Tea, No Sympathy

Peace Officer English stepped off his horse and greeted the men. He winked. “Well let me guess which one of you gentlemen I’m taking in”. The men laughed. Three of the four stood up to greet him. The other man, the only white man in the bunch, remained seated.

Not because he was rude, though he was, or prejudiced, though he was that too. He remained seated because both of his hands were cuffed to a wagon wheel that was hitched to one of the men’s horses. 

Peace Officer English took and gave hearty handshakes to the three men. Their names were James, Booker, and Crispus. Crispus was a haberdasher, James a barber, and Booker a tailor. None were well-off but all were well-to-do by the standards of the day.

The white man’s name was Peter Buck. He wasn’t well-off or well-to-do. He was well worn. Over-worn, to the point of being threadbare. 

Looking over at Mr. Buck, Peace Office English said “Now, we’ll be on our way soon, but you should thank Jehovah that these men had the decency to keep you warm while waiting for me. Not too many cut from that cloth nowadays”. 

“Oh I’m grateful for sure sir, but that’ll be the day”. Mr. Buck said. Peace Officer English laughed a little. 

“Pay this scourge no mind” Crispus said and pointed towards the campfire, gesturing the men to sit on makeshift stools covered over with duster coats.

The fire they had going was robust enough to heat up hands, provisions, and some coffee. But with it not being too cold of a night, the heat generating from the fire had a warming effect on the body as well. 

On the fire were 3 vessels, one was a fryer filled with black-eyed peas, onions, and sliced carrots, all cooked in a little beef fat. Kind of a stew. Courtesy of Booker’s wife, who could turn a pot before she was able to stand up straight. 

The other vessels were different. One large, one small, both for boiling water. The larger pot was all seasoned up with fresh coffee grounds. Its aroma rising with the steam. In the smaller pot was plain canteen water. 

“Now what kind of cloth these men cut from that they don’t even offer me nothing to eat. Just water. I reckon it must be a dirty, raggedy old cloth” Mr. Buck said. 

“Now surely you boys can do better than that” Peace Officer English said. 

In various stages of chowing down, some scooping, some sipping, some scooping and sipping, they all looked at him 

“We only rode with him for a few miles” Booker said, sopping up some stew. 

“Now them other white men that brought him here with us came a ways” James said, slurping at his coffee which was still piping. “But hell if I know if they fed him or not”. 

“If we feed him, what we gonna eat?” Crispus asked

“We’ll get you some supper soon” Peace Officer English said. “Just sit tight for now”.

Peace Officer English reached in his vest pocket and pulled out some tea leaves wrapped in gauze.

****************************************************************************************Some minutes after eating, the men were sitting around lighting pipes, slapping knees, and talking about the war. Peace Officer English rolled himself a cigarette, lit it, and brought Mr. Buck a bowl of stew. 

“Now… I’ll unhitch you from this wagon and let your hands out in front of you if you don’t give me no trouble” Peace Officer English said. 

“That stew looks like it’ll take all the trouble out of a man” Mr. Buck said

Peace Officer English undid Mr. Buck’s cuffed hands from the wagon and then put them out in front of him like he promised. He locked the cuffs with Mr. Buck’s arms in front of him, then led him a few feet to the campfire where the men were sitting. He handed him a bowl with a helping of stew in it. 

“Why don’t you take my seat. I’ve been sitting too long now” Peace Officer English said.

“I won’t argue with ya” Mr. Buck said, grabbing the spoon that Peace Officer English was offering him out of his hands. 

Mr. Buck dropped his bottom on the stool and his face all but disappeared in the bowl.

Crispus and the boys were laughing it up in the meanwhile, helping themselves to another cup of coffee. 

“So English, you get up to Harlem yet?” Crispus asked while James and Booker chuckled. 

“Naw, not yet” Peace Officer English said

“Boy I tell you. A Harlem Hellfighter that ain’t never been to Harlem” Crispus said. The other men were really laughing now. 

Peace Officer English had heard this ribbing before so he just sort of shook it off. “I been to Harlem in my mind”. The boys laughed harder. 

“How’s that?” Booker asked

“They got some good phonographs a few towns back.” Peace Officer English said.

James pulled out a bottle of whiskey he stashed on the ground by his boot and took a galloping swig. He passed it to Booker, trying not to spit it out on the count of laughing.

“Damn, English” James said. “Boy that one just cracks me up every time I think it.”

Peace Officer English looked over at Mr. Buck who had devoured the stew they gave him and saw he was done eating.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be too much to ask for a half-of-cigarette” Mr. Buck said. 

Peace Officer English took the cigarette he had just rolled and lit for himself and put it into Mr. Buck’s mouth. Mr. Buck went into a coma-like disposition when he took a pull of the cigarette. When he exhaled, it seemed as though the smoke would never stop coming out of his nose and mouth. 

Peace Officer English poured himself a cup of boiling water into a tin mug and dropped another sack of tea leaves wrapped in gauze into it. He started moving it around in circles, and shaking it lightly, as if to stir it. 

