Manroot Read Free Page A

it’s the Meramec River,” he said aloud. It was not their destination. Someone on the road had told them of work in St. Louis on the levee of the mighty Mississippi River. This spot was thirty-five miles short of the mark. She nodded and he watched her lips moving slightly as she too read the sign.
    “ Damn sure ain’t…don’t look like the Mississippi,” he commented sourly as he stood, unbuttoned his trousers, and urinated into the muddy water. She averted her gaze until he spoke again.
    “ Damn sure ain’t,” he repeated, disgusted.
    “ Maybe it’s not much further,” she commented.
    Ignoring her remark, he looked about at the trees and hills and spied the huge stone building ahead, a painted sign rocking back and forth in the wind. “Looks like a hotel.”
    She nodded, agreeing with him as she sat rubbing her bare feet. Even though she was tired from the many miles they had walked that day, she felt a lift from the beauty of the place. The gentle hills around them were brilliant with color, wild redbud trees still wore the bright purple blossoms of spring and the dogwoods, while smaller, were heavy with tiny flowers of the gentlest pink. Higher up on the ridges stood tall oaks and elms with their straight trunks, in nature’s arrangement more perfect than an artist’s canvas. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was unseasonably warm for May.
    Fol lowing her eyes, Jesse commented, “Oaks…best trees in the country. Why, when I was logging---” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing she knew better and too tired to continue the fabrication. He pointed toward the hotel. “We’ll try for work there.” He hitched up his trousers purposefully, put his hat back on his head, replaced the handkerchief in his pocket and set off again, hoping with all his heart that they sold whiskey.
    In the small, homey hotel they were told to go round the back and ask for Frieda. As they reached the cobblestone yard, they heard a shrill voice cursing violently at someone, and came upon a confusion of people and sounds. Under the shade of a huge tree stood a mammoth iron kettle held up by a tripod; glowing embers hissed beneath it, and a woman, rather handsome, stout, with flaming red hair and face to match, was chasing a man with a curious long L-shaped stick.
    “ You dumb bastard, I said no pine,” she shrieked as she swung the stick at the man, who dropped his armload of logs to protect his face. “Oh, you’re stupid as a jackass, you are. I should have known better than to hire me a dummy!” she raged.
    As she yelled, he turned and ran off in terror into the thick woods.
    “Bruce, come back here!” she hollered at his retreating back, knowing he wouldn’t.
    She turned toward them then and started when she saw Jesse and Katherine standing there holding their bundles. Forgetting her rage, she looked them over from head to toe, noticing that the girl’s sandals were on the wrong feet. Katherine looked down and realizing her mistake, blushed crimson.
    “ Well, what do you want? You can see I’m busy.”
    Jesse issued what he hoped was a friendly smile. “The man at the desk said---”
    She didn ’t let him finish. “You know pinewood from the others?”
    “ Yes, ma’am,” he lied.
    “ The woodshed’s back there – get me some small kindling right quick. Not pine,” she ordered.
    He picked up a piece to aid him, and soon found that sniffing helped him make the right choice.
    In his absence, the woman turned to Katherine and held out the stick. “Here, girl, stir…the paddle-side down in the kettle, like this.”
    Timidly, Katherine took the paddle from her and stirred the pot evenly to keep the mixture from burning. Watching the girl for a minute, she spoke aloud, though really to herself. “Damn dummy. With chasing him around, I could have broken that paddle – cypress wood. I don’t know where I could have got another one…cypress don’t grow around here.”
    “ Yes, ma’am,” Katherine