Butler, Octavia - Kindred

“I did. No one else was around.” “What did you do?”

“I washed it with plenty of soap and water, and I put medicine on it. Here, brine will have to be my medicine. It should be just as good.” Please, heaven, let it be as good. I only half knew what I was doing. Maybe old Mary and her herbs weren’t such a bad idea after all—if I could be sure of catching her in one of her saner moments. But no. Igno- rant as I knew I was, I trusted myself more than I trusted her. Even if I couldn’t do any more good than she could, I was at least less likely to do harm.

“Let me see your back,” said Rufus.

I hesitated, swallowed a few indignant words. He spoke out of love for the girl—a destructive love, but a love, nevertheless. He needed to know that it was necessary to hurt her more and that I had some idea what I was

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doing. I turned my back to him and raised my shirt a little. My cuts were healed or nearly healed.

He didn’t speak or touch me. After a moment, I put my shirt down. “You didn’t get the big thick scars some of the hands get,” he

observed.

“Keloids. No, thank God, I’m not subject to them. What I’ve got is bad enough.”

“Not as bad as she’ll have.” “Get the salt, Rufe.”

He nodded and went away.

8

I did my best for Alice, hurt her as little as possible, got her clean and bandaged the worst of her injuries—the dog bites.

“Looks like they just let the dogs chew on her,” said Rufus angrily. He had to hold her for me while I cleaned the bites, gave them special atten- tion. She struggled and wept and called for Isaac, until I was almost sick at having to cause her more pain. I swallowed and clenched my teeth against threatening nausea. When I spoke to Rufus, it was more to calm myself than to get information.

“What did they do with Isaac, Rufe? Give him back to the judge?” “Sold him to a trader—fellow taking slaves overland to Mississippi.” “Oh God.”

“He’d be dead if I’d spoken up.”

I shook my head, located another bite. I wanted Kevin. I wanted des- perately to go home and be out of this. “Did you mail my letter, Rufe?”

“Yeah.”

Good. Now if only Kevin would come quickly.

I finished with Alice and gave her, not aspirins, but sleeping pills. She needed rest after days of running, after the dogs and the whipping. After Isaac.

Rufus left her in his bed. He simply climbed in beside her. “Rufe, for Godsake!”

He looked at me, then at her. “Don’t talk foolishness. I’m not going to

put her on the floor.” “But …”

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“And I’m sure not going to bother her while she’s hurt like this.” “Good,” I said relieved, believing him. “Don’t even touch her if you

can help it.” “All right.”

I cleaned up the mess I had made and left them. Finally, I made my way to my pallet in the attic, and lay down wearily.

But tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I thought of Alice, and then of Rufus, and I realized that Rufus had done exactly what I had said he would do: Gotten possession of the woman without having to bother with her husband. Now, somehow, Alice would have to accept not only the loss of her husband, but her own enslavement. Rufus had caused her trouble, and now he had been rewarded for it. It made no sense. No mat- ter how kindly he treated her now that he had destroyed her, it made no sense.

I lay turning, twisting, holding my eyes closed and trying first to think, then not to think. I was tempted to squander two more of my sleeping pills to buy myself relief.

Then Sarah came in. I could see her vaguely outlined in the moonlight that came through the window. I whispered her name, trying not to awaken anyone.

She stepped over the two children who slept nearest to me and made her way over to my corner. “How’s Alice?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know. She’ll probably be all right. Her body will anyway.” Sarah sat down on the end of my pallet. “I’d have come in to see her,”

she said, “but then I’d have to see Marse Rufe too. Don’t want to see him for a while.”

“Yeah.”

“They cut off the boy’s ears.” I jumped. “Isaac?”

“Yeah. Cut them both off. He fought. Strong boy, even if he didn’t show much sense. The judge’s son hit him, and he struck back. And he said some things he shouldn’t have said.”

“Rufus said they sold him to a Mississippi trader.”

“Did. After they got through with him. Nigel told me ’bout it—how they cut him, beat him. He’ll have to do some healing ’fore he can go to Mississippi or anywhere else.”

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“Oh God. All because our little jackass here drank too much and decided to rape somebody!”

She hushed me with a sharp hiss. “You got to learn to watch what you say! Don’t you know there’s folks in this house who love to carry tales?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“You ain’t no field nigger, but you still a nigger. Marse Rufe can get mad and make things mighty hard for you.”

“I know. All right.” Luke’s being sold must have frightened her badly. He used to be the one who hushed her.

“Marse Rufe keeping Alice in his room?” “Yes.”

“Lord, I hope he’ll let her ’lone. Tonight, anyway.”

“I think he will. Hell, I think he’ll be gentle and patient with her now that he’s got her.”

“Huh!” A sound of disgust. “What’ll you do now?”

“Me? Try to keep the girl clean and comfortable until she gets well.” “I don’t mean that.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?” “She’ll be in. You’ll be out.”

I stared at her, tried to see her expression. I couldn’t, but I decided she was serious. “It’s not like that, Sarah. She’s the only one he seems to want. And me, I’m content with my husband.”

There was a long silence. “Your husband … was that Mister Kevin?” “Yes.”

“Nigel said you and him was married. I didn’t believe it.” “We kept quiet about it because it’s not legal here.”

“Legal!” Another sound of disgust. “I guess what Marse Rufe done to that girl is legal.”

I shrugged.

“Your husband … he’d get in trouble every now and then ’cause he couldn’t tell the difference ’tween black and white. Guess now I know why.”

I grinned. “I’m not why. He was like that when I married him—or I wouldn’t have married him. Rufus just sent him a letter telling him to come back and get me.”

She hesitated. “You sure Marse Rufe sent it?” “He said he did.”

“Ask Nigel.” She lowered her voice. “Sometimes Marse Rufe says

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what will make you feel good—not what’s true.” “But … he’d have no reason to lie about it.” “Didn’t say he was lyin.’ Just said ask Nigel.” “All right.”

She was silent for a moment, then, “You think he’ll come back for you, Dana, your … husband?”

“I know he will.” He would. Surely he would. “He ever beat you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“My man used to. He’d tell me I was the only one he cared about. Then, next thing I knew, he’d say I was looking at some other man, and he’d go to hittin’.”

“Carrie’s father?”

“No … my oldest boy’s father. Miss Hannah, her father. He always said he’d free me in his will, but he didn’t. It was just another lie.” She stood up, joints creaking. “Got to get some rest.” She started away. “Don’t you forget now, Dana. Ask Nigel.”

“Yes.”

9

I asked Nigel the next day, but he didn’t know. Rufus had sent him on an errand. When Nigel saw Rufus again, it was at the jail where Rufus had just bought Alice.

“She was standing up then,” he said remembering. “I don’t know how. When Marse Rufe was ready to go, he took her by the arm, and she fell over and everybody around laughed. He had paid way too much for her and anybody could see she was more dead than alive. Folks figured he didn’t have much sense.”