I reckon! And then some. Why, Dene can stay a jump ahead of me all the doggone time. I never have to know my own mind around Dene. She’s always giving me what I crave long before I know I crave it. And she’s always been like that. When I used to see her down there in front of her daddy’s house, she used to come up and give me a kiss on the sly, and a big hug—just like that! Soon as I got it, I knew I wanted it. But not till then. Dene never has got behind yet. She stays that jump ahead all the time.”

“That’s her way of anticipating you,” Semon said.

“That’s it!” Clay shouted. “That’s the big word! I never can think to say it myself, but what’s the use, anyhow? You’re always here to tell it to me.”

“I’ve noticed that in her myself,” Semon nodded.

“What in her?”

“I’ve seen how she anticipates what a man wants.”

“She didn’t do that to you, did she?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I noticed it in her.”

Clay scuffed his feet over the floor as though he were going to jump up. Instead, he sat up straight and looked at each of the faces around him.

“She’d better not do it. And you’d better not do it. If I was to catch you and Dene playing that game of staying just a jump ahead, I’d—I’d—”

“You got me wrong,” Semon assured him hastily. “I was merely telling you what you didn’t know. You’re always talking about what she does, but it takes me to fit the word in for you.”

“Well, as long as that’s all you do, and nothing else, it’s all right by me.”

Semon filled his glass, winking at Lorene. She got up and left the porch immediately.

“Where’s she going?” Clay asked.

Semon shrugged his shoulders. After Clay had taken several swallows, Semon sat down on the railing in front of him and leaned forward.

“I’d like to have a little talk with you for just a minute,” he said, nodding towards Tom.

They got up and crossed the porch to the other side.

“What’s up?” Clay asked, lowering his voice so Tom could not overhear.

“If I was to tell you something would you like to hear it, coz?”

“Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn’t. What’s it about, anyway?”

“You’re feeling good, aint you?”

“Like the world on fire,” Clay stated.

Semon stooped down until his face was on a level with Clay’s head. He glanced behind him to see if anyone were listening. Clay followed his lead and glanced anxiously over his shoulders.

“How’d you like to meet somebody, coz?”

“Who? Where? Who is it?” he whispered breathlessly.

S
EMON CAME CLOSER,
shutting off Clay’s view of Tom Rhodes at the other end of the porch.

“There’s a girl out there who’d like to see you, Horey. Feel like going to see her?”

“You’re doggone right! Where is she?”

“Never mind about that. I want to find out if you’re anxious to see her.”

“White girl?”

“Sure, she’s white. I wouldn’t bother you if she wasn’t.”

“Doggone my hide!” Clay exclaimed. “Let’s go!”

They left the porch without looking in Tom’s direction. When they had gone around the corner of the house, Semon stopped him abruptly, pulling his arm.

“You’ve got a little money, haven’t you, Horey?”

“Money? Maybe a little. What do you want to know that for?”

“Well, it’s like this. You ought to give her a little something for seeing her. Now, don’t you think that would be fair and square?”

“How much money?”

“Three dollars would be just about right.”

Clay drew back, shaking his head slowly. His face fell, and disappointment sobered him momentarily.

“I haven’t got but a lone solitary dollar between me and the world. I had to buy some gas in McGuffin to get home on, and I fooled around in a little crap game for a while. A dollar’s all I got left.”

Semon bit his lips in annoyance.

“Are you sure, Horey? Look in your pockets and make sure. You ought to have more than a dollar. Anybody would have a dollar; you ought to have two or three, anyway.”

Clay searched carefully through all his pockets, but all he could find was a single worn and soiled dollar bill. He held it up for Semon to see.