Read Of Love and Dust for Free Online Page B

laying on the gallery. He looked like somebody had beat him with an eight-plait whip and left him there to die.
    “Hey,” I called to him. “Hey, there.”
    He raised up slowly and looked at me.
    “Brought you a beer,” I said. “Come on in.”
    He got up real slowly and followed me inside. I turned on the light and opened the bottle of beer for him. He took it and sat down at the table. I could see how that rope had ate through the shoulder of that green shirt.
    “Why don’t you take a bath,” I said. “You’ll feel better.”
    “You a freak or something?” he said.
    I went up to him and snatched the beer out of his hand and threw it out the window.
    “Now, get the fuck out of here,” I said. “Get out.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “You’re not sorry, you rotten sonofabitch. You think somebody got to kiss your ass to get along with you.”
    “What you expect?” he said. “Don’t get mad? Look at me. Look at the blisters in my hands. I been working like a mule all day.”
    “You should have thought about that before you killed that boy.”
    “He was go’n kill me,” Marcus said, his voice getting a little higher than it ought to be. “Ain’t I done said a thousand times he was go’n kill me? What I was suppose to do, stand there and let him kill me first?”
    “Then you should have kept your ass in Bayonne,” I said. “I’m getting tired of this shit.”
    “I said I was sorry. What you want a man to say?”
    I stood there looking at him. I was sorry I had hollered at him now.
    “I’ll get out,” he said. But he was getting up slowly, hoping I would tell him to stay.
    “Sit down,” I said. “You got another beer there. You can either drink it now or with your food.”
    “Can I have it now?”
    I opened it and gave it to him; then I started cooking. Ihad bought a pound of sausage, and I already had tomatoes and onions at the house; so I threw all that together and put on a pot of rice to go with it. I usually ate before I bathed, but since he was there to watch the pot, I went on and took my bath. The food was ready by the time I got out the tub and put on my clothes.
    “I ain’t cut out for this kind of life, Jim,” Marcus said.
    “No?” I said.
    “Look at me,” he said, looking down at his clothes. “This ain’t me.”
    “It’s you,” I said.
    “I can’t go on like this,” he said, looking up at me again.
    “You can,” I said. “Others do.”
    “Not me,” he said.
    “Well, you should have thought about that before you pulled that knife,” I said.
    “How many times I done told you he pulled his knife first?” Marcus said, his voice getting high again. He had a nice voice until he got excited, then it got high. “How many times I done told you that, Jim?” he said.
    “Yeah, you told me,” I said. “How’s the food?”
    “It’s good.”
    “It keeps me going,” I said.
    “You all right, Jim,” Marcus said. “I’m sorry what I say. Don’t pay me no mind.”
    “Forget it,” I said.
    “Look at me,” he said, holding out his hands. “I can’t even hold a fork right.”
    I looked at his hands. Both of them were blistered and raw.
    “Soak them in some warm salt water,” I said.
    “That help?”
    “Help some.”
    “How ’bout my shoulders?”
    “Bathe it in some salt water. I’ll give you a towel. And tomorrow wear another piece of rag over your shoulder. Keep you from bruising it.”
    “Jesus, have mercy,” Marcus said. “Did he have to put that rope on the sack? Couldn’t he put a strap or something?”
    “It won’t kill you,” I said.
    “No, I ain’t go’n die, that’s for sure.”
    “You going to run?” I asked him.
    “Yeah; one day.”
    “Don’t try it,” I said.
    “I ain’t go’n put up with this, Jim. I wasn’t cut out for it.”
    “Nobody was,” I said. “He wasn’t either.”
    “Him?” Marcus said, dropping the fork in his plate and looking at me like he wanted to come over there at me. “Him?” he