Knight's Crossing
©2006 Jess Mowry
Chapter One:
"All aboard!"
The conductor's voice sounded muffled and flat, as if he was calling through cotton bales instead of the hot steamy air. The
engine hooted its whistle twice, then started chugging slowly away as if weary of working so hard in this heat but not knowing
how to escape.
Ashley stood on the station platform, his new carpet-bag at his feet. He watched the train as it gathered speed and went puffing
away through the vine-tangled trees, leaving only its smoke and the sweltering silence in memory of its three-minute stop.
Ashley had almost forgotten this heat after spending a year in New Orleans, where he'd celebrated his fourteenth birthday
only a few weeks ago. His white linen shirt clung uncomfortably tight to the rolly-round shapes of his chest, while sweat
trickled down the sides of his face from under his curly blond shoulder-length hair. Nothing moved in this sun-haunted place,
where even the trees seemed to droop in exhaustion beneath their long streamers of gray Spanish moss.
In fact, the land seemed eerily still: it was like the feeling in hurricane season before the strike of a storm.
Ashley sucked air as thick as molasses and wiped his face as he looked around. An old man dozed on a rough wooden bench, a
battered slouch hat over his face... the same old man who'd been slumbering there when Ashley had left a year before. An equally
ancient and dusty brown dog lay asleep at one end of the platform -- probably also the very same dog -- and a pair of black
boys were sprawled in the shade beneath the leaky water tank. A telegraph chattered inside the office, making a drowsy insect
sound. It was really about the only reminder that a world existed beyond Knight's Crossing.
Ashley struggled to pull out his watch, which wasn't the easiest thing to do because his stomach had prospered this year and
hung way over his brown canvas trousers. It was mostly imprisoned within his shirt, though trying its best to escape; and
the cave of his navel was deeply peeking where once a button had been. Ashley had always been chubby, but his aunt in 'Orleans
owned an excellent cook, and the city was filled with cafes.
Ashley finally extracted his watch, silver, heavy, made for a boy, designed for rough-and-tumble use; a parting gift from
his father last year so Ashley "wouldn't be late for school." Flipping open its sturdy cover, he saw it was 12:46. The train
had arrived only ten minutes late, yet there was no one but the dozing old man, the slumbering dog, and the lazy black boys.
No buggy stood waiting to meet him.
"Well, damn," Ashley muttered, mopping more sweat from a chipmunk-cheeked face that boasted the hint of a small second chin.
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; it was just like lazy old Jupiter to fall asleep at the reins. Nothing at all
had changed around here, and probably never would.
The little town of Knight's Crossing -- a dozen buildings surrounded by trees -- was only a few minutes walk from the station.
But, Ashley didn't feel like walking, especially toting his heavy bag through the dust and this dammable heat. He supposed
he could sit by the man on the bench, or go inside the waiting room, where at least it was shady if not any cooler, but he
wanted something to eat. He'd had a big breakfast in New Orleans, and bought a beef sandwich aboard the train, but he'd grown
accustomed to ample meals and now he was hungry for lunch.
He stuffed the watch back into his pocket and glanced at a rusty bucket and dipper that hung on a nail by the waiting room
door. A sign above it said WHITE ONLY -- as if any nigger could read -- but the overflow from the water tank would probably
taste a lot better. What would really taste good was a big mug of beer, nice and cool from the cellar at home. ...Where the
devil was Jupiter?
The two black boys had noticed Ashley. They seemed to be around his own age, but both were shirtless, barefoot and dusty.
One wore only the shreds of trousers, though the other boy's were in better condition. The boy in rags was beautifully muscled
and rather handsomely dark chocolate-brown. His chest jutted out like cobblestones, while his biceps bulged like river rocks.
The other boy was as black as coal and almost impossibly fat. His canvas trousers -- similar to Ashley's but three times the
size -- were strained to the point of bursting their seams on legs that resembled oak tree trunks, while his belly both filled
and spilled over his lap. The spherical shapes of his chest were enormous, and his huge body boasted as many rolls as one
might find in a French bakery. He was surely an astonishing sight, and Ashley found himself wondering how a slave could have
had gotten so fat.
The muscular youth rose to his feet and trotted up to Ashley, bringing the smells of boy-sweat and dust. He certainly should
have been working somewhere instead of just lazing around.
"Carry your bag, suh?" he asked.
Ashley considered the offer: there was no way of knowing how long it would take for Jupiter to finally arrive. The town had
a reasonably decent tavern that featured an ample free lunch; and even foolish old Jupiter would guess where Ashley had gone.
But, Ashley shook his head.
"No thanks," he said, though not sure why. He dug in a pocket -- again with a struggle -- and handed the black boy a penny.
Then, he picked up his bag and walked down the platform, feeling new sweat soaking into his shirt from the effort it took
to move in this heat. He unfastened a few of the buttons, then stopped in front of the mammoth boy, who looked up from under
his thick bush of hair with bright onyx eyes and the hint of a smile. His behind was so big and his trousers so small that
he really sat on them instead of in them.
"Boy," said Ashley. "Y'all want to carry my bag into town?"
The enormous boy only widened his smile, a lazy, slow, and foxy expression... maybe how a fox would look if he had free run
of a henhouse. "I'd really rather not, young suh."
Ashley felt his cheeks flush. He couldn't believe he'd heard the boy right! There were many freed slaves in New Orleans, and
mulatto children were always free no matter how dark they were. Ashley had learned to be tolerant when blacks addressed him
as if they were equal. But, that had been in a civilized city, not in his own home town!
Ashley fought down a flash of anger, which made him sweat all the more. "That really wasn't a question, boy," he said in a
warning tone.
