XLVIII

Bill Marmaduke, Sheriff of Limestone County, tipped his hat to the ladies as he walked down the boardwalk, and shook hands and patted the backs of the good ole boys and brothers of Strangetown. His smile was as big as a shotgun blast, and his grip as warm and as welcome as a Christmas fire. You couldn't help but love the man.  He knew everyone's name.  He knew something about you, some connection or witness, that he never forgot. He was a master politicker. Goddam him, Bourbon George Houston would say, give him five minutes and you'd go from hating a man you never met to making a friend you'd share your sister's diary with.  To the Democrat Greeks of the County, he was a dangerous political opponent.  

He walked far up the deep bottoms of Town Creek past Madame de Smet's cathouse and the Nickajack Theater, and past the public gazebo where, directly across a foot bridge crossing over to the left bank sat the lair of Maw Possum. It was a two story clapboard rowhouse with no windows at all save for a large, round and curious porthole on the second floor.  This is where the old witch told fortunes and worked hoodoo elixirs and cast magic spells. Like it were church, Bill removed his hat before entering.  Inside the single porthole cast an iridescent shaft of light into this space, which was hazed by the smoke of berries and pinecones that smoldered from a pair of urns, beside which a sort of altar-like table sat on a platform.  Something like a laced bridal veil hung over this table, obscuring the figure which sat behind it.  This wasn't the first figure to notice, however.  That would be the large black man who sat behind the door trying to read the papers by the scant light. That was Papa Laduc, who at full height was near seven foot plus a stovepipe hat.  Slung at the man's side, Bill noticed a long Colt 1860 Army revolver.  A bit antiquated by this time, it was a beast of a pistol.  The man was said to be one of Maw Possum's husbands. Even the sheriff did not seem to draw his interest. He merely nodded to Bill, then nodded over to a sweetgrass basket on a pedestal beside the door.  

In this basket, most supplicants would usually place cash, sometimes to see the Witch of Strangetown, and sometimes just to pay their kickback to her. Others would place a stone into the basket, a small polished obsidian stone that she called a Quark, unique to the carrier which they were loathe to lose, for it bound them in thrall to Maw Possum's power and favor. Every freedman that Maw Possum had moved through her Underground Railroad had a Quark.  Every man who couldn't pay for one of her spells or remedies had a Quark.  Every man who owed a debt to Maw Possum had a Quark. And for every Quark they had presented, there was an equal and mysteriously identical Quark she would fish out from a velvet bag.  It was all a very nice trick, Bill admitted.  Nevertheless, he took out his Quark from his pocket and tossed it into the sweetgrass basket and carried it thus before the alter-like table where, behind the white veil, Maw Possum sighed.  

Well if its not our Knight of Cups, she said.  You just hang on, Bill. I's got your Quark somewhere. She spoke with a raspy voice with a surprising singsong range of pitch.  

She grunted as she leaned down to grab her velvet bag of Quarks.  On the table at which he took a seat sat a human skull draped in wax from a sagging candle. The flame looked sick. Bill looked around.  Beyond the veil and around the platform were shelves and benches filled with curious objects and strange bottles. There was a satanic-looking cornucopia, there was the flayed skull of a lamb that had been cured, there was a jar of eyes, there was a necklace of German sausages dangling from a bookcase. A statue of High John de Conquer held out a morsel of molded bread. There was a boiling cauldron with what must have been Maw Possum's supper, because it smelled of vinegar and lemons and oil.  Maw Possum had finally found her bag and she shook out about a dozen Quarks. The bag looked like it held a hundred of such Quarks, but amazingly she found the one that matched that which Bill Marmaduke placed on the table from the basket. Bill shifted uncomfortably. Her tricks were uncanny. He overcame this sensation and rubbed his eyebrows, then blurted out.  

Let's cut the shit, Maw. Your so-called husbands are squeezing in on my tote.  I get 15% of the purse on the tracks, and 10% of the tables across Strangetown. What the hell is this I hear that you raising your taxes on Wagon Wheel and the Broken Spoke?  I'm getting shrugs when I come around to collect.  They say your rail-splitter here had done cleaned them out. He tossed a hand towards Papa Laduc, who remained uninterested.  

Bill Marmaduke was the only white man who talked to her like this, and it snapped the old witch's patience.  She threw open the veil and shook her matching Quark at Bill between her gnarled old fingers. She looked old, crumpled and porcine. She wore a turban set with rhinestones, and wore a panoply of charms from about her neck. Her spirit was spry, however, and she spat back at Bill Marmaduke.  

I wonder, Bill, if it ain't a goddam nuisance to even hold onto this thing.  You have been the biggest pain in my ass since I got you elected.  Did I not build this town?  Did I not make you Sheriff?  

I wonder if that wasn't Barry Hogan who got my elected with his wagons and his liquor.  

I's got his Quark too, Bill. She was nearly out of her seat.  Everyone was on edge. The gubernatorial election was approaching and the Klan was pressing in on the rural precincts. She shook her head and sighed again.  

Let's go for a walk together, Bill. It will do us both good.  

She stepped out from behind the veil with her cane, a gnarled old women who was surprisingly locomotive on her feet once she got started. When Bill thought to offer his hand to help her down the platform, she snapped at him.

Git your goddam hands away from me.  They've got greed all over them.  I don't want to lose my coins.  

Outside in the broad noonday sun, Papa Laduc removed a parasol and walked with Maw Possum down the boardwalk offering shade to his wife. Bill Marmaduke walked beside Maw Possum. He kept his hat off out of respect for the Witch.  She approved of this smugly.  

Folks tipped their hats and curtsied to these respected matron and patron of Strangetown.  All eyes were on them.  Maw Possum walked with a limping and rhythmic gait, first throwing her cane and dragging herself forward behind it with a surprisingly rapid and light motion. She gave an airy grunt with each step she took, though she never gave the impression of exertion or exhaustion.  She was like some dark old gnome who had strolled down from the mountains for a brisk hike among the realm of men.  

Look what I built here, Bill, she said.  Dey's nowhere in the world like it.  Not in da whole South. I come into this place from a home and family I don't even remember.  I come from the East, over the mountains.  I been bought and sold a half dozen times over.  All I've got is dis family.  This is my home.  These are my Darlings.  And you my Darling too, you know.  White and greedy as you ass is. 

She placed her hand on Bill's lower back, her hand glittering with rings and nails as long as bullets.  She continued.

Look. Times are tough. I know. Ask a sister how tough times can be?  You just white.  You ain't never going to know, and I don't hold that again' you. But there are evil plans afoot. I need you to do as you been elected to do, Sheriff. The new world we building together here?  It is in great danger, Bill.  I can guarantee you first cut on Wagon Wheel and Broken Spoke, but I need you to turn your attentions to this danger, or we risk losing it all.

Bill held out a hand. She stopped.  They were just outside the Wagon Wheel where a handful of Germans were playing dominoes on the porch of the saloon.  

What evil, he asked?  What the hell are you talking about?  

I talking about an old evil from over the water dat come to the New World. She squinted an eye and cast it about before shooting it up towards his face.  Then she asked, what do you know about Adelphon Kuklos?