A Gathering of Old Men Read online

  Praise for

  Ernest J. Gaines’s

  A Gathering of Old Men

  “Gaines knows how to tell a story.… [He writes] with humor, a strong sense of drama and a compassionate understanding of people who find themselves in opposing positions.”

  —Jonathan Yardley, Washington Post

  “A fine novel … there is a denouement that will shock and move readers as much as it does the characters, and a multiplicity of themes that raises a simple tale to grand significance.”

  —David Bradley, Philadelphia Inquirer

  “Riveting … it takes off like a shot and keeps your heart pounding right through the final climax.”

  —Patricia Holt, San Francisco Chronicle

  “Poignant, powerful, earthy … a novel of Southern racial confrontation in which a group of elderly black men band together against whites who seek vengeance for the murder of one of their own.”

  —Booklist

  “Gaines’s people talk real talk and walk real streets.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  Ernest J. Gaines

  A Gathering of Old Men

  Ernest J. Gaines was born on a plantation in Pointe Coupée Parish near New Roads, Louisiana, which is the Bayonne of all his fictional works. His novels include the much-acclaimed The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, Of Love and Dust, Catherine Carmier, Bloodline, and In My Father’s House. He divides his time between San Francisco and the University of Southwestern Louisiana, in Lafayette, where he holds a visiting professorship in creative writing. His new novel, A Lesson Before Dying, will be published by Alfred A. Knopf in 1993.

  ALSO BY ERNEST J. GAINES

  Catherine Carmier

  Of Love and Dust

  Bloodline

  The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

  A Long Day in November

  In My Father’s House

  FIRST VINTAGE CONTEMPORARIES EDITION, JULY 1992

  Copyright © 1983 by Ernest J. Gaines

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. in 1983.

  Portions of this book have appeared previously in

  Black Scholar and Georgia Review.

  Library of Congress Cataloging in Publications Data

  Gaines, Ernest J., 1933 –

  A gathering of old men.

  I. Title

  [PS3557.A355G3 1984b] 813′.54 91-58064

  eISBN: 978-0-307-83038-8

  v3.1

  This book is dedicated to the memory of

  Mr. Walter Zeno—aka Salute, Rider, Pete,

  and a few other names

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  George Eliot, Jr.: aka: Snookum

  Janice Robinson: aka: Janey

  Myrtle Bouchard: aka: Miss Merle

  Robert Louis Stevenson Banks: aka: Chimley

  Matthew Lincoln Brown: aka: Mat

  Grant Bello: aka: Cherry

  Cyril Robillard: aka: Clatoo

  Louis Alfred Dimoulin: aka: Lou Dimes

  Joseph Seaberry: aka: Rufe

  Thomas Vincent Sullivan: aka: Sully or T.V.

  Lou Dimes

  Sully

  Jacques Thibeaux: aka: Tee Jack

  Albert Jackson: aka: Rooster

  Lou Dimes

  Sidney Brooks: aka: Coot

  Snookum

  Horace Thompson: aka: Sharp

  Antoine Christophe: aka: Dirty Red

  Lou Dimes

  George Eliot, Jr.

  aka

  Snookum

  I heard Candy out in the front yard calling Gram Mon. Me and Toddy and Minnie was sitting at the table eating, and Gram Mon was at the stove looking in the pot to see if she had enough food left in there for supper. I could hear Candy out in the yard, going: “Oh, Aunt Glo; oh, Aunt Glo; oh, Aunt Glo.” I jumped up from my chair to go see what she wanted, but Gram Mon told me to sit back down there and finish my food, ’cause my name wasn’t Glo, or Aunt. She looked at me long enough for it to set in; then she started toward the front door where Candy was still going: “Oh, Aunt Glo; oh, Aunt Glo; oh, Aunt Glo.”

