Ride the River (1983) (2 page)

"Ah, that Regal!" Amy Sulky said wistfully. "Did he ever marry?"

"Not so's you'd notice. He says he will when the right girl comes along."

When I started to leave the house, the man with the bald head was leaving too. "Miss Sackett? I know nothing of your affairs, but be careful. Don't offer any information you don't have to, and above all, don't sign any papers."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

The man with the newspaper was standing near a rig tied across the street. He was a thickset man wearing a gray hard hat and a houndstooth coat. If he was wishful of not being seen, he was a stupid man. I walked away up the street, and after a moment, he followed.

Chapter
2

James White had an office on a small avenue that ran into Broad Street. The nice gentleman with the bald head and beard had directed me. On this day I carried a knitting bag and I had some knitting in it. I also had my pistol. The Arkansas toothpick was in its usual place and ready to hand.

Womenfolks did not go armed in Philadelphia, Ma said, unless they carried a hatpin, but nobody needed hatpins with the poke bonnets everybody was wearing. I let mine sort of hang back on my neck by its ribbon because I could see better from the corners of my eyes, and I'd spent too much time in the woods to want my vision blocked to the sides.

There were handsome buildings to right and left, with marble steps. The streets were of brick. Passing by a building with a beautiful marble front to it and marble steps, all the marble with blue veins, I glimpsed some brass plates with the names of the occupants on them.

One I noticed in particular because it had a familiar sound.

CHANTRY & CHANTRY, LAWYERS

Seemed to me it was a name I'd heard at storytelling time back in the mountains. We'd set around with the fire crackling, sometimes popping corn or having a taffy pull, and there would be stories told.

Sure enough, I found James White's office on a side street. Opening the door, I entered and found it was a small room with a couple of hard chairs, a sofa, and a small desk with a young man settin' behind it. Yet just as I entered, the door across the room was closing and I caught a glimpse of a boot heel and some pants leg before the door closed. Looked like that man who followed me, but how he could have gotten ahead without me seeing him, I did not know. Maybe it was somebody else.

The young man behind the desk had rumpled hair and a sly look to him. He looked kind of unwashed and slept-in. He looked at me impudent-like and said, "What's for you?"

"I would like to see Mr. White. Tell him Miss Sackett is here."

He sat there for a minute like he had no idea of moving, and then he stood up. "Sackett, is it? You that hillbilly girl?"

"If you will tell Mr. White that I am here ..."

"Little thing, ain't you?"

"I am as big as I need to be."

He leered. "Reckon that's so. Yes, sir! I reckon you're right, at that!"

"Mr. White, please."

He turned lazily and went to the door, opened it, and said, "Girl to see you. Name of Sackett."

There was the sound of a chair moving and then the young man drew back and an older man, short and heavyset, pushed by him. His black hair was slicked down over a round skull. As he came through the door he was shrugging into a coat, and he wore a bushy mustache.

His wide smile revealed more teeth than I'd seen in a long time and he said, "Miss Sackett? I am James White. Will you come in, please?"

He let me go past him and then he followed, waving me to a chair and sitting down behind his desk. "Is this your first trip to Philadelphia, Miss Sackett?"

"Yes, sir. We don't have much occasion to come down to the Settlements."

"Settlements?" He looked surprised, then chuckled. "Of course! Settlements. I suspect it has been a long time since Philadelphia has been referred to as a Settlement."

"I came about the money."

"Ah, yes. Of course. You can prove who you are, Miss Sackett? I mean, that you are a descendant of Kin Sackett?"

"Yes, I can."

"A considerable sum is involved. Of course, there will be charges against it. My fees, the advertising ..."

He waved a hand, smiling and showing all those teeth. "But what am I doing? Talking business with a lovely young lady on her first trip to Philadelphia! We should be planning to go out upon the town! Business can come later."

"I'd as soon tend to it now. I don't aim ... I mean, I don't intend to stay longer than necessary. I'd like to get this over with."

"Of course you would! But I cannot be lacking in hospitality! You must let me take you to one of our restaurants, where we can discuss business at leisure."

"No."

Startled, White stared at me with cold eyes. "You refuse? I assure you - "

"Not to be impolite, sir, but I think we should discuss business first. I must return to the mountains. If you will just tell me how much is coming to me and what remains to be done, we can get along with it."

White was irritated, and he concealed it poorly. What he had in mind, I had no idea, but obviously getting down to business was not part of it.

Why was he delaying? Did he really intend to be hospitable? Or did he hope to turn my head with entertainment and the glitter of the city? Although I was yet to see much glitter in Philadelphia. It looked to me like a get-down-to-business place, as befitted the greatest city in the land. There was much I wished to see had there been time, but there was work to be done back home.

Was the money here? Had he, as my friend at Mrs. Sulky's suggested, deliberately advertised in an unlikely publication?

James White leaned back in his chair and his eyes reminded me of something ... Of a weasel. "You say your name is Sackett and you are from Tennessee?"

"You know my name. I wrote to you from Tennessee."

He seemed to be hesitating, trying to figure which trail to take. If he intended to pay me the money, he had only to make sure who I was and hand it over. I would sign for it, of course. It struck me as a straightforward proposition.

If he planned to steal the money, somehow something had thrown his plans out of kilter. Maybe he had not expected anybody to see his advertisement or answer it. Or maybe he had figured a sixteen-year-old mountain girl would be easy to deal with. Whatever, he figured something had gone wrong for him or was going wrong.

"How did you happen to see the item in the Advocate ?"

