I is sick, he said, old Josh
I knowed you are sick, said Silas, Joshs son. And he was lying boned tired, it was a long way back from a funeral he had went to a month ago.
Wher is ms Molly? Josh uttered.
Shes a lying down over yonder by the creek. Eyes sees her dhave an hour ago.
Git out ar her, Josh said, go tells Molly Im sick!
The old man waited for ms Molly, a free slave with a hut by the creek, and a fifty foot lot of land, given to her by a cousin of Mr. Abernathys down in Ozark, some five years ago upon her 60th birthday.
Now the old man got thinking, as Silas: As Silas goes to fetch her here I am, not a tooth in my head, sick in bed, no wife, and this old woman, the only one around available, who thinks I am(he sees her coming up the road through the hut window)here she comes like a darn nursea man doctor, Josh mumbles.
She was small, and fragile; like a rainbow; light brown, some white blood in her: as Josh always acclaim ed. She always complained about Joshs cussing and he would agree with her he was a damned sinful man, and needed to stop it. Hoping shed give him more attention. Josh was not religious but he had an ear and heart for the word of God. And would always say: he was no better or worse than any average white man. But felt God would take him on a trial bases, as he would perhaps do with his Master, Mr. Hightower.
The weather was damp, it had been raining and that also sapped old Josh.
Molly walked into the shack, saw Josh laying down, smiled and pulled up the only chair in the shack by his bed; lifted his hand, took his pulse, wiped the sweat from his forehead; as Josh waved Silas on, to go, get out of the hut, and so he did.
She told him he had a slight temperature, and wiped his sweaty neck dry. He never took his eyes of her as she tried to fix the chicken-feathered pillow under his head.
Make love to me Ms Molly, eyes goin to di soon, old Josh said with a humble voice.
Yous better already, see Joshsaid Molly.
But Joshs mind was on other things. He then got a pain and arched his back, then with his hanging hand he went to grab Mollys dress (or perhaps it was something else):
You aint dying for a while ol man, she said, as she turned around about to leave the shack with a smile on her face, adding, Hit aint Id be begrudging you, jest for trying but I aint offerin cuss you keer ony for what you can git.
Old Josh smiled; she was right, as always. Then she was gone. Silas then came back in the hut.
Shs goin, is she? said Josh, I knowed hit, she like me, darn good dhing Im sick too, I say.
Silas sits back on the chair motionless, with his mud packed overalls, just smiles at his father, shakes his head once or twice, and drifts off to sleep, while Old Josh mumbles on.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Short Story
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