Judy's Journey (5 page)

Papa had driven the jalopy to the far side of the lake, and there in a clear place among the saw palmettos he had pitched camp. Scrub oaks grew on all sides and tall pines in the distance. “Nobody'll see us here so far from the road,” Papa said. “We'll take our peace and rest a while.”

The children paddled and splashed. Papa found the wreck of an old boat buried in weeds and grass at one side of the lake. He pulled it up on the bank and said he would fix it in the morning. Then all of a sudden darkness fell and they hurried to bed.

“We'll go fishin', Papa,” said Joe Bob the next morning.

“Bet your life we will,” said Papa.

“All our vittles is gone, Jim,” said Mama.

“We'll eat fish and I'll set a line for cooters,” said Papa. “How about cooter turtle soup?”

Papa fixed up the holes in the boat, baited a line and strung it from one side of the lake to the other. The sun came out, pleasantly warm. Judy spread a quilt on the lake shore and Papa stretched out to rest. While the children splashed in the water and played with the boat, and Mama fussed with the clothes and supplies, Judy sat down beside Papa.

“Let's name it,” she said. “We'll call it the ‘Mirror of the Sky.' Down in the water you can see the white clouds and the blue sky and the trees and birds flying over. The lake is a looking-glass, and everything is upside down.”

They propped their heads on their hands and looked down, then up.

“Mirror of the Sky—that's a nice idea, honey,” said Papa. Papa poked a crawling ant with a blade of grass and they watched it for a long time. Mama came and sat down too and little Lonnie crawled on the quilt. He looked better and seemed more active.

“Nothin' like bein' outdoors,” said Papa thoughtfully. “I'd hate to work all day long in a factory, sittin' by a roarin' machine and feedin' something into it, and rushin' and hustlin' to keep up with the blamed thing. Nothin' worse than bein' whistled in and whistled out. Machine's a big monster tryin' to gobble a feller up and break his spirit. Even when you're a sharecropper, you can be outdoors.”

“But you can't call your soul your own,” said Mama.

“There's no hope of gettin' ahead if a man can't be his own boss,” Papa agreed. “Whatever happens, I'm proud I had the spunk to light out when I did.”

“Whatever happens,” said Mama, “we can't worst ourselves much.”

“A little piece of land is all I want,” Papa went on. “This is the only country in the world where all men are free and equal—that's what we stand for, anyway. The first settlers come here to git land, and for a long time everybody went west to git land. This country's always been a place where a man had the right to own a little piece of land.”

“Maybe there ain't land enough to go round any more,” said Mama. “So many big companies buyin' it up, a lone man ain't got a chance.”

“There must be some places left .…” said Papa. “Well, look what's comin'—”

Several cows appeared, and soon the lake was surrounded by a large herd. The children took sticks and tried to chase them away.

“Woods cows,” said Papa.

“Can we milk 'em and git us some milk?” asked Judy.

“Them skinny things?” laughed Papa. “Most of 'em's beef cattle, not milk cows, but don't give me a T-bone steak.”

That afternoon the children took a long walk. A quarter of a mile away, they came to a large citrus grove. The trees were loaded with beautiful golden fruit and more fruit lay on the ground, starting to rot.

“We'll git us some oranges and tote 'em back,” said Judy.

They began to pick them up. Suddenly, through the shadowy interior of the grove, they saw a man approaching. He waved a stick and called out, but they could not hear what he said.

“Golly! It looks like Old Man Reeves,” cried Judy, frightened. “We better run. But don't drop the oranges—it ain't stealin' when we take 'em off the ground.”

The children ran as fast as they could.

“Will he catch us?” panted Joe Bob.

“And beat us?” cried Cora Jane.

“Keep running,” called Judy.

The man did not follow, but turned around and went back.

“Papa, would he put us in jail for takin' oranges off the ground?” asked Cora Jane.

“Can't never tell,” said Papa. “I don't know these-here Crackers or what they'd do.”

That night the woods cows came again and the children chased them away. Mama made turtle soup for supper and they went to bed early. They hadn't been sleeping long when Joe Bob awoke, crying.

“There's somethin' in the bushes,” he told Papa. “I heard it movin'—there it is. See?”

Papa saw two bright eyes shining straight at him from the darkness. He started after the animal with Mama's broom. Soon he came back and told Joe Bob to go to sleep again. But Papa did not close his own eyes all night.

The next morning when the children ran to play in the lake, they stopped suddenly on shore. A strange form was in the water, half-buried by grasses and weeds, not far from Papa's boat. It looked like a floating log—until it moved. Then it lifted its head and bellowed. It made a curiously hollow but powerful noise.

“Alligator! Alligator!” shrieked the children.

“An alligator in our lake,” said Judy. “I never thought we'd git an alligator too.”

“Likely he crawled overland from some pond or stream that dried up,” said Papa. “Must be hungry, makin' such a noise.”

