Read Online Place Called Estherville by Erskine Caldwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Erskine Caldwell
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shoulder. “That’ll show you how scared I am of anybody,” he told them boastfully.
Ganus, uttering no sound, moved as far away from Hank as he could. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed the flesh together.
“You went and made him bleed again, Hank Newgood!” Robbie cried out. Tears were running down his cheeks. “Why’d you do that? He didn’t do anything to you—he never did do anything to hurt you! Why’d you have to go and hurt him like that, Hank?” He ran up the alley. “I’m going home!” he sobbed.
“Hank, Robbie Gunsby’s going to tell on all of us,” Vern said accusingly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Let the cry-baby tell,” Hank said indifferently. “What do I care? Cutting up a nigger’s nothing. I saw my old man hit a nigger once so hard with a scantling it knocked one of his eyes out.”
Both Vern and Pete began backing away from him.
Presently Vern went to the fence where Ganus was standing. “Ganus,” he said in a low voice, “you won’t tell on us, will you? I didn’t mean all the things I said. Honest to God, I didn’t, Ganus!”
Before Ganus could say anything, Hank grabbed Vern and flung him away. Then he shoved Ganus to the middle of the alley.
“Get going, nigger, and keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.” He walked up to Ganus and shoved him again. “I can make it plenty rough on you, if you talk. You know that, don’t you?”
Without waiting to go back for his pants, Ganus started walking rapidly toward Poinsettia Street. He was almost there when a heavy rock crashed against the wooden fence beside him, and he began running. He did not look back again after that, but ran as fast as he could toward home.
Chapter 4
I T WAS THE END OF M AY and nothing had been done during the past five weeks about paying Kathyanne her wages. After leaving the Swaynes, Kathyanne had gone to work for Madgie Pugh, doing the cooking, cleaning, washing, and other daily household tasks, and each time she had spoken about it, Madgie had become excited and upset and said she was too busy to discuss the matter. That had been going on week after week since the last Saturday in April and she did not understand why Madgie kept on refusing to do anything about it.
The Pughs lived about half a mile from the center of town in a square, six-room, red brick house, on a sandy ridge, at the north end of Palmetto Street where several new homes had been built in recent years. The ridge, which previously had been wasteland, with a sparse growth of yellow broomsedge and scraggly blackjack, had been given the name of Sedgefield by a real estate development company, and had become a fashionable neighborhood for those who could afford the upkeep of year-around gardens and bermuda lawns in summer and rye lawns in winter. Carter Pugh, who was ruddy-faced and genial, was general manager of the largest ginning company in the county, and both he and Madgie had been born in Estherville and had lived there all their lives. They had married hurriedly, before a church wedding could be planned, in an attempt to put an end to scandalous talk when somebody in town, whose brother was a hotel clerk, found out that they had spent the night together in Augusta. They were now in their early forties and had two children, Jimmy and Frances, in high school.
Madgie was president of the Garden Club and was away from home two afternoons a week attending committee meetings. Every Sunday she took Carter and the children to morning church services, and then she and Carter always went to the evening service. Carter flatly refused to go to the Wednesday evening prayer meetings, because he thought that was just too much religion for any man, and Madgie attended alone. Whenever she had an opportunity, she proudly boasted that both her family and Carter’s had been church-supporting Baptists for six generations, and that the two families, during that time, had contributed seven preachers to the
Ganus, uttering no sound, moved as far away from Hank as he could. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed the flesh together.
“You went and made him bleed again, Hank Newgood!” Robbie cried out. Tears were running down his cheeks. “Why’d you do that? He didn’t do anything to you—he never did do anything to hurt you! Why’d you have to go and hurt him like that, Hank?” He ran up the alley. “I’m going home!” he sobbed.
“Hank, Robbie Gunsby’s going to tell on all of us,” Vern said accusingly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Let the cry-baby tell,” Hank said indifferently. “What do I care? Cutting up a nigger’s nothing. I saw my old man hit a nigger once so hard with a scantling it knocked one of his eyes out.”
Both Vern and Pete began backing away from him.
Presently Vern went to the fence where Ganus was standing. “Ganus,” he said in a low voice, “you won’t tell on us, will you? I didn’t mean all the things I said. Honest to God, I didn’t, Ganus!”
Before Ganus could say anything, Hank grabbed Vern and flung him away. Then he shoved Ganus to the middle of the alley.
“Get going, nigger, and keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.” He walked up to Ganus and shoved him again. “I can make it plenty rough on you, if you talk. You know that, don’t you?”
Without waiting to go back for his pants, Ganus started walking rapidly toward Poinsettia Street. He was almost there when a heavy rock crashed against the wooden fence beside him, and he began running. He did not look back again after that, but ran as fast as he could toward home.
Chapter 4
I T WAS THE END OF M AY and nothing had been done during the past five weeks about paying Kathyanne her wages. After leaving the Swaynes, Kathyanne had gone to work for Madgie Pugh, doing the cooking, cleaning, washing, and other daily household tasks, and each time she had spoken about it, Madgie had become excited and upset and said she was too busy to discuss the matter. That had been going on week after week since the last Saturday in April and she did not understand why Madgie kept on refusing to do anything about it.
The Pughs lived about half a mile from the center of town in a square, six-room, red brick house, on a sandy ridge, at the north end of Palmetto Street where several new homes had been built in recent years. The ridge, which previously had been wasteland, with a sparse growth of yellow broomsedge and scraggly blackjack, had been given the name of Sedgefield by a real estate development company, and had become a fashionable neighborhood for those who could afford the upkeep of year-around gardens and bermuda lawns in summer and rye lawns in winter. Carter Pugh, who was ruddy-faced and genial, was general manager of the largest ginning company in the county, and both he and Madgie had been born in Estherville and had lived there all their lives. They had married hurriedly, before a church wedding could be planned, in an attempt to put an end to scandalous talk when somebody in town, whose brother was a hotel clerk, found out that they had spent the night together in Augusta. They were now in their early forties and had two children, Jimmy and Frances, in high school.
Madgie was president of the Garden Club and was away from home two afternoons a week attending committee meetings. Every Sunday she took Carter and the children to morning church services, and then she and Carter always went to the evening service. Carter flatly refused to go to the Wednesday evening prayer meetings, because he thought that was just too much religion for any man, and Madgie attended alone. Whenever she had an opportunity, she proudly boasted that both her family and Carter’s had been church-supporting Baptists for six generations, and that the two families, during that time, had contributed seven preachers to the
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