Read Online Maud's Line by Margaret Verble - Free Book Online Page B

dancing.”
    Billy said, “Haven’t. Didn’t have anything better to do. You been dancing?” He fell in next to Maud.
    â€œA bit,” she said, and kept walking. But then she suddenly stopped. “That peddler over there has something I want to look at.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œSeveral things. Women like to look. You know that.” She took off toward Booker’s wagon.
    Billy dropped his cigarette, crushed it with his boot, and caught up with Maud in a couple of long strides. She was pleased he did. His puppy eagerness and Indian good looks made him the perfect escort to be seen with.
    She went straight to the Woodbury soap. She picked up a bar, read its wrapper, and held it close to her nose for a sniff. Booker was making change with his back to her. She was afraid he wouldn’t turn her way until she sniffed the bar silly, so as soon as that transaction was completed, she said, “How much did you say this was?”
    Booker turned around slowly. He looked at Maud’s face and then at the item she held in her hand. He stretched his hand out to hers, brushed it slightly, and said, “Let me see.” He turned the bar over and found 5 C marked on the back. He said, “A nickel, normally, but for you, two cents.” He touched the rim of his bowler and smiled. Then he turned to Billy. “Howdy. Are you Maud’s brother?”
    Maud spoke quickly. “No, a friend. This is William Watie Walkingstick. He goes by Billy.”
    Billy brought the fingers of his left hand to the rim of his cowboy hat and inserted his right hand into his front pocket. “I’ll pay full price for that.” He drew out a nickel.
    Booker took the coin with one hand and delivered the bar to Billy with the other. “Glad to do business with you, Mr. Walkingstick. Fancy anything else for your girl?”
    Maud made a noise that was more of a catfish growl than a word. Both men jerked a little and looked to the source. Maud knew she was turning red. She hoped the dark of the night and the dark of her skin were combining to protect her. “Thank you, Billy.” She held her hand out for the bar. To Booker, she said, “He’s one of my oldest friends. Fishes with my brother.”
    Booker said, “I see.” Maud hoped that he both did see and didn’t. And she was trying to sort out some kind of response that would straighten things out but not give her away when Billy said, “You sell soft drinks?”
    â€œNo, they’re not in my line.” Booker shook his head.
    Maud said, “He mostly trucks in books. Booker, would you show Billy your books?”
    Booker held out his arm toward the side of the wagon facing the back of the stage. “What kinds of books do you like to read?”
    â€œWhatchya got?”
    Booker, in a singsong cadence that spoke of practice, recited a litany of books, and Billy’s eyes took on a glassy gaze. But shortly into that, to insert herself back into Booker’s attention and also to get Billy off the hook, Maud said, “My uncle was telling me about a book that escaped the fire. Did you hear about that?”
    â€œHeard about the fire. Hard not to.” Booker had a smile on his face.
    â€œI meant did you hear about the book?”
    â€œNo. I assumed all the books were burnt. I went by there the day afterwards. It was a mess if I ever saw one. You can even see the pile from the bridge.”
    â€œYou’ve been over the bridge?”
    â€œWent to Muskogee. Had to pick up more goods at the railway station.”
    â€œI’m surprised you didn’t stay over there.”
    â€œI did for a couple of days. But I wasn’t having much luck competing against the stores.”
    Billy said, “How much will ya take fer this book here?”
    Maud had forgotten about Billy. And she’d never known him to read a lick. She said, “What is it?”
    â€œLasso tricks. See