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"Of course we would all go, and in style, too. That's why I don't want to go until I have enough money to do it right, get nice clothes for you and your mama to wear and enough to stay in a fine hotel and eat in the finest, expensive restaurants. And we'll go shopping and buy you and your ma clothes and--"
"And just how do you expect to do that, Jack Landry?" Mama said from behind the screen door. She had been listening to us talk for a few minutes without revealing herself.
Daddy spun around and smiled. "You don't think I can do that, do you, Catherine? It ain't in your crystal ball, no?"
"I just like to be sure you're not filling the girl up with more hot air, Jack. We got enough in the swamp as
it is."
Daddy laughed. "Step out and hear, woman," he said. "Feast your ears on the delicious meal of words I'm gonna deliver."
Mama raised her eyebrows, hesitated, and then came out, her arms folded under her bosom.
"I'm out. Deliver."
"I ain't working for Jed Atkins no more," he said, nodding, his face full of excitement.
Mama gazed at me and then back at him. "Oh, is that so? So who are you working for now?"
"Jack Landry," he replied. "I'm working for myself. And why shouldn't I?" he followed quickly. "Why should I be gettin' only a quarter of what Jed gets, huh? I'm the one who does all the work. He just sits on his fat rump and schedules the trips. I got my own pirogue and there's Gabriel's, and soon we'll get a third. I got my own dock and I got it all up here," he said, pointing to his temple.
"I see," Mama said. "So what are you going to do, put up a sign and hope they come riding by and stop to buy your services?"
"That I'll do, but I've already done more," he said, smiling from ear to ear.
"What more? What do you mean?"
"I been telling some of Jed's customers about myself this past week or so and I give them directions how to get here and I got two trips already scheduled, the first tomorrow morning. There's a party of wealthy Creoles from New Orleans going to be here early. So," he said, putting his thumbs in his vest and pumping out his chest, "meet Jack Landry,
businessman."
"What's Jed Atkins say about this?"
"He don't know it all yet. I just told him I ain't coming to work no more." He leaned toward Mama. "I'm givin' them a better deal than he gives them, but I'm making it all. Smart, huh?"
"If you make appointments with people and promise them service, you're going to have to provide it, Jack," Mama warned.
"I will."
"You'll have to stay off the rotgut whiskey, stay away from the zydeco bars and gambling and be home at a decent hour."
"I will. I swear," he said, raising up his right hand. "I'm tired of bein' everyone else's po'boy."
Mama looked hopeful. "Well, if this is true ... Gabriel and I could cook up some food for the customers. Maybe we could make this into
something."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Daddy said, slapping his knee. I couldn't recall seeing him so excited. "With what you can do in that kitchen and with what I can do in the swamp, we could have us a pretty successful little business, no?"
"Maybe," Mama said. "But if I go in there and cook and no one shows tomorrow morning, Jack . . ."
"They'll show, all right." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Father and son and two of their friends. Name's Dumas. These rich people tell other rich people and then they come here, too. We're going to be well off," Daddy concluded, "or my name ain't Jack Landry."
"I don't have to go out in the canoe, too, do I, Daddy?" I asked.
"Not if you don't want to, but it would sure be nice to have you along, Gabriel. You know these swamps better than me."
"I can't stomach seeing men go out there and shoot the animals, Daddy."
