The Ragtime Kid Read Online Free PDF Page A

yourself out of my store, right now. I may be twenty years older than you, but I’m capable of giving you the thrashing you deserve. And I’d be only too glad to do it.”
    Charlie Daniels sighed, deep, loud, long. That old man was built like a tree trunk. Daniels didn’t doubt for an instant that he could and would pound Freitag, that moron, within an inch of his life if matters didn’t get squared away fast. And that would be the end of any possibility of hitching horses with Will Stark over Joplin’s music. Daniels had his mouth open, ready to apologize for his associate’s talk, but Freitag, who’d taken a step backward, out of Stark’s immediate reach, spoke first. His piggy eyes shone with cunning. “Now, then, Mr. Stark, let’s not get ourselves all hot under the collar. War’s been over near-on thirty-five years. Time to get yourself out of that blue uniform.”
    Stark didn’t miss a beat. “Nor will I ever. Not while there are such as you still contaminating the earth with your claptrap.”
    To Daniels, the air in the store felt heavy, like right before a major storm. Freitag grunted, or maybe he was trying to cover over a belch, but then, of all things, he laughed out loud. “You really did fight in that war, didn’t you, Pops.”
    “I most certainly did,” Stark snapped. “I enlisted right after Fort Sumter, and I wasn’t mustered out ’til January of ’66. Indiana, Company B, First Heavy Artillery. Now, sir, I am still waiting for you to apologize to my associate here.”
    But Freitag all of a sudden looked like a man having an attack of apoplexy. At the mention of Stark’s military service, the salesman’s face went near-purple. A blood vessel pounded over his left temple; his eyes bugged. He swallowed hard, a choking sound. “Indiana, Company B… You were in Mobile, then.”
    “At the end of the war, yes.”
    “My daddy died in Mobile. Right about the end of the war.”
    Stark thought the man might be accusing him personally of causing his father’s death. “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Freitag. Many good men died in that war…because some of those men believed it was right and moral to keep human beings as slaves.”
    Freitag bit at his lower lip. Finally, he seemed to get hold of himself. He swallowed again, then set his skimmer straight on his head and thrust his chin into Stark’s face. “Wasn’t just men who died, Mr. Stark. We had us a way of life where every man and woman knew what was their place, and did their proper part. Emancipation? Might as well have passed a law that said you had to set your farm animals free and let ’em fend for themselves. A whole lot of good Emancipation did for these poor colored. On my daddy’s farm, they had work and a roof over their heads and good food to eat. They got took damn good care of. They were safe and they were happy.”
    He’s serious, Stark thought. He believes every word he’s saying.
    But Freitag wasn’t finished. “All kinds of scientists’ve proved that brains from colored’re smaller than a white man’s. Colored can’t any more look after themselves than a horse or a dog could. Turnin’ ’em loose in the world was a cruel thing to do.” He pointed at Isaac. “Take your boy there—how’s it come to pass that he’s gotta work for you, huh? Why doesn’t he have his own store…and maybe you work for him? I say he’s lucky he found you, ’cause if you weren’t looking after him, he’d be dirty and hungry and begging on the streets. That’s what my father died for, Mister! To try and stop Mr. Lincoln from destroying a good way of life.”
    “If it was so good,” Stark said quietly, “why did slaves run off whenever they could?”
    Freitag’s face asked how Stark could be so thickheaded. “Sometimes children run off, right? ’Cause they don’t understand. And then you gotta bring ’em back and give ’em such punishment so they don’t think of doing it again. I’ll warrant you didn’t