The gargantuan youth only heaved a huge sigh. "I s'pose not." He then took a minute to yawn and stretch, which made his vast
body wobble all over like riverbank mud when a steamboat chugged past. "How much you pay me, young massa?"
"I might give you a penny," said Ashley. "If you don't give me any more sass."
The boy raised a soot-colored eyebrow. "Sorry, young suh. I just couldn't do it for less than a nickel." Then he grinned with
startling teeth, like the oversize chompers of some mighty beast. "Why, other niggers would talk!"
Ashley's cheeks flashed like a railroad warning. "Who you belong to, boy?" he demanded.
The fat boy looked a little amused. "Ol' Massa Franklin out in the swamp."
"Then why aren't you out there working?" snapped Ashley.
"Massa Franklin give me this day, an' a nickel to buy me some candy. ...Suh."
Ashley glanced toward the tree-shrouded town, hoping to see the dust of a buggy, but nothing stirred in the devilish heat.
The muscular boy had come back down the platform.
"I carries your bag for that penny, suh." He patted his paving stone chest. "I's fairly strong."
"Then why aren't you working?" growled Ashley.
"I's been sold to a white boy, suh. I's gonna be his companion. I was waitin' on someone to come for me, but seem like they
sent me a whole day early, an' I don't have the slightest of money."
Ashley frowned. "Who you say you been sold to, boy?"
"...I means a young massa, suh."
"That's better," said Ashley. "I assume you have a letter to prove the truth of what you say?"
"Sho' does, young massa. Gots it right here in my pocket, suh, along with my bill of sale."
"I don't need to see it," said Ashley. "Y'all don't look like a fool to me, so I know you wouldn't be lyin'." He studied the
chocolate-brown boy for a moment: a very handsome muscular buck with somewhat unusual bright amber eyes and a cheerful intelligent
face. He didn't have a lot of mass, but every young muscle was starkly defined like an artist's anatomy model. He was also
rather smelly, though Ashley wasn't bothered by that, having been around his father's slaves for thirteen years of his life.
He probably smelled a little himself from sweating for hours on the train. The young buck's trousers were slightly too large
--what remained of them, anyhow -- clinging comically low on his narrow hips and revealing a few sooty curls. Ashley had never
had a companion, at least not a boy of his very own, but someone was going to be very lucky to get such a sturdy young buck
as a gift.
"I don't want your help," said Ashley. "...But, thanks just the same. I hope y'all like your new master." That wasn't a proper
thing to say, but it came out before he could think.
He dug in his pocket again. "Here's a dime for something to eat." He glanced at the featureless sky overhead, as empty and
blue as a porcelain bowl, though slightly dark to the south. "Y'all best find you a dry place to sleep 'cause it look like
to storm in a while." Ashley considered, then added: "Y'all go see the blacksmith in town, Darby O'Gill. Tell him Ashley Knight
sent you. I 'spect he'll let you sleep in his shop."
"Thank you, suh!" said the boy with a smile. "But, don't y'all want me to carry your bag?"
"No," said Ashley, though still not sure why. The boy could have probably carried him along with his cumbersome luggage.
"Y'all best be goin'," he added. "Folks 'round here don't like seein' niggers with nothing constructive to do. ...An' I wouldn't
advise bein' out after dark."
"Thank you, suh," the boy said again, then trotted obediently off to town.
"That was very kind of you, suh," the huge fat boy remarked.
"I just didn't want him gettin' in trouble. ...Or swingin' from a tree tonight." Ashley dropped his bag on the ground. "All
right. I'll pay you a nickel. But, you're tryin' my patience, boy."
"Y'all just give him a dime for nothin'."
"Shut up an' get up!" roared Ashley. "Or I give you somethin' you won't soon forget!"
The fat boy only smiled again and struggled to get to his feet. After several ridiculous tries he collapsed in a quivering
heap. "Can y'all gimmie a hand, young suh?"
"Well, damn!" Ashley knelt down and shoved a shoulder beneath an enormous arm. After several minutes of sweaty struggle, he
got the huge boy on his feet.
The fat boy's trousers almost fell off, but he gave them a half-hearted tug with a hand and they managed to clung to his mostly
bare bottom, which looked like two ebony planets colliding. He wasn't any taller than Ashley, but was easily four times as
wide. His trouser cuffs puddled over his feet, and his wobbly mass of belly blubber hung all the way down to his knees. His
navel resembled a railroad tunnel.
"Let's go," said Ashley, whose white linen shirt was now stained with dust and even more sodden with muddy buck sweat. "What's
your name?"
"Loki, suh. But they call me Lucky."
"Well, hurry up, Lucky, I don't have all day!"
But, Lucky didn't hurry. It seemed to take every ounce of his strength to lift Ashley's bag off the ground, and he waddled
along at the pace of a snail, dragging the bag behind him. His thighs seemed to get in each other's way, making each step
a major event, and he dropped Ashley's bag about every ten feet to tug up his trousers again. Ashley had to wait when this
happened, and was getting hotter and angrier with every passing minute.
Lucky was puffing like a steam locomotive by the time they were halfway to town. He dropped the bag in the dirt once more
as his trousers slid down to his ankles, then wiped the sweat from his triple-chinned face. "I's sorry, young massa," he wheezed.
"I's just too fat for this kind of work."
"Damn you, boy!" bellowed Ashley. "Pick up that bag and come on, you hear!"
"I can't, suh," Lucky panted.
Ashley muttered another curse and snatched the bag from the dirt. He turned to stalk away, but then hesitated and turned back
around. "Pull up those trousers and come on, boy! At least you can watch my bag for me. You can do that, can't you?"
