Cry of Angels

10

1 O "JAYELL, YOU'RE KILLING YOURSELF." GWEN SPREAD THE SANDwiches and potato salad on a sawhorse trestle. Since it was Saturday, Jayell, for once, had let the shop boys knock off at noon, but he had asked me to stay and help him salvage a small barn after we finished painting on the Ledbetter house. "Why don't you quit for the weekend ? I never see you anymore." "Promised to clear away a barn this afternoon." Jayell ate silently, his eyes scanning the nearly finished house. "The Martins have offered us the use of their boat if we want to go down to the lake tomorrow. With cold weather coming, it'll probably be the last chance we'll get to go." "Maybe, if I can get this one finished up this afternoon. Told Ledbetter I'd give him the keys Monday, else he's liable for another month's rent. That time in Atlanta threw everything off." "Jay, what kind of life are we going to have, with you working eighteen hours a day . . ." "Gwen, you know I barely scratch a living on these houses. Until I get the boys better trained and get some capital built up . . ." 106 B O O K O N E "I know," she said, "and that's why I can't understand why you don't reconsider that Smithbilt offer. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity." "How do you know about Smithbilt?" "That man—Mr. Wyche?—was by the boardinghouse this morning . Jay, they've . . ." She stopped and turned to watch a blue station wagon pulling up to the jobsite. She looked at Jayell sheepishly. "I told him you'd be here this afternoon." John Wyche, the Smithbilt vice-president, picked his way through the construction debris. "How's it coming, Jayell?" "Hello, John," said Jayell, glancing at Gwen. John Wyche was a large, energetic man who had a habit of hitching his pants as he talked. "Fine-looking house you've got there. Like I told this little lady, you get more done with a half-dozen nigger laborers than we can with a crew of skilled carpenters." "You got too many," said Jayell. "We don't use two men to carry a two-by-four." "Exactly," said Mr. Wyche, "absolutely right. That's what I want to talk to you about, Jayell. We're just getting too big—did I tell you we're starting a new development outside of Abbeville? New mill going up there and they want five hundred houses! Got the bulldozers in there now. We got to have help. Got to have help." He stopped and looked again at the house. "My God, do you ever build any two alike?" "Ain't had to yet," said Jayell, munching a stalk of celery. "Listen, Jay, I'll come right to it. We got to have somebody to coordinate construction in this area. The Miami office is on my neck constantly about this territory, and with the Abbeville thing coming up, I don't know what I'm going to do. I ought to be in the office right now. This whole area is booming, and indications are it's just getting started. New plants opening every day. That means people, Jayell, and people means houses. Now, the company sees yours scattered around the hills and they keep asking me, 'Who's this fellow with such originality—who builds houses like that with a handful of niggers and utility-grade lumber, and why can't we get him on our team?' And frankly, Jayell, I'm running out of answers." Jayell smiled. "Like I've told you, John, I've got all I can handle." "How much can you realize out of a little unit like this? In the time you put up one, we build a dozen. We're prefabbing whole sec107 A C R Y O F A N G E L S tions now and hauling them to the job by truck. With override alone you could make three times what you're making now." "We've talked about that, John. You know it's not the money." "Jayell, don't kid me. I know you're hanging by your fingernails. Any day now you're gonna stretch a little too far and your creditors are gonna clean you out! Besides, how many of these things can you build on what you're...