“When I came to Europe, the regiment I came over with was all put right up at the front line. We did what we could but all of them boys except me and a few others got killed in about a week or so. Hard to tell in them trenches exactly how long it was but it couldn’t have been no more than ten days or so.” He took another sip of his tea as it was starting to steep and cool a bit. Them Hellfighter boys was the closest regiment to mine with all Negroes. I guess they thought it was a good fit” Peace Officer English said, now laughing with the chorus. 

As the whiskey made his way to him in he declined. “No poison for me sir. Thanks”. 

“What you mean, poison? I know where this here came from” James said. “Finest round here, matter of fact”

“I thank you the same” Peace Officer English said, gesturing no. 

With Mr. Buck being the man next to him, he spoke up. 

“I tell you what. I would surely thank the Lord Almighty if you were kind enough to pass some of that whiskey my way”. Peace Officer English obliged.

Mr. Buck took a big old galloping swig of the whiskey and swallowed it without incident. No coughing or spitting or nothing. He passed it to the man next to him who was Booker. Booker just kind of snatched it from Mr. Buck.

“You sure are a good man English” Booker said

Peace Officer English was really slurping at his tea now.

****************************************************************************************After the whiskey and smoke had made a few turns around the circle, folks really started to loosen up. The men, now including Mr. Buck, were passing a tin cup amongst them that was about 60% whiskey and 40% coffee.

Peace Officer English helped himself to another cup of boiling canteen water, dropped another sack of tea leaves wrapped in gauze in his cup and did that stirring thing again. 

The men were laughing at one thing or another for a little while after that.

Mr. Buck started sort of studying Peace Officer English who was sitting on a big stone drinking his tea “I have to say, I’ve never seen a man drink as much tea as you have tonight” all the other men were laughing. “I mean, I’ll be. I thought that stuff was for British Lords or high society women or something”. 

The men kept laughing at it seemed like pretty much everything now.

“Say, why they call you English anyway?” Mr. Buck asked, still laughing. “Because it sure is fitting”. 

“Why they call you Peter?” Peace Officer English said.

“Cause that’s my name” Mr. Buck said, still laughing

“Well. There ya go. English is my name. English Elijah Beaufort is my proper name”. 

“You mean to tell me English is your first name?” Mr. Buck asked. 

“That’s the name my mama gave me, and I couldn’t be prouder of it” Peace Officer English said

Booker, James, and Crispus started wrapping up their chuckles, but Mr. Buck kept right on laughing. 

“Well, that has got to be the most fitting thing I’ve ever seen all the time I’ve been alive… A man named English that loves his tea. Whiskey?… No sir! Coffee? … No sir! Tea?… Much obliged sir.” Mr. Buck took the tin cup in his hand and moved it around in a way to mock Peace Officer English. 

“Lord Have Mercy” Peace Officer English said now starting to laugh as well, still sipping his tea. 

“I’m not sure I ever had tea a day in my life. And if I did, let me tell you, I sure didn’t know it” Mr. Buck said

“Would you like a try of it?” Peace Officer English said

Mr. Buck looked confused. “Do you mind if I pour some whiskey in it?” Mr. Buck said

“I’d much rather you didn’t” Peace Office English said.

Mr. Buck took a sip of the tea and spit it out instantly. 

“This stuff tastes like something a cow done chewed in the cud and put back in the Earth”. 

Booker, James, and Crispus all started laughing again. 

“This stuff is calming. I used to drink coffee like I’d never tire of it. But when I got to Europe the stuff just made me too damn jittery. Seems like tea was everywhere so I started drinking it. Laugh if you want but this stuff keeps you alert without making ya jumpy. That’s a nice trade as far as I’m concerned.” Peace Officer English said.

“Well, I must say… you are the most distinguished Negro I’ve ever met. No doubt about that” Mr. Buck said, finally starting to wipe away his laugh, though that comment started another round of it. 

Peace Officer English handed him a freshly rolled cigarette, lit, and all ready to smoke. “And a mighty fine man as far as jailers go” Mr. Buck said. 

After chuckling for a while more, they cuffed Mr. Buck back up to the wagon and started making sleeping arrangements. Booker, James, and Crispus would sleep on the ground, Mr. Buck on the stone cuffed to the wagon and Peace Officer English would watch the camp.

Seeing the men had their fill of whiskey Peace Officer English told the men that him and Mr. Buck would be gone likely before they awoke in the morning. 

“Can you believe such a likable man could do what he done?” Crispus asked Peace Officer English

“Nothing bad surprises me anymore Crispus. Once you know Lucifer controls this world and everything in it you’re more surprised by the good stuff, like enjoying the company of this vile man, that would help himself to a girl that ain’t even old enough to birth a youngin. Then this same man would turn around and shoot her mother for trying to get him off of her. I reckoned I’d hate this man on sight but I can’t say that I do”. Peace Officer English said. He shook the liquid out of his cup and poured out the gauze tea bag onto the ground next to him. 

