African Americans -- Fiction; Short stories; Southern States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“It was impossible to take offence at him, he was so good-natured. He
would get out of his bed in the middle of the night, hitch up his horse
and pull his bitterest enemy out of the mud. He had on an occasion
ridden all night through a blizzard to get a doctor for the wife of
a negro neighbor in a cabin near by who was suddenly taken ill. When
someone expressed admiration for it, especially as it was known that the
man had not long before been abusing Halloway to the provost-marshal,
who at that time was in supreme command, he said:
“'Well, what 's that got to do with it? Wa 'n 't the man 's wife sick?
I don't deserve no credit, though; if I had n't gone, my wife would n'
'a' let me come in her house.'
“He was an outspoken man, too, not afraid of the devil, and when he
believed a thing he spoke it, no matter whom it hit. In this way John
had been in trouble several times while we were under 'gun-rule';
and this, together with his personal character, had given him great
influence in the county, and made him a power. He was one of my most
ardent friends and supporters, and to him, perhaps, more than to any
other two men in the county, I owed my position.
“Absalom Turnell's rancorous speeches had stirred all the county, and
the apprehension of the outbreak his violence was in danger of
bringing might have caused trouble but for John Halloway's coolness and
level-headedness. John offered to go around and follow Absalom up at his
meetings. He could 'spike his guns,' he said.
“Some of his friends wanted to go with him. 'You 'd better not try
that,' they argued. That fellow, Ab. Turnell 's got it in for you.' But
he said no. The only condition on which he would go was that he should
go alone.
“'They ain't any of 'em going to trouble me. I know 'em all and I git
along with 'em first rate. I don't know as I know this fellow Ab.; he 's
sort o' grown out o' my recollection; but I want to see. He knows me, I
know. I got my hand on him once when he was a boy--about my age, and he
ain't forgot that, I know. He was a blusterer; but he did n 't have real
grit. He won't say nothin' to my face. But I must go alone. You all are
too flighty.'
“So Halloway went alone and followed Ab. up at his 'camp-fires,' and if
report was true his mere presence served to curb Ab.'s fury, and take
the fire out of his harangues. Even the negroes got to laughing and
talking about it 'Ab. was jest like a dog when a man faced him,' they
said; 'he could n' look him in the eye.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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