Lucky smiled and recovered his trousers. "Sho', young massa. But I wants me another nickel."
"What!" cried Ashley. "You didn't earn your first nickel yet! I wouldn't give you a tin picayune for all you've done
so far!"
"But I tried to please you, young massa."
"What do you do out at Franklin's?"
"I thinks a lot, suh. An' I tell my thinkin's to massa."
"Don't mess with me!" Ashley yelled. "Nobody owns a thinkin' nigger!"
"I helps my mammy in the cook house, some. She be the best cook in the world."
"As if you knew anything about the world!" Ashley poked Lucky's gigantic belly, his finger sinking out of sight. "It's
obvious you work around food. Likely as not you steal it, too."
"Oh no, suh! I whistle all the way up the walk."
"Don't lie to me, boy! Ain't no way in hell an honest nigger could get as fat as you!" Ashley's own trousers slipped low on
his hips as his roll of tummy spilled out of his shirt.
Lucky had the gall to poke it. "But honest white folks can?"
"I'm a human being," snapped Ashley. "You're not. Now, c'mon, dammit!"
"What about my nickel?"
"Here!" yelled Ashley, hurling a coin at the smiling boy, who caught it in one chubby hand. "Now, COME ON!"
Ashley was puffing and panting himself by the time they reached the tavern, with Lucky waddling slowly behind. Lucky hadn't
had the strength to tote Ashley's bag, yet he seemed to have plenty of breath to whistle a cheerful tune as he walked.
The tavern was brick with a wide veranda, and shaded by massive oak trees. The scents of food and foamy beer drifted out through
the open front doors. Ashley paused to study the sky.
"I feels it, too," said Lucky. "There be a big storm comin' on."
"Animals can always sense trouble," Ashley muttered sarcastically. He mounted the steps and dropped his bag. There were tables
and chairs on the shady pouch, but it would be cooler inside. "Here, boy," said Ashley. "Sit yourself down and watch my bag.
At least that's something you're capable of. ...Not in a chair! Y'all taken leave of your senses?"
Lucky smiled. "You're perfectly right, I'd likely bust it." He then plopped down on the boards of porch, and the whole building
seemed to shake. "I guards your bag with my life, young suh."
"You damn well better! It's worth a lot more!" Ashley tucked in his shirt, hoisted his trousers, and started to enter the
doorway, but Lucky gave him a wistful look.
"I sho' is hungry, young massa. An' awful thirsty, too."
Ashley sighed. "I'll bring you something."
The tavern's interior was fairly cool. A gallery encircled its second floor, where rooms could be rented for the night...
also by the hour. The windows were thickly coated with dust, so most of the light came in through the doorway. A long oak
bar with a tarnished brass rail filled one side of the room, with a mirror, and bottles on shelves behind it. Tables and chairs
were scattered around, including a big one that held the free lunch. A couple of loungers stood at the bar, their tattered
clothes and battered hats revealing them as sharecroppers. One of the men had a small bullwhip coiled and tied to his belt
-- proof that he was wealthy enough to afford at least one slave. Some better-dressed men occupied a few tables; and there
was a card game in progress. The air was thick with cigar smoke, which blended well with the scents of food and the malty
aroma of beer. Ashley adjusted his trousers again. He supposed he should have bought new clothes, but most of his money had
gone for food and the many sweet treats to be had in 'Orleans.
The tavern-keeper was a brown-bearded, beer-bellied, ruddy-faced man who smiled as Ashley strode up to the bar. "Afternoon,
suh. ...Why, you're Ashley Knight."
"Afternoon, Tom," replied Ashley.
"Ain't seen you around in seem like a year. Where y'all been keepin' yourself?"
Ashley briefly told the man about his stay in New Orleans, then ordered himself a beer. He laid a nickel on the bar, but the
tavern-keeper smiled again. "It's on me, suh. Welcome home."
"Thank you, Tom," said Ashley. He raised the foaming mug in salute. "Your health, suh." He went to the table to build a sandwich,
but noticed Lucky peeping in. Damn the uppity boy! The tavern-keeper had noticed him, too, and the poor white men were
scowling.
"That your boy?" asked Tom. "If he ain't, I'll run him off."
"He's watching my bag," said Ashley, picturing Lucky trying to run, which made a funny sight. "Another beer, Tom, if you please."
"Y'all buy him down in New Orleans?" asked the tattered man with the whip.
Ashley almost said no. Many boys his age had companions, who also acted as personal servants. In England they were called
squires; and he'd read a lot about knights and such in the ancient days of chivalry. "He's watching my bag," Ashley repeated,
speaking the truth while implying a lie.
"He'll have to go around back," said Tom.
"Of course," agreed Ashley. He paid his nickel, then carried the second mug out to Lucky. The other poor white regarded his
beer and muttered something about "sanitation," but the tavern-keeper told him to hush.
Lucky gulped down half the beer as soon as Ashley gave it to him. "Mmmm!" he panted, finally coming up for air. "That sho'
is good, young massa! ...But, y'all ain't forgot my lunch, has you?"
"No I hasn't... haven't," said Ashley. "But, you have to go around back."
"Thank you, suh," said Lucky. "I 'spect it be cooler back there." He got to his feet with surprising ease. "Y'all bring your
bag so's I can keep watchin'." He waddled away with the mug in hand, while Ashley followed, toting the bag. The rear of the
tavern was shaded by trees and cooler than the veranda. Lucky sprawled out with his back to the bricks and gulped down the
rest of his beer. "I could use me another one, suh. An' I sho' is powerful hungry."
