“Shut up, Dickie,” a husky voice said matter-of-factly. It was Jimmy Bly. “Come on out, man. He’s just full of hot air. We’re gonna have some fun today!”
Jimmy motioned to him to follow—and that’s all it took. Instantly, Gabriel was in the tribe. His fear subsided, and he felt a surge of courage.
He stumbled out of the cornstalks with his jar of marbles and fell in behind five other boys following the great Jimmy Bly.
When they arrived at the pond, Jimmy shouted, “Everybody gather ’round! We’ve got a special event today. We’re having a root beer tournament!”
He reached into his denim overalls pocket and pulled out two fistfuls of barrel-shaped root beer candies and placed them on top of a tree stump. “Yeah, baby! Woo-hoo! General J.J. can’t play! He always wins!”
Shouts and cheers rose up from all members of the tribe. Most boys couldn’t afford treats like root beer barrels very often. The fact that this candy was probably stolen made the game that much more exciting.
The tribe gathered around to listen to Jimmy’s instructions. “Okay, everyone. It’s mud wrestling day.”
All the boys cheered. “General J.J. will referee since he killed everyone last time. J.J., here’s a couple of root beers for you as payment for your services.” Jimmy tossed the bite-sized candies to him. General J.J. smiled and immediately unwrapped both pieces, shoving the candies into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in months.
The boys discussed who would wrestle whom. James Roy Holly and the other fisherman put their poles down and came running. Gabriel enjoyed the banter, but he certainly didn’t want to wrestle, not on the muddy shore. The small lake had receded a bit due to a dry spell in Cairo. What was left was dark, moist mud—perfect for wrestling.
Jimmy drew a big circle in the mud with a diameter that ran about fifteen paces across. The boys, naturally, gathered around for the first match.
Two of the smaller boys, Henry and Jamie, had climbed one of the cottonwoods for a bird’s-eye view of the action. At six years of age, they weren’t ready for the big wrestling matches, but they loved being around the bigger boys.
Gabriel wanted to avoid wrestling, so he set his jar of marbles in a dense mulberry bush next to one of the cottonwood trees—he didn’t want anyone stealing his most prized possession. Then he hopped up on the first branch.
“General J.J., would you please introduce our first contestants,” Jimmy shouted, using his best announcer voice.
General J.J. held his right arm up to get everyone’s attention. “Today’s first match will be. . .” He paused for effect. “Little Will versus Dickie Colter!”
Everybody cheered—this would be a great tussle. Little Will was the feistiest six-year-old around, and Dickie Colter was the mouthy mean kid. Each had something to prove, the makings of a perfect pond battle.
Gabriel was so excited to be there that he couldn’t stop giggling. He looked up and saw Henry and Jamie on branches at least twenty feet above the ground. Gabriel was scared to climb up that high, but he thought if first-graders could do it, then he could too.
As the boys were getting ready to begin the match, Gabriel started to climb up higher. He walked his legs up the trunk, telling himself not to look down. Once he reached the level of Henry and Jamie, though, he looked down and immediately became paralyzed with fear. A fall from this height would not be good.
Gabriel came to rest between the massive trunk and the branch the boys were sitting on. They motioned to him to come on out, but he looked down again. The branch hung over the water, which frightened Gabriel even more.
“Gabriel! Let me know when you’re ready,” yelled Jimmy. “You’ll be the scorekeeper, okay?”
Gabriel didn’t respond as he clutched the broad branch with everything he had. He lay on his stomach and tried to shimmy out like a snake. As he was inching his way toward the boys, he became more and more afraid. His palms grew sweaty, and he began to visualize what might happen if he fell into the pond.
Gabriel had learned to swim as a little boy, but he hadn’t been in the water since his father drowned and was terrified of it. Down below, the boys were cheering and having a great time as the combatants in the first match squared off.
Gabriel reached out to brace himself on a small twig. As he tried to pull himself closer to the boys, he placed his right foot on a small branch for leverage. The twig snapped, causing Gabriel to lose his balance. In the blink of an eye, Gabriel found himself dangling from the branch, holding on for dear life with just his hands—a good twenty feet in the air.
