The Ten-foot Chain Part 8

"Do you love this black girl very much?" the sheriff asked with that odd turn of tone with which every man speaks of love when he is in love with love.

"Boss," the black man answered in a voice which throbbed, "I been lovin'

dat gal ever since she warn't no bigger dan--dan--dan a June-bug whut had visited accidental a woodp.e.c.k.e.r prayer-meetin'."

"Is she good to look at, Plaster?" Flournoy smiled.

"Well, suh, I cain't lie to no white man, Ma.r.s.e John; an' I tells you honest--she looks a whole heap better at night in de dark of de moon."

"If she ain't a good-looker, why do you love her?" Flournoy asked without a smile.

"She's good sense an' jedgment, Ma.r.s.e John," the black man answered earnestly. "An'--an'--I jes' nach.e.l.ly loves her."

Flournoy studied a moment, twisting a pair of steel handcuffs in his giant hands. Finally he spoke:

"Plaster, I have a cabin down on the Coolie Bayou which I have given to three young married couples in succession on the condition that they live there in peace and amity one year."

"Yes, suh."

"Every couple broke up and got a divorce within nine months."

"Too bad, Ma.r.s.e John, dat's mighty po' luck."

"You n.i.g.g.e.rs think you love each other until you get hitched and then you don't stay hitched."

"Some sh.o.r.ely don't--dey don't fer a fack."

"Now I make you and Pearline Flunder this offer. I will buy your marriage license, pay Vinegar Atts to marry you, bear all the expense of a church wedding, give you a job so you can support your wife, and I will make you a present of that cabin down on the Coolie Bayou if you and your wife will live together for three days without busting up in a row."

"Three days, Ma.r.s.e John!" the negro howled. "Boss, I motions to make it thurty years!"

"No!" Flournoy snapped. "Three days!"

"I's willin', Ma.r.s.e John," the negro laughed, cutting a caper on the gra.s.s.

"All right!" the sheriff said as he stooped and picked up a pair of handcuffs. "Now listen: I intend to cut the little chain on these two manacles and attach each cuff to a ten-foot chain. When you and Pearline are married, I am going to put one of these manacles around her wrist and one around your wrist"--the negro showed the whites of his eyes--"and bind you two honey-loves together with a ten-foot chain."

The negro looked behind him toward the gate and the public highway, took a tighter grip upon his hat, and made a furtive step backward. "You are to remain bound together for three days." The negro smiled and stepped forward. "At the end of that time you are to come here and report, and if you agree to spend the remainder of your life together, the cabin is yours!"

"Make it a two-feets chain, Ma.r.s.e John, so us kin git clost to each yuther," Plaster pleaded.

"What I have spoken I have spoken," Flournoy proclaimed autocratically.

"Now, go tell your sweetheart all about it."

II.

The Big Four of Tickfall sat around a much bewhittled pine table in the Hen-Scratch saloon. The room was hazy with their tobacco smoke.

Conversation languished. The session was about to adjourn until to-morrow at the same hour. Figger Bush laid his cigarette upon the edge of the table, lifted his head like a dog baying the moon, and chanted:

"O you muss be a lover of de landlady's daughter Or you cain't git a secont piece of pie!"

Before the other could catch the tune, the green-baize doors of the saloon were thrown open and a white man entered. Every negro looked up into that granite face with its deep-set eyes, iron jaw, and rugged lines of strength and purpose, and smiled a joyful welcome:

"Mawnin', Ma.r.s.e John. 'Tain't no use to come sheriffin' down dis way. No n.i.g.g.e.rs ain't done nothin'."

"I am hunting for a Methodist clergyman of color," Flournoy grinned.

"Boss," Vinegar Atts chuckled as he rose to his feet, "I's de blackest an' best n.i.g.g.e.r preacher whut is, an' I b'lieves in de Mefdis doctrine of fallin' from grace an' grease. Ef you mis...o...b..s my words, ax my wife.

Dat ole woman admits dat fack herse'f."

"I want you to perform a wedding ceremony at the Shoofly Church to-night at seven o'clock," the sheriff announced.

Instantly the Rev. Vinegar Atts thrust both hands into the pockets of his trousers and brought his hands out, turning out the pockets and showing them empty.

"Dar now, Figger Bush!" Vinegar bellowed. "I tole you dat de good Lawd would pervide a way fer me to pay fer dem near-booze grape-juices I been guzzlin' in yo' sinful saloom! Five dollars will sottle wid you an'

leave a few change over fer seegaws."

"Who's cormittin' mattermony, Ma.r.s.e John?" Mustard Prophet wanted to know. "Is it one of dese here shotgun weddin's?"

"Plaster Sickety wishes to wed Pearline Flunder."

"I knows 'em," Hitch Diamond rumbled from his big chest. "De good Lawd will sh.o.r.e got to pervide fer dem c.o.o.ns like He do fer Vinegar Atts--nary one is got git-up enough to make a livin'."

"Those young colored honey-birds are under my special care and protection," Flournoy announced, smiling. "I intend to house them and take care of them and get them work. They are an experiment."

"De trouble wid experiments is dis, Ma.r.s.e John," Mustard chuckled, "sometimes dey bust in yo' face."

"My plan is this," Flournoy told them. "I am going to tie those two negroes together with a ten-foot chain and they are to live in peace and amity for three days."

"Lawdymussy, Ma.r.s.e John!" the Rev. Vinegar Atts bellowed. "Did you ever tie two cats to each yuther an' hang 'em over de limb of a tree?"

"Yes."

"Does you recommember how quick dem cats got tired of each yuther's sawsiety an' fell out wid theirselves?"

"Certainly."

Vinegar jerked a yellow bandana handkerchief from the tail of his coat and mopped the top of his bald head.

"You mought care fer dem n.i.g.g.e.rs ef you ties em togedder, Ma.r.s.e John.

But you ain't gwine be able to pertection 'em--not from each yuther,"

Vinegar announced as he slapped at his face with his kerchief. "I wouldn't be tied to my n.i.g.g.e.r wife wid a telephone-wire long enough to conversation de man in de moon. Naw, suh! Dat ole gal would be yankin'

on dat line a catfish all de time. Whoosh!"

"I agrees wid dem religium sentiments," Hitch Diamond rumbled. "Now you example Goldie, my own wife. Dat little yeller gal's maw is a lunatic, an' Goldie ain't no lunatic, but she ain't got her right mind. I wouldn't mind bein' a Dandylion in de lion's den, like de Bible tells about--dat would gib me a chance to fight fer my gizzard. But chained up to Goldie--"

Hitch broke off, shook his head in earnest negation, rubbed one giant hand around his iron-thewed wrist as if he could feel the holy bonds of matrimony and gave utterance to one expressive word: "Gawd!"

"Hol' on, n.i.g.g.e.rs!" Figger Bush exclaimed. "I don't foller you-alls in dem sentiments. Now I been married to Scootie gwine on two year an' I ain't never got too much of dat gal yit. I cherishes de opinion dat Ma.r.s.e John could tie our heads togedder an' I wouldn't complain none."