Read Online Blackman's Coffin by Mark de Castrique - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark de Castrique
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meant something special.
Father nodded.
“He’s coming by train to Biltmore Village, but I’d like to carry him the rest of the way so his kinfolk can pay their respects.”
“Carry him where?” Father asked.
“The family plot north of Gainesville.”
Father’s mouth dropped open. “Gainesville, Georgia?”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I need motorized transport. Too far for Junebug and a wagon, and Griffins don’t have no vehicle much better.” He licked his lips and I saw sweat running down his temples. “I’ve done asked about a Gainesville funeral home coming up here since it’s a two-way trip no matter how you skin it.”
“A white funeral home?” Father asked.
“No Negro funeral home down there has a motor hearse either.” Elijah set his lips tight across his teeth and when he spoke again, his mouth hardly moved. “The Gainesville funeral home told me they didn’t want no nigger business.” Elijah’s eyes dropped to the ground. “We could let out early before sunrise. No one would have to know.”
Father’s face turned red and I thought he can’t get angry at Elijah. What else is the poor man supposed to do? And we owed him. I owed him.
“If we leave before sunrise it’ll be because we want an early start on the journey,” Father said, “not because of the color of your uncle’s skin.”
Elijah’s face relaxed. “I’ll be paying you, Mr. Youngblood. This ain’t no charity case.”
Father cut his eyes to me and to the shortened leg of my pants tied in a knot where my shinbone used to be. “Don’t worry about it.”
Elijah took a step forward. “I’m sincere about that. We’re doing business here. You’ll be put out enough. We’ll need to go by way of Greenville and I figure we’ll stop in Liberty where my sister’s people can feed us and pay their respects. Ain’t no other place you and me can eat together.”
My father took a deep breath. I knew he’d made up his mind.
“When’s the coffin arriving?” he asked.
“Tonight.”
“Anything else has to be done?”
“No. The undertaker in Cincinnati did everything. Some folk I know will help load the coffin at the depot and we’ll bring it here whenever you tell us.”
The next day was Saturday and I knew my father didn’t want to travel on the Lord’s Day.
Elijah must have figured that too. “We could load up tonight and set off early in the morning. If the weather holds, we could be back before nightfall. You tell me what chores you were planning to do tomorrow and I’ll see that they’re done.”
Father shook his head as if it were the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “All right. You can put the body in the hearse. But that train out of Cincinnati is always late so if you need to stay over use the sleeping porch on the side. We’d better head out around four. It’ll be a good sixteen hours, round trip.”
“Thank you, Mr. Youngblood.” Elijah buried his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wadded red bandana. He unknotted a leather thong tying the four corners together. A roll of greenbacks lay in the center of his palm.
My father shook his head again. “You can pay me something when we get back.”
“No, sir. You’ll need to fill that hearse with gasoline tonight and a couple extra cans in case we run dry before the stations open.” Elijah smiled. “Unless you got that Ford engine tuned for moonshine.”
Father laughed and took a couple bills. I laughed too. Mountaineers were always telling revenuers their corn squeezin’s were for fuel, not drinking, even though most of them didn’t have automobiles.
“What’ll you do with your mule?” Father asked.
“I’ll see if Mr. Galloway will keep her. If not, one of the men who helps load the coffin can take her tonight.” Elijah stuffed his money back in his pocket without retying the bandana and then held out his hand. Father shook it.
I didn’t ask if I could go with them. That way Father couldn’t tell me no. I wasn’t keen on
Father nodded.
“He’s coming by train to Biltmore Village, but I’d like to carry him the rest of the way so his kinfolk can pay their respects.”
“Carry him where?” Father asked.
“The family plot north of Gainesville.”
Father’s mouth dropped open. “Gainesville, Georgia?”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I need motorized transport. Too far for Junebug and a wagon, and Griffins don’t have no vehicle much better.” He licked his lips and I saw sweat running down his temples. “I’ve done asked about a Gainesville funeral home coming up here since it’s a two-way trip no matter how you skin it.”
“A white funeral home?” Father asked.
“No Negro funeral home down there has a motor hearse either.” Elijah set his lips tight across his teeth and when he spoke again, his mouth hardly moved. “The Gainesville funeral home told me they didn’t want no nigger business.” Elijah’s eyes dropped to the ground. “We could let out early before sunrise. No one would have to know.”
Father’s face turned red and I thought he can’t get angry at Elijah. What else is the poor man supposed to do? And we owed him. I owed him.
“If we leave before sunrise it’ll be because we want an early start on the journey,” Father said, “not because of the color of your uncle’s skin.”
Elijah’s face relaxed. “I’ll be paying you, Mr. Youngblood. This ain’t no charity case.”
Father cut his eyes to me and to the shortened leg of my pants tied in a knot where my shinbone used to be. “Don’t worry about it.”
Elijah took a step forward. “I’m sincere about that. We’re doing business here. You’ll be put out enough. We’ll need to go by way of Greenville and I figure we’ll stop in Liberty where my sister’s people can feed us and pay their respects. Ain’t no other place you and me can eat together.”
My father took a deep breath. I knew he’d made up his mind.
“When’s the coffin arriving?” he asked.
“Tonight.”
“Anything else has to be done?”
“No. The undertaker in Cincinnati did everything. Some folk I know will help load the coffin at the depot and we’ll bring it here whenever you tell us.”
The next day was Saturday and I knew my father didn’t want to travel on the Lord’s Day.
Elijah must have figured that too. “We could load up tonight and set off early in the morning. If the weather holds, we could be back before nightfall. You tell me what chores you were planning to do tomorrow and I’ll see that they’re done.”
Father shook his head as if it were the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “All right. You can put the body in the hearse. But that train out of Cincinnati is always late so if you need to stay over use the sleeping porch on the side. We’d better head out around four. It’ll be a good sixteen hours, round trip.”
“Thank you, Mr. Youngblood.” Elijah buried his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wadded red bandana. He unknotted a leather thong tying the four corners together. A roll of greenbacks lay in the center of his palm.
My father shook his head again. “You can pay me something when we get back.”
“No, sir. You’ll need to fill that hearse with gasoline tonight and a couple extra cans in case we run dry before the stations open.” Elijah smiled. “Unless you got that Ford engine tuned for moonshine.”
Father laughed and took a couple bills. I laughed too. Mountaineers were always telling revenuers their corn squeezin’s were for fuel, not drinking, even though most of them didn’t have automobiles.
“What’ll you do with your mule?” Father asked.
“I’ll see if Mr. Galloway will keep her. If not, one of the men who helps load the coffin can take her tonight.” Elijah stuffed his money back in his pocket without retying the bandana and then held out his hand. Father shook it.
I didn’t ask if I could go with them. That way Father couldn’t tell me no. I wasn’t keen on
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