The Color of Lightning

by Paulette Jiles

A white man in cattleman’s boots and a broad hat came under the veranda roof of Nance’s store and strode toward Elijah Earl. “Get out of the way, nigger.” The white officer looked up with his round doorknob eyes. He said, “That’s sergeant nigger to you, cracker.” The man said, “All right then. Get out of my way, sergeant nigger.” Elijah Earl had not moved, nor had Britt and Paint. “Don’t mess with me,” said the white officer. “That’s my sergeant.” His head wavered. “Get used to it.” The man stood without speaking or moving for a moment. He had a tanned and simple face and he was young and might yet learn to mend his manners. Britt and Paint and Earl had all turned to face him, and Jube stood beside his father with his handful of candies. Dutch Nance leaned against the doorframe of his dirt-floored store with his head lifted and watched carefully. Jube looked all around without turning his head to see who had a weapon. If anything happened he would run inside the store no matter what old man Nance said. Nance had a shotgun on the floor behind the grain bin, and Jube wondered if it were loaded or not. If he could get his hands on it. If anything happened. The black soldier said, “My name is Elijah Earl. Sergeant Elijah Earl.” “Get ushed to it,” said the major. “I mean, used to it.” The cattleman moved his jaw to one side and then closed his eyes and opened them again. “What kind of a world have we come to,” he said. “What a world.” He shifted from right to left on his knee-h...