“Help. . . help!” Gabriel cried out.
All the boys on the ground saw what was happening. General J.J. yelled, “Just drop into the water, man!”
Dickie taunted him. “What are you scared of, Gabriel? You sound like my little sister!”
Jimmy called out, “Hang on, Gabriel. I’m coming.” He rushed over to the tree and began scaling it.
Gabriel screamed, “I can’t hang on much longer!”
Six-year-old Henry, who was sitting on the same branch just a few feet away, made his way toward Gabriel by scooting on his seat, inch by inch. He was reaching for Gabriel’s hand when the unthinkable happened. Henry lost his balance and fell like a rag doll, bouncing off another branch and splashing into the pond. It all happened so fast.
Gabriel, momentarily distracted, lost his grip and fell into the pond right after him. In a panic, he flailed his arms in an effort to stay above the water.
The boys responded immediately. General J.J. and Jimmy dove into the pond to fish the boys out. J.J. was strong enough to pull Gabriel to the shore.
Gabriel, who had ingested water, was coughing and hacking—and crying uncontrollably.
“Where’s Henry?” yelled one of the boys in the midst of the pandemonium.
“I haven’t found him!” Jimmy yelled.
Several more boys ran into the pond to join the search in the dark water. Jimmy dove down again, but this time he was successful. He cradled Henry, who was coughing and spitting up water. Jimmy pulled him onto the bank, where the other boys gathered around to see if their friend was all right.
The boys were shell-shocked at the turn of events. Through his tears, Gabriel said, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to watch.” He continued to gasp for air so that he could control his crying.
“Are you an idiot?” Dickie asked. “You almost killed him! Why are you even here?” As Dickie turned and started walking away, he mumbled to J.J., “That kid is worthless.”
“Shut up, Dickie!” General J.J. growled at him. He turned to Gabriel and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, man. It wasn’t your fault.”
Gabriel knew otherwise. Henry had almost died trying to help him, and Gabriel was filled with shame.
His first real effort to conquer his fear and connect with the boys of Cairo was a disaster. They wouldn’t be seeing him again at the pond. It was safer to stick close to home— in his secret place.
There was no way he could take a chance on hurting anyone else. He was angry at the water. He was angry with himself.
Better, though, to keep everything to himself.
Risk was not an option anymore.
FOUR
Corn Dogs and Marbles
HAS ANYONE SEEN GBRIEL THIS MORNING?”
Maggie dropped by the Cartwrights’ front door to ask if they had seen her son.
Mister Earl got up from the dining room table to greet Maggie. “Last I seen him, he was milling around in the barn,” he replied as he swiped at the biscuit crumbs on his shirt. “Chasing some little critter around.”
“That boy hasn’t eaten yet, and it’s about time to leave,” Maggie said with a little agitation in her voice.
“Gabriel!” She paused to listen from the Cartwrights’ front porch. “Gabriel Clarke, you need to come eat. It’s time to leave!” That’s when she saw her son running from the back of the barn. He bounded right past her up the front porch steps.
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sp; “Hi, Mom,” he said nonchalantly. He walked through the front door, and Maggie watched Gabriel march to the Cartwrights’ table and put one of Miss Vonda’s biscuits in his mouth and another in his pocket. Then he blitzed toward the front door again.
“And where do you think you’re going?” his mother asked.
“Back out to play.”
“Don’t you remember? We’re going to the farmer’s market with Mister Earl and Miss Vonda.”
“Great! I’ll go wait in the truck.”
Miss Vonda stepped out of the kitchen after rinsing the last of the breakfast dishes. She always packed a picnic basket of food for the trip to the farmer’s market. It was only about an hour away, but Miss Vonda made it her mission in life to make sure nobody ever got too hungry. Maggie knew she usually packed homemade rolls and jam, apples, sliced cucumbers, and carrots from the garden.
It was 7:20 a.m. and time for them to roll out on a calm and cool morning in early October. The sun was breaking through a few scattered clouds and warming the day slowly but surely.
Every few weeks or so they’d load up the old pickup and make the trip of discovery and adventure a few towns over to the All County Farmer’s Market. It was always a highlight for Gabriel and one of the few times he experienced life outside of school or the farm. There was a lot more going on out there than he knew about.