"It came wrapped around some goods we bought from the pack peddler." For the first time an idea occurred to me. "Fact is, I believe the peddler saw that notice and wrapped it around the goods a-purpose."

"Why would he do that?"

"So's we could read it. Mountain folks read everything that comes to hand. It ain't much - isn't much, I should say. He would know that and he would know the item concerned our kinfolk."

"Who is this peddler you speak of?"

"Never did know his name. I doubt if anybody knows, or where he comes from or how old he is. He peddles goods in the mountains and he tinkers with things, fixes guns, clocks, and the like, although nobody has much use for a clock except as something to listen to when you're alone."

"How do you tell time?"

"We know when it's daylight and we know when it's dark. What else would be needed?"

"What about appointments?"

"You mean meetin' somebody? If I am wishful to see somebody, I go to his house or the field where he's workin'. He does the same if he wishes to see me. Or we can meet at church of a Sunday."

"And if he doesn't go to church?"

"In the mountains? Everybody goes to church. Even George Haliday ... he's our atheist. We go to meet folks as well as to hear the preachin' an' singin'. George, he goes so he can hear what the preacher says so's they can argue about it at the store."

"They are friends?"

"Of course. Everybody likes George, and the preacher looks forward to those arguments. Ever'body down to the store does. They argued about the whale swallowin' Jonah until the preacher came up with evidence showin' two men had been swallowed and lived to tell of it.

"Preacher, he says for all his mistaken ways George knows more Bible than anybody he ever knew. He says that down inside, George Haliday is a good Christian man who just likes to argue. I wouldn't know about that, but ever' once in a while the preacher throws a sermon right at him; and all the folks know it and they watch George."

"The tinker who brought the Advocate ? Do you see him often?"

"Ever' two, three months. Sometimes oftener. He comes down along the ridge trail carryin' a pack so big you'd think it would take three men. Packs it all by hisself."

"Doesn't he ever get robbed?"

Well, I just looked at him. Where was he raised? Nobody would rob a pack peddler, but especially not this one. Anyway, even among Injuns, peddlers an' traders were respected an' let be. We all needed their goods. If the peddler stopped comin', we'd all lack for things.

"Nobody would rob the Tinker. I reckon nobody could. He's got him a special kind of knife he makes himself, and knows how to use it. I often wished I had one like it, but I have to make do with my pick."

" 'Pick'?"

"Arkansas toothpick." When I said it, I could see he was ignorant. "It's a kind of knife."

He stared at me there for a moment, tryin' to make me out. I reckon I was a different kind of person than he'd ever met. So I changed the subject on him.

"About that money. Folks where I come from, Mr. White, are right serious about money. When somebody owes money, they pay it or explain why they can't. You have money for me. I want it."

"Of course. You are impatient, but I understand that." He reached in his desk and drew out a paper with all kinds of writin' on it and indicated a line at the bottom. "You just sign right there and you shall have your money."

Me, I just looked at him. "Mr. White, I don't figure to sign anything until I have the money in hand. All of it. You put the money on the desk and I'll sign fast enough."

"I am sorry, Miss Sackett. Your signing would expedite matters. In any event, it shall have to be tomorrow, as I naturally would not have such a sum in my office."

I stood up. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Tomorrow morning I will be here and you had better be, with that money. If it ain't here or you aren't, I'll start backtrackin' that money. I reckon any kind of money leaves its trail, and I can read sign as good as anybody. I'll follow that trail right back to where it come from an' right back to you, so's I will know how much is involved an' why you keep putting me off."

He stood up too. "There's nothing to worry about, Miss Sackett. Your money will be here. However" - and there was a hard edge to his voice - "I would advise you to change your tone. You are in Philadelphia now, Miss Sackett, not back in your mountains. You would do well to curb your tongue."

"You have that money for me and you'll not have to put up with me."

He started to speak angrily, then changed his mind. He changed it so fast the words backed up on him, but he finally come out with it. "I am sorry, Miss Sackett, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I did not wish to offend you or cause unnecessary delays. I only hoped to make your stay more agreeable."

To be honest, that was all he had done. Maybe I'd been set on edge by the doubts of my bald-headed friend or something in James White's manner, or the fact that I'd been followed from the time I arrived in town. Come to think on it, he'd said nothing a body could take offense to.

"I am sorry too," I said. "I shall be here in the morning."

Chapter
3

When I fetched myself to the sidewalk, the tall young man from the office was standin' there. He looked me up and down, impudent as you please, and then he said, "Come along, Miss Sackett, and I'll walk you home."

"No, thanks. I shall walk by myself. I have much to do."

He laughed at me, not a very nice laugh. "How'd you an' ol' White get along? You better watch him. He's got an eye for the girls."

I walked across the street, and was so irritated that I did not notice whether I was followed or not. It was several blocks before I thought to look, but I saw nobody. It was late afternoon and folks had either gone home or were going.

Turning back, I saw I was in front of the building with the brass nameplates, and there it was again:

"CHANTRY & CHANTRY, LAWYERS."

Up the steps I went and into a hall where several doors had names on them. Opening the Chantry door, I stepped into an outer office that was all shadowed and still. There were two desks and chairs, and along one side was a leather settee for those who waited. The door to an inner office was open a crack and I could hear the scratching of a pen. Stepping into the door, I peered inside.

A white-haired man was sitting behind a desk, writing. Piled beside him were several lawbooks, and one of them was open.

As I peeked in, he looked up, right into my eyes. He stared at me as if not believing what he saw, and I stared back, embarrassed.