MARIE said that old mule was not no matter. She said it was not no use to her. She said it was Gods will and she taken it for a sign. It was a sign for her not to be movin down the big road, and her amongst strangers.
That was what she said when I kept sayin I was goin to pay.
I tried to pay. I tried and strove. They was money at Massey, but it looked lak what they give you with one hand on Saturday night they taken back with the other hand afore Monday morning. But I kept on tryin, if air man did. I taken what I could ever week and helt it out. It was not much, and me there two months. It was nineteen dollars, or nigh it. I could helt out a little more if I had not bought Marie them pretties. I bought them pretties down at Cashtown where they got stores full of them things, and they is vanity and no denyin. But a man, and a young man he is full of vanity and flesh forwardness, and it ain’t nuthin but his lust and flesh hotness if you scan clost and name it. He sees a woman and he gits her on his mind and he wants to put pretties on her so he can see her with them things, but it ain’t nuthin but Bible lust comin out of his eyes.
I bought Marie them things. I bought her a necklace and it was all gold or nigh, like the man said. It had a sparklet in it and it had a shine lak a diamint, you let the sun git it clear. It looked to me lak I had to git it for Marie. I seen it layin there, and I knowed I had to git it. So I ast him how much and he named it and I taken four dollars and give it to him. I didn’t say yea nor nay. I did not hem or haw. I just give him that money, for I knowed Marie had to have it. Marie was one of them little women, and not too much meat on them. She was spry lak them little women, and quick when she aimed to. But she was a quiet one. She was quiet and still. She would be settin or standin there, and you never knowed it. You look at her and you did not think nobody could be that quiet, and it natchel. You looked and you never knowed it was breath comin and goin in her bosom, it moved so gentle for a marvel. She was lak water layin in the sun, and it deep and nary a riffle. But a little wind what a man cannot feel blowin on his cheek, and a sparkle runs all over that water all of a sudden. She moved her hand just easy or it was her eyes got bright of a sudden, and it was lak that wind blowed on the water and it was all sparkle. I bought that necklace to wear on her bosom for that sparkle what was in her.
She would be done work and I would be waitin. Ax or layin to a crosscut all day, and I would see her comin out of that there kitchen and me waitin in the dark and the weariness was not nuthin. It was lak I was wakin up fresh and a sunbeam done smote you on the eyeball and roused you. We would go to them frolics at Massey on Saturday night. She would stand quiet and watch them folks dance and stomp and the caller called the figgers and them fiddles goin. She stood right quiet, but you could see the sparkle in her. If you looked clost. Then maybe we would dance a set or twain. But I did not git no more of Barkus moonshine, nor offen nobody else. At least not when I was with Marie. She did not lak for me to. And when I was with Marie I never felt no call.
I never taken likker lak I use to, and likker is a sin. But a man cannot be good out of plain humankindness. He cannot be good for it ain’t in a pore man. He cannot be good unlest it is good in the light of Gods eye. Gods eye ain’t on him and he just swaps one sin for another one, and it worse maybe. I laid off likker, but I swapped for another sin. I laid off likker for Marie but it was because of pore human love and not for Gods love. Then it was for pore human love I taken that there worse sin, and I shame to say it.
Week nights when there wasn’t no frolic at Massey, we walked on the mountain. It was moonlight on them clearins, or stars, and on them roads where the wagins went in the day time, and dark under the bushes and them trees. You look off west at night offen Massey, and you know they is the big valley and the hills off there, but you ain’t seein it. It is lak the world is way down there and black dark to yore sight, and the folks down there and the folks doins ain’t nuthin. The sky is way up, and the stars. I was up on the mountain and it was Marie with me. It was right brisk to cold on the mountain with the fall comin on, but we never taken no mind. We set down on a log or on a lime chunk, and it was lak we done built a warm fire for a camp and put our hands to the brightness. We never taken thought on the cold. A man dont take no thought on what he was or is or what will come.
I taken no thought and it was my sin. I ain’t never said it was Maries sin. When a man ever does a sin he ain’t done it secret and him private. He has done taken his own sin on his shoulders, but another mans sin too to bear him down. You throw a rock in a pond and it don’t make but one splash but they is ripples runs out from it. I sinned and I taken Maries sin on my shoulders for Judgmint. It was my fault she taken spot and had blemish laid on to her. It was for pore human mans love, but love ain’t nuthin if it ain’t in Gods eye.