"All right!" cried Ashley, flinging his bag beside the huge boy and raising a billow of dust. "I haven't tasted my own, thanks
to you!"
"But, I's guardin' your property, suh."
"Well, damn!" muttered Ashley. He reentered the tavern through the back door, took a big gulp from his own beer mug, then
went to the table and grabbed a plate. There was roast beef, ham, and slices of bread, pickles, onions, salted potatoes and
hard-boiled eggs, among many other tempting things. Ashley constructed a big beef sandwich. Then a new thought came to mind.
He knew that Lucky was teasing him -- the boy seemed surprisingly smart -- but Ashley wasn't a fool. He wasn't sure why he'd
chosen Lucky instead of the handsome, muscular buck, who would have carried his bag for a penny. Maybe he'd only been curious
because Lucky was something different? No one knew much about Franklin's plantation. A few slave owners raised "oddities,"
and Lucky was odd as mule in pajamas. Or, maybe he was only a pet, kept to amuse his master like the jesters in days or yore?
That would account for his sassiness and dammable lack of respect. Ashley began to pile the plate with everything in sight.
He added so much that the tavern-keeper raised an astonished eyebrow.
"Beggin' your pardon, Master Knight, but y'all could put me out of business."
"I'll pay for this, Tom," said Ashley. "Another beer, please."
One of the gamblers looked up from his cards. "If I may be allowed an observation, you can't possibly eat all that, suh."
"It's not for me," said Ashley. "That boy... of mine... is uppity, an' I'm 'bout to teach him a lesson."
The man cocked his head. "An' what might that be, if I may inquire?"
"He's been pesterin' me like the devil, an' now he cryin' he's hungry. Well, if he can't eat what I give him, I believe I'll
borrow that gentleman's whip and teach him a lesson in manners, suh."
The poor white at the bar raised his mug. "I'll sho' nuff drink to that, suh!"
Everyone watched with interest as Ashley heaped more food on the plate. "Lord, Master Knight." said Tom. "Y'all gonna bust
me!"
Ashley laughed. "I'm gonna bust somethin'!"
"It's on me, Tom," said the gambler. Then he turned to Ashley. "Y'all be a bettin' man, suh?"
"I just spent a year in 'Orleans, suh. Ever hear of The House of the Rising Sun?"
The man seemed impressed -- though Ashley didn't bother to add that he'd never been inside the place. "Y'all cuttin' a prosperous
figure, suh. An' no denying your boy is, too, so I guess y'all don't lose much. But I'll make you a proposition, suh. I got
me a shiny new dollar right here says that boy of yours can't eat all that food."
"I'm in," said the man with the whip, and another gambler joined the bet.
"All right," agreed Ashley, finished at last, and admiring the mountain of vittles he'd built. "Y'all want Tom to hold the
bets?"
"I trust you, suh," said the gambler. "But, that boy of yours is gonna be thirsty after all that beef an' ham, an' salty boiled
potatoes. I ought to buy him a couple more beers."
Ashley nodded. "All right." He studied the heaping plate for a moment, knowing he'd lose the bet... Lucky couldn't possibly
eat all that. But, sending Lucky waddling home with a couple of stripes across his bottom was more than worth a few dollars.
Ashley enjoyed the look of dismay on Lucky's chubby ebony face when he carried the brimming plate out back, followed by Tom
with three mugs of beer, the pair of gentleman gamblers, and the ragged white man with the whip.
"Here, boy," said Ashley, shoving the plate into Lucky's hands. "Exactly what you asked for! You can't eat all that after
deviling me, I'll take it as a personal insult, an' I'll be in my rights to give you a thrashin'."
The poor white eagerly offered his whip. Ashley had never held one before -- his father's slaves never needed a lash-- but
the supple leather felt good in his hands and gave him a feeling of power.
Lucky stared down at the hugely-heaped plate. "Oh lord, young massa! I can't eat all this!"
Ashley curled the whip. "Eat it or else!"
"That's tellin' him, suh!" laughed the poor white man.
Lucky looked trapped for a moment, but then began to eat. Tom set down the trio of mugs.
"You said you were thirsty, too," Ashley added. "I hope for the sake of your bottom you are!"
Everyone watched in expectant silence as Lucky ate and drank. For a while there were only the sounds of chomping, accompanied
by gulps of beer. Somehow the food was vanishing! But, then he began to slow down, forcing himself to chew and swallow. Still,
he kept stuffing himself. The poor white man looked uncertain. The gambler cocked his head with interest. Lucky was panting
and pouring sweat, but had eaten two-thirds of the plateful of food, and only one mug of beer remained.
Ashley began to feel guilty: this now seemed a bit cruel. "That's enough," he finally said. "I think you've learned your lesson,
boy."
The gamblers chuckled, and Tom looked relieved -- folks always said he had a good heart -- but the poor white muttered, "A
bet's a bet, boy!"
"Mind who you're calling 'boy'," warned Ashley.
Lucky massaged his massive middle. "But I can't stop now, young massa. You lose all that money on me."
"It's not important," said Ashley.
The gambler slapped Ashley's shoulder. "Your boy's got spirit, I'll give him that."
Ashley dropped the whip on the ground and knelt beside the panting Lucky. "I said it's all right, you can stop now."
"No, young massa," gasped Lucky. "Y'all put your trust in me."
There were only two potatoes left, some slices of beef, and the last mug of beer. Lucky managed to finish it all, then let
out a thunderous burp that scared a sleeping crow in a tree.
The gambler whistled. "I'd of never believed it if I hadn't seen it!" He broke out laughing "That's the best dammed bet I've
lost in years!"