“Can we feed him, Papa?” asked Joe Bob.

“He'd like a fat pig,” said Papa, “if we had one. Likely he'll go off somewheres else and not bother us. I got to go to town soon, if I'm to get back before night. Want to go along?”

“What town, Papa?” asked Judy.

“Nearest one we can find,” said Papa. “We'll go exploring.”

Mama and the children stayed at the lake while Judy drove off in the car-and-trailer with her father. It took a good while to find a town, and still longer to find the store Papa wanted.

It was a funny store, with old stoves, beds and chairs standing on the sidewalk. The man, who had bushy hair all over his face, spent a long time looking over the furniture in the trailer. Was Papa swapping again? Judy knew how Papa loved to swap and she grew worried. She wanted to keep a few things for that farm they were going to get. She listened to the men's voices and when she heard the words
sewing-machine
, she jumped quickly out of the Ford.

The man and a boy helper were carrying Mama's bureau into his store.

“Papa! You're not swapping Mama's sewing-machine, are you?” She grabbed Papa's arm and shook it. “Papa! Listen to me!” She stamped her foot but Papa turned away.

“Papa! If you swap Mama's sewing-machine …”

“Git back in the car and stay there!” said Papa angrily.

Papa almost never spoke a cross word to Judy. But she did not care how mad he got. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She'd fight him if he swapped Mama's sewing-machine.

“Papa … Papa …”

“Git back in that car and stay there!” repeated Papa.

Slowly Judy climbed back into her seat. She watched out the back car window and saw the table go into the secondhand store, but not the sewing-machine: She felt better. She saw the man bring out a large bulky bundle of heavy canvas and put it on top of the trailer. What was Papa getting?

He didn't explain when he came back to his seat. He didn't say a word. But Judy guessed he must have gotten some money to boot, because he stopped at a store and came out with two large paper bags full of groceries. He was smiling.

“Now we'll eat again, honey,” he said. “I got us some flour and meal and fatback and saleratus and coffee and black-eyed peas. Here's a dime for you. Want to go in the store and git some candy?”

Judy looked at the dime. She closed her fist over it tightly. “No,” she said. “I'll keep it—a while anyway.”

Papa started the jalopy, and on the edge of town they passed a big barn with a sign that said: G. A. PRATT—STABLES. All the cars and trucks and wagons on the road seemed to be turning in at the gate.

“Wonder what's goin' on,” said Papa. “Let's go see.”

Judy smiled. Papa was always ready to do the unexpected. He went in to look around and soon came out again.

“Come on, git out,” he said. “It's as good as a circus. They're auctionin' off livestock in there and farmers from all over the county are biddin'. Likely we could git us that cow you said we'd ought to have on our farm.”

Judy climbed down. “But how can you pay for a cow, Papa, without cash money? Don't we have to pay for the farm first?”

“Shore do,” said Papa. “But let's go in—this is free.”

They walked through the barn to the “auction ring” at the back. Rows of seats were built up on three sides for a grandstand. The place was crowded, but they managed to slip into the second row from the front.

The auctioneer sat in an elevated box on one side, and chanted in a swift jabber-jabber-jabber as he accepted bids from men in the audience. A Cracker boy, wearing overalls and a black felt cowboy hat, rode a spotted cattle pony into the ring and out again. Bidding was swift; farm animals one after the other were sold and let out of the ring.

When the first cow was brought in, Judy held her breath, for fear Papa might buy it. If so, how would he pay for it? All the buyers paid cash before they took their animals away. The cow was dirty white, thin and scrawny. Other cows were brought in, one after the other. Each time, Judy looked up at Papa but he shook his head.

“Don't worry, sugar,” he said. “We want a better cow than that.”

Then came the mules, and after the mules, pigs and hogs. A peanut man, wearing a white apron, stepped about on the grandstand, calling, “Peanuts! Buy peanuts!” Papa bought a bag, and he and Judy began to munch.

After the pigs had all been sold, a goat was brought in— a white, hornless Nanny goat. At the gate she balked. The Cracker boy pulled on the rope with all his might. Then suddenly the goat stopped balking and rushed forward across the ring. The boy fell over backwards and the crowd yelled.

“I told you it was good as a circus!” laughed Papa.

The boy had a hard time managing the goat, because the goat didn't like the boy and kept rushing at him with her head lowered. The people kept on laughing and the auctioneer couldn't start the bidding.

At last the goat backed off into a corner and waited there, eyeing the crowd and shaking her head. The auctioneer did his best, but nobody would bid.

“Won't somebody start this good milk-goat off at a quarter?” begged the man. “We got to start somewhere. Mighty good milker—it would take six men and a boy to do it!”

“The critter's lame,” said a farmer. “Her ole man kicked her—good reason too.”

“A quarter—gimme a bid of a quarter,” begged the auctioneer. “I got to sell her … a quarter, have I got a quarter?”