The Land(110)

“I know. It’s somethin’, ain’t it?” Mitchell spoke softly, as if awed himself by the fact.

“You’ll make a good one.” Mitchell just looked at me. I smiled. I meant what I said. “When you expecting the baby?”

“Late summer. Right about when we get deeded these forty acres, I reckon. Caroline just told me last night.”

“It’ll be a wonderful beginning, then,” I said. “A baby and a deed to this place.”

Mitchell nodded. “I figure it t’ be a boy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just do, that’s all.” He looked down at his cup and kept his eyes on it. “It be a boy, you ’spect I’m gonna do him like my daddy done me?”

“Why would you? Boy deserve a whipping, you’ll give it to him, no more than that.”

Mitchell looked up. “I sure deserved some of ’em, ain’t I?’

“Yeah, you sure did,” I agreed.

“Ya know, it’s too bad you ain’t feeling nothing special for Etta or some other young woman, ’cause it’d be good if we had children round this place t’gether. Be good to have yours and mine grow up with one another.”

I smiled. “Why? So they could fight all the time like we did?”

“Yeah, that . . . and so they could watch out for one ’nother too.” He looked over at me. “Maybe you change yo’ mind ’bout Miss Etta.”

“I don’t think so.”

Mitchell shrugged and got up. He tossed the remainder of his chicory into the fire. “Look here, Paul, Miz Caroline’s waiting, but there’s one more thing I need to talk t’ you ’bout.”

I got up too. “What’s that?”

“I was thinkin’, things don’t go like you wantin’ ’bout that bank loan, I want you t’ do what you think best ’bout these forty acres.”

“What do you mean?”

“You figure you can use these here forty acres in some way to get that land you want from Hollenbeck, then you do that.”

I shook my head. “No. Your twenty acres, they stay your twenty. I need to use any of it, I’ll use my half.”

“Look, Paul, I wouldn’t be having the twenty, you didn’t figure this deal with Filmore Granger in the first place. You hadn’t’ve figured this deal, I wouldn’t’ve had no home t’ give Caroline. You need to sell this forty acres to help get that four hundred, then seem like t’ me, there’d be room on that four hundred acres for Caroline and me.”

I smiled in jest. “You expecting two hundred acres, then?”

Mitchell’s face was blank. “No,” he said seriously. “Just my twenty.”

I grew serious too. “It’d be a risk you’d be taking.”

“Done took plenty of ’em before.”

“Not with a baby on the way.”

Mitchell shrugged. “I trust ya, Paul. Been trustin’ ya ever since we got on that train t’gether. You the smartest man I know, and if you want that land, then I figure you’ll find a way t’ get it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded wad of paper, which he handed to me. “Here, take this.”

“What is it?”

“Jus’ my writin’ sayin’ you got my rights to the whole forty and that’s okay by me.” Mitchell grinned. “I wrote it out real good, just like you taught me, and I wrote it on that piece of paper you figured I just had t’ sign when you come out to the lumber camp that time and made yo’ offer to me.” He stepped away.

“You sure about this?” I called after him.

“Said I was. Whatever you gonna do, Paul, I back you up.”

“You always do,” I said.

Mitchell grunted. “Same as you.” He turned with a wave of his arm to me and walked toward the cabin. “See you when ya get back. You come back here with a contract in hand for that land of yours, then we gonna do us some real celebratin’!”

I stuffed the paper into my pocket. “Hope to bring good news.”

“You will,” said Mitchell. He grinned one last time back at me. “And here you and Caroline sayin’ I ain’t got no faith.” He laughed loudly and went into the cabin.

I laughed too, and sat again by the fire.

The next morning long before daybreak and the others were up, I mounted one of the mules and rode to Vicksburg. After my encounter with Digger Wallace, I had decided it was best to leave Thunder on the forty and not rouse the jealousy of more white folks, especially when I was trying to borrow money.

I didn’t stop to see Luke Sawyer but went directly to see the banker, B. R. Tillman. He seemed surprised to see me, but he showed me into his office. He didn’t offer me a seat. “My wife been raving about that chifforobe you built for her, Paul,” he said as he himself sat down. “Shame you not doing that kind of work full time anymore. You’ve got a gift.” B. R. Tillman glanced through some papers on his desk as I stood hat in hand before him. Finally he turned his attention to me again. “So, now, Paul, why you come to see me?”