Malachi moon, p.18
Malachi Moon, page 18
“How’s it going, Mr. Morton?” Stump said, as he walked toward the counter.
Bailey Morton looked up from the counter. He reached for his thick spectacles that were beside him, and placed them on his wrinkled nose to see who was talking.
“Oh, it’s you,” Bailey Morton said when he recognized Stump. “You’re still bumming around with those Brown brother bastards?”
Stump walked to the counter. “Yeah. How’s Mrs. Morton doing?” he asked.
“None of your damn business, that’s how she’s doing!” Bailey snapped. He reached under the counter.
“I know things look bad, but they’re getting better, Mr. Morton,” Stump said.
“Boy, take this little bit of money I owe you and kiss my ass with the kind words you’re trying to lay at my feet,” Bailey Morton said, as he slammed his hand down on the counter.
Stump saw the money when Bailey removed his hand. He reached for it.
“You tell those Brown boys they won’t get another red cent from Bailey Morton,” he said.
Stump began counting the money as he headed for the door. He stopped and turned around. “You’re a few dollars short, Mr. Morton,” he said.
“Well, that’s all I got,” Bailey Morton said. He shrugged his shoulders.
Stump sighed. He walked back to the counter.
“Mr. Morton, you know how those boys feel about their money. They’ll come in here and destroy your shop for a few dollars. You don’t have anymore?” Stump asked.
“That’s all I got. The rest they got to take out of my skin to get,” Bailey Morton said.
Stump’s expression was a sad one. “You take care, Mr. Morton,” Stump said. He turned around and walked out of the store.
As he headed to his next store to collect money from other owners, Stump reached into his pocket and added his own money that Bailey Morton had come up short with to the pile the old man had given him.
Two hours later, Stump was sitting in a chair across from Chester who was going over the daily haul from the collection of storeowners. Sylvester was behind Chester’s chair.
“Stump, how could you let them hit you with the crying game about not having any money?” Chester asked, as he counted some money.
“I don’t know. I’m a sucker for sad stories,” Stump said and shrugged, as he leaned back in the chair. “Why do we take money from them anyway? All the money the Goldspot is raking in from the gambling and the prostitution combined with the moonshine you boys are making, I don’t see why we have a problem with a few dollars missing. Hell, you boys ought to be pulling in a nice piece of change every month with those things alone.”
Sylvester smiled at Stump as he began to roll up his sleeves.
“We make money from the weak or the strong. It don’t make a difference, but if we don’t get our money, then other people will think we’re weak and come after us. Next thing you know, we’re being extorted,” Sylvester said. He walked around the desk, and stood in front of his brother with his back to Stump. “If we can’t make old men pay, then what are we going to do when we go against cats who are as competitive as us?”
“Share?” Stump said.
“Naw, man. That’s not an option. We got to correct the little mistakes in hopes that they won’t turn into bigger ones down the road,” Chester said.
“Maybe,” Stump said.
Sylvester had placed both his hands on the desk as he leaned toward Chester.
“Or we just keep losing money,” Chester said.
Sylvester kicked his left leg out at Stump. Stump, a man always attentive, pushed himself backward. He rolled out of the chair, and stood up in a boxer’s stance.
“That’s good, Stump. I didn’t think you’d see it coming,” Sylvester said, as he turned around to face Stump. “That trick usually works.”
“When you started rolling up your sleeves, I took notice. Now you want to prove a point. Okay. This office is big enough for you to prove it,” Stump said, as he tossed his head from side to side to get the kinks out of his neck. “You’re a big man, Sylvester, so I’m going to have to beat you in the body because your head is too thick for my hands, and it ain’t no sense in me breaking my hands on that thick skull of yours.”
Sylvester threw his arms out to loosen up his muscles. He twisted his upper torso to loosen up his back. He walked toward the right side of Stump. He flexed his large biceps as he stared hard at him.
“I hope your boxing skills is better than your intimidation game, Sly, because you ain’t doing nothing yet,” Stump said, as he backed up two feet. “You think you might need Chester to help you out on this one?”
