“They look like stars,” Gabriel said with wonder as he peered down into the water.
“Twenty-five cents a handful, and that includes a pouch.” A kind and wise voice emanated from behind the trough. A large man with a flowing white beard and locks, wearing well-worn denim overalls, made his way to a rocking chair. He lowered himself slowly and fell back with a sigh. Then he propped his feet up on a wooden crate and rested his right hand over the side of the trough. He twirled the water with his fingers and motioned to Gabriel, who was staring into the water.
“Go ahead, young man. Pick up some marbles. See what you think.”
Gabriel immediately reached down and ran his hands through the watery channel. He desperately wanted to select just the right ones. He pulled out three large Aggies. The marbles were clear with beautiful streaks of blue and gray. Gabriel took one between his left thumb and forefinger. Squinting with one eye, he lifted the marble to the light as if looking through a gun scope.
“Those are magic marbles, boy. If you look close, you’ll see. . . they have The River in them. Yeah, The River gives the marbles their beauty.”
The old man motioned to Gabriel to hand him an Aggie, which he held into the light.
“Legend has it if you put these marbles under your bed while you sleep and think real hard on the good things, they’ll give you wonderful dreams.”
He handed the Aggie back to Gabriel. He put his feet down, leaned forward, and raised his eyebrows. With a little mystery in his voice he declared, “I’m talking about dreams where you’ll have the courage to follow your heart, and nothing will stop you. The River is alive, you know. It never stops moving. Every time you look at each marble, you’ll see something you haven’t seen before. That’s the magic of The River in there.”
Maggie looked down at Gabriel.
Without moving, still staring at the marble, Gabriel said, “Mom, can I? Can I buy some marbles?”
Without hesitation, Maggie reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a handful of coins.
“Here, Gabe,” she said as she lowered her hand and offered it to Gabriel.
With wet fingers, he picked out the only quarter in the handful of coins and immediately passed it to the old man, who handed him a leather pouch about the size of a baseball.
“Fill it up, young man. . . as many as you can stuff in there.”
Gabriel dropped in the three Aggies and then took his time examining several marbles in the trough. One by one, he dipped his hand into the water and dropped the marbles into his pouch. He stuffed his pouch so full that he could barely close the drawstring.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, son. I hope you enjoy them.” The old man gazed at the boy with a generous smile on his face.
“What do you say, Gabriel?” his mother asked.
Gabriel finally took his eyes off of the marbles, looked up at the kind man, and said, “Thank you.”
The old man chuckled like Santa Claus.
“All the best, young man. All the best.”
Gabriel and Maggie, along with Miss Vonda, headed back toward the lemonade stand, where they met up with Mister Earl. They made their way back to the pickup truck to start the journey home. Gabriel jumped in the back right away. He sat down, put his legs together, and began taking his marbles out one at a time to look at them and count them.
“You better put them back in the pouch while we drive,” his mother said before she got in the truck.
After they pulled out of the parking lot, Miss Vonda made an observation. “When that boy sees something he wants, he just goes after it, doesn’t he? My goodness, though. What a scare that was when we couldn’t find him.”
Maggie didn’t reply as she stared out the window in a daze. Memories of life at The River—life with John— came flooding back. She remembered how much she used to love living near The River. There was a freshness in the air and an adventure to life when they were together at Corley Falls. But that was years ago. She hadn’t been around The River since Gabriel was less than a year old. After a few minutes Miss Vonda spoke up again.
“You okay, dear?”
“Oh. . . uh. . . yeah, I’m okay.”
“Was it just the marbles? That boy is crazy about marbles.”
Maggie paused for a second, then looked at Miss Vonda with a thoughtful smile.
“His daddy used to play marbles with him. I think it’s more than just the marbles, but I don’t know. It was a good day, Miss Vonda. . . a good day.”
The next time they went to the All County Farmer’s Market, Maggie and Gabriel searched for the person they called the River Marble Man. He was nowhere to be found.
