The Devil's Beating His Wife Read Online Free PDF

morning to be thrashed by my mother. Especially on an empty stomach.
    "Please accept my apologies, ma'am. I meant no disrespect."
    "I certainly hope not," she said, lifting Father's mug of coffee. She raised the paper and snapped it open. The pages vibrated with her rage, although she tried to appear calm as she sipped from the mug.
    Placing my hands onto the table, I pushed my chair back and hoisted myself to my feet. As I walked towards the kitchen, I glanced in her direction. Mother watched me from the corner of her eye. She tensed, ready to spring if I lost my balance. One minute, the harpy was ready to bash my brains in and the next minute, she was an overprotective battle-axe. I splayed my hands in front of me, motioning for her to stay back. Stiffening my legs and straightening my gait, I focused on staying on my feet and made it into the kitchen with barely a limp.
    Feeling quite safe at the sink, I asked, "Why haven't you hired another maid?"
    "You know why," Mother said from the doorway. I reached out to hold onto the nearest object, hoping to ease the burden on my leg. Her approach startled me, and I burned my hand when I placed it on the top of the still-hot stove. She moved across the kitchen and grabbed my hand. Shoving it under cold running water, she clucked her tongue in annoyance.
    "Ever since that unfortunate incident," she said, "none of the colored people will step foot on this land. I can't say that I blame them. What happened to that boy wasn't—" She pressed her lips together and wrapped my hand in a towel. "I blame that Mary-Alice."
    I didn't respond. I still wondered if Mary-Alice's flirtatious ways had been the reason that boy had ever crossed Carver's mind. She was the type of woman who found power in manipulating the men who loved her.
    "Things haven't been the same around here since then," Mother said, moving away from me.
    It hadn't taken long for news of Spicey's brother's death to spread around town. The damn boy was hanging from the big tree in the center of our small town. At first, people only talked about the sailor found hanging in the tree. Then they began to connect that it was Spicey's brother. The initial word had been that the Klan had ridden into town, targeting the coloreds in the military. I had latched onto that rumor myself, spreading it around to the few curious folks that asked for my opinion.
    But hell if Spicey's mama hadn't set the town straight. She'd gotten the coloreds all worked up. They held meetings at the colored church. She would pay testimony to what happened that night. Even Spicey had stood before the townsfolk and told them what she had seen. The preacher had gathered a group to go down to the sheriff's office to file a complaint. They didn't get very far with that. The sheriff was Charlie's uncle. Since his nephew had been part of the gang, he had been well-apprised of that night's events long before the delegation reached him. He calmly explained to them that the death was ruled a suicide by the coroner. Word spread that the sheriff had actually said the boy was too terrified to fight in the war.
    "Enough of that unpleasantness," Mother muttered to herself. "That was nearly three years ago and it's time to let sleeping dogs lie." I could hear the sadness in her voice even though she tried to hide it with a fake smile. "Baxter, I've been thinking of hosting a party for you. I'll invite some of our friends. Since you've been gone, a few new families have moved into the area, and there are a few eligible girls that I'd like you to meet. There's one in particular, a pretty girl named Rita, that I think you might like. She has that dark hair and dark eyes that you seem to favor." The dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin of Spicey were what I actually favored, and she knew that.
    "Mother, we both know that I ain't got no say in this. No matter my opinion, you will throw this party. Shoot, if I attempted to hide, I well imagine you would hog-tie me to a chair."
    "You