The Conjure Woman, Charles W. Chesnutt [reading women txt] 📗

on hoss races, en didn’ hab no money, en so Becky’s husban’ wuz sol’ erway ter Fuhginny.

“Co’se Becky went on some ’bout losin’ her man, but she couldn’ he’p herse’f; en ’sides dat, she had her pickaninny fer ter comfo’t her. Dis yer little Mose wuz de cutes’, blackes’, shiny-eyedes’ little nigger you eber laid eyes on, en he wuz ez fon’ er his mammy ez his mammy wuz er him. Co’se Becky had ter wuk en didn’ hab much time ter was’e wid her baby. Ole Aun’ Nancy, de plantation nuss down at de qua’ters, useter take keer er little Mose in de daytime, en atter de niggers come in fum de cotton-fiel’ Becky ’ud git her chile en kiss ’im en nuss ’im, en keep ’im ’tel mawnin’; en on Sundays she’d hab ’im in her cabin wid her all day long.

“Sis’ Becky had got sorter useter gittin’ ’long widout her husban’, w’en one day Kunnel Pen’leton went ter de races. Co’se w’en he went ter de races, he tuk his hosses, en co’se he bet on ’is own hosses, en co’se he los’ his money; fer Kunnel Pen’leton didn’ nebber hab no luck wid his hosses, ef he did keep hisse’f po’ projeckin’ wid ’em. But dis time dey wuz a hoss name’ Lightnin’ Bug, w’at b’longed ter ernudder man, en dis hoss won de sweep-stakes; en Kunnel Pen’leton tuk a lackin’ ter dat hoss, en ax’ his owner w’at he wuz willin’ ter take fer ’im.

“ ‘I’ll take a thousan’ dollahs fer dat hoss,’ sez dis yer man, who had a big plantation down to’ds Wim’l’ton, whar he raise’ hosses fer ter race en ter sell.

“Well, Kunnel Pen’leton scratch’ ’is head, en wonder whar he wuz gwine ter raise a thousan’ dollahs; en he didn’ see des how he could do it, fer he owed ez much ez he could borry a’ready on de skyo’ity he could gib. But he wuz des boun’ ter hab dat hoss, so sezee:⁠—

“ ‘I’ll gib you my note fer’ ’leven hund’ed dollahs fer dat hoss.’

“De yuther man shuck ’is head, en sezee:⁠—

“ ‘Yo’ note, suh, is better ’n gol’, I doan doubt; but I is made it a rule in my bizness not ter take no notes fum nobody. Howsomeber, suh, ef you is kinder sho’t er fun’s, mos’ lackly we kin make some kin’ er bahg’in. En w’iles we is talkin’, I mought ’s well say dat I needs ernudder good nigger down on my place. Ef you is got a good one ter spar’, I mought trade wid you.’

“Now, Kunnel Pen’leton didn’ r’ally hab no niggers fer ter spar’, but he ’lowed ter hisse’f he wuz des bleedzd ter hab dat hoss, en so he sez, sezee:⁠—

“ ‘Well, I doan lack ter, but I reckon I’ll haf ter. You come out ter my plantation ter-morrer en look ober my niggers, en pick out de one you wants.’

“So sho’ ’nuff nex’ day dis yer man come out ter Kunnel Pen’leton’s place en rid roun’ de plantation en glanshed at de niggers, en who sh’d he pick out fum ’em all but Sis’ Becky.

“ ‘I needs a noo nigger ’oman down ter my place,’ sezee, ‘fer ter cook en wash, en so on; en dat young ’oman’ll des fill de bill. You gimme her, en you kin hab Lightnin’ Bug.’ ”

“Now, Kunnel Pen’leton didn’ lack ter trade Sis’ Becky, ’ca’se she wuz nigh ’bout de bes’ fiel’-han’ he had; en ’sides, Mars Kunnel didn’ keer ter take de mammies ’way fum dey chillun w’iles de chillun wuz little. But dis man say he want Becky, er e’se Kunnel Pen’leton couldn’ hab de race hoss.

“ ‘Well,’ sez de kunnel, ‘you kin hab de ’oman. But I doan lack ter sen’ her ’way fum her baby. W’at’ll you gimme fer dat nigger baby?’

“ ‘I doan want de baby,’ sez de yuther man. ‘I ain’ got no use fer de baby.’

“ ‘I tell yer w’at I’ll do,’ ’lows Kunnel Pen’leton, ‘I’ll th’ow dat pickaninny in fer good measure.’

“But de yuther man shuck his head. ‘No,’ sezee, ‘I’s much erbleedzd, but I doan raise niggers; I raises hosses, en I doan wanter be both’rin’ wid no nigger babies. Nemmine de baby. I’ll keep dat ’oman so busy she’ll fergit de baby; fer niggers is made ter wuk, en dey ain’ got no time fer no sich foolis’ness ez babies.’

“Kunnel Pen’leton didn’ wanter hu’t Becky’s feelin’s⁠—fer Kunnel Pen’leton wuz a kin’-hea’ted man, en nebber lack’ ter make no trouble fer nobody⁠—en so he tol’ Becky he wuz gwine sen’ her down ter Robeson County fer a day er so, ter he’p out his son-in-law in his wuk; en bein’ ez dis yuther man wuz gwine dat way, he had ax’ ’im ter take her ’long in his buggy.

“ ‘Kin I kyar little Mose wid me, marster?’ ax’ Sis’ Becky.

“ ‘N-o,’ sez de kunnel, ez ef he wuz studyin’ whuther ter let her take ’im er no; ‘I reckon you better let Aun’ Nancy look atter yo’ baby fer de day er two you’ll be gone, en she’ll see dat he gits ernuff ter eat ’tel you gits back.’

“So Sis’ Becky hug’ en kiss’ little Mose, en tol’ ’im ter be a good little pickaninny, en take keer er hisse’f, en not fergit his mammy w’iles she wuz gone. En little Mose put his arms roun’ his mammy en lafft en crowed des lack it wuz monst’us fine fun fer his mammy ter go ’way en leabe ’im.

“Well, dis yer hoss trader sta’ted out wid Becky, en bimeby, atter dey’d gone down de Lumbe’ton Road fer a few miles er so, dis man tu’nt roun’ in a diffe’nt d’rection, en kep’ goin’ dat erway, ’tel bimeby Sis’ Becky up ’n ax’ ’im ef he wuz gwine’ ter Robeson County by a noo road.

“ ‘No, nigger,’ sezee, ‘I ain’ gwine ter Robeson County at all. I’s gwine ter Bladen County, whar my plantation is, en whar I raises all my hosses.’

“ ‘But how is I gwine ter git ter Mis’