They dropped by the main office to ask the whereabouts of the old man with a white beard and white hair who sold marbles sitting at the bottom of a water-filled trough.
The manager said he didn’t know who they were talking about, nor could he find a record of a man going by that description.
“Sounds like a mystery to me,” said the man in charge. “Apparently, he was just passing through town.”
FIVE
Mister Earl and the Pig Trip
1962
THE FIRST DAYS OF SPRING IN CAIRO WERE BEAUTIful. The warm air and steady breeze across the plains coaxed millions of wildflowers to erupt everywhere. Like the arrival of a letter from a best friend, the longer days of spring brought anticipation and the encouragement of a fresh start.
The last few years had been healing for Gabriel. He was managing well in school, and the hard days were fewer now, but they still came from time to time. As his confidence grew, however, so did his impetuous nature. The few freckles on his cheeks were more pronounced, and his hair had turned darker.
His frame was certainly lengthening. At age eleven, he was just a few inches shy of his mom’s five-foot, sixinch stature. He was unusually strong for his age, and Mister Earl liked to utilize his help around the farm from time to time. He could manage most of the tools now, and splitting logs was one of his favorite chores. He liked how strong he felt when he drove the axe right through the wood with one giant swing.
Then again, nothing beat driving the tractor, but that was a rare treat.
It was the end of a hard week for Maggie. The diner had been slow, which cut into her tips. On top of that, she hadn’t been sleeping well. Gabriel’s recent maturing had reminded her that he was approaching the difficult adolescent years without a father to guide him through. She awoke every day with that thought in the back of her mind.
On Friday she arrived home at three thirty from her early shift. Walking slowly up the front porch steps, she opened the rickety screen door and dropped her keys and purse on the farm table in the kitchen.
“I’m home,” she announced. “Hello. . . anybody here?” She walked over to the icebox and yanked on the handle like it was a slot machine.
“Okay. I’m going to eat this last piece of cherry pie,” she said, raising the pitch of her voice. The house was eerily quiet except for the tinkling of the wind chimes that Mister Earl had hung outside the kitchen window.
She lit the gas stove and filled her teapot with water before she sat down at the table. Slouching in her chair, she let out a big sigh and stared at the small piece of pie, trying to find comfort in its presence.
“I guess it’s just you and me,” she muttered.
She got up and took off her work apron and hung it on a hook by the clock. While she waited for her water to boil, she decided to change out of her work clothes, which smelled like a combination of bacon grease and stale coffee. As she began to take the bobby pins out of her hair, she rounded the corner into the bedroom and was startled.
“Gabriel, you scared me! I didn’t think anyone was home,” she gasped with both hands over her chest.
Gabriel didn’t look up. He and Jimmy were sitting on the cot, staring down at a picture.
“Hi, Jimmy!” Maggie walked closer and saw the picture—a black-and-white photograph yellowed with age,
the one Gabriel treasured. It was a snapshot of his father, John Clarke, holding Gabriel when he was five years old. The towheaded boy had his right arm around the back of his dad’s neck, and the other one was pointing at the camera.
Both of them had spectacular smiles on their faces. They were standing in front of The River at Big Water Adventure Camp on the day before the big hike and the tragedy that would change their lives forever.
Maggie’s eyes immediately welled up as she cupped her left hand over her quivering mouth. She tried to hold back the tears, but she couldn’t. She paused for a moment to collect herself.
Jimmy looked up at her.
She sat down on the edge of her bed. Gabriel sniffled.
“Gabe was telling me about The River and all.” Jimmy’s voice was reverent.
“That’s a great picture. Look at those crystal eyes of yours,” Maggie reminisced.
Gabriel did not respond. He pulled his right hand up and wiped his eyes with one aggressive stroke.
“Look how small you were. . . your blond hair—”
Gabriel interrupted her. “You weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?” he asked with a firm tone.
“What?” Maggie was taken aback by the question.
