“If you’re concerned about that, Mister Sawyer, I can tell you right now that as long as we have an arrangement, I’ll take only customers who come through you. I’d figure, though, to set my own hours.”
“Set your own hours? How do I know then that my orders’ll be done when I figure they ought to be?”
“They’ll be done, and on time.”
“Well, if they’re not, I’ll charge you on them. Five percent of what’s coming to you for each day the work’s not done.”
I agreed to that, but added, “Of course, I’ll need to know beforehand what the piece is and have a say in the time it’s going to take me to make it.”
“Long as it’s reasonable. Don’t forget, I know about how long it takes on a piece.”
Again, I agreed.
“So, set your own hours, consult with you before I make my deals, what else you want?” Luke Sawyer asked dryly.
“Nothing,” I said. “But there is something you need to know. I’m looking to buy land and once I do, I’ll be working it. If it’s agreeable to you, I’d contract to work with you for a year.”
Luke Sawyer stared at me in silence, and I didn’t know what he was thinking in that quiet moment. Then he laughed, outright and loud. “Thought I was supposed to be the businessman here! All right, then, Paul Logan,” he said. “We’ll try it this way for a spell, but I tell you one thing right now. I start losing money or you don’t live up to your end of things, then this deal’s off. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I said.
“I s’pose I owe you some money, then.” The look on Luke Sawyer’s face was solemn as he gave me my money, but then he extended his hand to me and I shook it, and I remembered that, for he was the first white man to shake my hand since I had left my daddy’s land.
About two months after I started working with Luke Sawyer, Mitchell showed up late one Saturday evening. I had already quit my tools and settled down to my reading when he knocked on the shed door. As we had said we would, we had both sent word about our safe arrivals, but we hadn’t been in contact further. Course, I’d known he’d come eventually, but his sudden appearance gave me quite a surprise. “I must say, it’s about time you showed up,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about coming to look for you.”
“Good to see you too,” said Mitchell. “First time I’ve had to get away.”
“So, where’re you working? Still at that camp I sent word to?”
“Naw . . . was. Got a job there few days after we split up, but I’ve moved on to another camp now. Place called Mud Creek.”
I had heard of the camp. “What happened?” I said. “Why’d you leave the first camp?”
“Same as usual. Folks just don’t seem t’ want t’ get along with me for some reason.”
“Another fight?”
“Wouldn’t call it a fight,” grumbled Mitchell. “It was over with in less’n a minute. Fella couldn’t even hardly make a fist. But then he went and made such a fuss, I figured it was best I find me another place.”
I tried to hide my smile. “What was the fuss about? His woman?”
Mitchell looked at me. “What else?” He suddenly laughed, and I laughed too. It was good to be with him again.
I hadn’t cooked much for my own supper, just some collards and onions with a bit of ham hock, but I had some potatoes in store, as well as a side piece of bacon and some eggs, and I happily cooked them up in celebration of Mitchell’s arrival. Mitchell cooked up some poor corn bread too, and we sat down at my cleared workbench and ate hungrily, as if we had before us one of my daddy’s Christmas feasts.
“So, you’re working just a half day away from here?” I said.
Mitchell was concentrating on eating, and he only nodded.
“Things okay with you there?”
Mitchell glanced across at me, swallowed, then took a gulp of his milk. “You got reason t’ think they wouldn’t be?”
“It’s just that last time I saw you, we had those Mississippi lumbermen after us, as well as that band of men looking for chicken thieves.”
Mitchell smiled. “Well, I ’spect they still lookin’.” I smiled too, and Mitchell added, “Ain’t heard no more ’bout ’em, and ain’t lookin’ to hear no more ’bout ’em. My job ain’t bad. Pay’s ’bout the same. Boss man ’bout the same like the rest I known. Ain’t nothin’ much different, ’ceptin’ I ain’t got nobody watchin’ my back.” Mitchell looked pointedly at me, and I understood. I felt the same. Thing was, though, I was in a different situation now and not having to worry about a camp full of men turning on me. I was feeling like instead of watching over my shoulder, I was looking ahead. “Look like you makin’ out all right,” Mitchell observed, glancing around at an unfinished table and a cabinet that took up a corner of the room.