Farmers from all over the county were there, selling their fresh fruits and vegetables, but the farmer’s market was much more than that. There were quilt-makers, livestock auctions, clogging competitions, woodworkers, and corn dogs to die for. Some folks rented space to sell their knickknacks or stuff they no longer wanted.
On this Saturday morning, the Cartwrights and Maggie made their way out of the screen door as it slammed behind them. They didn’t need to lock up the house; this was Cairo. They walked down the front porch steps and headed to the truck.
Gabriel was already sitting in the truck bed with his legs crossed, finishing off his biscuit. He looked at Mister Earl, gave one nod of his head, and smiled. Mister Earl got in the driver’s side and waited while the two ladies opened the passenger door. Miss Vonda got in first, hoisting her stout frame up while holding her basket of goodies. Maggie, wearing one of her white farm dresses with the small blue flowers, got in next. She had a natural beauty and grace about her. With her tan skin, brown eyes, and long, dirty-blond hair, she always got a lot of looks from the men at the market, but she didn’t pay much attention. Mister Earl cranked up the truck and put it in gear.
“Good day for the market,” he said to anyone who would listen. He popped the clutch, and away they went down the bumpy driveway. Before they made it off of the farm, Gabriel poked his head into the passenger window, his hair blowing in the breeze.
“Can I get a corn dog today?” he asked loudly.
“Yes,” replied his mother. “Now sit down before you fall out.” Maggie smiled contentedly as they made their way to the main road.
After their seventy-minute rumble through rolling farmsteads, they arrived. It was just nearing nine o’clock, and there was already a good crowd.
Gabriel stood up in the back of the truck, peering over the cab with excitement as they parked their car in a dusty field. Some of the exhibitors had set up their booths in the covered areas, while others just backed up their trucks in a row and sold their goods from the tailgate.
There were about eight rows of open-air buildings and a covered livestock area where cows, pigs, chickens, and other domestic animals were sold. Depending on which way the wind blew, visitors smelled either livestock or the heaven-sent fragrance of corn dogs in the fryer.
Maggie was grateful that Gabriel was now having more good days than bad ones. Life still wasn’t easy for them, but days like this one made the journey worth the struggle.
As soon as Mister Earl put the truck in park, Gabriel jumped out and ran ahead.
“Wait for us, Gabriel!” Maggie shouted with a grin.
“Well, somebody’s excited today,” Miss Vonda said as she scooted down the bench seat.
“Come on, Ma!” Mister Earl urged.
Miss Vonda just glared at him. It took her a little longer due to her short stature. They made their way to the first row of buildings to take in the sights and see what treasures they might find.
They spent the first part of the morning wandering through the livestock barn and watching the steer auction. Then they made their way to Miss Vonda’s favorite area, the Quilt Shack. The handmade quilts were so elaborate and perfect that one would think that the whole idea of quilts originated with the All County Farmer’s Market.
“I love the way it smells in here,” Gabriel said as he breathed in deeply, lifting his nose in the air. He often commented that these ladies smelled like cinnamon and that he wondered if you had to have your hair in a bun to make quilts.
“I’m going to the vegetables,” Mister Earl announced. He could take only so much of the arts and crafts section. “Gabriel, you want to pick out some beans?”
Gabriel immediately looked at his mom.
“Stay close to Mister Earl,” Maggie said firmly. Gabriel jumped at the chance to spend time with Mister Earl. He was like a grandpa, maybe even like Grandpa Isaac, who used to run the Big Water Adventure Camp back in Corley Falls.
Gabriel and Mister Earl spent a solid hour looking at all the fresh vegetables and picking out two pounds of green beans. Gabriel loved to snap the beans to check for freshness. After they finished loading their haul into the back of the truck, they headed back to catch the clogging competition, where they knew they’d find Miss Vonda and Maggie.
They found them in the last row as the final act, the Cottonwood Cloggers, took the stage. They were the best around. Most people said they always won because they put the cutest kids in front. Everybody cheered wildly as they finished their impressive routine.
