Free The Well by Mildred D. Taylor Page B

jus’ done got the days mixed up. He must be talkin’ ’bout that last coon hunt we gone on—”
    â€œYeah, that’s right, Pa! That’s right, and that was more’n a month ago!”
    Old Man McCalister stared dead-eyed at those boys of his, and he shook his head. “Naw. Naw, that ain’t what happened. Y’all boys lyin’ t’ me.”
    â€œNaw, Pa, naw—”
    â€œY’all done poisoned that well.”
    â€œAh, naw—”
    â€œY’all done shamed me and mine.”
    â€œNo, suh, Pa!” cried Charlie. “No, suh, we ain’t done no such thing. No, suh!”
    â€œDon’t you go lyin’ t’ me, boy!” said Mr. McCalister Simms and with one mighty fist knocked Charlie to the ground. “It’s one thing t’ teach a nigger where he stand, but ya don’t go destroyin’ God’s good earth t’ do it!” He reached inside his wagon. He pulled out a bullwhip.
    Charlie’s eyes and Ed-Rose’s too got bigger. “Naw, Pa!” yelled Ed-Rose, backing away.
    â€œPa! Pa! Don’t ya do it!” cried Charlie from the ground. “Don’t ya go shamin’ us like this front of niggers!”
    â€œY’all done already shamed yo’selves!” shouted the old man. “Get up!”
    â€œPlease, Pa! Please!” Charlie cried again as he got up. “Not front of niggers!”
    Old Man McCalister Simms stood there breathing hard and trembling with his rage; then he stepped back. “Charlie, you and Ed-Rose, y’all get down in that well and get them dead things outa there!”
    â€œBut, Pa—”
    Mr. McCalister Simms cracked the whip upon the ground. “Don’t y’all back talk me! There was only white men standin’ up here, y’all wouldn’t be talkin’ at all! Now, y’all done put that filth down there, y’all get it out, and don’t y’all stop ’til it’s all out! Y’all hear me? Not ’til it’s all out! Charlie, you the one go down first!”
    Ed-Rose and Charlie backed away from their daddy, looked at the Peabodys and the Melbournes, but not at Mr. Tom Bee, John Henry, Hammer, Mama, or me. I reckon they were too shamed to look at us. They got a rope from their wagon, and Ed-Rose lowered Charlie down into the well. It took them awhile, and we all waited. Charlie came up wet and shivering without a thing, and Mr. McCalister Simms sent Ed-Rose down. We waited some more. Back and forth the brothers went, taking turns going down. They brought up parts of a possum, a coon, and a skunk too, and went back down. Seeing those parts, all of us standing there knew Ed-Rose and Charlie hadn’t taken any chances about spoiling our well. They hadn’t just thrown dead animals down there in the night; they’d hacked them up before they did.
    The time passed and more folks, colored folks and white folks, their wagons filled with empty barrels, came up the road, and there was a buzz of words softly passed about what the Simmses had done, and a silence settled over the wagons, and the day.
    Finally it was Charlie who brought the last of the dead things out. “Y’all got it all?” Old Man McCalister demanded of Charlie.
    Charlie, eyes lowered, nodded. “All we can, Daddy.”
    â€œThen y’all get on in that wagon…in the back!”
    Charlie placed the last dead thing in the back of their wagon, and he and Ed-Rose got in with them. Mr. McCalister Simms climbed on the seat, took up the reins, and turned the mules down the drive. As the Simmses passed all those wagons lined up for water, all those silent, accusing eyes, Charlie and Ed-Rose hung their heads. Old Man McCalister, though, stared dead-eyed, straight ahead.
    Folks watched the wagon until it was gone, out of sight, then the folks began to leave. Mr. Melbourne and George left, and the Peabodys too. All the folks left, all