“Why did The River take my dad? Why?” Gabriel’s voice was getting louder. “The River didn’t need my father. I was on the mountain, and you weren’t there. I waited for Dad, and he never came back!” Gabriel got up and headed for the door. Jimmy followed.
Like always when Gabriel was lost in his grief, Maggie struggled to find the right words.
“I know, honey. I know. I’m sorry.” She had always felt so much guilt and remorse that she hadn’t been there for Gabriel—or John.
Gabriel stuffed the picture into his pocket and stormed out onto the front porch. Jimmy stood awkwardly in the doorway.
“Guess I’d better go,” he said, looking at Maggie. She nodded.
Jimmy jumped off the top step and jogged down the gravel drive. Gabriel was already off toward the barn.
“Gabriel!” Maggie shouted.
Mister Earl was on his way in from the fields and had seen Gabriel storming off. He fidgeted with his keys in his pocket.
“I’ll go check on him,” he said solemnly. Maggie nodded and choked back more tears.
Mister Earl walked outside and slowly made his way into the barn. He didn’t see the boy at first, but farther in he saw Gabriel sitting with his back against the large rear tractor tire.
“You think you can help me with something tomorrow?” Mister Earl asked. Gabriel was drawing in the sawdust floor with his finger.
Mister Earl shuffled his feet. “I’m going to the pig sale tomorrow. I could use a hand with those rascals. Then maybe I’ll take you to my favorite thing in the world.”
That last statement caught Gabriel’s attention. He looked up with swollen eyes at the older man.
“You can’t go with me to my favorite thing unless you help me get rid of some of those pigs, though.”
“I’ll help,” Gabriel said with curiosity.
“We leave at daybreak.” Mister Earl turned and started to walk out of the barn.
“Uh. . . what’s your favorite thing?”
“You’ll find out tomorrow.”
Gabriel woke up the next morning just before daylight, excited to be going with Mister Earl. The boy soaked up any attention he got from the man. Gabriel ran out to the barnyard and found Mister Earl slapping the pigs on the rump.
“Yaw, pig, yaw. . . get in there,” he bellowed as he rustled several pigs up the ramp into the back of the truck. He could fit about seven fattened hogs into the truck bed. Gabriel stood on the bottom rung of the fence and watched.
“Gabriel, go get that last one, would ya? He ain’t cooperating today.”
“Isn’t that Sinus?” Every now and then, Mister Earl would name a pig if it had some kind of distinctive trait. Sinus had an eternally runny snout.
Mister Earl tramped over into the barn. Gabriel jumped over the fence and inched his way over to the last behemoth, trying to avoid becoming bacon.
“Come on, Sinus! Yaw, pig!” Gabriel yelled. The pig let out a snort and sprinted up into the truck bed, which had wooden fence sides to keep the pigs inside.
“That was easy!” Thrilled with his accomplishment, Gabriel closed the rear gate. Mister Earl came back from the barn carrying a couple of fishing poles and a mesh bag.
“Is that your favorite thing?” he asked enthusiastically.
“Yep. Now go get that cooler on the front seat and go get some ice. We gotta keep these chicken livers cold, or they will stink us up good and Miss Vonda won’t let me back in the house. Catfish love chicken livers.”
“Fishing!” Gabriel was thrilled and nervous all at once. He’d always wanted to go fishing. His friends at the pond asked him to fish from time to time, but because of his fear of water, he would always find something else to do. Mister Earl would keep him safe, though.
After a ninety-minute ride, they arrived at the auction barn. People from all over showed up every third Saturday to sell their swine.
“These pigs look fat this time,” Mister Earl said as they parked. “Here’s hoping they weigh good and heavy. Some extra money would come in handy.”
The auction went very well. They sold their seven hogs within an hour and a half and made their way back to the truck. Gabriel noticed that Mister Earl had more pep in his walk now. The pigs had weighed in quite heavy, and now he had the cash he needed to do necessary repairs around the farm.
