He was unavoidable. In the week since she'd seen Mae out in the barn with Abraham, Caroline had attempted to keep him from her sights at all costs, but her goal proved impossible. Mr. Banks had grown fond of the massive man, "his perfect specimen," he called him, and had slowly but surely made him a part of every aspect of the household. Abraham brought firewood in from the cold, delivered news when old Joseph felt his bones too weary for the trip into town, even continued to tend to the rose garden at her dismay.
"He's got a green thumb, Caroline," Mr. Banks said, sipping tea beside his wife on the porch as she looked off with pouty eyes, her garden before them. "More than I can say for you." Mr. Banks laughed, an old, hoarse chuckle that grated her somewhere deep, bruised her ego not because of the fact he was right — she was an awful gardener, and merely took it up as a hobby for lack of a better one — but because it was Abraham who had taken her place. That night he had seen her watching him had rarely left her mind, and to see him in her garden, in her house, made her want to walk straight up to him and slap him across the face. Who did he think he was, so smug in his public display with Mae? For him to think it was acceptable. For her to have liked it. . .
"I'd like him gone," Caroline said, looking at her husband with cold blue eyes.
"Oh you stop," the old man said, still recovering from his laugh. "Abraham is a blessing. If I could have ten of him we'd be better off because of it. You just learn to work that garden alongside him. Play nice, Caroline."
The day was beautiful with numerous shades of blue in the sky that gave way to a sun just dampened enough by a shallow wind to dissuade a blistering heat. Mr. Banks rose with the help of his cane and stretched his legs, yawning deeply. "I wonder how Joseph is feeling today," he said. "The man's just about seen his last day, I tell you. He should be pulling up any minute now." They both had business in town that day, as Mr. Banks had to wire a message, and Caroline had a new dress she'd ordered stitched at the local seamstress's.
When it was clear no carriage would be rounding the corner, Mr. Banks yelled loudly at Mae, who appeared forthwith.
"Yes, sir?"
"Where in the world is Joseph?"
"Believe he's sick, sir."
"Still?"
"Yes, sir."
Caroline eyed Mae with such ferocity that Mae nearly looked over with a look pleading for her to say what, exactly, she had done wrong. For some days now her mistress had been curt with her, if not downright hostile, and with every command and insult she had grown concerned that she might in fact be let go for reasons only left up to her imagination.
"Do get the old man," Caroline said. "Immediately."
"No, no," Mr. Banks said. "Let Joseph rest up. He's clearly in no position to do his job as of now. Tell Abraham to pull the coach up for us, Mae."
"I will not ride with him!" Caroline collected herself, but it was too late, and Mr. Banks looked at her as if she'd lost her mind in one moment.
"You will neither yell at me in such a manner nor speak on Abraham in such a manner," Mr. Banks said. "Now I don't know what's gotten into you in regards to that man, but you'll quit this instance, you understand? He's a hard worker and without Joseph we really have no other option." He shook his head, nodding for Mae to leave and fetch Abraham. "Honestly Caroline, sometimes you can just be too much."
It was almost like magic, the negro's efficiency. As if he had prepared for the sudden occasion, the carriage was in front of the house in a matter of minutes, the horses clopping ahead, Abraham sitting above them, a bright, white smile on his face as he approached. He did not have on Joseph's usual uniform, as it certainly would not have fit him — rather he had on a tight undershirt, one that showcased the defined stretch of muscles cascading down his torso, as well as his usual white pants. Working the fields seemed to have made him even bigger than when he arrived, and those pants looked just about ready to burst under the strain of his enormous thighs , enormous calves, enormous everything. . .
"Mr. and Mrs. Banks," Abraham said, nodding. "Please to be of service."
He gave Caroline a wink and she pretended to ignore it. As Abraham hopped off the carriage she found herself pulling her hair back and straightening out her blouse, as if there was need to make herself appear appropriate — as if this were someone to impress. Yet it happened against her will, and by the time she was done Abraham was already extending a hand to help her into the carriage's cabin.
Mr. Banks was quite fond of his stage coach, as he had its parts specially delivered from England, and prepared to his specifications. It's large indoor cabin was closed with enough seating for four, and gold lined the entirety of the outfit. The coachbox for the driver was an extended seat in front of the cabin, and he was known in town not just for the opulence of this great mode of transportation, but for Joseph's sudden appearance, high in the air, as they neared the main thoroughfare, giving way to the majesty of the outfit as a whole as they grew closer. Although most people in town were used to the stagecoach by now, there were always a few who stopped and stared as Mr. Banks walked out the cabin, and the attention was more powerful than any intoxicant, as far he could figure.
As with most tasks, Abraham needed no instruction in how to tend to Mr. and Mrs. Banks as a driver. He delicately held Mrs. Banks hand and helped her to her seat, even though she tried to fend off his attempts at first, and he then clutched Mr. Banks forearm and did the same.
"To town, then? Abraham asked.
"Yes, the quicker the better," Mr. Banks said. "Caroline is in something of a mood."
"On the quick," Abraham said, giving Caroline a smile as he shut the door. She looked well today, her cheeks a damp red from powder, long eyelashes giving way to her bright, childish eyes that seemed to display an equally childish anger, the sort easily cast away with a bit of reward, a bit of excitement. Abraham knew women, and his effect on women, and he knew that already she was beginning to feel his hold creep over her. Her anger seemed born of nothing to the old man but Abraham knew better — her stare from her bedroom that one fateful night was more than shock, it was lust, a woman wanting. It was what he'd expected, that moment — waited for no less. What he did not expect was how the incident would take a hold on him. Seeing her cover herself with her dress now, her slight frame and rude prudishness in public, coupled with her icy resolve in interacting with him, had the natural outcome of making him more interested than ever before.
The road into town was about a half hours drive, and although Abraham had seen Joseph ride off many mornings before at a pace fit for leisure, he had no such ideas. Mr. Banks had asked for promptness, and it was promptness he would get. Caroline gasped as the horses took off, and Mr. Banks grabbed for his hat, as if some invisible wind brought on by their speed might creep into the cabin and take it off.
"The boy's going to kill us!" he said, although the rush brought a smile on his face. He opened the curtains for a moment to look out at the passing fields of tobacco, long rows of greenery appearing and disappearing, yet only giving way to more of the same.
"Tell him to slow down," Caroline said.
"He's only giving what I asked for," Mr. Banks said. "Can't blame the boy for that."
Before long the town appeared before them, wooden outfits for the most part, with one or two brick buildings jettisoned between them, put there by men with money or men who wished to appear as if they did. A few children rushed alongside the coachbox, and its speed was so great that all those going about their business stopped for a moment, man or woman, to watch it slow and come to a stop right in front of a Western Union depot.
Abraham jumped off and allowed Mr. and Mrs. Banks out of the carriage, and the old man seemed aglow from the ride.
"Well you woke me up to say the least!" Mr. Banks said. "Good heavens. I thought I might faint. And I'm surprised my wife didn't."
"It was a bit of a circus act, if you ask me," Caroline said, revealing a fan from her purse and using it even without any need to.
"Only trying to heed your wishes, sir," Abraham said.
"That you, Francis?" a voice barked, interrupting Mr. Banks' response.
