Journeyman Read Online Free PDF Page A

red glow in the sky over the ridge.
    “He’s the potentest man,” Dene said, rocking a little.
    “Shut up, Dene, doggone it all,” he said.
    There was a sound in the yard like somebody scraping shoe-leather on hard sand. Clay jumped in his seat, straining his eyes in the darkness. Dene clutched his arm, but he paid no attention to her. He moved to the edge of his seat, pulling himself forward with hands gripped on the railing.
    Once he thought he caught a glimpse of a dark face in the path from the road. He was a little uneasy when he realized that the only person who might be out there was Hardy.
    “Who’s that?” Clay asked.
    “It’s me, Mr. Clay,” Hardy said, coming closer to the porch.
    “What do you want, Hardy?”
    “I’m up here looking for Sugar, Mr. Clay. I wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t for that.”
    “What makes you think she’s up here?” Clay said.
    “Mr. Clay,” Hardy said, “please don’t go trying to put me off. I know you ain’t that kind.”
    “Are you looking for Sugar?”
    “Mr. Clay, you know good and well I’m looking for her. Please don’t go trying to put me off, Mr. Clay.”
    Hardy came to the foot of the steps. From where he stood he could see through the open door into the hall. There was no light anywhere except in Semon’s room.
    “Did Sugar tell you she was coming up here, Hardy?” Clay asked him.
    “No, sir.”
    “Then what makes you think she’s up here?”
    “Mr. Clay, don’t go trying to put me off. That white man told her to come up here.”
    “Did Sugar tell you he said that?”
    “No, sir.”
    Clay listened for a while. Once he thought he heard Semon, but he was not certain. There was so much going on inside his head it was hard to fix his mind on one thing and keep it there.
    “What’re you aiming to do, Hardy?” Clay said.
    “I came up here to get Sugar,” Hardy said firmly. Clay could feel the determination in his voice.
    Hardy was a yellow Negro, and Clay knew he could not handle him in the same way a black Negro was handled.
    “Now, Mr. Clay,” he said, “there ain’t no use in trying to put me off no longer. I don’t have no hard feelings against you, and I don’t want to have none. But I came up here to get Sugar and take her home. That’s what I’m standing here for now, Mr. Clay.”
    Clay could feel Dene moving on the edge of her chair beside him. He did not have to look at her to know that she was watching Hardy.
    “I scarcely know what to say to you, Hardy,” Clay began uneasily. “Semon Dye, the traveling preacher, came here to stay today, and he’s got Sugar in the house, there, now. I reckon you knew that all the time, anyway.”
    “Yes, sir, Mr. Clay,” Hardy said, coming up the steps. “I don’t want to make no trouble. I ain’t that kind at all.”
    He stopped when he reached the top step.
    “It’s white-folks’ fault,” Hardy said. “I don’t blame it on Sugar none. That white man got her to come up here, and she wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t told her to. It’s the white-folks who always make trouble for the colored.”
    “What’re you aiming to do about it, Hardy?” Clay asked uneasily.
    “I came to take Sugar home.”
    Hardy crossed the porch to the door. Clay jumped up and beat him to the threshold.
    “I wouldn’t raise no rumpus in your house, Mr. Clay,” Hardy told him.
    “I’ll go tell Sugar you came to get her,” Clay said.
    He left the door and walked into the dark hall without waiting to hear what Hardy said. He went to Semon’s door, turned the knob easily, and stepped inside. Not until he was already inside the room did he realize that Hardy had followed him and was standing behind him.
    He crossed the room and turned up the lamp.
    Semon saw only Hardy. He reached for his revolver on the table beside the bed. In a leap he was on his feet and standing in front of them cocking the pistol with his stiff thumb.
    “Don’t point that thing at me, Mr. Semon,” Hardy said