Black Angels Read Free Page A

They was free, she said. Her man was free. Was they flying around free now? Daylily wondered. Was Buttercup and her babies free angels?
    â€œAre there any angels Black like me?” the song said. Her small, high voice took up very little space. “I have been as good as any little girl can be.” She could feel her hands now. They were tingling. She could see the water move in the gray light. “If I hide my face, do you think they will see? Mama, are there any angels Black like me?”
    Just one or two steps and she’d be there. She’d step over the other way, away from where she knew Buttercup was left by the bad men, and she wouldn’t turn her head. Just a drink. A swallow.
    She was there and she bent over on her knees and drank. It was a cold, dark feeling, but it was good.
    She turned around, not really seeing anything clearly, but heading away from the water some, and as far away from the bodies as she could manage. She was already half asleep, and damp with last night’s rain. She was very, very sleepy, and she closed her eyes tight, feeling the crying come on her.
    She heard a wood thrush in a tree somewhere. Its partner answered. A squirrel stirred and buzzards circled overhead. It tasted like salt water was running down her face and under her chin. Dew formed its tiny bubbles. It would be a fine September morning.

CHAPTER 4
    CASWELL THE WOLF
    He only had to find her. He only had to reach the Burwell place and she would be there. It was late afternoon now. Daniel taught him about the sun and how to read it. Before he got to the Burwell place, he’d have to wash his face. He was a big boy, seven years old. He had no business crying. Mamadear would die if she knew how filthy he was. He thought his face was probably black with grime and his trousers looked like niggers’ trousers, covered with mud and dust.
    His papa was away fighting Yankees, a brave and true son of the Confederacy, and he had no business crying like a girl. Not ever. No excuse for it. Caswell wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Now he was on the river road. He knew that he was right because he knew the river road ran down to the Burwell place. He was on the river road cause he had to find his Mamadear.
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    When Papa went off to war, Caswell remembered he could not cry, and so he ran off down near the pond to wash his face quick, and Sweetbriar saw him and said, “Yo daddy whup you for blubberin, Marse Caswell?”
    â€œShut up, you nigger, you just shut up,” he told Sweetbriar.
    It was summertime when Papa left. Magnolias were out full, and tobacco was high and green, and Mama was big in the stomach. She was bigger than he’d ever seen her, and Sweetbriar said, “Them’s two melons your mama got in her belly. She get small again, you see. And then you have two little bundles in your house.”
    And then Sweetbriar had to go cause Gran Susie called him to fetch her water, but Caswell’s mama didn’t ever get small again, and Papa went off to fight.
    Now he was by himself. But he knew he was going the right way because his papa had taken him to the Burwell place. They got in the buggy and General Brown drove them there behind Blue Sam and Soldier Boy, Papa’s new geldings. He wanted to show Colonel Burwell his new horses, he said. Show him what a real gentleman would have. They went on a long time in the buggy, and he heard Papa say, “General Brown, how far you reckon Burwell’s is?”
    General Brown said, “Bout ten miles, Marse Washington.”
    â€œNonsense,” Papa said. “It’s no ten miles. Seven at the most. You boys just don’t have a head for these things.” Papa laughed.
    â€œYessuh,” General Brown said, like he always did. And clucked the horses to speed up.
    Papa said General Brown wasn’t really a general, but he gave him that name because he liked to joke with his friends when they visited that he had a