Abner Daniel: A NovelHarben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
General
Abner Daniel: A Novel
Harben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
Georgia -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
I'm a-goin' to pay that boy out ef they 'll let me.'
“'You don't say,' the old fellow grunted, lookin' mighty funny, an' he
slid in the store after me. Somehow I wasn't afeerd o' nothin' with
or without shape. I felt like I was walkin' on air in the brightest,
saftest sunshine I ever felt. They was all huddled over Mason's desk
still a-figurin' an' a-complainin' at the uneven division. Jimmy
set thar with his head ducked an' his young wife was tryin' to fix
some'n' about the baby. She looked like she'd been cryin.'I got up on my
tater-barrel an' knocked on the wall with a axe-handle to attract the'r
attention. Then I begun. I don't know what I said, or how it sounded,
but I seed Jimmy raise his head an' look, an' his wife push back her
poke-bonnet an' stare like I'd been raised from the grave. Along with my
request to be allowed to foot the whole bill, I said I wanted to do it
beca'se I believed I could show Jimmy an' his wife that I was doin'
it out o' genuine regard fer 'em both, an' that I wanted 'em to take
a hopeful new start an' not be depressed. Well, sir, it was like an
avalanche. I never in all my life seed sech a knocked-out gang. Nobody
wanted to talk. The sheriff looked like he was afeerd his handcuffs ud
jingle, an' Jimmy bu'st out cryin'. His wife sobbed till you could
'a' heerd her to the spring. She sprung up an' fetched me her baby an'
begged me to kiss it. With her big glad eyes, an' the tears in 'em, she
looked nigher an angel than any human bein' I ever looked at. Jimmy went
out the back way wipin' his eyes, an' I went to Mason's desk to write
him a check fer the money. He come to my elbow an' looked troubled.
“'I said it was five hundred dollars,' said he, 'but I was sorter
averagin' the loss. I ain't a-goin' to run no risks in a matter like
this. I'd feel better to call it four hundred. You see, Jimmy's been a
sort o' standby with me, an' has fetched me lots o' trade. Make it four
hundred and I 'll keep 'im. I don't believe he 'll ever git wrong agin.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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