Free Boswell's Luck by G. Clifton Wisler Page B

was at it day and night for two weeks, slapping whitewash on the bare planks as the fiery August sun blazed down on his bare shoulders. The doctor’s daughter often watched from the porch and sometimes brought Rat a ladle of spring water.
    â€œThanks, miss,” Rat always replied.
    â€œYou’re quite welcome, Rat,” she answered, smiling shyly. “Do you mind my asking how a pleasant boy like yourself could come across such a name?”
    â€œWell, it ain’t my name really,” Rat confessed. “Comes o’ my given name, Erastus. I never took to it really, but people went on callin’ me that, and I couldn’t fight all o’ them. So I give up and took it on.”
    â€œI like Erastus better. It’s interesting. Sounds a bit like a banker, or maybe a preacher.”
    â€œWouldn’t do for me then,” Rat said, laughing. “That’d be one shot fell wide o’ the mark.”
    â€œI’m called Amanda,” she explained. “What do you think of that for a name?”
    â€œSuits you well enough, miss. It’s a pretty name, kind o’ like a flower. Yeah, it suits you.”
    She blushed as he returned the ladle. Then he resumed his work, leaving her to watch from afar.
    She brought water quite often thereafter, and twice they watched the sunset as he cleaned his brushes.
    â€œErastus, do you mind me asking a question?” she asked as twilight settled in around them.
    â€œNo, Miss Amanda,” he told her. “May not be able to answer you, but I’ll give her a try.”
    â€œIt’s about those marks on your back,” she explained. “Thin scars. I’ve only seen their kind once in my life. We had a Negro working for us. He’d been horsewhipped while a slave down in Louisiana.”
    â€œI don’t much like to talk ’bout ’em,” Rat mumbled.
    â€œYou were whipped, weren’t you? As a child.”
    â€œWas no child,” Rat argued. “Fourteen. Just after my pa passed on, I went to work for a fellow. He was rough with his own boys, and he beat the all o’ us regular. Nigh kilt me. Lord was lookin’ out for me, I guess. Sheriff rode down and took me away.”
    â€œYou’ve had some hard days, haven’t you?” she asked, placing her hands on his sweat-streaked shoulders. “It’s all written on your face. I wince at the sight of you slaving away in the bright sun, melting away before my eyes. It hurts to see you suffer.”
    â€œOh, I’m used to the heat, miss,” Rat said, grinning. “Don’t you worry over that.”
    â€œI do worry,” she insisted, slipping her hands behind his head and pressing herself against him. Bewildered, Rat gazed into her eyes. They were filling up with tears.
    â€œMa’am, I best go,” he said, wriggling free. “I don’t think yerpa’d … “
    â€œLittle late to be thinking of that!” the doctor shouted, rushing to his daughter’s side and jerking her away from Rat. “Are you crazed or just plain stupid, boy?”
    â€œDon’t know I’m either,” Rat barked in reply. “Miss Amanda asked if she could watch the sun go down with me, and I didn’t see as how I could say no. I don’t own the sun, nor the land under my feet, neither one.”
    â€œDon’t you fence words with me, young man. Look at you! Standing there half naked, making indecent advances on my daughter!”
    â€œSir, I done nothin’ o’ the kind,” Rat objected. “I only been pain tin’ yer house.”
    â€œWell, you’ll do no more painting here, nor elsewhere in Wood City after I pass word of your attack on my daughter. It may well be you’ll feel the bite of a rope before morning.”
    â€œSir, I never … “
    â€œWe’ll settle with him, Pa,” a fresh voice called. Before Rat quite knew what was happening, a slender man