Big Sue laughed, “You don’ want to say, enty? I don’ blame you. But between you an’ me I spec’ e is whe’ I hope e ain’t; a hoppin’ in Hell dis minute!”
“Shut you’ mouth, gal! Gawd’ll strike you dead first t’ing you know!” Uncle Bill gave her a hard look. “Ol’ Cap’n had his faults, but e was a man! Yes, Gawd! A man!”
Uncle Bill wasn’t listening. He had gone back to the past, “Lawd, I kin see Ol’ Cap’n now. High an’ straight. Slim till de day e died. His eyes could go black as soot an’ flash wid pure fire when e got vexed, but dey could shine soft as gal-chillen’s eyes too.” Uncle Bill’s own eyes brightened as he talked.
“Dat man could ride horses dat would ’a’ killed anybody else,” he boasted. “An’ Uncle Isaac, yonder, used to be a man too! E drove de carriage wid a pair o’ coal black horses. When dey’d pass you in de big road dem horses’ breath was hot as pure steam. Dey nostrils was red as any blood! De gold an’ silver on de harness would blind you’ eyes same as a flash o’ lightnin’! You’d have to stop an’ stand still an’ cover up you’ face. Dem was de days! You young people don’ know nothin’! Not nothin’!”
A merry laugh crinkled up his eyelids, and filled the hollows in his thin old cheeks. It tickled him when he thought about the case Ol’ Cap’n was. He was a case. A heavy case! Sometimes his company would get drunk and reckless with pistols. Cap’n would always caution them to be careful not to shoot any of his servants. He’d always brag that he had the best stock of niggers and dogs and horses in the state, and he didn’t want any of them hurt.
“I ’member. E was powerful big-doin’s. But when death come for him, he had to go same as anybody else. Whe’s e now, Uncle Bill?”
Uncle Bill made a wry face at Big Sue, “I dunno. An’ you dunno. But Gawd knows Ol’ Cap’n had a big heart. A good heart. E wan’ no po’ buckra, or either white trash.” A sly smile lightened his solemn face.
“Dat new preacher preaches dat de Great I-Am is a nigger! Don’ let em fool you, gal. Gawd is white. You’ll see it too when Judgment Day comes. An’ E ain’ gwine be noways hard on a fine man like Ol’ Cap’n. He knows gentlemens. Sho’! An’ if Ol’ Cap’n couldn’ exactly make Heaven, I bet Gawd is got him a comfortable place in Hell, wid plenty o’ people to wait on him. An’ dat’s all e wants, anyhow. E had plenty o’ milk an’ honey an’ gold an’ silber down here, an’ e didn’ count none o’ dem much, nohow.”
The stillness was so intense that when the clock on Big Sue’s mantel banged out an hour, Uncle Bill jumped with a start at its call back to the present. He must be going on to April’s house with the bucket of milk. Time was moving. He had a lot of work to do before the white folks came. Some of the fences needed patching. Blinds had to be fixed in the rice-fields for the duck-hunters and the old trunks had to be mended in places so the ducks could be baited. There were many things waiting for him to do them.
“Did you hear f’om de buckra lately?” Big Sue’s little eyes got smaller as she asked it.