Snippet #1813598

"No Henry, I dis' cupboard bare as a bone." Darrell informed as he closed the creaking brown vernier kitchen cupboard doors.

"Horse dung! Gotta be some 'round here somewhere!" Henry exclaimed in response. He and Darrell had finished descaling, gutting and otherwise prepping the fish about twenty minutes ago. They made a lemon, pepper and butter glaze for the big catfish and it was chilling in the icebox now. In American society household cooking was generally regarded as a woman's job and unless a man was a professional chef if a man cooked in the household it was often poked fun at. The black community was no exception to this and Garrett often scorned Henry for "dabbling in what his mother should do". However Henry had learned how to cook out of necessity. The fact was that his mother wasn't always around to provide food when he or his father needed it and she was already hard pressed as it was with her job as a maid. So Henry learned to shadow his mother whenever she prepared meals, making mental notes of the basics. Soon he started applying said notes and skills to make his own meals. Momma's cooking was always better, but food was food. Pure necessity.

The fish would be ready to cook in about another forty minutes which would be just enough time for the wood stove to get to the right temperature. Assuming they could find matches to ignite the wood stove with. They had been looking for said matches for the better part of the past fifteen minutes. They had turned the whole, cramped kitchen upside down and then some and still turned up nothing. Henry figured it was about time to get some outside assistance.

"Be righ' back, Darrell." Henry said as he clomped his way out of the ocher painted kitchen and onto the porch. He rolled his shoulders, put his cap on and walked down the unpainted, wooden stairs and headed down the dusty street to one of his neighbor's houses. He came upon the house of Derrick McNair, a friendly middle-aged man who also happened to be the Shilo Watchman. A Watchman was the law enforcement of such communities as Shilo, black neighborhoods in the South where state official law enforcement would not protect. Consequently such communities elected 'Watchmen' from the local population who would unofficially enforce the law and provide emergency services such as organizing the bucket brigades. The community pooled their resources to make sure the Watchman was equipped with what he needed.

Henry strode up the dusty steps and knocked on the wooden door to the house. "Who 'dere?" the distinctive bass boom of watchman McNair's voice came from within.

"Henry Buford, mister McNair." Henry called back.

"Oh, come on in, son!" Derrick called back. Henry let himself inside the small, enclosed patio of Derrick's house. The house smelled of machine oil a testament to the tinkering mind of Mr.Mcnair who was probably working on some contraption right now. Henry walked into the lounge/workshop and found the grizzly man hunched over a workbench picking at a greasy carburetor with a screwdriver.

Henry cleared his throat and piped, "Hello Mr.McNair. How d'you do?"

The intensely focused watchman waited a few second before setting down the carburetor, taking his glasses off and turned towards Henry with a smile. "I do well. Need some help with somethin'?"

"Thanks but, no. I just need some matches. We need some to fire up the stove." Henry said as he gestured towards his house with his thumb.

"Uuuuuummmm..." the watchman said as he came to his feet and looked about. "No, I don't happen to have any. Tell you what, if you headin' into town, ya mind pickin' me up some at Duvik's Hardware? Here some money for 'em." Derrick finished as he fished a quarter dollar from his pocket. Plenty enough for some matches.

"Sure thing mister McNair." Henry said as he retrieved the quarter. In reality he hadn't planned on heading into town, that was a rather risky gambit at this hour. Sheriff Crawley always patrolled the roads mid-day and although Henry never did anything illegal there was no shortage of unnecessary interrogation and harassment the sheriff was willing to force upon black folk. Thing is there was no human resources department to report to and no higher authority so it was either put up with the harassment or fight it and end up in jail on account of "resisting arrest". At the same time Henry needed matches and now that he had accepted the responsibility of also procuring said matches for Derrick, he had to go into town.

------------------

Henry avoided the main roads as much as possible in order to remain out of sight. Sheriff Crawley wouldn't bother him if he couldn't see him. At the same time Henry didn't want to look too suspicious but it was a fine line he had walked before. He peeked around a corner and seeing no one on the street, decided it was safe to cross the street to to Duvik's Hardware. The door bell jingled as Henry entered the door, ducking slightly in order to clear the low frame. He didn't expect to see Roberta Pheldman there. Henry removed his hat and held it in front of him.

"Howdy do, ma'am." Henry said as he waited for Bill to show up.