The note was written in a scrawl

Chapter 2) Maggie sees River Boy
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Maggie's home looked perfect from the outside, standing among the high-styled, magnificent houses at the top of North Peachtree overlooking the town's three church steeples.
The street was meticulously paved with rows of brick laid by Negro slaves under the whip of Major Johnston, back before the Union bastards freed them.

Maggie knew the Negroes were supposed to be free. Maybe the governor acted like they should vote or get paid, but they were just as likely to work for handouts and a whipping instead of a paycheck. And they ought not to break farm equipment or start trouble because a Negro found dead along the tracks was not news.
There were white people who did care, but feared to speak for justice. Unless you could afford a new barn after the fire, but liable another fire would follow.

There was a grocery store, dry goods, the meat market, and Woolworth's around the courthouse.
Down toward the railroad were shops and small factories that repaired shoes and built furniture.
The Southern Augusta rail line, old stockyards and grain elevator lay closer to the river.
The main highway blew in from the East, crossed over the river at the new cement bridge, and split into two roads on the other side.
Seemed like there were too many cars and the highway brought nothing but dust and dirt and strangers anymore.

About three miles south of Trinity, along an old dirt road, next to the river was a large cluster of shotgun houses, a few storefronts and a big church that the locals called Blacktown. The Negroes were free to live there as long as they paid the rent, but for the folks who lived there ... they called it home.

White people were not supposed to go down there because it was too dangerous. The hard men about town took care of that business.
Her father was not much concerned.
He had a couple Negroes working at the feed store.
Maggie didn't talk to them, and they better not look at her, but none of that matter now, because she was on the ground a few yards from the river with her foot stuck in a hole.

Despite the problem, she was calm and strangely started feeling okay. Must have been the sound of the river.
The water was up, not quite flooding, but it was brown and swirling as it washed away the farmland.
The birds were flying about.

She freed herself, except the pain was so fierce she had to put her leg up on a log.
The dirt road was just a few yards away.
Maybe Carl would come back.

All she could do was sit and scooch toward the road as her mother’s words kept ringing in her ears, 'well if that's what you got, that's where you are.'

The morning breeze stirred into a gust and a few clouds started to come in, and that's when she saw the silhouette of a man standing by the river looking at her.
More than 2 miles from home. Nobody knew she was there.
Oh this was so foolish. She scolded herself and started to scooch faster.

If only she could get up and run away.
The man was coming now. He was big and she couldn't see who it was.
In desperation and dwarfed by fear, she shouted, I’m Maggie Winston, as if the name would ward off evil.
It might have worked except the reply came back, it’s River Boy.

Oh no. How could it be worse? It was River Boy.
She knew him. He was bad.
He looked white but lived in Blacktown. He was always dirty and didn't come to school very often.
Nobody talked to him. He sat in class and said nothing.
People around town said he fished with Negroes, and stole chickens. That much was known.
People saw him walking around Trinity at night. There were lots of stories.

Now he was looming over her with his dirty torn shirt, standing like a Negro and smelling like dead fish.

He said, hi Maggie, whatcha doing? Looks like you caught your ankle. Need to be careful along the river. Lots of snags and holes.

Maggie was still scooching away like a turtle caught by a cat.
He rolled his head back and laughed.
She was mad and helpless, her dress dirtied, and demanded to know, are you laughing at me?
He said, no, let me help you up.

He seemed different. In school, he didn’t fit. But now he was natural and his kindness showed past the torn shirt that revealed his chest when he leaned over.
She was mumbling, still trying to get away, feeling quite endangered while looking up his shirt wide-eyed.

He smiled as he touched her arm and lifted her up.
She'd never seen him smile, as if anyone of her importance would pay attention anyway.

One quick pull and she was standing on one foot.
He was taller than her. He wasn't that tall in school.
Here, loop your arm around my neck. My home is just up the hill over there, pointing down the road. We'll get you a ride back to town.

House she thought. House?
There no house down here by the river.
There was an old chicken shack.
It wasn't a house.

Forget that. She wasn't going with River Boy, no matter what. She said, take me to the road and I'll wait for the tractor.

River Boy grinned real big, and said, okay. Old man Carl goes back on the other road. If he comes this way, it’ll be dark. He’ll probably run over you.

What a horrible choice. She would rather get run over by a tractor.

That’s when the world intervened, and it started to rain.
He helped her over to the dirt road. Then playfully plopped her down and asked, are you going to sit in the rain all day?
Her clothes and hands were filthy, and he just sat her in the mud. It was wet and cold. She couldn’t walk, but after recovering from the indignity, at least for the moment, she laughed.

Together they hobbled down the dirt road and up the hill toward his house.
People used to say that an old colored man got out of prison and built a shack somewhere along the river.

Back a few years ago, after the old Cartfield barn fell down, bit by bit the metal and wood disappeared until it became the house the colored man built. Yeah, maybe it was a shack to others, but it was home for River Boy and Grandpa.
 
Maggie realized the story was true, and this was the place.
She asked River Boy, do you live here?
He said, yes, I live with Grandpa.
That was disgusting. River Boy was a Negro. All this time, she thought he was white, but he was just a Negro …. and he touched her.

River Boy felt her question and said, it doesn’t matter does it? My Grandpa saved me.
That bit of familiarity begged another question, but Maggie dared not express interest in this fellow. She remembered how her mother said, 'no matter how bad things look, you are a lady.'

He let all the fears inside Maggie’s head pass by, and helped her into a chair next to the cold fireplace that looked like a pile of bricks stuck together with mud until she saw how it curved beautifully into the chimney all the way to the ceiling.
In the corner was a small window divided into 4 pieces of glass, and just outside a big ash tree with speckled bark. The door was still open and it was chilly.

As her eyes accustomed to the light she saw a clean room with things carefully stored on shelves. There was a small kitchen and sink with metal cans of all sizes stored underneath. There were fishing poles on a rack next to the door.  There were two beds on one side and in the opposite corner, under the window, was a wood desk with one drawer.
That was Grandpa's hand carved desk made from golden oak. It almost gleamed in the light. She wanted to touch it.

River Boy lit a fire and said, Grandpa is fishing at the bridge. He'll be home soon. Hope he catches something.
He laid a blanket across her shoulders, then heated a kettle of water to make root tea for her to sip.
The room filled with the dim light of an amber fire and Maggie was overtaken by the warmth. She was so apart from her own world. It felt magical like she was transformed into a small girl again. It was conflicting. The lady inside kept snapping her back into common sense. She asked, when can we get a ride?

She turned around and River Boy was naked with his back toward her, changing into dry clothes. She looked away quick, having wished to not seen a Negro that was completely bare.

She heard him chuckle, and he said, I’d give you dry clothes, but they might not fit. Then he added, Grandpa is coming back with the Deacon Quartette and maybe Bangin' Gypsy. They’re driving over from Niddles to sing at the church tonight. They always stop and pick up Grandpa then come here for lunch. They have a car, and a white manager ... a detail he added so she'd feel safe.

River Boy moved between Maggie and the fire. His proximity alarmed her.
At least he was dressed.
He set two more pieces of wood in the fire and took some water out of the pot. Then sat down in front of her and began taking off her shoes. She resisted until the pain in her ankle caused her to stop.
He wiped her bare feet with a cloth dipped in warm water, and looked at the small swollen line on one ankle.

His hands were gentle. His charm irresistible.
She wanted to touch his hair.

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