  Old Toddy with his snagged-teef self looked at me and grinned, ’cause he thought Gram Mon had hurt my feeling when she told me to sit back down. I checked one of my fist, but he knowed I couldn’t hit him, ’cause he had already caught me and Minnie playing mama and papa in the weeds, and he told me I had a year when I couldn’t do him nothing no matter what he did me, and if I did he was go’n tell Gram Mon what he caught us doing. He told me he could grin at me all he wanted to, and he could hit me, and kick me, and pinch me (in church, or home, he didn’t care), and he could steal my cake if he wanted to, or my candy if I had any, and he could lose all his marbles to me, and I better not take them back, and I better not gig his spinning top when we played gigging, ’cause if I did he was go’n tell Gram Mon what he saw me and Minnie trying to do in the weeds. He said it was go’n be like that a whole year, if I liked it or not. It started just ’fore Candy started calling Gram Mon, ’cause we had just come in to eat dinner when I heard her calling out there in the yard.

  I heard Candy saying: “Snookum in there?”

  “At the table eating. What’s the matter, Candy?” Gram Mon said.

  “Get Snookum out here,” Candy said.

  “Snookum did something wrong?” Gram Mon asked her.

  “Hurry, Aunt Glo,” Candy said.

  “Snookum?” Gram Mon called me.

  Old Toddy and Minnie jumped up too, and Gram Mon looked over her shoulder and said, “Get back in there and eat them turnips. I called Snookum.”

  “How come Snookum don’t have to eat his turnips?” Toddy said. “How come just me and Minnie got to eat turnips?”

  “ ’Cause I called him,” Gram Mon said. “Now, get back in there and finish them turnips.”

  “I ain’t no turnip-eating machine,” Toddy said.

  “You better turn into one ’fore I get back in that kitchen,” Gram Mon said. “Snookum, Candy want talk to you. Toddy, you and Minnie finish them turnips,” Gram Mon said.

  “Snookum can act a fool and laugh at me out there,” Toddy said. “But he know I got something on him.”

  Candy was standing in the yard close to the steps when I came out on the garry. She wore a white shirt and khaki pants and brown shoes with little gold buckles. Her hair was light brown and dark brown and cut short, almost short like a man’s hair.

  “Come here, Snookum,” she said.

  I jumped down on the ground where she was, and she grabbed me by the shoulders with both hands. She leaned over and brought her face close to mine, and her eyes, the color of blue smoke, looked wild and scared. I was thinking I had done something wrong and she was mad at me for it.

  “Now, listen,” she said. “I want you to run, and I don’t want you to stop running. I want you to go tell Rufe and Reverend Jameson and Corrine and the rest of them to gather at Mathu’s house right away. And I want you to go to the front, and I want you to—listen to me good, now,” she said, squeezing my shoulders and hurting me a little bit—“go up to the house and see if Miss Merle’s there. If she is, tell her I say come quick. No, if she’s there tell her to call Lou and tell Lou to get here quick, then she get here quick. If she’s not there, tell Janey to call her and Lou and tell them to get here quick. Don’t waste time on that phone talking, just get here quick.
Don’t do nothing but get here quick. You heard what I said, Snookum?”

  “What I’m telling all them people to get here quick for?” I asked her.

  “That’s none of your business, Snookum. You’re nothing but a little boy. Now, get moving and don’t stop running.”

  I shot out of the yard. When I hit the road, I saw the tractor in front of Mathu’s house. The motor was running, I could hear it, I could see the smoke, but Charlie wasn’t on the tractor. He had two big loads of cane hitched to the back of the tractor, but he wasn’t on the tractor. On the other side of the road, in front of Mathu’s house, I could see Candy’s big black car shining in the sun. I knowed Candy didn’t tell me to tell Mathu anything, but looked to me like since all them other people was gathering at his house, looked to me like he ought to know what was going on, too. So when I came up even with his house, I ran in the yard, and that’s when I seen Beau. Beau was laying over there in the weeds all bloody.

  “Get away from there, boy!” Mathu hollered at me from the garry.

  “I’m doing something for Candy,” I said.

  “You ain’t doing nothing for her there,” he said. “Now, get away from there.”

  Mathu was squatting against the wall with that double-barrel shotgun in his arms. He had on that old gray hat that was the color of the ground. He had on a dirty white tee shirt and green pants. He was smoking a cigarette. Mathu was black black with a white beard.

  “Candy want everybody at your house,” I told him.

  “If that’s what she want, you better go on and do it,” he said. “Now, get away from there.”

  I looked back at that tractor. The motor was still running. I looked back at Mathu squatting against the wall.

