The Well Read Free Page B

Henry with his cow came too. I looked back at the Simmses, at Dewberry and George, and wondered if they would follow. They didn’t. Once we were out of sight and hearing distance of them, John Henry stopped his cow and he said, “Ya know ya crazy, don’t ya, Hammer? Ya crazy to go talkin’ to these white folks like that! Don’t ya know these white folks’ll kill ya?”
    Hammer looked at John Henry. “I ’spect I do,” he said, then he moved on and headed the cows straight into the muddy waters of the Rosa Lee.
    John Henry Berry shook his head. “Crazy,” he muttered. “Plain, downright crazy. I stay friends with you, I hope you don’t end up gettin’ me hung.”
    I looked at John Henry and knew how he was feeling; but Hammer was just Hammer, and I followed after him. So did John Henry.
    I suspect the Simmses and Dewberry Wallace knew once we were out of their sight that we watered our cows in the Rosa Lee. I ’spect they knew that, but they didn’t come after us. I was nervous about watering those cows in that creek and John Henry was too, but Hammer stayed his time, letting the cows drink their muddy fill. Then, after what seemed like an eternityto this David Logan, he finally turned the cows towards home.
    Later that same week Hammer and me were walking the road towards home when we seen a wagon hung over in a ditch with one of its wheels off. All the contents from that wagon were strewn over the ground, and Charlie Simms was in the ditch knelt beside the wagon looking all sick about that missing wheel. Then he seen us, and he hollered, “Y’all up there! Come give me a hand!”
    Hammer looked around, first one way, then the other; then he said, “You talkin’ to us?”
    â€œDon’t see no other niggers standing up there,” countered Charlie.
    Hammer clenched his fists. I stepped forward. I wasn’t intending to see us mixed into trouble about this. “I’ll give you a hand,” I said.
    Charlie Simms sneered at me. “What kinda help you gonna be? You here with a busted leg! I want that boy yonder to get under this wagon and push it up.”
    I glanced back at Hammer and could see he was getting mighty vexed. “I can do it!” I said. “Busted leg got nothin’ to do with my back.”
    â€œDavid!” Hammer snapped at me. “Don’t you do it!
Don’t you do it!
I ain’t gonna help ya none!”
    â€œI ain’t askin’ ya to!” I snapped back. Now I had my pride just like Hammer did, but I knew that if we didn’t help Charlie out, the trouble that ran between us was just going to get worse; so I limped to the back of the wagon, laid down my crutch, and hefted the low end of the wagon, while Charlie tried to get the wheel back on. “Hurry up!” I said, because that wagon was heavy.
    Charlie, though, seemed to be taking his time. “Don’t rush me, boy. I get it on when I get it on.”
    â€œI can’t hold it much longer!”
    He laughed. “Thought you was the one had such a strong back.” He seemed to be toying with the wheel when all he had to do was slip it on the axle. I waited maybe a minute, maybe two, an eternity it seemed to me, and he still didn’t have that wheel on.
    â€œI gotta let it go!” I finally yelled out. “It’s too heavy!”
    â€œYou do and I’ll—”
    The wagon slammed down and ole Charlie fell back with the wheel into the ditch. “I told you I couldn’t hold it,” I said, and reached for my crutch. Charlie rolled the wheel aside, scrambled up from the ditch, and before I could step aside, he laid his back hand across my jaw and knocked me down.
    That was the worst thing he could’ve done.
    Hammer, who hadn’t lifted a finger to help me with the wagon, dashed across the road and tore into Charlie Simms, knocking him back into the ditch. Hammer fell on top