Mathu nodded his head again.
"It didn't do no good," Charlie said. "It took fifty years. Half a hundred—and I said I been 'bused enough. He used to 'buse me. No matter if I did twice the work any other man could do, he 'bused me anyhow. I can pick up more than any man I ever met. Give me a good plate of food, and I can work longer than any man I ever met. Pull a saw, swing a axe, stretch wire, cut ditch bank, dig postholes better than any man I ever met. Still he 'bused me. Cussed me for no cause at all. Nigger this, nigger that, for no cause at all. Just to 'buse me. And long as I was Big Charlie, nigger boy, I took it."
His voice had been mounting. He had been moving about the room, the people pressing back against one another as he came toward them. He took a quarter of the space with him whether he went toward the door, or the window. He was black as tar, his round head and face sweating. I saw his round black sweaty face twitching, then trembling, and he stopped pacing the floor and raised those two big tree limbs up over his head, and, like some overcome preacher behind the pulpit, he cried out: "But they comes a day! They comes a day when a man must be a man. They comes a day!" The two big tree limbs with the big fists like cannonballs shook toward the ceiling, and we watched in awe, in fear, in case he decided to whirl around, or fall. He did neither. He brought his arms down slowly, breathing heavily, while he stared over our heads toward the wall. "They comes a day," he said to himself, not to us. "They comes a day."
"And, Mr. Biggs?" Mapes said after a respectful moment of silence.
Charlie looked at him as if he were coming out of a trance. "You said something, Sheriff?"
"What happened out there in the field between you and Beau?" Mapes asked him.
"He cussed me," Charlie said to Mapes. "I was doing my work good. Cussed me anyhow. I told him he didn't need to cuss me like that. I told him I was doing my work good. He told me he wouldn't just cuss me, but he would beat me, too. I told him no, I wasn't go'n 'low that no more, 'cause I was fifty years old—half a hundred. He told me if I said one more word, he was go'n show me how he treated a half-a-hundred-year-old nigger." Charlie stopped and looked at Mapes, shaking his head. Beads of sweat popped out of his skull, running in lines down the sides of his face. "You don't talk to a man like that, Sheriff, not when he reach half a hundred."
Mapes nodded, agreeing with him. Mapes told the people to give Charlie air. The people moved back an inch, but closed in again.
"Go on," Mapes said. "Then what?"
"I told him I was quitting," Charlie said. "I jumped down from the loader. I was coming home. He got down off that tractor and came at me with a stalka cane. I grabbed me one, too. I don't know why I did it. I had never done nothing like that in my life before. But I did it today. Bent over and got me a stalka cane just like he had. That made him stop for a second, then he started grinning at me. Grinning, just grinning at me. He knowed I wasn't go'n hit him. That's what he thought. And he came on me. He caught me twice, once on the shoulder, once in the side. Then I swung back. I caught him side the head, and down he went. I saw his head bleeding, and I thought I had kilt him, and I started running for the quarters. I came here and told Parrain what I had done. While we was standing there talking, I heard the tractor coming up the quarters, and I knowed then I hadn't kilt him.
But I told Parrain I was go'n run anyhow, 'cause he was go'n beat me now for sure if he caught me. Parrain told me if I run from Beau Boutan he was go'n beat me himself. He told me he was eighty-two, but he was more man than me, and if I run from Beau he was go'n beat me himself." Charlie looked at Mathu. Mathu nodded. But he wasn't sure that it was Charlie doing this talking. The rest of the people seemed to feel the same way. Charlie? Charlie fight back? I felt that way, too. But then I hadn't expected to see all of them here, either. "He stopped that tractor out there and jumped down with that shotgun," Charlie said to Mapes. "He kept that shotgun with him all the time, on that tractor, or in that pickup truck. He kept it all the time. Parrain told me he had a gun there, too, and he said he rather see me laying there dead than to run from another man when I was fifty years old. Beau was coming in the yard, putting a shell in the gun. Parrain reached and got his gun and pushed it in my hand. I didn't want take the gun, but I could tell in Parrain's face if I didn't, he was go'n stop Beau himself, and then he was go'n stop me, too. I took the gun and swung round, and I told Beau to stop. I told him more than once to stop. He kept on coming toward the garry. He knowed I had never done nothing like that, never even thought about doing nothing like that. But they comes a day, Sheriff, they comes a day when a man got to stand. I don't know how I did it. But I helt that gun steady as a rock. Not a tremble, not a move, steady as a rock. He kept coming toward the garry. Just grinning and grinning. Said: 'Nigger, I was go'n have a little fun with you first. Was go'n hunt you like a rabbit, and shoot you when I got tired. But now look like I ain't go'n waste my time.' He raised his gun, and I pulled the trigger."
Charlie stopped and lowered his head. We were all stunned, all remained quiet. You could have heard hearts beat in that stuffy room.
"What happened after that?" Mapes asked him after a respectful amount of time.
Charlie raised his head to look at Mapes. He was tired. The whites of his eyes had turned reddish brown. He took in a couple of deep breaths and started talking again.
