Judy's Journey Read Free Page A

Reeves again. “We’re a-goin’ where the sun’s a-shinin’ and a man can make a crop of his own. We’re lightin’ out right away, the sooner, the better.”
    Old Man Reeves seemed surprised and taken aback. He had been expecting an argument and maybe a fight.
    â€œWhere you off to, Jim, anyhow?” he asked amiably. “Where’d’ you git the car? Latest model, eh? Roby Watson’s got a tenant-house empty, but he won’t treat you half as good as I been doin’. Where you off to?”
    Papa just rubbed his chin and said nothing.
    â€œDon’t you wisht you knew!” sang out Judy spitefully. “There’s plenty places to go to. It’s a free country, I reckon.”
    Joe Bob and Cora Jane began to dance up and down. “Don’t you wisht you knew! Don’t you wisht you knew! It’s a free country, a free country.”
    Still Papa didn’t say a word. His silence made Reeves angry.
    â€œI’d ought to knock you down,” the man began slowly, “for the way you’ve neglected this place and lost me the cotton crop and stole fertilizer and stuff and ain’t worked the crops nor kept your part of the bargain. Lookin’ to me to feed and clothe you and furnish you medicines for a sick family and then ruinin’ the cotton crop.”
    â€œI reckon we’re about even, Reeves,” said Papa in a cold, hard voice. “You know what you been sayin’ ain’t true. ’Twas the rain ruint the cotton. For three years now I’ve worked my fingers to the bone for you and what do I get out of it? Nothin’. I’m worse off than when I come here. Mind how I never got that new wagon I wanted? Well, it’s over now. I’m through bein’ a sharecropper—lucky I got spunk enough left to clear out. Ever since you made away with my boy’s puppy dog——”
    â€œOh Papa! Did he kill it?” Joe Bob began to kick and scream.
    â€œSteady, boy, steady,” said Papa. “Cryin’ won’t bring your puppy dog back. Well, ever since then, I made up my mind I wouldn’t stay no longer.”
    â€œYou made up your mind?” said Reeves. “’Twas me told you to go.”
    â€œAll right, have it your way,” said Papa. “Anyhow I’m goin’ where my young uns can git some education and learn to do a little figgerin’. I never went past the Fourth Grade myself. I reckon if I’d a stayed in school and learnt more about addin’ up dollars and cents, I might a looked over them commissary books of yours and seen how you was robbin’ and cheatin’ me, and fixin’ it so I couldn’t never git a cent of cash money ahead but was always in debt at the end of the year. I’m goin’ where my young uns can go to school instead of workin’ all day in the cotton field, pickin’ cotton.” Papa looked over at Mama and smiled. “We’ll git us a piece of land all our own .…”
    â€œFine!” sneered Reeves. “Where’ll you git it—shiftless, lazy folks like you-all?” He climbed in his car and drove off.
    They were all happy when he was gone. Papa took a paper bag from his pocket and passed it around. It was full of candy kisses wrapped in shiny paper. They each had one. Their cheeks bulged out fat as they sucked noisily.
    â€œWhose car, Jim?” asked Mama.
    They all looked at the old ramshackle Ford. It had a homemade two-wheeled trailer fastened on behind.
    â€œOur’n,” said Papa, with a sly smile. “It’s gonna take us where we want to go. Come on, young uns, help me load up this plunder.”
    Papa and Joe Bob and Judy set to work. They put the larger pieces of furniture into the trailer and the bedsprings on top of the car. The oil stove and bundles of bedding were tied to the left runningboard, washtub and buckets on the spare tire in back.
    â€œI got plumb