"Now, honey," I said. "That ain't no way to talk. We got to be calm and-"
"There!" she yelled, pointing. "There he is! That's the son-of-a-bitch that did it!"
She leaped off the porch and started running. Racing up the lane that led from the house to the road. Her naked white body faded into the darkness. I hesitated, wondering if I shouldn't at beast put my pants on, and then I thought what the heck, and I ran after her.
I couldn't see whatever Rose had seen. I couldn't hardly see nothing, it being so dark. But I did hear something-the squeak of wagon wheels and the soft plod-plod of horses' hooves on the muddy lane.
I kept running. Finally, the squeaking and the plodding stopped and I saw the white of Rose's body. Then, she was cussing and screaming again, ordering whoever it was to climb down off the wagon.
"Get down, you black bastard! Get down, goddam you! What the hell's the idea of bringing back that son-of-a-bitch of a husband of mine?"
"Miz Rose. Please, ma'am, Miz Rose. I-" It was the soft, frightened voice of a man.
"I'll show you, you son-of-a-bitch! I'll teach you! I'll peel your black ass right down to the bones!"
She was trying to tear loose a piece of harness strap when I ran up. I jerked her around, and she faced me wild-eyed, pointing shakily to the fella who stood at the side of the wagon.
It was Uncle John, the colored fella I mentioned earlier. He was standing with his hands half-raised, and in the darkness his frightened eyes seemed all whites. He kept them turned away, naturally, because a colored fella could get himself killed for looking at a naked white woman.
"H-He-he did it!" Rose began to bawl. "He brought the son-of-a-bitch back, Nick!"
"Well, now, I'm sure he didn't mean no harm by it," I said. "Howdy do, Uncle John. Nice evenin'."
"Thank you, Mistah Nick. I's feelin' to l'able thank you." His voice shook with fear. "Yes, suh, sho' is a fine evenin'."
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Rose yelled. "What'd you bring him back for? Why do you think we got rid of the dirty bastard, anyway?"
"Rose!" I said, "Rose! ", and Uncle John's eyes rolled in his head and he said, "Please, ma'am, Miz Rose," and it sounded like a prayer.
He'd already seen a lot, a heck of a lot more than it was healthy to see. He sure didn't want to hear anything to go with it. Rose slipped away from me again, opening her mouth for another yell, and Uncle John tried to stopper his ears with his fingers. But he knew it was no good. He heard, and he knew that I knew it.
"It's not fair, Nick, goddam it! You go to all the trouble of killing the son-of-a-bitch, and this bastard brings him back!"
I slapped her across the mouth. She whirled and came at me, hands clawed. I grabbed her by the hair, lifted her off the ground, and gave her a criss-cross slap, backwards and forwards.
"You get the idea?" I said, letting her back down on her feet. "Now, you shut up and get back to the house or I'll give you the worst beating you ever had in your life."
Her hand went slowly to her face. She looked down at herself, seeming to realize for the first time that she was naked. Shivering, she tried to cover up with her hands, shooting a scared look at Uncle John.
"N-Nick. What-what'll we-"
"Go on, do what I told you to." I gave her a push toward the house. "Me an' Uncle John will handle this."
"B-But-but why did he do it?"
"I got an idea about that, too," I said. "You run along, now, and everything will be fine."
She hesitated, then scampered back up the lane. I waited until I was sure she was really gone, and then I turned around to Uncle John.
I smiled at him, and he tried to smile back. But his teeth were chattering so bad that he couldn't.
"Now, don't be scared, Uncle John," I told him. "You got nothin' to fear from me. Ain't I always treated you right, now, ain't I? Ain't I always done the very best I could by you?"
"Yes, yes, suh Mistah Nick," he said eagerly, "an' I done right by you, suh, ain't I, Mistah Nick? Now, ain't that the truth, suh? Ain't I been a plumb good nigger for you?"
"Well, sir," I said, "I reckon I could call you that, all right."
"Yes, suh, Mistah Nick. Any of them bad niggers startin' trouble, I always comes an' tells you, suh. Any of 'em steal a chicken or shoot crap or get drunk or all 'em other things bad niggers do, I always comes right an' reports it to you, now don't I, suh?"
"Well, sir," I said. "I reckon you're right about that, too, and I ain't forgettin' it, Uncle John. But just what are you getting at anyways?"
He gulped and choked, swallowing a sob. "Mistah Nick, I won't say nothin' about-'bout what happen tonight. Hones', Mistah Nick, I won't say nothin' to no one. You just let me go an'-an'-"
"Why, sure I will," I said. "Ain't keeping you from leaving now, am I?"
"Y-You really means it, Mistah Nick? You really ain't mad at me none?! Can go home right now, an' just keep my big ol' mouth shut forevah an' evah?"
I told him that of course he could leave. But I'd feel a lot better if he first told me how he happened to be here with Tom Hauck's body.
"You don't do that, I might be kind of suspicious of you. I might figure you'd done something bad and was trying to hide it."
"No, suh, Mistah Nick! Doin' something bad was jus' what I didn't! I try to do good, an' then I get all mixed up, ol' foolish me an'-an'-oh, Mistah Nick!" He covered his face with his hands. "D-Don't be mad at me, suh. Uncle John, he don't know nothin' at all. He don't h-hear nothin' an' he don't see nothin', an'- an'-please don't kill me, Mistah Nick! Please don't kill ol' John."
I patted him on the back, letting him cry for a minute. Then I said I knew he hadn't done nothing wrong, so why would I want to do anything bad to him. But I'd sure be obliged if he told me just what had happened.
"Y-You-" He uncovered his face to look at me. "You really ain't gonna kill me, Mistah Nick? Honest?"
"God-dang it, you callin' me a liar?" I said. "Now, you just start talkin', and don't you tell me nothing but the truth."
He told me what had happened, why he had brought Tom Hauck's body back to his farm house.
It stacked up just about the way I thought it would.
He had come across the body early that evening while he was out hunting 'possum, and he'd started to come into town to tell me about it. Then, with so many varmints around, he figured it might be best to bring the body in with him. So he'd loaded it on his old spring wagon, along with the shotgun, and headed for town again.
He was about halfway there when it struck him that it might be a pretty bad idea to show up in town with the remains; in fact, it was a god-danged bad idea to be caught even in the same neighborhood with them. Because a lot of people might figure he had a first-class motive for killing Tom. After all, Tom had given him a hard beating and intended to beat him again if he got within grabbing range. He just couldn't lead a very happy life as long as Tom was around, so it wouldn't be any surprise at all if he killed him. Anyways, Uncle John being a colored fella, he wouldn't get the benefit of any doubts.