The pig sale took place close to the Kansas and Oklahoma border. They got into the truck and headed south for another half hour. They turned off the main roads and onto a curvy dirt road that led them into wooded terrain. Mister Earl slowed down and made the last hairpin turn to the right before the woods opened up to a beautiful bluff.
About one hundred yards ahead was the Arkansas River, which made a slow, bending turn. With a steady, firm current, the ripples in the river reflected the sun’s rays like a million flickering candles. Massive cottonwood trees lined each bank like mighty soldiers on guard.
“Not many people know about this spot. That’s why I like it.”
He pulled the truck underneath a shady area about fifty yards from the water. All they could hear was the lapping of gentle rapids and the sound of the leafy trees applauding softly as the warm breeze would come and go. Mister Earl started to untie the poles. Gabriel didn’t move. He was transfixed by the broad and majestic river.
“Gabriel, can you grab the cooler and this bucket back here?”
Gabriel opened his door slowly, still staring at the water.
“That’s a big river,” he said cautiously.
“Yep. She’s big, and she’s got lots of catfish in her right now. Let’s go catch us some dinner.” Mister Earl walked on ahead, carrying the fishing poles. Gabriel had the cooler and an empty five-gallon paint bucket to put the fish in.
Gabriel felt himself getting nervous as they got closer to the water. His heart beat faster. He’d hoped fishing didn’t mean he would have to get close to the river.
Mister Earl got his pole and started baiting his hook. “You gotta work the hook through the chicken liver two or three times to make sure it’s on there good. Watch yourself on the hook. Once it gets in you, it dudn’t want to come out.”
Gabriel watched Mister Earl put on waders. “Are you going in the water?”
“Sure,” the old man replied. “That’s where the fish are, aren’t they?”
“I think I’ll just watch for now,” Gabriel said. “Suit yourself.”
Gabriel turned the bucket over and sat down. All he could think about was how big the river was and how much he didn’t want to go into the water.
Mister Earl slogged out in his waders, and once the water got up to his knees, he cast a line upstream. The chicken liver bait splashed into the water, and he waited for the line to slowly pass him and head downstream. In an instant, thou
gh, his rod bent violently, and he yanked it up, setting the hook in the fish.
“Yee-hoo, fish!” he yelled as he cranked the reel. It took him only about fifteen seconds to reel his first catfish to the surface.
“Boy, those things fight!” Mister Earl reached into the water and grabbed the fish, placing his thumb into its mouth and his fingers into the gills. The catfish must have been two feet long or better, and a plump one at that. Mister Earl hoisted the flapping fish and walked toward Gabriel.
“See? He’s smilin’ at ya!”
Gabriel was surprised. Mister Earl wasn’t usually this talkative—or happy, for that matter. Gabriel, grinning from ear to ear, stood up to greet him.
“Fill up that bucket with some water, Gabe. We got us some fish here!”
Gabriel did as he was told, and Mister Earl dumped his first fish into the paint bucket. He waded back out into the river, and lo and behold, he got another strike right away. This kept happening over and over until the fish bucket was nearly full.
Gabriel loved watching Mister Earl fish, and he was feeling more at ease by the river. He took off his shoes and began sticking his toes in just off the bank.
“Hey, Mister Earl. . . Mister Earl!” He had to shout since a breeze had picked up and Mister Earl had waded upstream a little farther. “Can I catch one?”
Mister Earl reeled in his line and sloshed back to shore. As he got closer, he held up an empty hook at the end of his line.
“You see that? There’s a thief out there stealing my bait. Let’s get you fixed up. Then I’ll take you out there.”
“I don’t want to go too far out.”
“We won’t. But if you want to catch a fish, you gotta get out a little ways to reach ’em.”
Mister Earl returned to the truck, where he fetched a second pair of waders from behind the front seat.
“These are Miss Vonda’s. They’ll be a little big for ya, but they’ll do. Lord knows I can’t get her to wear ’em.”
The River Page 5
