Native Son - Richard Wright [71]
As he turned into Drexel Boulevard and headed toward Dalton’s, he thought of how restless he had been, how he was consumed always with a body hunger. Well, in a way he had settled that tonight; as time passed he would make it more definite. His body felt free and easy now that he had lain with Bessie. That she would do what he wanted was what he had sealed in asking her to work with him in this thing. She would be bound to him by ties deeper than marriage. She would be his; her fear of capture and death would bind her to him with all the strength of her life; even as what he had done last night had bound him to this new path with all the strength of his own life.
He turned off the sidewalk and walked up the Dalton driveway went into the basement and looked through the bright cracks of the furnace door. He saw a red heap of seething coals and heard the upward hum of the draft. He pulled the lever, hearing the rattle of coal against tin and seeing the quivering embers grow black. He shut off the coal and stooped and opened the bottom door of the furnace. Ashes were piling up. He would have to take the shovel and clean them out in the morning and make sure that no unburnt bones were left. He had closed the door and started to the rear of the furnace, going to his room, when he heard Peggy’s voice.
“Bigger!”
He stopped and before answering he felt a keen sensation of excitement flush over all his skin. She was standing at the head of the stairs, in the door leading to the kitchen.
“Yessum.”
He went to the bottom of the steps and looked upward.
“Mrs. Dalton wants you to pick up the trunk at the station….”
“The trunk?”
He waited for Peggy to answer his surprised question. Perhaps he should not have asked it in that way?
“They called up and said that no one had claimed it. And Mr. Dalton got a wire from Detroit. Mary never got there.”
“Yessum.”
She came all the way down the stairs and looked round the basement, as though seeking some missing detail. He stiffened; if she saw something that would make her ask him about Mary he would take the iron shovel and let her have it straight across her head and then take the car and make a quick getaway.
“Mr. Dalton’s worried,” Peggy said. “You know, Mary didn’t pack the new clothes she bought to take with her on the trip. And poor Mrs. Dalton’s been pacing the floor and phoning Mary’s friends all day.”
“Don’t nobody know where she is?” Bigger asked.
“Nobody. Did Mary tell you to take the trunk like it was?”
“Yessum,” he said, knowing that this was the first hard hurdle. “It was locked and standing in a corner. I took it down and put it right where you saw it this morning.”
“Oh, Peggy!” Mrs. Dalton’s voice called.
“Yes!” Peggy answered.
Bigger looked up and saw Mrs. Dalton at the head of the stairs, standing in white as usual and with her face tilted trustingly upward.
“Is the boy back yet?”
“He’s down here now, Mrs. Dalton.”
“Come in the kitchen a moment, will you, Bigger?” she asked.
“Yessum.”
He followed Peggy into the kitchen. Mrs. Dalton had her hands clasped tightly in front of her and her face was still tilted, higher now, and her white lips were parted.
“Peggy told you about picking up the trunk?”
“Yessum. I’m on my way now.”
“What time did you leave here last night?”
“A little before two, mam.”
“And she told you to take the trunk down?”
“Yessum.”
“And she told you not to put the car up?”
“Yessum.”
“And it was just where you left it last night when you came this morning?”
“Yessum.”
Mrs. Dalton turned her head as she heard the inner kitchen door open; Mr. Dalton