“Negro, I’m going tear into you like a rabid dog biting into a T-bone steak who ain’t ate in five days,” Sylvester said.
“That ought to make you right about starving by now, huh?” Stump asked.
Sylvester put his fists up in front of him in a boxing stance. He relaxed his shoulders, concentrating on putting all his power into his fists as he slowly circled Stump from the left. It was going to be an easy task to beat Stump, he thought.
A smile formed on Stump’s face. Sylvester was big and brawny, but he knew he had the edge. He was smaller, and quicker. As fast as the smile had formed, it disappeared just as fast when Sylvester lunged at him.
Sylvester knew if he threw a punch at Stump he would easily avoid it, so, instead, he charged Stump. His large body moving with unbelievable speed as his tree trunk thighs carried his bulk with unbelievable swiftness.
The move was unexpected. Stump, not missing a beat, though, pivoted to his left, and let loose a powerful left hook that hit Sylvester in the stomach with full force. Stump heard Sylvester let out a small groan, but that didn’t stop Sylvester’s torpedoing body as he continued forward. Sylvester went with the momentum as he threw a wide right hand at Stump’s head. Stump casually sidestepped the telepathy blow and stepped into Sylvester’s midsection by placing his head directly into the middle of Sylvester’s chest while letting loose a volley of punches to Sylvester’s stomach and kidneys.
Sylvester was surprised at how fast Stump moved. He was even more surprised when Stump stepped in close enough to suddenly begin raining blowing into his stomach and kidneys. He felt each blow harder than the last one. He tried to get away from Stump’s wicked assault, but each time he backed up, Stump stepped in closer, not giving him a quarter to breath while continuously pummeling him with blows.
Stump knew he was winning the battle by the way Sylvester was trying to get away from him every time he landed a hard punch into his body. He pressed the attack by occasionally throwing an uppercut into Sylvester’s exposed chin. The first time he did it, his right fist landed squarely on Sylvester’s chin, snapping his head back, and giving Stump an opening to come across with a powerful right hook to the side of Sylvester’s head; staggering him and making him take another step back. As Sylvester stumbled from the blow, Stump stepped in to deliver a vicious, powerful, right short hand punch to Sylvester’s chest just under his heart. He watched as Sylvester’s eyes grew wide from the heavy-handed punch. Stump knew Sylvester’s heart had jump erratically in his chest from the blow. Sylvester gasped from the blow, and fell to his knees. Stump took one step back, as he towered over the beaten Sylvester breathing hard with his fists balled. The knuckles on his hands were skinned from the contact to Sylvester’s rough skin. They were bleeding, but he’d grown custom to the pain, and ignored it.
“Okay, big man. You’re used to beating on people who don’t know how to use their fists, but when you run into someone who does, you find your big ass on your knees and out of breath while bleeding on your two hundred dollar suit,” Stump said. “Get up. Let’s go another round. I think you’ve got another round in you. What do you think?”
Sylvester stared up at Stump with eyes that were filled with hatred. Blood ran freely down his shirt from his bottom split lit. Blood also flooded freely from his nose. He was hurting. Every time he took in a deep breath, it hurt. He knew that pain from a few years ago when Lester had hit him in the ribs with a lead pipe. His ribs were broken on his right side. He growled as he slowly began to rise. He watched Stump take two steps back.
“I’m going to break your god...damn... back, Stump!” Sylvester hissed.
“You can try with your big fatback eating ass, but it won’t be easy,” Stump said coolly and smiled.
Sylvester, now on his feet, looked at Stump. His eyes opened in shock, and he shouted. “Nooo!” he said.
Stump looked at him. What was he saying no to? Stump was about to angle himself to the right when his head exploded in pain. A shearing white light filled his vision. He felt his legs go out from under him, as darkness took hold of him. He fell to the floor unconscious.
“That boy was whipping you like a goddamn mule, Sly,” Lester said, as he stepped over the motionless Stump. “I was going to let him go at you again, but you know what mama used to say. If your brother is losing the fight, reach out and smite his enemy.”
