The Run for the Elbertas Read Online Free PDF Page A

him, wearing a shirt like striped candy, and never a man wore a finer one. The shirt was thinny—so thin that when he stood before me I could see the paddles of his collarbones.
    Fedder said, “I’ve sold my part. Hit’s you two trading.”
    Steph said, “Name yore price. Name.”
    I gathered the fowl in my arms. “I hain’t a-mind to sell,” I said.
    We turned to stare at miners passing, going home long before quitting time, their cap lamps burning in broad day.
    Steph was anxious. “Why hain’t you willing?” he asked. “Name.”
    I dug my toe into the ground, scuffing dirt. “I love my rooster,” I said. But I looked at Steph’s shirt. It was very beautiful.
    â€œIf’n you’ll sell,” Fedder promised, “I’ll let you spy at my eye pocket. Now, while it’s thar, you kin look. Afore long I’ll have a glass ’un.”
    I kicked a clod into the road. “I’ll swap my part o’ the rooster for that striped shirt. It can be cut down to fit.”
    â€œShuck it off,” Fedder told Steph.
    Steph unbuttoned the shirt, slipped it over the blades of his shoulders, and handed it to me in a wad. He snatched the rooster, lighting out for home, and miners along the road glared at his bare back.
    Fedder brushed his hat aside, catching the eye patch between forefinger and thumb. I was suddenly afraid, suddenly having no wish to see.
    The patch was lifted. I looked, stepping back, squeezing the shirt into a ball. I turned, running, running with this sight burnt upon my mind.
    I ran all the way home, going into the kitchen door as Father went, not staying the sow cat that stole in between my legs. Mother sat at the table, a pile of greenbacks before her, the empty pay pockets crumpled.
    â€œHell’s bangers!” Father gasped, dropping heavily upon a chair and lifting the baby to his knee; and when he could speak above his wonder, “The boom’s busted. I’ve got no job.” But he laughed, and Mother smiled.
    â€œI’ve heard already,” Mother said. She laid a hand upon the money bills, flicking them under a thumb like a deck of gamble cards. “There’s enough here to build a house, a house with windows looking out o’ every room. And a grain left for a pair o’ costy boots, a boughten shirt, a fact’ry dress, a few pretties.”
    The baby opened his mouth, curling his lips, pointing a stub finger. He pointed at the old nanny smelling the fish kit.
    â€œCat!” he said, big as life.

The Proud Walkers
    W E moved out of Houndshell mine camp in May to the homeplace Father had built on Shoal Creek, and I recollect foxgrapes were blooming and there was a spring chill in the air. Fern and Lark and I ran ahead of the wagon, frightening water thrushes, shouting back at the poky mare. We broke cowcumber branches to wave at the baby, wanting to call to him, but he did not then have a name.
    Only Mother forbore stretching eyes to see afar. She held the baby atop a shuck tick, her face pale with dread to look upon the house. A mort of things she had told Father before he had gone to raise the dwelling. “Ere a board is rived,” she’d said, “dig a cellar. There’ll be no more pokes o’ victuals coming from the commissary.” She had told him the pattern for the chimney, roof, and walls; she told him more than a body could keep in his head, saying at last, “Could I lend a hand, ’twould be a satisfaction.”
    Father had grinned. “A nail you drove would turn corkscrew. A blow-sarpent couldn’t quile to your saw marks. Hit’s man’s work. A man’s got to wear the breeches.” Oh, Father nearly had a laughing spell listening to Mother’s talk. Mother had said, “A house proper to raise chaps in, a cellar for laying by food, and lasty neighbors. Now, that hain’t asking for the moon-ball.”
    I recollect