Free This Rock by Robert Morgan Page B

bed,” Josie said. “I had been letting Moody have it cause I liked him. And I helped him carry liquor too.”
    I tried to brush the hair off Moody’s brow, but he flung my hand away. “Are you hurt bad?” I said. Moody laid there like he was too ashamed to speak. And he closed his eyes, like he couldn’t stand to see nobody.
    â€œWho done it?” U. G. said.
    â€œPeg done it,” Josie said. “She had that big Glover hold us and tie us down.” She busted out crying.
    I wished I had a clean washrag to wipe the blood off Moody’s face and neck. I was heartbroke just to look at him. “We ought to call the law,” I said.
    â€œNo!” Moody hollered and rolled to his other side.
    I told him Peg Early had to be arrested for beating up two young people that way, that she ought to be put in jail for nine hundred years.
    â€œNo cop in Greenville County will arrest Peg Early,” Josie said. “She pays them off.”
    U. G. said that was so. If Peg could get away with bootlegging and whores and gambling it wasn’t likely they would arrest her for whipping two young people caught stealing from her.
    â€œThen I’ll go to the North Carolina police,” I said.
    But U. G. told me they would say they had no jurisdiction over what happened in South Carolina. North Carolina and South Carolina sheriffs didn’t interfere with each other’s counties.
    â€œThen I will call the federal police,” I said.
    â€œNo,” Moody said.
    â€œThe feds would arrest Moody for carrying blockade across the state line,” U. G. said.
    I was so mad I turned around like I was going to stomp off down the mountain. I stomped the ground and tightened my fists. But I seen that getting mad was just selfish. Getting mad wouldn’t help Moody or punish Peg Early. The thing to do was take care of Moody. Getting mad was just vanity when my boy needed help so bad.
    I tore off a piece of my skirt and wet it in the spring. I found an empty fruit jar, dipped water, and carried it up to Moody. “What you need is a doctor,” I said.
    â€œLeave me alone,” Moody said.
    When I tried to wash his face he pushed my hand away. I seen his hands was swole where they had been hit with a stick or crushed between boards. “This is what the devil has brought you to,” I said.
    I told U. G. we had to get Moody to the truck and take him home.
    â€œDon’t want to go home,” Moody said.
    â€œYou can’t lay out here in the woods for the bears and painters to eat,” I said.
    I noticed Josie had stepped away to the other side of the spring. I had forgot about her. She was bad hurt too. I asked if she wanted me to wash off her face and bruised arms. She shook her head and wiped the snot off her upper lip. I never saw anybody that looked more pitiful. Her dress was near tore off her.
    â€œCan we drive you home?” I said.
    â€œNo,” she said and shook her head.
    â€œYou got to go someplace,” I said.
    I would take her to the house if there was no other place to take her.
    â€œReckon I’ll go back to Peg’s,” Josie said.
    â€œYou can’t do that,” I said. I couldn’t believe she meant what she said.
    â€œI better go back,” she said.
    â€œYou can go home with us,” I said. But she started walking into the woods. Her blond hair was tangled and hanging in all directions. As she walked she tried to smooth it out. She limped and stumbled as she tried to pick her way through the leaves and undergrowth down the mountainside.
    â€œStop her,” I said to U. G. I was going to run after the girl, but he put a hand on my shoulder.
    â€œShe don’t know what else to do,” U. G. said.
    â€œYou don’t have to go back there!” I hollered, but Josie kept on walking until she was hid by the laurel bushes.
    M OODY TRIED TO push us away, but I took him under one shoulder and U. G. took him by