Read Online The Boy Orator by Tracy Daugherty - Free Book Online Page A

the boys at school who mocked his speeches, the brewers in the hills who kidded him when he drank, the men who beat his father, these fellows, trading sly-confidences over dominoes, were full of secrets that had nothing to do with home. Since Anadarko, Harry understood that awful laughter and danger often accompanied circles of men. Dark looks. Jokes. He wanted out of here, but Warren Stargell held his arm. “You see where Kate O’Hare’s testifying in Waurika?”
    â€œI just saw the poster,” Harry said.
    â€œWhen’re you gonna speak again? What does Andrew say?”
“My ma doesn’t want me to.”
    â€œYour ma—hell, we need you, Harry, you’re good for business. Who can resist that baby face, eh?” He squeezed Harry’s cheeks. “The league’s arranging a circuit, three or four of our best speakers, make a little tour next month. What do you say?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œAll right, we’ll work on her when I come out next week. Take care of your pappy, you hear? He’s a good man.”
    â€œI will.” My mother’s good too, he thought.
    â€˜â€œAtaboy.”
    On the road home, remorseful, Harry passed the electric wires, hooked now to all the poles. He saw in a nice house a warm, orange glow, just visible in the midafternoon sunlight; the silhouette of a woman sweeping a kitchen.
    His mother wouldn’t let him see Kate O’Hare. “Once and for all, I want you to get this politicking out of your system. It’s no business for a little boy. Besides, you’ve got plenty to do around here.” He didn’t argue. He still felt guilty about his trip into town, and tried to atone with his chores. In the evenings, though, when all his work was done, he sat on the gate of the mule pen and raised both his arms. “You ask me why I’m a Socialist!” he shouted, choosing one of his father’s fervent themes, extemporizing on it, paraphrasing Oscar Ameringer.
    Patrick Nagle’s ears bobbed. He kicked up dirt. Halley panted, wagged his tail. “I’ll tell you, friends. Money-love and the two-party system are the roots of all evil, strangling the uninformed voter. The national banking system is the tree. The trusts are its branches, bearing poisoned fruit. Brothers!” Patrick Nagle raised his head and let out a squeal. “The sunlight of liberty is setting behind mountains of sin!” Halley ran deliriously around the pen, yapping, chasing bugs.
    Harry had forgotten his boredom on the road, his classmates’ taunts. All he remembered now was the excitement of the crowds. The applause. “Turkey in the Straw,” “The Arkansas Traveler”—songs of the fiddlers who sometimes played before he talked. He pictured skinny women dancing—“malnourished,” his father had said—stooped farmers shouting affirmation. The combination of music, stews on open fires, the beat of his own rushing words made him dizzy. Giddy with delight. How could he give up so much fun?
    Avram, Kate O’Hare, and Warren Stargell had turned him, like a weather vane, in the right direction again.
    His impromptu speeches restored Andrew a little, even as they worried Annie Mae. “That’s my boy,” Andrew mumbled, sitting on the porch. “God, don’t he make you want to lay down your life?”
    Annie Mae covered his shoulders with a heavy patchwork quilt. “I’m glad you’re home,” she whispered in his ear.
    He patted her hand. For the first time in days his gaze settled on her face. “Yes. It’s a nice home, isn’t it?”
    In spite of everything , she almost answered, aware of her daily chores in each gripping twinge in her back. “It ought to be. We crossed a mighty rough river to get here.”
    â€œOnly because I made you. I was right, now wasn’t I?”
    She smiled. “I’ll never admit