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Authors: Erskine Caldwell
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straight into his.
Aunt Sophie came between us and shook Jim by the shoulder. She shook him until his hair tumbled over his face, and his teeth rattled until they sounded as if they were loose in his mouth.
“Where is your Uncle Marvin, Milton?” she demanded, coming to me and shaking me worse than she had Jim. “Answer me this minute, Milton!”
When I saw how close she was to me, I jumped up and ran out into the yard out of her reach. I knew how hard she could shake when she wanted to. It was lots worse than getting a whipping with a peach-tree switch.
“Has that good-for-nothing scamp gone and taken up with a shantyboat wench again?” she said, running back and forth between Jim and me.
I had never heard Aunt Sophie talk like that before, and I was so scared I could not make myself say a word. I had never heard her call Uncle Marvin anything like that before, either. As a rule she never paid much attention to him, except when she wanted him to chop some stovewood, or something like that.
Jim sat up and looked at Aunt Sophie. I could see that he was getting ready to say something about the way she talked about Uncle Marvin. Jim was always taking up for him whenever Aunt Sophie started in on him.
Jim opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out.
“One of you is going to answer me!” Aunt Sophie said. “I’ll give you one more chance to talk, Milton.”
“He didn’t say where he was going or what he was going to do, Aunt Sophie. Honest, he didn’t!”
“Milton Hutchins!” she said, stamping her foot.
“Honest, Aunt Sophie!” I said. “Maybe he went off somewhere to preach.”
“Preach, my foot!” she cried, jamming her hands on her hips. “Preach! If that good-for-nothing scalawag preached half as many sermons as he makes out like he does, he’d have the whole country saved for God long before now! Preach! Huh! Preach, my foot! That’s his excuse for going off from home whenever he gets the notion to cut-up-jack, but he never fools me. And I can make a mighty good guess where he is this very minute, too. He’s gone chasing off after some shantyboat wench! Preach, my foot!”
Jim looked at me, and I looked at Jim. To save our life we could not see how Aunt Sophie had found out about the two girls from Evansville on Maud Island.
Aunt Sophie jammed her hands on her hips a little harder and motioned to us with her head. We followed her into the house.
“We’re going to have a house cleaning around this place,” she said. “James, you bring the brooms. Milton, you go start a fire under the washpot in the back yard and heat it full of water. When you get it going good, come in here and sweep down the cobwebs off the ceilings.”
Aunt Sophie went from room to room, slamming doors behind her. She began ripping curtains down from the windows and pulling the rugs from the floor. A little later we could hear the swish of her broom, and presently a dense cloud of dust began blowing through the windows.
(First published in the Brooklyn Eagle )
Warm River
T HE DRIVER STOPPED at the suspended footbridge and pointed out to me the house across the river. I paid him the quarter fare for the ride from the station two miles away and stepped from the car. After he had gone I was alone with the chill night and the star-pointed lights twinkling in the valley and the broad green river flowing warm below me. All around me the mountains rose like black clouds in the night, and only by looking straight heavenward could I see anything of the dim afterglow of sunset.
The creaking footbridge swayed with the rhythm of my stride and the momentum of its swing soon overcame my pace. Only by walking faster and faster could I cling to the pendulum as it swung in its wide arc over the river. When at last I could see the other side, where the mountain came down abruptly and slid under the warm water, I gripped my handbag tighter and ran with all my might.
Even then, even after my feet had crunched
Aunt Sophie came between us and shook Jim by the shoulder. She shook him until his hair tumbled over his face, and his teeth rattled until they sounded as if they were loose in his mouth.
“Where is your Uncle Marvin, Milton?” she demanded, coming to me and shaking me worse than she had Jim. “Answer me this minute, Milton!”
When I saw how close she was to me, I jumped up and ran out into the yard out of her reach. I knew how hard she could shake when she wanted to. It was lots worse than getting a whipping with a peach-tree switch.
“Has that good-for-nothing scamp gone and taken up with a shantyboat wench again?” she said, running back and forth between Jim and me.
I had never heard Aunt Sophie talk like that before, and I was so scared I could not make myself say a word. I had never heard her call Uncle Marvin anything like that before, either. As a rule she never paid much attention to him, except when she wanted him to chop some stovewood, or something like that.
Jim sat up and looked at Aunt Sophie. I could see that he was getting ready to say something about the way she talked about Uncle Marvin. Jim was always taking up for him whenever Aunt Sophie started in on him.
Jim opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out.
“One of you is going to answer me!” Aunt Sophie said. “I’ll give you one more chance to talk, Milton.”
“He didn’t say where he was going or what he was going to do, Aunt Sophie. Honest, he didn’t!”
“Milton Hutchins!” she said, stamping her foot.
“Honest, Aunt Sophie!” I said. “Maybe he went off somewhere to preach.”
“Preach, my foot!” she cried, jamming her hands on her hips. “Preach! If that good-for-nothing scalawag preached half as many sermons as he makes out like he does, he’d have the whole country saved for God long before now! Preach! Huh! Preach, my foot! That’s his excuse for going off from home whenever he gets the notion to cut-up-jack, but he never fools me. And I can make a mighty good guess where he is this very minute, too. He’s gone chasing off after some shantyboat wench! Preach, my foot!”
Jim looked at me, and I looked at Jim. To save our life we could not see how Aunt Sophie had found out about the two girls from Evansville on Maud Island.
Aunt Sophie jammed her hands on her hips a little harder and motioned to us with her head. We followed her into the house.
“We’re going to have a house cleaning around this place,” she said. “James, you bring the brooms. Milton, you go start a fire under the washpot in the back yard and heat it full of water. When you get it going good, come in here and sweep down the cobwebs off the ceilings.”
Aunt Sophie went from room to room, slamming doors behind her. She began ripping curtains down from the windows and pulling the rugs from the floor. A little later we could hear the swish of her broom, and presently a dense cloud of dust began blowing through the windows.
(First published in the Brooklyn Eagle )
Warm River
T HE DRIVER STOPPED at the suspended footbridge and pointed out to me the house across the river. I paid him the quarter fare for the ride from the station two miles away and stepped from the car. After he had gone I was alone with the chill night and the star-pointed lights twinkling in the valley and the broad green river flowing warm below me. All around me the mountains rose like black clouds in the night, and only by looking straight heavenward could I see anything of the dim afterglow of sunset.
The creaking footbridge swayed with the rhythm of my stride and the momentum of its swing soon overcame my pace. Only by walking faster and faster could I cling to the pendulum as it swung in its wide arc over the river. When at last I could see the other side, where the mountain came down abruptly and slid under the warm water, I gripped my handbag tighter and ran with all my might.
Even then, even after my feet had crunched
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