Free Houseboat Girl by Lois Lenski Page B

movies to go to, and some had television in their homes, but all that was stupid and dull beside the richness of outdoor life. Didn’t they wish they could be on a boat like her, to stand on the deck and fish, to jump off the deck and have a swim? Didn’t they know how exciting it was to live on a houseboat?

    One day she said to Daddy, “Don’t you feel sorry for those people over there?”
    “Why?” asked Daddy.
    “Because they can’t go on the river like us.”
    Daddy patted her shoulder. “Spoken like a real houseboat girl,” he said. “Once you feel sorry for the people on the bank, that means the river has got you for good.”
    But even though the river had taken hold of her, as Daddy said, there still remained one thought buried under all her river experiences, a thought that teased and tormented her, and would give her no peace. It was the thought of a house, a permanent home on land. What if, after all, the people on the bank were right?
    There were long hours when nothing happened at all. The houseboat drifted along steadily and Daddy often sat lazily on deck. The children ate meals when Mama called. They were always wanting a town and it seemed a long ways there. They quarreled over little things—which chair or bench to sit on, who should wash or dry the dishes. Patsy did not look at the river map or notice the numbers on the river lights any more. She watched the water birds in the shallows and the flocks of red-winged blackbirds in the trees. If she waited long enough, there, would be a town.
    The last one in Missouri was Caruthersville.
    Caruthersville meant town, and town meant getting ice and groceries and meat, but Caruthersville held an unexpected surprise. On the way back to the river, they stopped at a fish market. Daddy had no fish to sell, because he had no Missouri fishing license, but he wanted to talk to the other fishermen there. The fish market was run by a woman who said her name was Aunty Ruth. She invited the children to her house nearby and let them watch television. While they watched, she gave them cold drinks.
    “You like livin’ on the river?” she asked.
    “Oh yes,” said Patsy.
    Then they thanked her and followed Daddy back to the houseboat.

CHAPTER VI
Down, Down, Down the River
    “W HEN ARE WE GOING to stop and stay a while?” asked Patsy. “I’m tired of bein’ in the boat all day long.”
    It was Mama who answered. “Oh, we’ll look for a nice place under the river bank somewhere along.”
    “In a town?” asked Patsy. “Will we get a house again?” Sometimes her longing was so great, she just had to talk about it.
    “I’ve got a place in mind,” said Daddy. He turned to Mama. “Remember that chute down by Luxora where we used to stop sometimes?”
    “O’Donald Bend,” said Mama, “near Ashport Ferry. At Ashport on the Tennessee side is where we met Seth Barker and his wife.”
    “Yes,” said Daddy. “When our engine broke down, I went over to Ashport and tried to get help. I met Seth and he told me where to get my dry shaft welded.”
    Mama went on, “Seth said to me, ‘Come on up to the house. I didn’t want to go but I did. When you came for me, I didn’t want to leave, I liked Edie so much. We was like old friends the minute we set eyes on each other. That was ten years ago when Milly was about two. She was so fat, she was a load to carry.”
    “We never went in the chute that time,” said Daddy.
    “No,” said Mama, “that was another time, when Dan was little. We stopped in the chute to get some stuff, and the water was up to the willows. We saw people there and hogs, chickens and dogs and we kinda liked it. We was goin’ up river in January and we stayed all night at the end of the chute. Next day we tried to find the Barkers. An old man told us where to find them. It was hard work shovin’ willows up to their door, but we made it. Seth had the job of lamplighter by that time.”
    “Then two years ago, they’d moved back over to