Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

John had never been unfaithful to his wife. The women at the ho houses and the sportin’ houses didn’t count, and neither did Savannah. Just before he stepped out of the door, he patted at his pockets remembering to take some cash from his hidden savings box with him. What did Zeola want now?
     
     
    The dining room was empty when he arrived some thirty minutes later. He walked right past Big Red, who, from the smell of it, was boiling cabbage to go along with the corned beef John spotted in the big kettle on the back of the stove. Red had mumbled and raved in turn, but John hadn’t bothered to even glance in his direction as he pushed through the pantry door. Although no one sat at the dining room table, John knew to stand and wait until invited to sit. He walked over to the parlor. It, too, was empty though he noticed that the door to the main poker room was open. He went back to the dining room.
    “I tole you to be here thirty minutes ago.” Zeola stormed into the room in a flowered day wrapper that was untied.
    John was sure that bunched-up bulge underneath her wrapper was her nightgown though the time showed close to five o’clock in the afternoon.
    “Yes, ma’am. As soon as Big Red tole me, I walked here on the double.” He let his face show concern he did not feel. What was so all important?
    “Walk? Hell, man. Ain’t you got a nickel fo’ the trolley? I got me troubles here.” Her nightcap sat askew atop her head, and half her curling rags were still tangled in her hair.
    “Miz Zeola. Tell me what I can do to help you out.” He watched her walk over to the safe and pull out the bourbon and a glass.
    She shoved the branch water to the side as she poured the dark brown liquid nearly to the top. Zeola turned around and squinted one eye at him as she downed the liquor in two swallows.
    “How much money you got saved in yo’ poke, John Welles?” She belched.
    What had gotten her into such a snit, he wondered? The woman hadn’t even bothered to stick a wig on her head, let alone lay on that pound of rouge and powder she wore every night. Here she was, asking him about his personal business. Ever since November, and his four pots a week, he’d been able to save up nearly two hundred dollars to take back home. When he lit out the first of April, he would have close to three hundred if Zeola was true to her word and handed over the money she was holding for him. Of course, that wouldn’t be enough to buy those twenty acres he had his eye on down in Lawnover, but he had no more time to wait.
    “I gots me enough to take real good care of my family, Miz Zeola.” The half smile on his face began to hurt as his jaw locked into place.
    “I got no time to play with you, John Welles.” She put the glass back to her lips, grimaced when she found it empty and stalked back to the safe. “Now, how much money you got saved?”
    “I been able to save enough to keep my family fo’ most of a year.” He figured he was close to the truth. Three hundred dollars could keep a family alive if they had a place to stay and went hungry a little bit. He lifted his eyes to her face, but he was careful not to paste on a smile.
    “You saved any mo’ than two hundred dollars?” She pulled out the box of matches from the safe drawer.
    John had to make this job last only another three weeks until April and his return home. If he was really careful or really lucky with the pots, he could bring home another forty-five dollars. He couldn’t afford to anger Zeola right now.
    “A little more than that, ma’am.” He watched his boss dig into the pocket of her wrapper and pull out a cigarette.
    She held it, unlit between her fingers. Why was she hell-bent on finding out how much money he had saved?
    “Three hundred dollars won’t let that woman of yours live in no kind of style.” She bowed her head as she lit the cigarette, looking at him through the curling smoke.
    “How long you plannin’ on stayin’ with me, John Welles?”
    The question came at him like a sledgehammer.
    “As long as you needs me, Miz Zeola.” He watched her toss her head like she knew a lie when she heard one.
    “I got a deal for you, but I ain’t havin’ you up and leave ’til I say so. You understand?” She pointed the cigarette at him as she slowly walked across the room and planted herself in front of the door leading to her parlor.
    John could see the open door of the big pot room just behind her. “Ma’am, I’m here as long