As she drew near the path that led down through the bare trees into the creek bottom where the Shantytown settlement was,she clucked to the horse to quicken his speed.She always felt uneasy driving past this dirty,sordid cluster of discarded army tents and slab cabins.It had the worst reputation of any spot in or near Atlanta,for here lived in filth outcast negroes,black prostitutes and a scattering of poor whites of the lowest order.It was rumored to be the refuge of negro and white criminals and was the first place the Yankee soldiers searched when they wanted a man.Shootings and cuttings went on here with such regularity that the authorities seldom troubled to investigate and generally left the Shantytowners to settle their own dark affairs.Back in the woods there was a still that manufactured a cheap quality of corn whisky and,by night,the cabins in the creek bottoms resounded with drunken yells and curses.
Even the Yankees admitted that it was a plague spot and should be wiped out,but they took no steps in this direction.Indignation was loud among the inhabitants of Atlanta and Decatur who were forced to use the road for travel between the two towns.Men went by Shantytown with their pistols loosened in their holsters and nice women never willingly passed it,even under the protection of their men,for usually there were drunken negro slatterns sitting along the road,hurling insults and shouting coarse words.
As long as she had Archie beside her,Scarlett had not given Shantytown a thought,because not even the most impudent negro woman dared laugh in her presence.But since she had been forced to drive alone,there had been any number of annoying,maddening incidents.The negro sluts seemed to try themselves whenever she drove by.There was nothing she could do except ignore them and boil with rage.She could not even take comfort in airing her troubles to her neighbors or family because the neighbors would say triumphantly:“Well,what else did you expect?”And her family would take on dreadfully again and try to stop her.And she had no intention of stopping her trips.
Thank Heaven,there were no ragged women along the roadside today!As she passed the trail leading down to the settlement she looked with distaste at the group of shacks squatting in the hollow in the dreary slant of the afternoon sun.There was a chill wind blowing,and as she passed there came to her nose the mingled smells of wood smoke,frying pork and untended privies.Averting her nose,she flapped the reins smartly across the horse's back and hurried him past and around the bend of the road.
Just as she was beginning to draw a breath of relief,her heart rose in her throat with sudden fright,for a huge negro slipped silently from behind a large oak tree.She was frightened but not enough to lose her wits and,in an instant,the horse was pulled up and she had Frank's pistol in her hand.
“What do you want?”she cried with all the sternness she could muster.The big negro ducked back behind the oak,and the voice that answered was frightened.
“Lawd,Miss Scarlett,doan shoot Big Sam!”
Big Sam!For a moment she could not take in his words.Big Sam,the foreman of Tara whom she had seen last in the days of the siege.What on earth ...
“Come out of there and let me see if you are really Sam!”
Reluctantly he slid out of his hiding place,a giant ragged figure,barefooted,clad in denim breeches and a blue Union uniform jacket that was far too short and tight for his big frame.When she saw it was really Big Sam,she shoved the pistol down into the upholstery and smiled with pleasure.
“Oh,Sam!How nice to see you!”
Sam galloped over to the buggy,his eyes rolling with joy and his white teeth flashing,and clutched her outstretched hand with two black hands as big as hams.His watermelon-pink tongue lapped out,his whole body wiggled and his joyful contortions were as ludicrous as the gambolings of a mastiff.
“Mah Lawd,it sho is good ter see some of de fambly agin!”he cried,scrunching her hand until she felt that the bones would crack.“Hucoome you got so mean lak,totin'a gun,Miss Scarlett?”
“So many mean folks these days,Sam,that I have to tote it.What on earth are you doing in a nasty place like Shantytown,you,a respectable darky?And why haven't you been into town to see me?”
“Law'm,Miss Scarlett,Ah doan lib in Shantytown.Ah jes'bidin'hyah fer a spell.Ah wouldn'lib in dat place fer nuthin'.Ah nebber in mah life seed sech trashy niggers.An'Ah din'know you wuz in 'Lanta.Ah thought you wuz at Tara.Ah wuz aimin'ter come home ter Tara soon as Ah got de chance.”
“Have you been living in Atlanta ever since the siege?”
“No,Ma'm!Ah been trabelin'!”He released her hand and she painfully flexed it to see if the bones were intact.“'Member w'en you seed me las'?”
Scarlett remembered the hot day before the siege began when she and Rhett had sat in the carriage and the gang of negroes with Big Sam at their head had marched down the dusty street toward the entrenchments singing “Go Down,Moses.”She nodded.
“Well,Ah wuked lak a dawg diggin'bresswuks an'fillin'san'bags,tell de Confedruts lef’'Lanta.De cap'n gempmum whut had me in charge,he wuz kilt an'dar warn't nobody ter tell Big Sam whut ter do,so Ah jes'lay low in de bushes.Ah thought Ah'd try ter git home ter Tara,but den Ah hear dat all de country roun'Tara done buhnt up.'Sides,Ah din'hab no way ter git back an'Ah wuz sceered de patterollers pick me up,kase Ah din'hab no pass.Den de Yankees come in an'a Yankee gempmum,he wuz a cunnel,he tek a shine ter me an'he keep me te ten'ter his hawse an'his boots.
