Reckless Lives: A Tale of the Old South

Derrick meets Josiah on the road

Derrick took off on Albemarle at a nice trot, eager to distance himself from the situation. He had been humiliated by Lizzie and pinned by Michael. And his gift, which he had worked so hard to find for Lizzie had not met with the reception he had expected. His shoulders slumped a bit as he rode off, and he felt an ache in his heart, where before there had been pure joy. What had happened to his Christmas kiss? He wondered bitterly as he rode away, wondering if Lizzie was on her way to kiss Michael now. Uggh! There had to be some other thought that was more pleasant to think on than that one!

He had ridden about a half mile on the road, when he met up with a rider on an old black stallion; It was Josiah.

“Hello, Derrick!” Josiah called, grinning.

“Hello, Josiah.” Derrick said politely. He didn’t want to get too familiar with a sharecropper, but he couldn’t help liking Josiah’s open, friendly manner.

“Back frum vis’tin Lizzie, Derrick?” He guessed.

“Yes, if you could call it a visit.” Derrick answered, surprising himself with his own bitterness. Lizzie hadn’t even offered him Supper; He was leaving totally empty-handed.

“What hap’nd over ther?” Josiah asked, noticing the mud on Derrick’s jacket, and the bloody patch on his nose.

“That damn ni-… Michael…!” Derrick stammered. He wanted to call Michael all sorts of names, but he refrained out of respect for Lizzie. He didn’t want her to hear it from Josiah!

“He beat y’up, Derrick?”

“He didn’t beat me up! It’s just a bloody nose! I held him down for a good while, too!”

“Oh.” Josiah answered, uncomprehending. What would make Michael and Derrick fight like that?

“He start’d it?” Josiah asked.

“Yes…no. I don’t know…I guess I did.” He admitted to himself as well as Josiah. It surprised him. He had been thinking to himself how Michael shouldn’t get away with laying is hands on him. But Derrick had to admit, when he’d heard Lizzie’s news, he had been the one to run at Michael and start the fight.

“Y’ did?” Josiah asked, incredulous. Derrick was such a gentleman; the thought of him starting a fight was a bit beyond Josiah’s comprehension. A Derrick with a bruised and bloody nose and a muddy jacket was a strangely incongruous sight.

Josiah remembered the time when he and Lizzie and Derrick had been playing together, and Derrick had resisted playing tag at first because he hadn’t wanted to get dirt on his fancy coat and pants. When Joe had caught him that day, and he had fallen on the ground, he had ended up crying because he had been so afraid of what his father would think of the soiled clothes. Lizzie had laughed at him at first, but then the two of them, and Scarlett, Lizzie’s companion at the time, had dusted him off. They couldn’t have been more than four or five at the time; Josiah smiled at the memory.

“He kissed Lizzie!” Derrick confided.

“He did?” Josiah was shocked. “You can’t mean that Derrick! Michael woul’nt do that to her! Would he?”

“Of course he did!” Derrick snapped. “Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her?’

“I reck’n so…juss never thought he’d do nuthin’ impropruh like that, Derrick!”

“She let him, Joe!” Derrick burst out, “She let that damn slave kiss her, and who knows what else!”

“Jesus! That’s crazy, Derrick! Doesn’t she know any better, Derrick! You sure he di’nt force ‘er?”