The poor white grumbled under his breath, but pulled out a dollar and snatched up his whip. The men went back in the tavern,
and Lucky collapsed against the wall.
"Are you all right?" asked Ashley, worried for Lucky... and not about having to pay for him in case he was damaged somehow.
Lucky smiled, his eyes almost shut, his fingers clasped over his titanic tummy as if to prevent an explosion. "I never hurt
so good in my life!"
"You sure you gonna be all right?"
"'Spect I just sleep for a while, suh. I generally does after lunch."
The tavern-keeper returned. "Your buggy's out front, Master Knight."
"Thank you, Tom," said Ashley. He turned back to Lucky. "I'll give you a ride out to Franklin's." He smiled a little. "No
denying' you earned it." He glanced at the dollars he'd won. "Here, boy, you take 'em."
"Huh?" asked Lucky, nearly asleep.
Ashley shook the huge boy's shoulders. "C'mon now, wake up! I said I'll give you a ride home."
"But I's too full to move, young massa."
"I'll help you. Come on."
That wasn't easy. Lucky's vast body was slippery with sweat and there was nothing to grab. It took several minutes of strain
and struggle to finally get him on his feet. Ashley was panting and gasping himself as he pulled Lucky's arm across his shoulders
and helped him waddle away.
Chapter Two:
Like the sleepy little town, Jupiter hadn't changed a bit... a wrinkled old raisin with snowy white hair, who moved at the
speed of an arthritic turtle. He'd seen a lot in his seventy years, but his eyebrows threatened to topple his hat when Ashley
staggered around the building supporting the gigantic Lucky.
"I's sorry I's late, Massa Knight," said Jupiter. "But I can't move as fast as I used to."
Ashley gave the old man a smile. "Meanin' you fell asleep on the road an' the horse just stopped in the shade somewhere. Good
to see you, Juppy. Y'all know this boy?"
"Just by reputation. He belong to Franklin' out at Content. ...But what in creation you doin' with him?"
Ashley laughed. "I invited him to lunch."
"'S'cue my ignorance, Massa Knight, but do 'Orleans whitefolks take blackfolks to lunch?"
"You never been ignorant, Juppy. Lucky kind of amused me, I guess. We'll take him to Franklin's before goin' home."
"Your folks might get worried," said Jupiter. He pushed back his hat to study the sky. "With a storm comin' on, an' we's already
late. Be 'least a hour to Franklin's."
"I'll have Tom send someone home with a message. Let's get Lucky aboard."
That was easier said than done. It was four feet up to the back of the buggy, and Lucky was just about helpless. Jupiter was
fairly strong, but Ashley had done very little but eat and leisurely stroll in the city all year, so his muscles had softened
a lot. After what seemed like hours of slippery struggle they'd managed to get Lucky halfway in; but try as they might, grunting
and gasping, they couldn't lift him the rest of the way. Ashley was ready to yell for Tom when the muscular buck from the
station appeared.
"Y'all needin' some help, suh?" he asked.
"God bless you, boy," panted Ashley.
The young buck's muscles completed the task, and Lucky was finally wrestled aboard, where he instantly went to sleep.
"Thanks," said Ashley, mopping more sweat from his face. The buttons had burst on his sodden shirt, and he peeled it off his
glistening body as pale as a catfish's underside. "Y'all find the blacksmith?"
"Yes suh." The boy looked off toward the southern sky. "It gonna be stormin' fit to bust before the sun go down, but I gots
me a roof an' a blanket tonight."
"Go around back of the tavern," said Ashley. "I'll have Tom bring you something to eat. An' here's a dollar for all your help."
"Lord!" exclaimed the boy. "I never had so much money before! Now I see why they calls him Lucky!"
Ashley patted the boy's bushy head. "Your new master's gonna be lucky, too... but don't you tell him that."
Ashley accompanied the happy young buck to get his bag from behind the tavern, then went inside to buy him a meal and have
a message sent home. Finally, he returned to the buggy and climbed on the seat beside Jupiter. They rattled slowly out of
town and onto a road that led through the swamp, tunneling under massive trees bearded with streamers of dangling moss. Ashley
tossed his shirt in the back and stretched his sweaty body.
"That feels a lot better! I hated all them fancy-ass clothes I had to wear in the city."
"Welcome home, massa," said Jupiter. He grinned and poked Ashley's stomach. "Y'all be cuttin' a prosperous figure."
Ashley glanced down at himself. "'Spect I gained about thirty pounds, an' I thoroughly enjoyed every one. You just wouldn't
believe the food down there!"
Jupiter chuckled. "Ain't hard to believe, lookin' at you."
"...But, dammit, I didn't have any lunch. An' I'm thirsty as hellfire, too!"
"Water jug's 'neath the seat, suh. ...An' here, I brung your hat."
"Thanks," said Ashley. The hat was a boyish and savage adornment, boasting a rattlesnake skin for a band, along with a jaunty
hawk feather. "S'pose it be the only thing that fit me anymore." He clamped the old hat on his head. "I surely missed my
buckskin trousers."
Jupiter smiled. "I 'spect we can entice my missus into makin' y'all a new pair. 'Course, you be all growed up now. Can't be
goin' around half naked an' lookin' like a injun-boy."
"Next you'll be trying to trim my beard!" Ashley pulled out the crockery jug and took several gulps of hot, flat water. "I
really wanted a beer." He reached in his bag for a box of cigars. "I brought these for you." Then he sighed. "Reckon they
had a fine big lunch all waitin' for me at home."
Jupiter ducked some feathery moss as they passed underneath a low tree branch. "Well, yes an' no, Massa Knight."
