Devil's Dream - Madison Smartt Bell [36]
Zeb finished the tune and dampened his strings. “Bound to go, ain’t you,” he said to Ben.
“Man got rabbit in the foot.” Nancy had her back still set firmly to Ben, so it was more like she was talking to everybody, or herself, or to nobody. “Lawd, don’t I wisht he would stay here by me. Y’all know I ain’t goen. I got chillen here. Chillen ain’t goen. Marse Forrest ain’t invite no gals no way.” Another communal murmur went round, mostly among the women this time.
“What if I want to see the elephant?” Benjamin said softly.
“Ben,” Zeb said. “They ain’t got no elephant. That just a story they tells to tempt folks. Elephants is in Africa. Here they got blood, and they got death. They ain’t got nothen else.”
“I know that,” Ben said. “But maybe I still want to see it.”
Zeb moved his hand over the strings without sounding them. He peered over at the wood in Ben’s lap. There was scarcely enough light to see by this time.
“What that you maken?”
“Don’t know …” Ben was carving now entirely by touch, gazing out into the night sky, over the limbs of the hackberry tree. “Won’t know till I get there and see.”
“Well,” Zeb said. “I reckon that’s you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
April 1862
LICK CREEK was a lovely spot—clear water running over reddish rock, and as they waited for their orders, Henri and Matthew rolled up their trouser legs and waded, their calves soon going numb in the bright cold water. Matthew seemed to have a sixth sense for which stone had a crawdad underneath (and Ginral Jerry was following on with a gunnysack, bagging all the crawdaddies Matthew could uncover). Henri was more interested in the creek stones themselves—so smoothly rounded by the long caress of water that they scarcely even hurt his feet, and some were bright and intricate as jewels, though if he raised them from the stream they soon went dull.
Matthew caught his upper arm and held him back, pointing upstream where something dark came turning through a notch between two of the reddish boulders—a stick, Henri thought, but then he started when he saw it twisted, swam of itself, undulating in the silvery threads of the stream. The snake was more than three feet long, and patterned with two tones of chocolate diamonds.
“Mista Mossakin …” Jerry said through a gap between his blackened teeth. He straightened, stiffly, laying a hand on the small of his back. The burlap bag trailed in the water to keep his catch alive. To the east, in the direction of Shiloh Church, was the thunder of cannon and crashing of small arms. General Johnston had launched his first attack on Grant there at dawn.
Henri moved forward, toward the next bend in the creek. Beyond the red rocks was a long oval of still water, its blue so darkened he knew it was deep. There he might swim at his full length, perhaps even dive. The water would be so cold his vitals would shrink within him when he first submerged—
Forrest was walking on the bank, stalking rather, slapping his hat against his thigh, muttering irritably under his breath, I don’t see why I cain’t git no orders if they’s anybody hyar as is FIT to give orders … them eggsuckenlowwalkenyallercurdogs. …
Henri shook his head and headed to shore. He sat on a boulder, trying to dry his feet with his bare hands before putting on his socks and boots. Matthew was hopping toward the main body of their men, barefoot still, his shoes swinging