The Land(75)

All the Perry girls, as well as their sister-in-law, stood and began to help their mother. At that, Sam Perry invited me outside. “Look like the womenfolk done made it clear we got no further business in here!” All the men and boys then went outside, and once on the porch Sam Perry offered me some tobacco. I took it and filled my pipe, and for a while we sat enjoying the smoke. I had picked up the habit of pipe smoking in the lumber camps, and it was the only frivolous thing on which I spent my money. I enjoyed the aroma of the tobacco. It reminded me of my daddy. As I listened to Sam Perry’s talk and his laughter, I was already thinking on the day’s end and not wanting it to come. Still, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, and as it grew late, I put out my pipe and made ready to go.

“Now, don’t be hurryin’ off,” objected Sam Perry. “It’s feedin’ time for my stock. Why don’t ya come ’long wit’ me and my boys and take a look at ’em. I’m just gonna change my pants and get my work boots on.” I agreed to that, and after Sam Perry had changed, we headed toward his pasture. “Got me plenty of fine animals for a man as dirt poor as me, I reckon,” he said. “May be a sin to be so proud, but God gonna hafta forgive me for that, ’cause there’s three things I ain’t shame t’ ’mit I’m right proud of—my wife, my children, and my animals.”

I figured he had a right to be proud. He had a fine family. He also had chickens and guineas, several cows, a pen full of hogs, and two mules.

As we stood outside the hog pen, Sam Perry said, “I s’pose you been wondering how a man like me come t’ have animals like these here. S’pose ya been wondering too how I could ’ford fried chicken and spareribs on my table. Well, I works hard and I puts my faith in the Lord, and the Lord done give me a gift. I got the gift of healin’. Learned ’bout healin’ when I was a boy, and that’s how I made my way through slavery, healin’ the white folks’ animals. Now, I might not have much far as land goes, ’cause this here land belongs to that white man up the road. But I got me a fine family and I got these here animals and plenty t’ eat, and I thanks God for ’em all ’cause He done give me the gift of healin’ His creatures. Folks call me t’ tend they animals. White folks come, black folks come, well-t’-do and poor folks too. Folks that can, they pays me sometimes with their litter runts. God and me, we take care of them runts and brings ’em up strong. So if I’m proud and sinful, I figure that’s partly God’s fault too,” he laughed, “’cause He done give ’em all t’ me!” He turned from me then and hollered to Nathan and another of his sons to bring the slop buckets.

While his boys went to get the slop for the hogs, Sam Perry opened the pen gate and stepped in. “Now, you best stay on that side the wire, Mister Logan,” he advised. “These ole hogs can get t’ be a bit ornery. ’Sides, you ain’t dressed for it.” He glanced past me as a noise arose across the yard. I turned and saw Caroline, a basket looped over one arm, yanking at the gate to the chicken coop. “Pull it hard, sugar!” Sam Perry called. “One of these here days I’m gonna make myself another gate,” he mumbled, more to himself than to me. “That there one’s always gettin’ stuck.” He hollered again to Caroline. “Pull up on it and give it a yank!”

“I’ll go see if I can help her,” I volunteered.

“Well, I ’preciate that. I ain’t already been in with these hogs here, I’d take care of it myself.”

“Glad to be of help,” I said, and crossed the yard. Caroline was still pulling at the gate when I reached her. “You mind if I try?” I asked.

She put her basket down and hit at the gate with her hand. “Papa been sayin’ he gonna fix this thing, but he ain’t got round to it.” She hit the gate again. “I ain’t had on this here Sunday dress, I’d just jump it.”

I glanced at her. I imagined she would. “Let me take a look,” I said, and she stepped aside. I studied the rusty latch. “Well, here’s the problem. One of the screws is out, so the latch slipped a bit and it’s not fitting right.” I looked at the ground, searching for the screw.

“Don’t ya be worryin’ none with it,” she said. “We take care of it t’morrow. All I want now is to get in there and gather these eggs. You like eggs, Mister Paul Logan?”

“Yes, but—”

“Y’all get it open?” Sam Perry yelled from across the yard.