"My name is Ashley, as you well know. ...And what do you mean?"
"Your father had to sell Lizzie last month, an' the meals just ain't been the same. Your lunch be waitin' big all right, but
I wouldn't be callin' it fine."
Ashley's mouth dropped open. "Why would he ever sell Lizzie?"
"'Cause he had to sell off Lizzie's daughter, an' you know how he feel about bustin' up families."
"You mean Suzie?"
"Sho' nuff, Ash."
"But, Suzie was only about my age. ...I liked her a lot."
Jupiter shrugged. "Damn little fool! Got herself in a family way with some field-buck over at Benson's place."
"...Oh," said Ashley. He'd been looking forward to seeing Suzie.
"So," continued Jupiter, flicking the slow horse's rump with the whip. "Your father seem to think it best if Suzie be sold
to Benson. An' natcherly Lizzie go with her."
"Well, damn!" said Ashley. "Benson got the best of that deal! Lizzie was a wonderful cook. ...So, who's cookin' now?"
"One of the field girls, Betty her name.. An' lord she could burn a potful of water!"
"Well, damn!" muttered Ashley again. He glanced back at the slumbering Lucky, watching what had to be 500 pounds wobble and
jiggle like night-colored pudding as the buggy bounced over the rutted road. "He told me his mammy's a real good cook. Ain't
hard to believe that much of his tales."
"I's heard similar talk myself."
"Hmmm," said Ashley, glancing at Lucky again.
Chapter Three:
Seth Franklin's plantation was not very large. Nor was it noted around Knight's Crossing for being especially prosperous.
Ashley had never met the man and didn't know much about him. Jupiter probably knew a lot more, but like all wise slaves never
let on.
The drive to the Big House was neatly raked and lined with rounded river rocks, though it wasn't graveled to keep down the
dust like the much grander entrance to Ashley's home. The welcoming archway out on the road was simply built of cedar logs
with the name, CONTENT, carved above. The land was nearly surrounded by swamp, making it almost an island, so Franklin grew
rice on his wetter grounds and sugar cane on the driest.
Lucky was still sleeping peacefully as they rolled up the drive between the fields, where stalks of cane grew green and tall.
The afternoon air was brutally hot, and the stormy feeling had doubled. Ashley studied the sky to the south: its haze had
taken a coppery tone. He hoped he'd be home and eating supper before the fury broke.
There were only about twenty slaves at work -- men, women, and older youths -- out chopping cane in the steamy fields. Ashley
noted that, unlike some masters, Franklin didn't lock masks on his slaves to keep them from eating the cane. He also noticed
that all the slaves looked very well-fed and smiled a lot. He saw three boys of about his own age, two in trousers similar
to Lucky's, the third wearing only a loincloth. All of them were chubby. One boy almost looked like himself... except for
being black, of course. The men were rather handsomely built, and none of the women and girls were thin. Their pace as they
worked was a lot more unhurried than Ashley's father would have allowed.
The Big House looked impressive enough, though only half the size of Ashley's. The Quarters were out in plain sight behind
it, and seemed to be in a lot better shape than the dwellings of many poor whites. Flowers were growing around the cabins,
and young children played on the Big House's lawn, though some were old enough to be working.
"Ain't no wonder Franklin's not rich," Ashley remarked while buttoning his shirt. "He's let his slaves get fat an' lazy. ...An'
look at those kids doin' nothin'!"
"Shameful, ain't it?" said Jupiter.
The children all ran to the buggy as it came to a stop in front of the house... another thing that Ashley's father would never
have allowed. Like the older kids out in the fields, all were chubby, at least well-fed; and one boy who might have been about
twelve was so enormous that Ashley stared. He wasn't as fat as Lucky if measured in actual pounds, but he seemed to be nothing
but wobbly rolls. He waddled out from the shade of the house, leaning way back to balance a belly than hung nearly down to
his knees. He must have been the stable boy, as evidenced by a battered blue cap atop his woolly bush of hair. He was eating
a piece of cornbread and honey, and really needed three hands... one to hold the horse's reins, another to keep his trousers
on, and a third to feed his double-chinned face. The other kids spied Lucky asleep and started to giggle and laugh.
"Y'all figure out what to do with him," Ashley said to Jupiter. He adjusted his hat and climbed down from the buggy, automatically
searching his pockets and passing out pennies to all the kids. "Mind that horse," he said to the mammoth stable boy, while
handing him a nickel. "She spooks like crazy whenever it thunders."
A wet breeze stirred the sultry air as Ashley approached the house. There came a distant thunder crash. The slaves in the
fields all stopped their work and began walking back to the Quarters. The house's front door swung gently open as Ashley mounted
the steps to the porch. He almost tripped and fell in surprise... instead of a proper butler or maid, a chubby young black
girl appeared.
She was wearing only a simple slave dress, its blue cotton clinging so wonderfully tight that it clearly revealed every curve
of her body. Her silky skin was as dark as jet, and her face was a female version of Lucky's, roundly-cheeked and button-nosed.
Her hair was a halo of ringlets, while her eyes were large, very long-lashed, and sparkled like polished obsidian.
Ashley instantly pulled off his hat before realizing how silly that was. He tried not to stare at the beautiful girl in her
tight-clinging thin cotton dress. Then, he felt himself blushing.
His voice sounded husky and froggish, and he clutched his hat in nervous hands like a sharecropper begging a favor. "Um...
is your mass..." He cleared his throat and began again. "Is your master in?"