"I told Parrain I was scared. I told him I was go'n run and try to reach the North. I told him they was bound to put me in the 'lectric chair now. I told him he had to say he did it, 'cause they didn't put people old as him in the 'lectric chair. I told him he was go'n die soon, and he could die in jail soon as he could die in this old house. I told him he was my parrain, and he ought to take the blame for me. I told him Candy would protect him no matter what. And while I was there begging him, I seen the dust coming down the quarters. When I seen it was Candy, I handed Parrain the gun, and I ducked back through the house. I heard Candy screaming. I was laying back there in the weeds in the back yard. I heard her asking Parrain what in the world he had done. I didn't hear Parrain answer her. I laid there flat on the ground, praying, praying he didn't say my name. I heard Candy begging him to please tell her what had happened. He didn't say a word—I didn't hear him say a word—and I got up and started running. I ran, I ran, I ran—I don't know how long. But no matter where I went, where I turnt, I was still on Marshall place. If I went toward Pichot, before I got there, something stopped me. If I turnt and went toward Morgan, something stopped me. If I went toward that highway on the back, something there stopped me, too. Something like a wall, a wall I couldn't see, but it stopped me every time. I fell on the ground and screamed and screamed. I bit in the ground. I got a handful of dirt and stuffed in my mouth, trying to kill myself. Then I just laid there, laid there, laid there. Sometime round sundown—no, just 'fore sundown, I heard a voice calling my name. I laid there listening, listening, listening, but I didn't hear it no more. But I knowed that voice was calling me back here."
He was breathing heavily, his closely shaven head was covered with beads of sweat. He was exhausted. But there was something in his face that you see in faces of people who have just found religion. It was a look of having been freed of this world. He passed his hand over his sweaty face and head; then he looked at Mathu.
"All right, Parrain?"
Mathu nodded his head. He was proud of Charlie. But the rest of us were stunned. I was still trying to figure out if any of this was happening, or had happened.
"I'm ready to go, Sheriff," Charlie said to Mapes. "I'm ready to pay. I done dropped a heavy load. Now I know I'm a man."
"After you, Mr. Biggs," Mapes said, and nodded toward the door.
"What's that you called me, Sheriff?" Charlie asked him.
"Mr. Biggs," Mapes said, and with sincerity.
Charlie grinned—a great, big, wide-mouth, big-teeth grin. It was a deep, all-heart, true grin, a grin from a man who had been a boy fifty years.
"Y'all heard that?" he said to the people around him. "Y'all hear
d that? Mr. Biggs. Y'all heard him, huh? Now y'all go on home. For a bunch of old men, y'all did all right today. Now go on home. Let a man through."
He led the way, with Mapes following.
But they had no sooner stepped out onto the porch when a voice in the dark called out: "Hand him over, Mapes."
That voice was Luke Will's.
Sidney Brooks
aka
Coot
We was go'n walk him to the car, we was go'n all shake his hand, we was go'n watch the car leave, and then we was go'n all go home.
But Luke Will had to show up.
Charlie was in front leading the way. Mapes was right behind him. Then Mathu, then Candy, Lou, Clatoo, and me. When Luke Will called out there in the road, nobody but Charlie and Mapes had gone through the door. Mapes blocked the door to keep the rest of us inside, and he hollered for Charlie to hit the floor.
Charlie said: "Me hit the floor? Hit the floor for what, for something like Luke Will? I ain't scared of no Luke Will, man."
He pushed Mapes out his way and came on back inside. He went up to Mathu and reached out his hand.
"I'm go'n need it again, Parrain."
Mathu pushed it on him, and grinned. He was proud of Charlie. Charlie swung back toward the door with the gun ready.
"Let me handle this," Mapes said.
"This my fight," Charlie said. "He come here to lynch me, not you."
"This everybody's fight," Clatoo said. "It ain't go'n be no lynching here tonight."
"Y'all stay back inside," Mapes said. "What you go'n do with them empty shotguns, use them for clubs?"
"They was empty," Clatoo said. "If you think they still empty, turn your head."
Mapes was standing in the door, filling the door. He looked back.
Clatoo had broke down the barrel. The rest of us was all doing the same.
"That's right," Clatoo said. "Every man in here got a loaded gun, and extras in his pocket. We wasn't scrapping pecans backa that house."
"You'll pay for this," Mapes said to Clatoo.
"No, he go'n pay for it out there," Clatoo said, nodding outside. "He go'n pay for a lot of things."
Mapes looked at Clatoo; then he looked at the rest of us. Nobody looked down, so he turned back and called to Luke Will.
"Go home, Luke Will," he said.
"You send that nigger out here and I'll go home," Luke Will called back.
"You got your answer, Sheriff," Charlie said. "Now you go'n move?"
Mapes glanced back over his shoulder and started calling to his deputy. He was calling, not loud, just out the left corner of his mouth. That little deputy was in the back of the room. He had his gun out, holding it, looking at it, but he wasn't moving toward Mapes. Mapes called him again.
"I ain't raising my hand against no white folks for no niggers," Griffin answered him.
"Well, Sheriff?" Charlie said.
Mapes didn't look at Charlie or answer Charlie. He looked back toward the road.
