“I already put a pot of beans on to boil.” He called to her back. “Figured to
eat ’em with some a that venison.”
“All right. Thank you for doing that.”
“You been hidin’ more a them peaches, ain’t you?”
“Indeed I have,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll get a jar.”
Later, after they had eaten and were sitting by the fire having their coffee and
peaches, she poked at the embers with a stick and said, “I suppose you can see
that I’m feeling low, but it’s nothing to do with Jeremy. I guess I’m getting lonely out here, with no women to talk to except that Iola –”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. They come to get the team this afternoon and she say
she gonna be coming back to visit you again tomorrow.”
“Lord spare me. What on earth for?”
“Ain’t said nothin’ special. Just that she be comin’ to pay you another visit. I
thought you gonna be glad, that you wanna be all friendly-like with her.”
“Well I do, but sometimes she gives me the collywobbles. There’s something
about the way she looks at me.”
He played his harmonica for a while and she told him Jeremy’s stories –
about how the river had gotten its name and the banker Indian.
“You know,” she said, “he told me something else. You should go over to that
Backwoods town and ask the colored farmers there about it.”
“’Bout what?”
“He said that President Tyler is trying to make a new law – or maybe he
already did – that let’s you claim 160 acres and pay for them later. And when you do pay, it’s only a dollar twenty-five an acre.”
“Colored people too?”
“I asked him that. He couldn’t say so for sure, but he didn’t remember reading
or hearing anything that said they couldn’t. But you should go to Backwoods, find out. They might have a colored newspaper or a colored lawyer you could ask.”
“I’m a do that. I been wantin’ to visit over there any how.”
“If it’s true, you’d be better off working your own land than staying here –”
“I ain’t gonna walk out on you.”
She smiled gratefully. “Well, that’s good to hear. But you should find out
about it. So should I, for that matter. Can I come with you?”
“You think I gonna trust you here, alone with my tools? Course you gotta
come.”
She lay in bed that night, hating how sorry she was feeling for herself. She should be thanking her lucky stars. How many people had a friend like
Mourning?
When Olivia woke the next morning she lay in bed for a while, feeling
miserable. She had no desire to move a finger, but her chores awaited and nosy
old Mrs. Stubblefield was coming over. Olivia dragged herself out of bed and went to work. Iola turned up after lunch and Olivia took her inside for a cup of
tea.
“You’re feeling all right, aren’t you?” Iola asked, patting Olivia’s arm. “Your
time hasn’t come early, has it? You’re looking a bit peeked.”