“You boys better get some sleep. I’ll meet back up with y’all here once I’ve taken him in”

Crispus pulled out a silver pistol from under his duster coat and handed it to Peace Officer English. “Can you take him in with this. This is a special request from the Daddy.”

Peace Officer English took the pistol and put it in his spare holster. He gave and took hearty handshakes from the three men again. Then they turned in for the night. Peace Officer English looked at Mr. Buck. He was sort of dangling, cuffed to the wagon wheel, and sleeping a drunk sleep, oblivious to all around him. 

****************************************************************************************

A few hours went by with the men dozing. Peace Officer English decided it was time to take Mr. Buck in. He walked over and shook him gently. 

“You ready to go in?” Peace Officer English asked Mr. Buck as he tried to shake off the sleep.

“Naw, not really. But I have to say, a man can’t asked to be carried to jail in any better shape than this”

“Well. We better be on our way” 

Peace Officer English uncuffed him from the wagon, and flashed his gun. “No trouble, Right?” 

“Not a lick” Mr. Buck said.

He put Mr. Buck in the back of the wagon and handcuffed him to a metal railing in the back. 

Peace Officer English was finishing another cup of tea. He offered some to Mr. Buck.

“I’d rather some coffee but hell, the way my mouth tastes right now, I’ll drink anything wet” Mr. Buck said angling his mouth down far enough to catch the tea in the cup as he chugged it. 

Peace Officer English gathered his cup and other belongings, hooked up his horse to the wagon, and made his way into the darkness filling the way ahead. 

After about an hour or so Mr. Buck felt the wagon come to a stop. Peace Officer English made his way to the back of the wagon where Mr. Buck was and undid the cuffs from the metal railing, hands in front, then cuffed him again. 

“I need to ask you to step out of the wagon sir” Peace Officer English said.

“What in the world for?” Mr. Buck asked, “Don’t tell me you’re having another one of your tea times?”

“Nothing like that Mr. Buck”. Peace Officer English said. “The rules are that when I’m taking someone in, their hands must be cuffed behind them”

“You expect me to ride in that wagon with my hands behind my back” Mr. Buck asked 

“No sir” Peace Officer English said.

“I’ll make you a deal. You give me another one of them fine tobacco sticks you had at the camp and I’ll let you take me to jail however you want. Hands behind me, in front, on top, or below.” Mr. Buck said

Peace Officer English obliged. “I reckon you better enjoy that one because it’s the last one you’ll have before I take you in”

He saluted Peace Officer English with his cuffed hands “Yes Sir! Peace Officer English!” Mr. Buck said chuckling. “I reckon they’ll have plenty of tobacco in the jailhouse. So, it may be my last for now but it won’t be my last ever”

After Mr. Buck finished his cigarette, he did as he was instructed. Hands behind his back, cuffed and ready to be taken in. 

Mr. Buck made his way to the wagon, but Peace Officer English stopped him short. 

“Well, ain’t we getting back in the wagon” Mr. Buck asked.

“No sir” Peace Officer English said.

“Well, ain’t you taking me in” Mr. Buck said

“Yes sir” Peace Officer English said

“Well, then” Mr. Buck said, trying to get pass Peace Officer English, to no avail.

Peace Officer English pushed Mr. Buck into the ground and he sort of stumbled in the tall grass. 

“Well, are they coming here to get me or something?” Mr. Bucked asked, his frustration teeming over. 

“Who’s they?” Peace Officer English asked. 

“The damn jailers! Who else?” Mr. Buck asked.

“Ain’t no jailers. Just me.” Peace Officer English said.

“Ain’t you a peace officer” Mr. Buck asked.

“Yes. But I reckon I’m what you’d call a special kind of peace officer” 

“How’s that?” Mr. Buck asked sitting down in the grass with his hands behind his back. 

“I’m a special kind of peace officer Sir. See killing evil men never bothered me much. So, when crimes are committed like the one you did, so sick, that even other prejudice white men and women can’t stand it, I ain’t but a telegraph away. I offer my services at a very reasonable fee. Whatever cash can be raised, a nice hot meal, and a bundle of tea. And you know I haven’t bought tea since I’ve been back from the war? Must be a boom time for evil I guess. But let me tell you. I don’t think I’ve ever collected a higher fee than the one they paid me to take you in. You’re an evil man Mr. Buck.”

“Well, you sure fooled me.” Mr. Buck said, chuckling again. “Well, how about one more request?”

“What’s that?” Peace Officer English asked

“Let my hands out in front, will ya? Don’t let me die like this.” Mr. Buck stood up and walked towards Peace Officer English who was backing away from him, keeping enough distance between him and the silver pistol he was now aiming at Mr. Buck. “We shared drinks, laughs and I even drank some of your precious tea! Now let me die with some damn dignity!” Mr. Buck said.

“Honestly Mr. Buck. At this moment, I can’t think of anything I want less.” The pops came consecutively. Mr. Buck, lifeless, rolled backward.