The Marengo Jake Stories: The Tales of Jake Mitchell and Robert Wilton Burton

Lightning

Lightning A gendeman was performing the menial task of currying his own horse the other day, when he was espied by Jake, who happened to be at work in a neighboring garden. Spade and hoe were dropped with that promptness which is characteristic of Jake when there is a dime in immediate prospect, and the next moment the same hands that had been turning the "stubborn glebe" were vigorously wielding the curry-comb, equine protests to the contrary notwithstanding. "Moss Jimmie, hit goes gin myaligion to see a nice, likely gent'man like you scrubbin' a hoss," Jake began. "Down dar in Mringer de white men dey never hardly stirred dey coffee, dey was dat scared dey make corns on dey han's. But dey was a right smart chance 0' niggers down dar, dat was de reason. Wo, sah! You better lefdat foot on de groun right whar hit's at; caze efyou was to kick me on de haid you'd be more'n ap to split yo' huffha'fin two. I'm got a Mringer haid, an not Lightning / 235 one 0' des yerAubu'n simlins. Yas, sah, Moss Jimmie, I speck you've yeared tell de groun was black down dar in Mringer. Well, de reason dat's caze dey's so many black Atkins down dar. Hit's all dem niggers' shadders what done turn de dirt black. "Wo, pony, keep still, sah. I ain't gwine to hurt you. I knows how to curry a hoss. I ain't staid a whole year in a lib'ty stable for nothin'." "Where did you ever stay in a livery stable?" inquired the gentleman, taking a cigar out ofhis pocket and lighting it. "Down dar in Uniontown," replied Jake. "Soon atter freedom come out I went up to Uniontown an' hired to a lib'ty stable. Dat's how come I knows so much 'bout hosses. "Moss Jimmie, dat seegar smell mighty nice. Hit smell same es gals gwine to meeting wid cin'mon draps on 'em. I wonder whar de mate 0' hit's at." "It got burnt, I reckon," the gentleman replied, after a futile search of his pockets, "but never mind, here's a dime for you. Now go on with your yarn about the livery stable." "Thanky, sah. You's a plum gent'man, an' I ain't des now foun' it out. I been tellin' Ma'jane all de time you mine me 0' dem M'ringer gent'man whar use come to hire hosses down dar in Uniontown." "Why, Uniontown is not in Marengo." "No, sah, not 'zactly. Uniontown hit's in Perry, but hit's a toler'ble good town. Hit's so close to de aidge 0' M'ringer some 0' de M'ringer richness slops over on it. But I wouldn't a staid in dat Uniontown stable efall dem hosses had a been Perry hosses." "So some ofthem were not Perry horses, eh?" "One 0' em wasn't. Dey was one M'ringer hoss in dar, an' man, sah! he was a sooner. Dat hoss was name Lightnin', an' he was lightnin, too, man. Nobody never had nothin' to do 236 / Lightning wid dat hoss but des me. He wouldn't let no Perry nigger tech him, let lone curry him. All dem young gent'men roun' dar use to drive Lightnin', caze he could trot so fas'. De fust one spoke for him was ginnerly de one what got him, an' den all de yuthers was mad. Dey fit 'bout him sometimes, toodey did, date An' I've knowed 'em to playa game 0' sebenup to see who could have him. Oh, he was a traveler. He runned a race wid a 'spatch wonst, an' he beat it, too, man. A man put a 'spatch on de telegraph wire at Moplis de same time Moss Tom Rumpless started f 'om dar drivin' Lightnin' (an' I ain't gwine to tell you no lie). Fo' ever dat 'spatch got to de nex station Moss Tom was dar an' done onhitch Lightnin' f'om de buggy. Fack, sah. "One night de whi' folks dey made up to have a big party out in de country 'bout ten miles, an' all de young gentman in Uniontown went. Well, sah, dey come 'roun' to de libly stable in a crowd, an' ever' one want to drive Lightnin...