The Land(107)

Mitchell stared into the fire. I stared across at him. In all the years I’d known Mitchell, he had never told me this. Caroline gently rubbed his back. “That’s a hard thing.”

Mitchell looked at her. “I meant it, Caroline, and he knowed I meant it. Long as I stayed there, my daddy, he ain’t never raised his hand or that strap t’ none of us again.”





Caroline’s field of vegetables grew well, and she along with Nathan made several trips to the market in Strawberry to sell them. The vegetables made a small crop and we didn’t get much for them, but the money helped pay Tom Bee. We put the remainder of the money aside for next year’s seed. In the spring we figured to plant cotton.

Christmas came soon after Caroline’s last trip into town for the year, and this Christmas was like none I had seen since I was a boy. There was no disregarding Christmas this year, for Caroline was in charge. She ordered Mitchell to kill a goose and a coon. Along with the goose and the coon, she baked one of her daddy’s hams, corn bread and biscuits, pies and cakes, and fixed up all kinds of vegetables. The spread she put before us on Christmas Day was as fine as any set by her mama, Miz Rachel Perry. Mitchell and I told her that, but Nathan teased that she still had a long way to go to rival their mama’s cooking, even though he had seconds and thirds of everything. After all that eating, he pulled out the harmonica Caroline had given him for Christmas and began to play. Caroline laughed and was happy. She had invited Tom Bee and his family, and there were quite a few of them, to join us for the day and enjoy all the fine dinner fixings. Now they enjoyed the music too. The children lit up the place.





January came and the new year brought with it the expectation of finally owning the forty. Mitchell and I had until the end of September to finish cutting Filmore Granger’s trees, but I figured to have them all down before then. I wanted title to this place as soon as I could get it. Only then could I call it my own. I could be satisfied with this piece of land for a while, since by now, I had pretty much put the Hollenbeck land out of my thoughts. I hadn’t even gone back to it since I’d been on the forty. It was another man’s land and there was no sense in day-dreaming. But then one day in late February Wade Jamison came again to the forty. At first I thought he had come to fish with Nathan on the Rosa Lee. He hadn’t. He had come to speak to me. “My daddy sent me to see you,” he said.

My brow furrowed. “What about?”

“He said he remembered you were interested in Mister Hollenbeck’s land. He was wondering if you still are.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause Mister Hollenbeck is selling now. He’s getting ready to move back north.”

For a moment my breath caught and I couldn’t speak.

“My daddy’s buying the most of his land,” Wade went on, “so that means we’ll be double neighbors, on two sides of you.”

I studied the boy. “When did Mister Hollenbeck put his land up for sale?”

“Well, he’s been thinking about it for some time, according to my daddy,” said Wade. “But he just made up his mind. He offered all the land he’d bought from the Grangers back to Mister Filmore Granger first off, but Mister Granger wasn’t interested. Mister Granger said he wasn’t about to buy back land at a robber’s price that rightfully already belonged to him, so Mister Hollenbeck, he came to my daddy.”

My mouth went dry. “He’s selling all of it?”

“Far’s I know. He said it’s time he headed back north. He’s got family there. All the family he had here are either dead or gone.”

“Wade, you said that your daddy’s buying most of Mister Hollenbeck’s land. What about the rest of it?”

“Well, a lot of folks are interested in that land, so Mister Hollenbeck, he’s keeping aside some of it to sell to them. My daddy figured you’d be interested in knowing that.”

“I am,” I said, and hurriedly thanked him before turning away.

“Is Nathan around?” Wade called after me. “I was wondering maybe if he is, we could go fishing?”

“Fine with me,” I said, my mind on the land, and feeling only gratitude toward the boy as I hurried off to saddle Thunder. I didn’t return to the slopes, but rode Thunder down the Granger trail to J. T. Hollenbeck’s land. We crossed the splendid meadow and passed the hillside where I had spent my first night in these parts. We crossed that meadow without stopping and headed straight to J. T. Hollenbeck’s house.

“Mister Hollenbeck,” I said, upon my arrival at his front porch, “I’m Paul Logan.”