  “Where Charlie?” I said. “How come he ain’t driving that tractor?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Mathu said. “Get out of this yard, and get out fast, or I’ll come out there and tear your butt with a switch.”

  Mathu started getting up, and I shot out of there, headed up the quarters, spanking my butt the way you spank your horse when you want him to run fast. Rufe was hoeing in the garden when I got to his house. The garden was behind the house, and you could always hear Rufe back there working and singing. When I told him what Candy had said, he looked at me a second like he was trying to figure out what Candy wanted him for; then all of a sudden he throwed the hoe down and started running. I yanked my horse around and shot out too, headed up the quarters. I figured this time of day Corrine was in her kitchen eating, so I didn’t bother to knock on the front door. I just ran through the house back in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table eating greens and rice out of a pan. Eating all by herself. She didn’t have no children or a husband. She was just by herself—eating and looking out of the back door. When I told her what Candy had said, she turned slowly to look at me, and her eyes was all brownish and tired-looking. She didn’t say a thing. Didn’t say “Uh-huh” or nothing. Just looked old and tired-looking. Eating on her front teef—looking old and tired-looking. I turned around and shot out of there, spanking my butt the way you spank a horse when you want that horse to run fast. Reverend Jameson had just come out of the house when I ran in his yard. Me and Reverend Jameson didn’t get along too good. He was always getting on me, saying I should be in the church serving the Lord instead of shooting marbles and playing ball. I told him what Candy had said, and he looked down the quarters, but he couldn’t see a thing from here for all the weeds. ’Fore he could ask me anything, I had already turned and was headed up the quarters. I wasn’t going in the people’s yards anymore, I was just hollering to the people from out in the road. I didn’t see half of the people I was hollering at. I didn’t even know if they was home. You had too much weeds and bushes even to see the houses sometime. I just hollered names; running, spanking my butt, and hollering names. “Candy want y’all at Mathu’s house! Candy want y’all at Mathu’s house! Candy want y’all at Mathu’s house!”

  When I came up to Marshall House, I was tired and I could just barely make it across the pasture up to the flower garden. I didn’t go in, I called Janey from the gate. Just calling and calling her. Took her a long time to come out on the garry, and she came out there fussing.

  “What’s the matter with you, boy?” she said to me. “Don’t you know the Major and Miss Bea in there trying to sleep?”

  “Candy sent me,” I said.

  “She didn’t tell you to wake up the dead, did she?”

  Janey looked at me a good while ’Fore she came down the steps. She had on a white dress and white shoes and an apron. She was heavy as Gram Mon, but not old as Gram Mon, and not light as Gram Mon. While she took her own good time coming to the gate, I looked at a couple of butterflies flitting around the flowers in the corner of the yard. Home, the butterflies wouldn’ta had a chance. But I knowed Janey woulda killed me if she even thought I was thinking ’bout coming in that yard.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she said, at the gate.

  “Candy want you to call Lou,” I said.

  “You say ‘Mr. Lou,’ and you say ‘Miss Candy,’ ” Janey said, looking down at me from the other side of the gate. “I don’t care how libbel they is, you still a child. You say Mister and Miss round me. You ain’t too old for me to tan your butt, you know.”

  “Miss Merle in there?” I asked her.

  “No, she ain’t,” Janey said.

  “Guess you’ll have to do then,” I said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Janey said, looking over the gate at me. “I ’preciates that.”

  “Call Lou,” I said. “Tell him Candy want him here right away. And call Miss Merle.”

  “And what I just told you no more than a minute ago about saying Mister and Miss round me?”

  She looked at me hard a long time. That’s how they do when they want you to remember something.

  “What Candy want with them down in the quarters?” she asked me.

  “Something to do with Mathu and Beau. Beau laying on his back in Mathu’s yard. And Mathu squatting there with that shotgun.”

  Janey’s face changed quick. She was mad at first, now she was scared. She pushed that gate open and grabbed me in the collar.

  “That shot I heard?” she said. “That shot I heard?”

  “That hurt,” I said, jerking away from her. “Y’all got any tea cakes or plarines in there?”

  “Boy,” Janey said, and raised her hand to hit me. She wasn’t mad, she was scared. I ducked out of her way.

  “That’s what I heard?” she asked again. Now she looked like she wanted to cry. “That’s the shot I heard?”