The girl smiled sweetly, dimpling her cheeks. Ashley fought to control his eyes, wanting to look at this beautiful girl, knowing
he had every right to look, but feeling absurdly shy. He realized she had spoken to him. "Huh?" he asked.
"Who should I say is callin', please?" the girl repeated with the hint of a giggle.
"...Oh. ...Um... My name's Ashley. ...Ashley Knight."
"Won't you step in, Master Knight?"
Still clutching his hat, Ashley came in as the girl moved aside. He didn't want her to curtsey for him, and thankfully she
didn't. Her scent was somehow like water-lilies. She closed the door behind him, after taking a look at the threatening sky.
"This way, please, Master Knight." She led him up a hallway, her bare feet soundless on polished oak. Ashley couldn't keep
his eyes from scanning her wonderfully rounded figure. He got the impression that many fine paintings were hung along the
wainscotted walls, but he hardly even noticed the art, being entranced by the girl. She ushered him into a library and dimpled
her chubby cheeks again.
"The Master is havin' his afternoon nap, but I'm sure he won't mind receiving you. I'll just be a minute, suh. Please have
a seat."
"Um," said Ashley, almost crushing his hat in his hands. It certainly wasn't proper, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
"My name is Ashley. ...Um, what's yours?"
The girl's eyes seemed to linger on him. "Lucinda."
Ashley swallowed. "That's a real pretty name."
"Thank you." Lucinda smiled again, then added, "Ashley."
Ashley just stood with hat in hands after Lucinda had left. "Well, damn!" he murmured. Several of the children outside resembled
African cupids, and he wondered if he'd been shot in the back with one of those fabled arrows.
He tried to shake off what felt like a spell, and glanced around the room. The furniture seemed to be rather old, but looked
cared-for and cherished. The air was pleasantly cool, the sunlight tamed by wine-colored drapes; but Ashley's shirt was thoroughly
soaked, as well as begrimed from his struggles with Lucky. He probably smelled as sweaty and male as the muscled young buck
he'd met at the station. His boots were appallingly dusty, and his canvas trousers were really quite common. He hoped that
Franklin would not be displeased, though he worried more about the impression he might have made on Lucinda. ...That was really
absurd!
He considered the chubby children, and wondered if Franklin bred speciality slaves to supplement his crops. Maybe he raised
young slaves for the house, with polished manners and eye-pleasing looks... though he seemed to have polished Lucky too well.
He became aware of more paintings around him, and though he knew very little of art, they all appeared to be skillfully done.
Most were landscapes and bayou scenes, but others were slave children, usually chubby. There were many old leather-bound books
on the shelves, and Ashley began to study their titles. It seemed as if Franklin was very well-read: there were Shakespeare,
Dante, Cervantes, Poe, Dickens, DeFoe and Hawthorne, plus volumes of Philosophy as well as many religious tomes. There were
also books about Africa; and Ashley was scanning their well-worn spines when Lucinda's soft voice surprised him. He turned
around, feeling stupidly shy, like a sharecropper waiting to ask for a loan, ill at ease in a gentleman's house. That, of
course, was completely absurd! His own house was ten-times grander than Franklin's, and much more lavishly furnished.
Even though lacking original art.
He fought to control his eyes once more, to make them politely meet the girl's instead of scanning her plump round figure
as if she was only another possession on display like the paintings.
"Master will be down directly," she said, smiling at Ashley again. "He asks if you'll have some refreshment?" She indicated
a sideboard with several crystal decanters. "May I make y'all a julep, suh?"
Ashley was still very thirsty... Lucky had managed to guzzle four beers while he'd only gotten a swallow of one. And now his
throat was drier than ever. "Um," he said, still holding his hat like a beggar boy. "Would a beer be possible...?" He caught
himself before adding, "Miss." What in hell was wrong with him? Then, he heard his voice again, as if it was speaking without
his permission. "It's Ashley... please."
Were the girl's eyes amused, he wondered? Or, was that a sparkle of interest?
"Why certainly... Ashley. I'll be right back."
"Um?" he asked, as she turned to leave. "'Scuse my ignorance... I mean, pardon me... but are you related to Lucky?"
Lucinda giggled. "He's my brother. We're fraternal twins."
"Oh," said Ashley, abusing his hat. "I... um, just wondered."
"That's only natural... Ashley."
"Well, damn!" murmured Ashley again, after Lucinda departed. He caught sight of himself in a mirror, and actually searched
his back for an arrow! Or, had he been caught in a Voodu spell like the colored folk cast down in New Orleans?
There came another rumble of thunder, still far away though closer now, and the glass decanters rattled their stoppers in
sympathetic vibration. He went to the windows and parted their drapes, which, unlike those in his own home, didn't spill onto
the floor in "wastes." He was scanning the rapidly darkening sky when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned to see
what might have been the fattest man on the planet.
In a white linen suit, and with snowy white hair, Seth Franklin made Ashley think of a ship under full and majestic sail.
In contrast to a spotless shirt, the man's face and hands were deeply tanned... dramatically darker than Ashley's skin.
Conscious of his sweaty clothes, and also his hat with its crude decorations, Ashley went to meet the huge man. Shaking his
hand was a little awkward because of the man's incredible size. Franklin's brown eyes studied Ashley with interest.
"I'm honored, Master Knight," said Franklin. "I've heard of your travels. A year in 'Orleans has agreed with you."
"There's surely no shortage of good things to eat. And I believe I devoured my share." Ashley added his reason for coming,
and Seth Franklin boomed out a laugh.
"Lucky's a little rascal all right! I really don't know why I keep him. I swear he eats his own weight every day. He's slower
than molasses in winter, and as useful as a three-legged mule."
