Free Oral History (9781101565612) by Lee Smith

two of his biggest boys to get him something. He whooped in a foreign language. So they go to rummaging around in that wagon, spilling goods all over the road, and then they come up with the fanciest saddle you ever saw, silver tracings all over it. They brung it over to the old man and lays it down in the road. By this time a considerable bunch has gathered around to look.
    His wife and her sister has come up too now, all babbling and crying they ain’t got enough money for food.
    â€œHow much you gimme?” he says.
    â€œWell now, that depends,” Squirrel says. He wipes his hands on his apron and comes around closer to look. What the foreigner don’t know is how much store Squirrel sets by his trading. So they commence to trading—it takes a while—and while they is at it, a gal jumps outen the back of the wagon and runs around the side to look, too. Almarine seed her right off, he slips through the folks to her side.
    Everbody said it and I’ll say it too—this was about the prettiest gal you ever laid eyes on. She was slight and just as dauncy as a little fancy-doll, the smallest, whitest hands and the littlest ankles. She had that blue-black hair they all had, excepting hern was all in curls, and a face like a heart, with them big blue eyes. She sees Almarine coming and blushes, and looks down at the ground.
    â€œWhar you all headed?” Almarine asks real polite, and she says, “Kentucky.” She has a low voice what reminds Almarine somehow of a dove.
    â€œYe reckon to make it?” He grins that big grin and she goes to giggling.
    â€œI don’t keer iffen we make it or not,” she says. She shakes her curls at Almarine and when she done so, he sees a flash of gold at her ear. She’s got real gold earrings, they come from her mother who died, and this foreigner is nought but her uncle—but Lord, I’m ahead of myself. Anyway she shakes her head at Almarine and stomps her little foot. “I’m tired of traveling,” she says.
    â€œLet’s take us a little walk, then,” says Almarine.
    So he taken her by the arm and off they go toward the Dismal River. They do make a picture, him so big and fair, and her so dark. She goes with a spring in her step, she goes with those curls a-bouncing. Now half of the people is watching them two walk off, and a-shaking their heads, and the other half is watching Squirrel Waldron trade with the foreigner.
    Almarine and the gal come back in about a hour.
    Squirrel has got him a new saddle by that time, and the mules is fed, and they’ve got some food, and two of those little children is laying asleep under that sycamore in the front of Squirrel Waldron’s place. When Almarine and the gal comes in view, the women start hollering out for her to hurry and get on in the wagon. But she don’t hurry. She and Almarine walks along slow and they’re holding hands.
    â€œGet in the wagon,” the man says to the gal, but he looks like he don’t give a damn. He looks plumb wore out.
    Almarine and the gal walks up to him and stops. Everbody is drawing around now, you can tell that something is up.
    â€œHow far you aiming to get with them mules?” Almarine says, and everbody turns around to consider the mules. Now the mules was the only thing that hadn’t come in question all that day, but they was sorry. One of them was the sorriest.
    The man looked at Almarine through his little old runny tired eyes.
    â€œI’ll get whar I need to,” he says.
    â€œHit’s a long way,” Almarine says. “You gotta go on through the Breaks and up the Big Sandy before you get anyplace atall.”
    â€œGit in the wagon,” the man says to the gal, but not taking his eyes offen Almarine. The gal don’t move but the red comes up in her cheeks.
    One of them foreign women sets to crying and throws her shawl up over her face.
    â€œNow, Almarine,” Squirrel says.
    â€œI just