"Luke Will, what happened to Hilly?" he called.
"I put him to sleep for a while, he's all right," Luke Will called back. "You sending that nigger out here or not?"
Mapes started 'cross the garry.
"Don't act no fool, Mapes," Luke Will called. "I can see every step you make. Don't act no fool, now."
Mapes had left his gun propped against the steps, and I saw him looking over there as he crossed the garry.
Luke Will hollered at him again. "Don't come out here by yourself, Mapes. I'm warning you, now."
Mapes snatched the gun from against the steps as he hit the ground. I was standing in the door between Charlie and Clatoo, and I could see Mapes good. I saw him knock off the safety and swing the gun to the crook of his other arm. Before he could make two more steps, you had a shot and Mapes went down. They hadn't killed him, just winged him, 'cause I could see him grabbing his arm, trying to get back up. He was too big to get up.
When that gun went off, Charlie and Clatoo bust out the door, and I wasn't too far behind them. Charlie went right, toward down the quarters. Clatoo went left, into Mathu's garden, but he didn't stop there. He kept going through the garden, over into the weeds, and I wasn't more than a step behind him.
I could hear screaming back there in the house. I could hear shooting in the house, and even more screaming. Somebody opened the window, 'cause the light from the window fell across the garden, and me and Clatoo hit the ground and started crawling through the weeds. The weeds was dry, and you could hear it breaking, and the people in the road started shooting at us, but we kept down. When we reached that barbed-wire fence next to Rufe's old house, we laid down and kept quiet. I could hear Clatoo breathing hard, and I was just as tired. I had scratched my face in two or three places crawling through the weeds.
I could still hear lot of shooting from the house. Not everybody had got out, 'cause every now and then you could see a shadow go by the window. Every time a shadow went by the window, somebody from the road shot back at the house.
"I want to get that son of a bitch myself," Clatoo said.
"No more than I do," I said. "We didn't all get a chance at Beau, but we got a chance at him."
We crawled closer to the ditch so we could get a better look at the tractor. But it was so dark, and the weeds so thick, you couldn't see a thing till somebody shot. Then all you could see was the red fire from the gun.
I could hear the weeds cracking behind us, and I looked back, and I saw Mat, Jacob, and the Lejeune brothers crawling over to us.
"Everybody all right?" Clatoo asked.
"I think so," Mat said. "Little scratches here and there, but all right."
"Who was doing all that shooting in the house?" Clatoo asked.
Jacob laughed. "Billy Washington and Jean Pierre. That's why I thought it was safer out here."
"Nobody got hurt?" Clatoo asked.
"Just the ceiling," Jacob said.
"Thank God," Clatoo said.
We laid there quiet for a while.
"What now?" Mat said. He was right up against me, and he was breathing hard.
"We got to spread out," Clatoo said. He turned on his side and looked back at us. "Mat, you and Jacob get in Rufe's yard by that mulberry tree. Bing, you and Ding go farther up the
quarters and cross the road. Holler, and fire. Mat, you and Jacob fire next, then me and Coot, and I just hope the rest of 'em do the same."
Mat and Jacob started out first, then Bing and Ding Lejeune. You could hear the weeds breaking as they crawled over into Rufe's yard. And even after the Lejeunes had gone all the way up to Corrine's house, you could still hear dry weeds breaking. Them over by the tractor shot each time they heard the weeds breaking.
Me and Clatoo lay there waiting for the two Lejeunes to cross the road, and I could hear Jameson over by the house calling on God to have mercy on all of us. If it wasn't Jameson calling on God, it was Glo calling for her little grandson Snookum. Jameson, then Glo; Glo, then Jameson. I heard Dirty Red call to Rooster to go shoot Jameson and shut him up. Jameson musta heard it too. There wasn't another word from him.
The Lejeunes had crossed the road. Now one hooted, and both of them fired. Them at the tractor fired back in that direction. Mat and Jacob hooted, and fired. The ones at the tractor turned and fired that way. Clatoo looked at me and nodded. We both got on our knees, hooted, fired, and fell back down. We got one of them, 'cause I could hear his scream. Me and Clatoo looked at each other and grinned, and reloaded.
From down the quarters, everybody was firing. I could tell Rooster's high-pitched voice, Dirty Red's dry, hoarse voice— and Yank's voice. Yank didn't hoot like the rest of us. He hollered the way you holler at a rodeo when somebody's riding a bucking horse. "Ya-hoo," and shot. They had spread out good, and now all the way down the quarters they was hooting and shooting. I didn't know the last time I had felt so good. Not since I was a young man in the war. Lord, have mercy, Jesus.
"You got anything left?" Clatoo asked me.
"Two more," I said.
"We'll shoot again, and save the last one," Clatoo said.
He got up on his knees and elbow and cupped his mouth to throw his voice.
"Mat, Jacob, Ding, Bing, fire at that tractor."
They hooted and fired. You woulda thought you was listening to a bunch of Indians—Lord, have mercy. Clatoo looked at me. We got up quick, fired, and fell back down. Clatoo turned on his side and cupped his mouth: "Down the quarters—fire." And down the quarters, they was firing even before Clatoo had finished saying it.