The Land(83)

I guarded my words, but I had to know. “Is Mr. Hollenbeck thinking of selling now?”

“He’s talked about it. His wife, who was a Southerner, died recently and their children died before her, so he no longer feels obliged to hold on to that piece of land, or to stay here, for that matter. But if he sells, I figure it won’t be for a while yet.” Charles Jamison studied me. “You willing to wait awhile for Hollenbeck land?”

I took a moment before I answered. “I’d be willing to wait a spell for the piece of land I saw, and if the price was right. In the meanwhile, I’d like to get some land to work now.”

“One thing I know. When and if J. T. Hollenbeck decides to sell, he’ll be wanting cash. You ready to pay cash for some land now?”

“Rather not,” I replied. “Not if there’s another way.”

“Well, there’s another way, all right, if you’re willing to put in some mighty hard, bone-breaking work.”

“And what would that be?”

“Clearing land in return for the title to it. You willing to do that and work out terms for it, you can go see a man name of Filmore Granger.”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

“You’ve been here a year, then you should have. The Grangers own the biggest section of land around the town of Strawberry. In fact, at least half the land J. T. Hollenbeck now owns once belonged to the Grangers.”

I received that information as if learning a new fact. I said nothing about the old man Elijah, who had already told me the same.

“You willing to put in the time and the work, if you want land, Filmore Granger is the man you want to see. Just remember, though, if you do business with him, he can be a hard man.”

I thanked Charles Jamison, and after he and his son were gone, I mulled over his words and slept on them. That next morning I mounted Thunder and headed south to talk to Filmore Granger. I figured if Filmore Granger had land to sell in exchange for the work of clearing it, I had the strength and the will to do it. As for J. T. Hollenbeck’s land, I figured I’d bide my time about that, and if the Lord was willing, I figured to one day have that too.





I found Filmore Granger and his boy, along with a colored workman, grooming horses in the Granger stables. I told Filmore Granger who I was and why I had come.

“Land, you say?” Filmore Granger glanced at me and went on tending one of his mares. “What makes you think I’m interested in selling any of my land? Harlan,” he said, addressing the boy before I had time to answer, “bring me that brush.” The boy looked at me, then hurried to do his father’s bidding.

“Well,” I said, “I spoke to Mister J. T. Hollenbeck and Mister Charles Jamison, and both of them mentioned you might have land for sale. They suggested I come see you.”

“They did, did they?”

“Yes, sir, they did. I’m interested in thirty or forty acres to get myself started and settle down, but seeing that I’m a man of color, it might be difficult for me to get a bank loan to buy a parcel.”

“You mean to say you’re a nigger?” exclaimed the boy. Filmore Granger said nothing. The workman looked at me now and met my eyes.

I ignored the boy and went on as if I had said nothing amiss, though I felt my anger rising at his using that word to me.

“Both Mister Hollenbeck and Mister Jamison said maybe you’d be willing to work something out with me. Mister Jamison said you might consider exchanging the land for clearing it.”

Filmore Granger glanced my way, then took his time about speaking again. When he finished with the mare, he gave me his attention. “You ever thought about sharecropping? There’s an advantage in that for you. I supply all the seed, animals you need. I take all the risk. You just put in the labor. We share the crop.”

I guarded my words in my answer to him. “Mister Granger, I wouldn’t own the land if I were to sharecrop, and it’s land I want.”

Filmore Granger studied me a moment. “So you know what land of mine you want?”

“No, sir,” I said. “I didn’t know what land might be for sale.”

“Well, I got a piece of land in mind. You want to see it, I’ll show it to you.”

“I’d be obliged,” I said.

Filmore Granger then turned the remainder of the grooming over to the workman, and saddled the mare. He told the boy to saddle a bay, then the two led the horses outside. As I untied the reins to Thunder, the boy suddenly stopped. “Where’d you get this horse?” he demanded.

“It’s a fine-looking horse, all right,” said Filmore Granger, eyeing me as if I had no business with Thunder. “What are you doing with him?”