Sylvester watched Lester put the gun he’d used to cold-cock Stump back in his waist. He exhaled from weariness, and sat on the edge of the desk gingerly cradling the right side of his ribs.
“What was ya’ll fighting about anyway?” Lester asked.
“Mama used that saying for you, Lester. You was always getting your ass whipped as a kid,” Chester said. He stood up and came from around his desk to look at Stump. “Don’t you remember? How you feeling, Sly?”
Sylvester waved off the question.
“What are we going to do with, Stump?” Lester asked. “Does it hurt when you breathe, Sly? If it does, we know what that means.”
“That’s a good question. What are we going to do with Stump?” Chester asked. He looked at Lester. “Where you been?”
“Around,” Lester said. He went and sat down on the couch that was located near the right side of the room. He crossed his legs and snickered.
“Around, huh? You digging into Sally, ain’t you?” Chester asked.
Lester looked at him and winked.
“You be careful with that bitch. She’s as deadly as a rattler snake,” Chester said.
“How would you know?” Lester asked. His question was defiant as he stared at his brother.
Chester turned toward his little brother. “You ain’t never been the smartest one of the bunch, Lester. I tell you this because I know women like Sally. She’d use you, and when she’s finished with you, she’ll throw your ass into the street with no clothes on just so she can get a laugh. If you sleeping with her, I don’t care, just don’t let the bitch know your business. Ya hear?” he snapped.
Lester stared at his brother.
Chester returned the stare.
Lester broke out into a heartily laugh. “Okay, big brother, I’ll be careful with her,” he said.
Chester continued to stare at Lester.
“Okay, Chester, okay,” Lester said reassuringly.
“Now, what do we do with Stump?” Chester asked.
“First, lift him up and place his right hand on the desk,” Sylvester said. “Lester, give me your gun.”
Chester bent down and lifted Stump up. Lester helped Chester with Stump after giving Sylvester his gun.
Sylvester took Stump’s right hand and placed it palm down on the desk. He raised the butt of Lester’s gun and brought it down fast and hard on Stump’s hand. The first blow, Chester felt Stump jump in his unconsciousness from the pain. Sylvester did it three more times before handing Lester back his gun.
“Toss his ass in the alley out back,” Sylvester said, as he went and sat down behind the desk. Perspiring heavily, he tried to control his breathing to adjust to the pain from his broken ribs.
Sylvester watched Lester and Chester struggled with the unconscious Stump through the door, he called out to them. “Hey, and bring back the doctor. That bastard broke my ribs,” he said.
Malachi was eating dinner when Cotton casually strolled in and told him that Stump was in the alley unconscious three doors down. Malachi had gotten some men together and they brought Stump into the Queen. The men he’d picked were reluctant to help because of the allegation of Stump killing Bear. Malachi had to threaten and then bribe them to help.
With Stump in one of the rooms upstairs, Malachi had returned to finish his dinner when Betty Mae walked in. He’d asked her to sit down with him and eat.
“How do you run all of this?” Betty Mae asked, as she watched Malachi bite into the roast beef on his plate.
“I don’t. Everyone else does, and I supervise it all,” Malachi said. He smiled when he glanced at her. “It’s hard.”
“You’re so young to be owning a hotel and the other things that come with it,” Betty Mae said.
“It was kinda thrown on me. I had no choice but to take it and learn as I walked through it all. Why aren’t you married with two children and a husband yet?” Malachi asked.
“That’s a serious question to be asking a woman you just met,” Betty Mae said.
Malachi shrugged.
“Just like a man,” Betty Mae commented.
“I’m still a young boy, remember?”
“Don’t get cute with me. You’re a young boy in an old man’s body and mind,” she said.
“Sometimes I feel like that. What do you do?” Malachi asked.
Betty Mae lowered her head. She picked up her cup of tea that Malachi had ordered and sipped from it. “I’m a seamstress,” she said.
“You act like you’re embarrassed,” Malachi said. “I wish I knew how to make clothing. Did you make that dress you’re wearing? It’s nice.”