“Mom. Mom. Mom!” Gabriel got louder and louder as he yanked on Maggie’s sleeve. “Can we get a corn dog now?” He didn’t seem to care about seeing who won the clogging competition. His stomach was growling, and the smell of fried corn dogs filled the air.
“Let’s wait to see who wins,” said his mother. “They’re getting ready to make the announcement now.”
The master of ceremonies came on the loudspeaker. “And the blue ribbon goes to. . . the Cottonwood Cloggers!” Gabriel gave a halfhearted clap or two and then grabbed Maggie’s arm.
“Mom, I’m starving!”
“Okay, we’re going,” Maggie replied.
The four of them made their way over to Cappy’s Corn Dogs, always a highlight of the trip. Cappy, a skinny man in his seventies with wrinkled skin and sunken cheeks, had been selling his tasty corn dogs at the All County Farmer’s Market for seventeen years. Nobody was sure if Cappy could eat his own corn dogs because he had only three teeth left—two on the bottom and one on the top.
“Corn dogs, corn dogs! Git yer yellow mustard and corn dogs!” he bellowed like an auctioneer.
He wore a dingy black-and-white striped railroad conductor’s cap. Word had it that Cappy used to be an old steam engine captain in New Mexico. Or maybe he just made that up to sell corn dogs. Either way, the shtick worked.
“Why does he shout like he’s getting punched in the stomach?” Gabriel asked his mother as they waited in a long line.
“He’s trying to get customers,” Maggie said through a chuckle. “Looks like he has plenty of those. Look how long the line is.”
Maggie smiled contentedly, grateful for a good day, appreciative that they were making a happy memory. Holding hands and swinging them like two kids, they waited in line with Miss Vonda for their very own Cappy corn dog.
Gabriel dug into his corn dog fiercely, occasionally splattering yellow mustard on his shirt, but he didn’t care. They ate as they contentedly strolled past the vendors and their wares.
Miss Vonda finished off the last bite of her corn dog. “Earl must be buying a lot more vegetables for him to be gone this
long,” she said.
“Oh, look at these beautiful handbags,” Maggie said with a longing in her voice. She didn’t have the money for such luxuries, but she loved to browse. “Look at the stitching. And the leather is so soft.” She ran her hand over one of the bags.
“That there is gen-yew-ine deer hide. Killed, cleaned, and crafted by yours truly,” said the man in the booth.
Maggie didn’t dare ask how much. She was just admiring the beauty of the handbag.
“Gabriel, someday when you have lots of money, you can buy your momma one of these,” Maggie said to Gabriel with a grin. Except he wasn’t there. She spun her head back around, looking for her son.
“Gabriel,” she said loudly.
“Gabriel!” This time she shouted.
“I didn’t see him leave,” said Miss Vonda.
Her heart sank as she looked in every direction. Mild panic set in as she kept calling his name loudly, but he was nowhere in sight. Miss Vonda turned and walked quickly to the next row of buildings. She stood at a four-way intersection to see if she could find Gabriel. Maggie did the same one row over.
“Gabriel. . . Gabriel Clarke!” Maggie stood on her tippy-toes and peered over the crowd to the last row—and there he was, about twenty-five yards down the way. He was standing, mesmerized, in front of a booth.
“I found him!” Maggie yelled to Miss Vonda as she walked furiously toward him. She picked up the pace to a jog, and when she got to him, Maggie grabbed his left arm and spun him around.
“You gotta tell me when you want to go see something! Don’t run off like that! You’re gonna give your momma a heart attack!”
Gabriel didn’t respond. He just looked at her, smiled, and pointed. At the top of the booth, hanging crooked by one nail, was an old-fashioned, hand-carved sign made out of a piece of driftwood that read “Magic River Marbles.”
Maggie had never seen this booth, although they had visited the market many times. It was fronted by a trough made from rough-hewn wood. Inside the trough was crystal clear water, about eight inches deep. The sunlight hit the water in an intriguing way, making it look as if it were actually moving. Maggie could see the reflection of hundreds of beautiful marbles scattered among a bed of smooth gray river stones throughout the trough.
The River Page 4