It was after Christmas she told me she was heavy. She did not say nuthin or complain. She just named it and looked at me quiet. I just bust out laughin. Lord God, I said, it ain’t nuthin, yore Mammy and mine come to it. Lord God, I said, it ain’t a thing in the world. I bet he will be a buster, I said. I bet he will be a ringtail. We will just go down to Cashtown and git married. I got me half of Pappys place, and me and Jacob will sell it and me take my half.
She said would Jacob mind to. She said maybe Jacob wanted to stay on where his Pappy and Mammy was afore him.
Hell, I said, half is mine and I by God aimed to have it.
I said we would take my half and git us a place to stay in on Massey so I could git to my work. I said she would not be standin over them cook stoves to git vittles for other folks. I said she could stay home and git my vittles and the young uns for a change. I said I aimed to git my half.
I knowed Jacob would squeal lak a suckin pig caught under the bottom rail, but I never cared. I aimed to git my half. I come down the road on a Sunday evenin, and I seen Jacob settin under a cedar tree with his chair cocked back for it was onseasonable warm and January. I seen him settin there but I knowed he never taken his ease. I knowed it was the Bible layin on his lap.
I ast him how he was makin out. He said he did not have no complaint, and he made to git me a chair from the house. Naw, I said, I did not have no time for settin. I said how it was business I come for. I said I was gittin married.
That Canady girl, he ast me.
I said it was.
He said she was a good girl, and he knowed it the way she was to that pore old man the Frencher.
I said, yeah, she was a good girl but I never put my foot in the big road and come twelve miles to git him to tell me. I said I come on business, lak I done said.
He said, what was it.
It is yores to come to, yores and that Canady girls, he said.
And mine to sell and git my half, I said. That was what I said, right out. Good or bad, winter or summer, cold or hot, I never was one to let no word git spit-soft on my tongue. I never beat around no bush.
He just stood there shakin his head and never said nuthin.
I come to git my half, I said.
Ashby, he said, and shaken his head, it ain’t in me. Not to sell this here place and be leavin. Ashby, you ain’t meanin it. Not and yore Pappy and Mammy dyin here, and the bed they was in.
They is dead, I said, and ain’t no talk makin it diffrent. They is dead and ain’t this place or no other nuthin to them now.
I ain’t selling this place, he said, quiet.
This place, this place, I said. Lord God, you talk lak this here place was gold and diamints. This place is lak air other place. A place is dirt. And I spat on the bare ground where it was tromped hard in front with the comin and goin.
It is dirt, Jacob said. But man, he is dirt, he said. He ain’t nuthin but dirt, he said, but the God All Mighty breathed His breath in him and he ain’t common dirt no more.
I told him this place was common dirt to me, by God.
It is not common to me, Jacob said.
I told him I was not breakin no wind if it was common or not common dirt to him, but I was havin my half.
Ashby, Ashby, he said, ain’t I yore brother.
I nigh wish to God you was not, I said.
Ashby, he commenst, and put out his hand lak to lay holt on me, but I never knowed what he aimed to say. I have laid awake in the dark and seen how it was, and ain’t never knowed.
By God, I said, and I looked in his face, and I knowed he would not sell never for no mans price. But that was not it. It was some other thing come on me lookin at him.
By God, I said, and I give it to him. I give it to him on the side of the head.
I stunned him flat.
He laid on his back I ain’t sayin how long, not lookin at me, just up at the sky and blinked lak a baby you put him in the light. Then he rolled on one side and got up, and stood there and looked at me.
You sellin, I yelled at him, but it did not matter what I yelled for I knowed he was not sellin and I never waited for him to say. It was on me, and I was blood guilty in my heart. I give it to him agin.
I give it to him in the mouth, and he lay there and I seen the blood come out of his mouth.
By God, I yelled, by God. I looked where he laid. Then I turned my back and left him layin and started down the big road.
I walked down the road fast. I reckon I done gone a mile and I looked down and seen my hand was bloody. I done cut my knucks and they was bloody. I reckin I cut them on his teeth.
I wish I had kilt him, I said out loud, but they was not nobody there. By God, I said, I wish I had kilt the bastard.
I walked down the road and sucked the blood out of my knucks where they was cut, and spat the blood and spit out in the middle of the road where folks goes.