Betty Mae looked up. Her brown eyes were bright. “Yes, I did,” she said. “I was thinking about making it a different color, but I thought tan fitted me better.”
Kai-Chang walked up to the table. He bowed. “The one you call Stump is requesting your presence, Mala,” he said.
Betty Mae stared at Kai-Chang. She looked at his eye-catching gold colored kimono. “That’s a beautiful....”
“Kimono,” Kai-Chang quickly said.
“Uh-huh,” Betty Mae said and smiled.
Malachi stood up. “Finish drinking your tea. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, then I’m caught up in a situation. Come to the show tonight,” he said.
“Oh, that’s what I wanted to ask you about, Malachi. Who taught you how to sing so beautifully?” she asked.
Malachi shrugged. “No one. I was born with a voice, I guess,” he answered.
“It’s a beautiful voice, Malachi,” Betty Mae said.
“Thank you. I’ll see you in a minute,” Malachi said.
When Malachi and Kai-Chang open the door to Stump’s room a few minutes later, they saw him sitting on the edge of the bed cradling his right hand that was in a cast from his wrist up to his elbow. He was wearing only his underwear.
“Get me a gun, Malachi,” Stump said.
Malachi closed the door. He walked to the corner and picked up a chair. He carried it over, and placed it in front of Stump. He sat down on it. He stared at Stump.
“Boy, don’t give me no mess right now. All I need from you is a gun,” Stump said.
“What happen to yours?” Malachi asked.
“Ain’t it a damn shame? Just when I decide not to carry it, I needed it tonight,” Stump said, as he cradled his cast. “I told Cotton to hold it for me a few days ago.”
“Confucius says that a wise man that uses his mind is more powerful than any weapon conceived by man,” Kai-Chang said from the door.
Stump looked at Kai-Chang. He nodded and then looked at Malachi.
“That’s Kai-Chang,” Malachi said. “Confucius is a dead man whose wise words are used everyday by the Chinese to teach patience and understanding.” He shrugged.
“Confucius can’t be dead if his wisdom is passed on to the living,” Kai-Chang said.
“I don’t give a damn about Confucius. I want a gun, Malachi!” Stump snapped.
“If I get you a gun and you go after the Brown brothers, you don’t think they will be waiting for you? No one likes you because they think you killed Bear. You have no friends in Blackenfield except me. Rose Ann would stab you in the back if she knew you were in the Queen right now. The men who carried you in here wanted to drop you in a well down the road. It took a lot of threats and extra money to stop that from happening. The doctor who looked you over wanted to poison you while you were unconcious. I had to pay him an extra fifty dollars not to do that and not let anyone know that he’d fixed you up. Now, you tell me. If you go over there, and they kill you—and they will kill you, Stump—who will care? Dave the Drunk would have one extra shot of whiskey at you being dead, and nothing else. Like you told me. We have to play this by ear,” Malachi said.
Stump nodded. He leaned toward Malachi and whispered. “Where did he come from?” he asked. Tossing his head in the direction of Kai-Chang.
Malachi sighed. He’d grown weary of telling everyone about Kai-Chang. “I hired him as an extra hand around the Queen, but that’s not what he does,” he said.
“So what does he do? Walk around wearing women dresses?” Stump asked.
“It’s not a dress. It’s a....”
“Kimono,” Kai-Chang said.
Malachi and Stump looked at Kai-Chang. They were surprised that he could hear them from the doorway since they’d been whispering.
“Right,” Malachi said. “Anyway, you stay in this room for a few days. I’m the only one with the key and only Kai-Chang and I know you’re up here. This way the Queen will run smoothly.”
“What about the men who brought me up here? How long are a couple of days, Malachi?” Stump asked, as he watched Malachi stand up.
“Those men won’t say anything. I paid them good money to keep their mouths shut. It won’t be long, Stump,” Malachi replied.
Malachi and Kai-Chang walked to the door.
“How long?” Stump asked again.
“A month or two,” Malachi whispered.
“What?” Stump shouted as he ran to the door.
