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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