Ashley felt a little embarrassed as Lucinda returned with two mugs on a tray... Lucky was her brother. "Well..." he said.
"He seems like a very intelligent boy." He glanced at the girl as she offered the tray. Did her eyes seem amused again?
"Will there be anything else, Master Franklin?" she asked.
"I 'spect we'll be wanting more beer in a bit. And, Master Knight will be staying over, so please prepare a room."
"Of course," said Lucinda.
"Oh," said Ashley. "Pardon me, suh, but I got... must be getting home."
Thunder rumbled again as he spoke, and lightning blazed the sky outside.
"I wouldn't hear of it, suh," said Franklin. He moved to the window in his slow and majestic sailing-ship way. "It will be
raining like Noah's flood before you even reach the road."
Ashley could hear the wind rising, moaning around the house's walls, bending the stalks of cane in the fields, and whipping
the tree branches to and fro with their ragged streamers of moss. The slaves had all disappeared by now, probably sung in
their cabins.
"But, my folks will be worried," said Ashley.
"My stable boy can take them a message." Franklin turned to Lucinda. "Please tell little Danny to saddle a horse."
The sky had darkened to gunmetal gray, and raindrops exploded against the glass with a sound like pistol shots. There was
another flash of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder that rattled the row of decanters again.
"I'll go tell Danny, suh," said Ashley, setting down his beer untasted. "No need for Lu... your girl to get wet."
"This way, Master Knight," said Lucinda, showing Ashley into the hall.
"Um, my name is..."
Lucinda laughed as she led the way through the now dimlit and shadowy house. "I couldn't call you Ashley in front of my master,
could I?"
"You're right," agreed Ashley, as they crossed a darkened dining hall and entered the kitchen in back of the house. A gust
of wet wind burst into the room as Lucinda opened an outside door. It was already raining buckets, big fat drops that flattened
the lawn and splattered the bricks of the whistling walk that led to the little cook house. Steam was swirling up from the
ground, though the air was still heavy with heat.
"There's the stable," said Lucinda, pointing toward some tossing trees. "But you'll be soaked to the skin!"
"It's only water," said Ashley. He clamped on his hat and ran for the stable across the slippery, rain-soaked grass where
puddles were deeply forming. This was the first time in nearly a year that Ashley had tried to run anywhere, and he found
his body bobbing about in rather awkward ways. A button popped on his trousers, and he had to hold them up with a hand. Still,
it felt good to be out in the rain, somehow wild and savagely free with the wind whipping at him and tousling his hair. A
razor of lighting slashed the sky, and thunder crashed like a cannon blast. In seconds he was thoroughly soaked. He stumbled,
panting, into the stable. There were good smells of horses and hay; and Jupiter had the buggy inside. Their own nervous horse
was safe in a stall, and Jupiter was soothing her. The stable boy had lighted a lantern, and was comfortably sprawled on a
pile of straw.
Ashley stripped out of his sodden shirt as rain rattled down on the cedar shake roof. "Juppy, we'll be stayin' the night.
I’m sure they'll make you comfortable." He glanced at the empty buggy. "What happened to Lucky?"
"We unload him back at the Quarters," said Jupiter.
Ashley turned to the stable boy. "Sorry, Danny, but y'all gotta ride out to my place an' tell my folks I'll be here overnight.
You know the way to Diligence? It's three miles north of town."
"Reckon I can find it," said Danny. "Y'all 'spect they feed me?" He got to his feet, almost losing his trousers.
"'Course they will," said Ashley. "We treat our nig... servants right."
Lightning flashed outside again, glaring bright through gaps in the walls. Thunder shook the building, and rain pounded down
even harder. Danny saddled a huge plow horse that didn't seem disturbed by the storm. The beast, Ashley noted, was also quite
fat, the fattest horse he'd ever seen, and the saddle's cinch could hardly be fastened beneath its tremendous barrel of belly.
Danny's own belly was just so big that he couldn't raise a leg high enough to get a foot in the stirrup. Ashley tried to boost
him up, but couldn't lift Danny's enormous weight.
"Deja vu!" he panted. "I been here before!"
Danny giggled, more or less in Ashley's arms but spilling over everywhere. "Y'all mean tryin' to lift my brother?"
"I should have guessed he'd be your brother." Ashley dropped to his hands and knees so Danny could stand on his back. Finally,
with Jupiter helping, they got the blubbery boy on the horse.
"Y'all sure they feed me?" asked Danny again.
"You tell Jacob the butler I said to. They had a big lunch all ready for me, so there ought to be plenty leftover." Ashley
adjusted the stirrups to better fit Danny's chubby bare feet, then opened his bag in the back of the buggy and pulled out
an oilskin cloak." Wrap this around you, Danny. An' here's fifty cents for your trouble."
Danny clamped his cap on tight. "Ain't no trouble as long as they feed me."
"Y'all be careful now." Ashley opened the stable doors, struggling against the gusts of wind until Jupiter came to his aid.
The hissing rain pelted his chest and face as the hugely fat horse ambled out in the storm and splashed away through the puddles.
Ashley remained in the doorway, letting the wind and rain lash his body.
"Y'all lost your senses?" said Jupiter. "Get out that rain a'fore you take cold!" He draped a horse blanket across Ashley's
shoulders and started to rub Ashley down like a pony. "I's sorry about your homecomin', Ash. Y'all was right 'bout me fallin'
asleep. If I hadn't been so lazy, then none of this would've happened."
Ashley peered out through the curtains of rain that were sweeping in waves across the lawn. The house's back door was still
open, and Lucinda stood waiting inside. "God bless you, Juppy. I'm glad it happened!"
