Always fighting so these children of mine would even have pastures to worry about. I made this place from nothing and then rescued it from the dismal straits you let it fall into while I was off trying to win my last war. And I will leave it to my sons. If they can’t figure out how to hold on to it, then they don’t deserve it. A man who has not had to work and grab and claw usually does not amount to much and sometimes not even then.
“Quinn, you worry too much. Besides what the hell else could I do with Wash at this point? It would be throwing money away to pull him off it now.”
“I say sell him down the river and get another one in here more like a plank. And nothing like that damn Nero either. I told you and told you about him but you wouldn’t listen.”
I cut him off because now he has made me angry.
“Dammit, Quinn, it was you who pushed me into this in the first place, with all your complaining about how we needed cash because the trade on our boats from New Orleans was not going as well as you’d hoped. And it was me who was arrested in Philadelphia for unpaid bills, for Christ’s sake. And then had to sit through that mockery of a trial before you could see your way to sending me some of my own money.
“Let’s not forget, it’s my money sunk into these boats, my place carved out of nothing, my head working all this out instead of being split open by some tomahawk. I’ve made it this far, dammit, without having to take every idea you try to shove down my throat.
“Now I am well aware that as one man I cannot know and see everything. And I am of a generation that’s being left behind as the world moves on, so I try to remain open to your suggestions. You do have a good idea every now and then, Quinn, and I take it.
“I didn’t want any part of this whole scheme when you first brought it to me. And look at me now, counting and recounting the money we’re making off your good idea. But what you don’t seem to understand is that people pay for quality. You could get a dullard in here, but I guarantee you, you will spend more time and trouble covering more folks for less income, and many more chances for things to go wrong.
“You want to do something differently, you are free to do as you see fit. Go get yourself your own stockman and start your own line. Do whatever you want so long as you keep your man and your mess away from my place and my clients because I have my hands full.”
∞
It is mid-September of 1823 and getting brittle with still no rain. Richardson rides through the gate into his yard at dusk. His gray gelding Omega stops right where his stableman Ben stands waiting. Each time he dismounts after this long ride home from judging, the hard shock of his feet hitting the ground jars him more.
Omega stands close to him, large and hot, sweat having turned most of his light coat the color of his black skin underneath, especially on his chest, belly and throat. He’s still catching his breath from cresting that last hill. This rangy honest gelding has been by far the best of Gamma’s get but Richardson wonders how many more miles he has in him.
He rests his hand on the worn smoothness of his saddle seat and the stirrups swing empty. The gelding chews his bit with a jangle and thunk, foam covering his lips. He tries leaning into Richardson, wanting to rub his face, itchy with drying sweat, up against something. Anything. Richardson digs the butt end of his crop into Omega’s shoulder to keep him back and the horse snorts in frustration.
Richardson runs his eyes across the broad stone face of his house then past the cabins to the big barn behind. As always, Chatty has seen him coming and opened the big gate for him, and here’s Ben reaching to take the reins.
But Richardson can’t get the day off him. It had been his turn as magistrate when a negro woman a few towns over decided to carry herself out of this world, taking as many white folks with her as she could. The
“Quinn, you worry too much. Besides what the hell else could I do with Wash at this point? It would be throwing money away to pull him off it now.”
“I say sell him down the river and get another one in here more like a plank. And nothing like that damn Nero either. I told you and told you about him but you wouldn’t listen.”
I cut him off because now he has made me angry.
“Dammit, Quinn, it was you who pushed me into this in the first place, with all your complaining about how we needed cash because the trade on our boats from New Orleans was not going as well as you’d hoped. And it was me who was arrested in Philadelphia for unpaid bills, for Christ’s sake. And then had to sit through that mockery of a trial before you could see your way to sending me some of my own money.
“Let’s not forget, it’s my money sunk into these boats, my place carved out of nothing, my head working all this out instead of being split open by some tomahawk. I’ve made it this far, dammit, without having to take every idea you try to shove down my throat.
“Now I am well aware that as one man I cannot know and see everything. And I am of a generation that’s being left behind as the world moves on, so I try to remain open to your suggestions. You do have a good idea every now and then, Quinn, and I take it.
“I didn’t want any part of this whole scheme when you first brought it to me. And look at me now, counting and recounting the money we’re making off your good idea. But what you don’t seem to understand is that people pay for quality. You could get a dullard in here, but I guarantee you, you will spend more time and trouble covering more folks for less income, and many more chances for things to go wrong.
“You want to do something differently, you are free to do as you see fit. Go get yourself your own stockman and start your own line. Do whatever you want so long as you keep your man and your mess away from my place and my clients because I have my hands full.”
∞
It is mid-September of 1823 and getting brittle with still no rain. Richardson rides through the gate into his yard at dusk. His gray gelding Omega stops right where his stableman Ben stands waiting. Each time he dismounts after this long ride home from judging, the hard shock of his feet hitting the ground jars him more.
Omega stands close to him, large and hot, sweat having turned most of his light coat the color of his black skin underneath, especially on his chest, belly and throat. He’s still catching his breath from cresting that last hill. This rangy honest gelding has been by far the best of Gamma’s get but Richardson wonders how many more miles he has in him.
He rests his hand on the worn smoothness of his saddle seat and the stirrups swing empty. The gelding chews his bit with a jangle and thunk, foam covering his lips. He tries leaning into Richardson, wanting to rub his face, itchy with drying sweat, up against something. Anything. Richardson digs the butt end of his crop into Omega’s shoulder to keep him back and the horse snorts in frustration.
Richardson runs his eyes across the broad stone face of his house then past the cabins to the big barn behind. As always, Chatty has seen him coming and opened the big gate for him, and here’s Ben reaching to take the reins.
But Richardson can’t get the day off him. It had been his turn as magistrate when a negro woman a few towns over decided to carry herself out of this world, taking as many white folks with her as she could. The
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