Southern Cross the Dog Read Online Free PDF

piano for me. Thirty dollars a week. Thirty dollars and your freedom.
    Eli sat there stunned. His head was swimming and he had to brace himself against the bench to keep from falling over. Eli began to laugh, shaking his head and cupping his palms over his face.
    Mr. Duke handed Eli a sheet of paper and showed him where he could put his mark. They shook hands and Mr. Duke counted out a hundred dollars in crisp new bills.
    There’s a town in Calhoun County by the Skuna River called Bruce. A colored woman by the name of Lucy Quinn runs a hotel out there. The Hotel Beau-Miel. You take this money, get yourself a nice suit and a meal, and meet me there in two weeks.
    Eli folded the bills together and tucked them into his pants pocket.
    In two weeks? What’re you going to do till then?
    He watched Mr. Duke slip the paper with Eli’s name into his case, then secure the two brass latches over the lid. He hefted it up with one arm and started for the door.
    With his free hand, he gestured to the burned-out walls of the church.
    Why, Mr. Cutter, someone’s got to find something for you to bang those magnificent hands on.

    THE JOSTLING ON THE BUS kept the sleep from settling. His eyes stung and his groin itched. The other passengers were asleep. Eli could hear them snoring, making low wet sounds, dreamy half words. The country spread black against the windows. Here and there he could make out the reddish glow of tramp fires through the pines. He closed his eyes and half expected to open them up again to his bunk back at the Farm and smell the stale sweat and manure hanging in the air.
    But instead, he smelled perfume.
    It drifted faint from the front of the bus. A fire lit up in his head, his nerves going hot and bright at the tips. She climbed on board, a gloved hand steadying herself on the back of a seat. The silhouette of a pillbox hat floated into the aisle. She took slow careful steps toward the back of the bus, arms feeling the dark space ahead of her. Her hips bobbed— Swish! Swish! —stopping in front of Eli.
    Evening, she said.
    Eli slid over and cleared a space for her to sit. The scent of calla lily grew thick and heavy. He could feel its weight in his mouth, like a lump of sugar on his tongue.
    You a pretty little thing to go riding around this hour, he said.
    Couldn’t find no one to carry me, she said.
    Now I don’t believe that. You weighed five hundred pounds, I’d carry you. On my back if I had to.
    The woman snickered. Maybe, but you can’t take me any place I need to go.
    Don’t you worry. I know all the right places.
    Oh, I bet you do.
    I know all the right spots, he said again.
    Eli couldn’t see her face. He wasn’t sure if she was ignoring him.
    You going to see your man?
    You’re awful lippy, mister.
    You didn’t answer my question.
    The woman was quiet for a while. I’m going to see my husband.
    If I had a wife like you, I wouldn’t never let her out of my sight.
    Don’t get fresh with me, she said. You don’t even know me.
    I don’t mean offense. All I mean is lots of things out in these roads at night. Not all of them safe.
    Like you.
    Eli laughed.
    Me? Sure. But there’s plenty worse than me. When I was a little boy, my grandma told me about a gypsy woman live out in the country. If a little boy or little girl was in devilment, she’d come at night and take them away. Boil them up and eat their bones, then she’d spit them out and put them in her little conjure bag.
    The woman laughed. He could make out the swell of her breasts, the smooth slope of her neck. The whites of her eyes glowed a dull blue even in the dark.
    You ever been in devilment, little girl?
    Bad boy, she teased.
    â€™Cause I can devil you right.
    He touched his fingers lightly to her skirt. The warm of her thighs came up through the cotton.
    The woman laughed. I’m a full-grown woman.
    Very grown, Eli said.
    A grown woman ain’t got no need