Caleb by Charles Alverson

straight.”
    “Such as?”
    “First,” Caleb said, “this is the one and only time this is going to happen. From now on, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. We work together. That’s all. No foolin’ around. We have to act as if white eyes are on us all the time. I don’t want you even to look at me with any old secrets. A lot depends on this.”
    “You don’t have to tell me,” Missy answered sharply. “I got more to lose than you do.”
    “You think so? Master suspects you, maybe he beats you and throws you away like an old shoe that stepped in dog shit—”
    “Thank you!”
    “But what do you think he’s going to do to some trusty slave who just happens to be messing with his little bit while he’s away?”
    “He likes you,” Missy declared.
    “Master likes his hound dogs,” Caleb said, “but if they get into his chicken house, he whips the shit out of them. He hangs them up for the buzzards. That isn’t going to happen to me.”
    “I know, I know,” said Missy. “But think of somethin’, Caleb.”
    “What’s that?”
    “In a couple of years, maybe less, Massa’s going to get tired of me. Or he’s going to get himself a nice little wife. She’ll know. They always do. But can’t we wait until then, and then maybe I can be your woman?”
    Caleb looked at her sharply. “You love me?”
    Her eyes were intelligent and honest. “No, but—”
    “Well, you’re a good, smart girl and all that, Missy. And a damned wonder in bed, but I don’t love you, either. And if you last as long with Master as I think you will, I’m not going to be around then. I’m going to be free!”
    “How?”
    “I don’t know, but as sure as you got two pretty titties, I’m going to be free. Even if it costs me my life.”
    “Oh, yes, a free dead man,” Missy scoffed. “That sounds just fine and dandy.”
    “Don’t you want to be free?” Caleb asked her with wonder.
    Missy thought for a moment. “You know what my freedom is? A roof over my head, a warm, dry bed, enough to eat, and work that’s not too hard. That’s my freedom. Oh, and a good man and a couple of babies. I’ll take that.”
    “Okay,” said Caleb, “you do it your way. But you mind what I said. You hear?”
    “I hear.”
    “Good. Now you get your sweet butt down the hall, lock that door, and don’t ever open it again. Understood?”
    “Understood,” said Missy a bit sulkily.
    “Do you recall where you found that key and exactly how it was when you found it?”
    “I remember,” said Missy. “I’m not stupid.”
    “I know you’re not, but this is important. Too important. You get that key back there, and Master better not suspect that it ever left its hidey-hole. Or we are both in trouble.”
    “Okay, okay,” Missy said impatiently. “I’m going.”
    “No, wait,” Caleb insisted. “Maybe Master doesn’t suspect, but he’s a white man and a slave owner, and they think a certain way.”
    “So?”
    “So,” Caleb said earnestly, “we have to trust each other. If Master suspects, he’s going to get tricky and try to turn us against each other.”
    “What you mean?” Missy asked.
    “I mean, he’s likely to come to you and say, Missy, you might as well fess up. Caleb done told me he had you. Make it easy on yourself, girl. Well, don’t you believe it. And I won’t either. Master can beat me to death before I tell him the truth, because he’s gonna beat me to death if I do tell the truth. And that applies to you, too. You never had that key, you never opened that door, you never were in here. You admit nothing. You stick to your story—our story. Even if he looks at you funny, you just ignore it. Act natural. You’re innocent. You didn’t do anything. You understand?”
    “I understand.”
    “Good,” Caleb said. “Now get.”
    Missy slipped on her nightgown, and Caleb followed her to the door of his room. As she was going through the doorway, he grabbed her wrist. “One last thing.”
    “Another