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never smiled, and if he had, it probably would’ve killed him, or at least cut up his face, making it move in a way nature never intended. He ain’t the meanest man in the world, but he’s probably kin to whoever that man is.
    Daddy stopped the wagon in front of the courthouse, which meant
he stopped right in front of the sheriff. Sheriff Reynolds wasn’t paying any attention to us till then. Colored people had the right to ride a wagon and use the road, but we weren’t expected to stop in front of the courthouse. Ever.
    “How do, Daniel,” said the sheriff softly, but only his voice was soft. His body stiffened up and his face got harder.
    “Good mornin, Sheriff,” said my daddy.
    “Well, Daniel, it was a mighty fine mornin till just a moment ago. Now maybe that was just an accident, maybe your mules are tired and they thought this might be a good place to rest. Maybe that explains why you’re blockin the courthouse, keepin the good people of this community from engagin in county business, at least I hope so. Well, you better explain to these mules of yours how they’re creatin a misunderstandin here, how some of those good people might start thinkin it was you stopped in front of this courthouse. And you wouldn’t want that, would you, boy?”
    Daddy said nothing at first, but I could see his back straightening up like a tree at the first tug of a storm.
    “I don’t want no one to get upset with me, Sheriff,” Daddy began. “I didn’t come here to cause no trouble, I just come to vote, like the law say I got a right to. And I’m goin to vote, sir, if that’s all right with you.”
    I thought it had been quiet back in the cabin, but this was a quiet not used to air or sunlight, and it was out in the open for the first time, naked, cold, and pale as a bass gasping for breath.
    Sheriff Reynolds did smile then. His teeth were yellow, stained with tobacco. It seemed to hurt him to smile. I hoped he would stop soon cause I was starting to feel bad, looking at something that was more like a wound gaping on his face than a grin.
    “Daniel,” he finally said, slow as molasses easing out of an upturned bottle, “I always thought of you as a reasonable nigger, and now it appears you’re tryin to change my opinion. I’d rather pretend you didn’t say what you just said. So tell those mules of yours to move along and rest somewheres else. You hear me, boy?”

    Sheriff Reynolds’ voice sounded easy and sincere, but it was like sleeping on a mattress full of razors and nails. No matter how carefully you move, the hard sharpness you can’t see on the inside of the bed keeps cutting through to the outside, and you can’t see clearly what’s tearing you up.
    “I’m sorry, Sheriff,” said Daddy, “but there ain’t nothin wrong with my mules. I stopped them right here, and it wasn’t no mistake. I’m here to vote!”
    By this time, other white folks had gathered. White and colored folks in town didn’t usually have long talks, and very few people had conversations with the sheriff. Those that did were probably going to jail or coming from jail. But I wouldn’t call them conversations cause the sheriff was usually the only one talking.
    “No, no,” said Sheriff Reynolds, with a sour look on his face, and he cocked his head to one side like he was trying to get a better view of my daddy. “You most definitely are not here to vote. And I am gonna arrest you, Daniel, for bein intoxicated in public, cause it’s plainly obvious to everyone here that you’ve been drinkin, and I believe a night in my jail may do you some good. We can sit up all night and talk about your problems, cause I care about you, boy. Believe you me, I’m intent on takin care of you the best way I know how, and before the night is done we will surely come to an understandin.”
    “I appreciate that, Sheriff,” said Daddy. “I know you want to do what’s right, and I appreciate your hospitality, invitin me to stay with you and