going to let these officers here know you’re bothering a lady. Confederates are gentlemen. They don’t like that.”
Except when they’re trying to get you into bed themselves
.
Reach laughed, showing bad teeth. It looked like a good-natured laugh—unless you were on the receiving end of it. “I don’t think you’ll do that.”
“Oh? And why don’t you?” She might be betraying Rebel information to Hal Jacobs, but that didn’t mean she’d be shy about using Confederate officers to protect herself from Bill Reach and whatever he wanted.
But then he said, “Why? Oh, I don’t know. A little bird told me—a little homing pigeon, you might say.”
For a couple of seconds, that meant nothing to Nellie. Then it did, and froze her with apprehension. One of Mr. Jacobs’ friends was a fancier of homing pigeons. He used them to get information out of Washington and into the hands of U.S. authorities. If Bill Reach knew about that—“What do you want?” Nellie had to force the words out through stiff lips.
Now the smile was more like a leer. “For now, a cup of coffee and a chicken-salad sandwich,” he answered. “Anything else I have in mind, you couldn’t bring me to the table.”
Men,
Nellie thought, a one-word condemnation of half the human race.
All they want is that. Well, he’s not going to get it
. “I’ll bring you your food and the coffee,” she said, and then, to show him—to try to show him—she wasn’t intimidated, she added, “That will be a dollar fifteen.”
Silver jingled in his pocket. He set a dollar and a quarter on the table—real money, no scrip. He’d looked seedy the last time she’d seen him, too, but he hadn’t had any trouble paying her high prices then, either. She scooped up the coins and started back toward the counter.
She almost ran into Edna. “I’m sorry, Ma,” her daughter said, continuing in a low voice, “I wondered if you were having trouble with that guy.”
“It’s all right,” Nellie said. It wasn’t all right, or even close to all right, but she didn’t want Edna getting a look at the skeletons in her closet. Edna was hard enough to manage as things were. One of the things that helped keep her in line was the tone of moral superiority Nellie took. If she couldn’t take that tone any more, she didn’t know what she’d do.
And then, from behind her, Bill Reach said, “Sure is a pretty daughter you have there, Nell.”
“Thank you,” Nellie said tonelessly. Edna looked bemused, but Nellie hoped that was because Reach’s appearance failed to match the other customers’. At least he hadn’t called her
Little Nell
in front of Edna. The most unwanted pet name brought the days when he’d known her back to all too vivid life.
“I’d be proud if she was my daughter,” Reach said.
That was too much to be borne. “Well, she isn’t,” Nellie answered, almost certain she was right.
The cold north wind whipped down across the Ohio River and through the Covington, Kentucky, wharves. Cincinnatus felt it in his ears and on his cheeks and in his hands. He wasn’t wearing heavy clothes—overalls and a collarless cotton shirt under them—but he was sweating rather than shivering in spite of the nasty weather. Longshoreman’s work was never easy. Longshoreman’s work when Lieutenant Kennan was bossing your crew was ten times worse.
Kennan swaggered up and down the wharf as if the green-gray uniform he wore turned him into the Lord Jehovah. “Come on, you goddamn lazy niggers!” he shouted. “Got to move, by God you do.
Get
your black asses humping. You there!” The shout wasn’t directed at Cincinnatus. “You don’t do like you’re told, you don’t work here. Jesus Christ, them Rebs were fools for ever setting you dumb coons free. You don’t deserve it.”
Another laborer, an older Negro named Herodotus, said to Cincinnatus, “I’d like to pinch that little bastard’s head right off, I would.”
“You
Except when they’re trying to get you into bed themselves
.
Reach laughed, showing bad teeth. It looked like a good-natured laugh—unless you were on the receiving end of it. “I don’t think you’ll do that.”
“Oh? And why don’t you?” She might be betraying Rebel information to Hal Jacobs, but that didn’t mean she’d be shy about using Confederate officers to protect herself from Bill Reach and whatever he wanted.
But then he said, “Why? Oh, I don’t know. A little bird told me—a little homing pigeon, you might say.”
For a couple of seconds, that meant nothing to Nellie. Then it did, and froze her with apprehension. One of Mr. Jacobs’ friends was a fancier of homing pigeons. He used them to get information out of Washington and into the hands of U.S. authorities. If Bill Reach knew about that—“What do you want?” Nellie had to force the words out through stiff lips.
Now the smile was more like a leer. “For now, a cup of coffee and a chicken-salad sandwich,” he answered. “Anything else I have in mind, you couldn’t bring me to the table.”
Men,
Nellie thought, a one-word condemnation of half the human race.
All they want is that. Well, he’s not going to get it
. “I’ll bring you your food and the coffee,” she said, and then, to show him—to try to show him—she wasn’t intimidated, she added, “That will be a dollar fifteen.”
Silver jingled in his pocket. He set a dollar and a quarter on the table—real money, no scrip. He’d looked seedy the last time she’d seen him, too, but he hadn’t had any trouble paying her high prices then, either. She scooped up the coins and started back toward the counter.
She almost ran into Edna. “I’m sorry, Ma,” her daughter said, continuing in a low voice, “I wondered if you were having trouble with that guy.”
“It’s all right,” Nellie said. It wasn’t all right, or even close to all right, but she didn’t want Edna getting a look at the skeletons in her closet. Edna was hard enough to manage as things were. One of the things that helped keep her in line was the tone of moral superiority Nellie took. If she couldn’t take that tone any more, she didn’t know what she’d do.
And then, from behind her, Bill Reach said, “Sure is a pretty daughter you have there, Nell.”
“Thank you,” Nellie said tonelessly. Edna looked bemused, but Nellie hoped that was because Reach’s appearance failed to match the other customers’. At least he hadn’t called her
Little Nell
in front of Edna. The most unwanted pet name brought the days when he’d known her back to all too vivid life.
“I’d be proud if she was my daughter,” Reach said.
That was too much to be borne. “Well, she isn’t,” Nellie answered, almost certain she was right.
The cold north wind whipped down across the Ohio River and through the Covington, Kentucky, wharves. Cincinnatus felt it in his ears and on his cheeks and in his hands. He wasn’t wearing heavy clothes—overalls and a collarless cotton shirt under them—but he was sweating rather than shivering in spite of the nasty weather. Longshoreman’s work was never easy. Longshoreman’s work when Lieutenant Kennan was bossing your crew was ten times worse.
Kennan swaggered up and down the wharf as if the green-gray uniform he wore turned him into the Lord Jehovah. “Come on, you goddamn lazy niggers!” he shouted. “Got to move, by God you do.
Get
your black asses humping. You there!” The shout wasn’t directed at Cincinnatus. “You don’t do like you’re told, you don’t work here. Jesus Christ, them Rebs were fools for ever setting you dumb coons free. You don’t deserve it.”
Another laborer, an older Negro named Herodotus, said to Cincinnatus, “I’d like to pinch that little bastard’s head right off, I would.”
“You
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