Part 9 (1/2)

”When's it go'n happen?” I asked her.

”Mon sha,” she said. ”Don't you know too much already?”

”No,” I said.

”When he falls three times,” she said.

”He go'n fall three times?” I said. ”How do you know that?”

”I am Madame Eloise Gautier, formerly of New Orleans,” she said.

”If he don't get up after he fall the first time?” I said.

”He will,” she said. ”Chief-and don't get up? He will. Even if he must fall ninety times. Chief? he must.”

”Can't you give me something to put in his food?” I asked her. She had a little cabinet against the wall, and she had all kinds of bottles and jars in the cabinet. ”Some powder or something to make him sick?” I said. ”If he's sick he can't ride.”

”You go'n keep him sick?” she asked.

”Till somebody else break that horse,” I said.

”Mon sha, mon sha, mon sha, mon sha,” she said. ”I have told you the horse is just one. If not the horse, then the lion, if not the lion, then the woman, if not the woman, then the war, then the politic, then the whisky. Man must always search somewhere to prove himself. He don't know everything is already inside him.”

”Then he want die?” I asked her. ”Because I can't give him the child?”

”No, he want to live,” she said. ”And not just because you barren. Many reasons. Many. Many. But it's in here, mon sha,” she said, touching her bosom.

”But don't he know that horse can kill him?” I said.

”He don't know that,” she said. ”And he wouldn't believe any man on earth who told him so. He believes a horse is made to be broken. All horses made to be broken, true, but not every man can break every horse. This horse your Pittman will not break. Your Pittman has got old and fat now. Not the man he think he is.”

”He's all right,” I said.

”Ah, mon sha,” she said.

”I know what I'm saying,” I said. ”And you can ask anybody else.”

”We talking about breaking horses, mon sha,” she said. ”Your Pittman will not break this horse. Another man will have to do it. If he is true he will be destroyed by some other horse himself. If he's not true, then something else will take him. It could be grippe.”

”Grippe again,” I said.

”Grippe can do it,” she said. ”Mon sha, man is put here to die. From the day he is born him and death take off for that red string. But he never wins, he don't even tie. So the next best thing, do what you can with the little time the Lord spares you. Most men feel they ought to spend them few years proving they men. They choose the foolishes' ways to do it.”

”Joe said he wouldn't mind farming if the white people let him farm in peace.”

”I know, mon sha, I know,” she said. ”That'll be a dollar if you don't mind.”

”I want some powder, too,” I said. ”I don't want nothing too strong-just to keep him off that horse.”

”Give me a dollar and a quarter,” she said.

While I was getting the money out of my handkerchief she went to the cabinet. I saw her opening one of the bottles and dumping the powder on a piece of paper. She looked at how much she already had on the paper, then she added a little bit more.

”When do they break the horses?” she asked me.

”Sat.u.r.day,” I said.

”Early or late?”

”Late. When the people get there.”

”When the c.o.c.k crow Sat.u.r.day morning, get up and sprinkle some of this on the floor so Pittman will have to cross it,” she said. ”His side of the bed is best. Go to the corral gate and sprinkle some there while the c.o.c.k is still crowing.”

”And that'll keep him from riding the horse?” I asked.

”He will not ride him, my dear.”

I paid her and left. My powder in my handkerchief, I felt good. All day I felt good. That night I didn't sleep, but it was just because I felt good. But the next day I felt shaky. How did I know that powder was go'n work? Maybe she had just gived it to me because I was worrying her so much. She didn't take time to pick a bottle, she just grabbed the first one she came to. Matter of fact I wanted some powder out of that little green bottle, not that red one. I got more and more shaky. Joe asked me if I was all right.

”Sure, I'm all right,” I said. ”What you got to be asking me that for?”

”Just asked you,” he said.

At the house Miss Clare asked me the same thing.

”Something the matter with you, Jane?”

”Just tired,” I said.

”Go home and come back tomorrow,” Miss Clare said.

That was Thursday. Thursday night I didn't sleep at all. The next day I felt even worse.

”Go back home, Jane,” Miss Clare said.

Joe went hunting that day, and I sat round the house by myself. If I laid down on the bed and shut my eyes a second time I saw that black devil standing in the corral. That night we went to bed early because the next day was Sat.u.r.day, the day they broke the horses. Joe was tired from hunting and went right off to sleep. The two girls was asleep in their bed. I was the only one laying there awake. Probably the only one awake on that whole place.

I knowed I never would get any sleep that night, and I got up and put on some clothes. I was go'n sit at the firehalf, but the next thing I know I was outside. It was freezing out there, and the night clear as day. I didn't know why I had come out there. I knowed when I got up that was not in my mind. Now, out there, I found myself headed toward the corral.

All the other horses was standing together to stay warm, all but him. He walking round inside the corral like he was some kind of majesty. When he got a whiff of my scent he stopped walking and looked up. I stood there looking at him, my arms folded because it was near freezing. The next thing I knowed I had opened the gate and I was in the corral trying to get him out.

I was in the corral, waving my arms, going ”Shoo, shoo, shoo,” but he wouldn't go near that gate till Joe came there. Soon as he caught sight of Joe they started for the gate at the same time. He won by a foot and lit out cross the field. The ground was frozen and you could hear him pounding that hard ground a mile. Joe came in there and knocked me down, then he picked me up and throwed me over the fence. I laid down there numb awhile, and when I got up I saw that he had swung upon his own horse and was going after the stallion. I started hollering and running after him. ”Don't get back on him, don't get back on him, Joe.” The people came out to see what was the matter. When they heard the stallion was loose they saddled their horses and went after him. I ran after Joe till I came up to the swamps, then I turned around and come on back home. I sat by the firehalf all night waiting for them to come back.

Early the next morning they came back with the stallion and with Joe tied to his own horse. They said Joe had cornered and roped the stallion, but with no saddle to tie the rope on, the stallion had jecked him off his horse and had dragged him through the swamps. When they found him he was tangled in the rope, already dead. The horse still had the rope round his neck, eating leaves off a bush to the side.