  “I guess so, I don’t know,” I said.

  Now she started whooping. “Lord, have mercy. Lord, Jesus, have mercy. Boy, you know what this mean? Mean Fix coming here with his drove. You too young to know Fix. But I know Fix.”

  She started back to the house. I looked at her through the gate.

  “You getting me some tea cakes?” I called to her. “Candy didn’t pay me nothing to come up here.”

  She didn’t answer me. Just kept on walking. Now she was wiping her eyes with her apron.

  “Hanh?” I called to her. I had my face right up against the gate. “You getting me some tea cakes, or a plarine?”

  She went back in the house. Paid me no more ’tention than she did them butterflies around that flower. I left the gate and went on back down the quarters. I didn’t get a nickel or a tea cake or a plarine for running all the way up there. But I still had one thing on old Toddy. He didn’t see what I saw.

  Janice Robinson

  aka

  Janey

  Lord have mercy, Jesus, what now? Where do I turn? Go where first? The Major? For what? He’s already drunk out there on that front garry, and it’s just twelve o’clock. Miss Bea? That’s like talking to the wall. Where? Mr. Lou? Yes. She said call Mr. Lou. Mr. Lou and Miss Merle. I better make it Mr. Lou first. Lord, have mercy, keep me on my feet if it is thy holy will.
>
  I went in and dialed the paper in Baton Rouge—my finger trembling, just a-trembling. When the operator answered, I told her I wanted to speak to Mr. Lou Dimes. She told me that was “City,” and told me to hold on. Then somebody else answered and said, “City”; then he said, “Toby Wright.” I told him I wanted to speak to Mr. Lou Dimes. “Lou at dinner right now,” he said. “Oh, Lord,” I said. “Where? Find him. Hurry. Candy want him here right away. Please, sir. Please.” “Just hold on,” he said. “Calm down. He’ll be back in a little while. Who am I speaking to? That’s you, Janey?” “Yes, sir, it’s me,” I said. “Find him fast as you can, and tell him get here fast as he can. He don’t have to call. Just get here. And please hurry. Hurry.”

  I was crying so hard when I got through talking to him I had to wipe my whole face with my apron. Then I dialed Miss Merle. But nobody answered. I let it ring a dozen times, but no answer. Lord, Jesus, I told myself. Lord, Jesus, help me.

  I went out on the front garry. The Major was all curled up in the swing, sleeping. His face resting on the back of his hands. A half glass of watered whiskey on the banister by the swing. Lord, Jesus, I thought to myself, it ain’t evening yet, and he’s already drunk. Lord, Jesus, help me. I went back inside and started upstairs to Miss Bea’s room, but halfway up I remembered she wasn’t in her room, she was out in the back pasture. I went to the back door and looked—and there she was, way over yonder, under one of them pecan trees, a little bitty thing, ain’t five foot tall, feeling in all them weeds with a stick for pecans. Lord, Jesus, I thought to myself, now just s’posing, just s’posing, now, a snake or something come up there and bite that old woman in all them weeds. Lord, Jesus, I said, help me. Help me if it is thy holy will, Lord, Jesus.

  I went back and dialed Miss Merle’s number again, but she still wasn’t there. Help me, Lord, Jesus, I said. Please help this your humbled servant who ain’t never done nothing but served thee well. I went back and looked at the Major—still curled up there sleeping, snoring now. I got the glass of watered whiskey and took it back in the kitchen, and while I was there I looked across the pasture at that old woman out in them weeds looking for pecans with a stick. See? I thought. See? If anything bite that old woman, they’ll blame me. Lord, Jesus, I said, help me, Lord, Jesus. Help me. I went back and dialed Miss Merle again, but she still wasn’t there. Lord, Jesus, I said, help me, Lord, Jesus. I went out on the wes’ garry and looked down the quarters, but you couldn’t see a thing down there for all the weeds. Lord, Jesus, I said to myself, help me, Lord, Jesus. I looked toward the highway, toward the river, ’cause I expected to hear Fix and his drove coming in them trucks with them guns any minute now. Lord, Jesus, I said to myself, help me, Lord, Jesus. I went back in and dialed Miss Merle again, but she still wasn’t home. Lord, Jesus, I said, help me, Lord, Jesus.