Looking closer, he found that many new homes had been built in the village and the railroad had finally reached this little remote community. Along with the homes, there were now a cotton gin, a barbershop and several other stores along the main street.
The dusty road awakened the image of a time when the stagecoach from Meridian would roll into town carrying travelers, goods and family mail; he remembered the excitement of possible visitors or hoped-for letters. It all seemed so long ago.
Breaking the silence, a small voice echoed from inside. “Popee, you ought to see all this stuff! They have everything in this old dump.”
Hurrying inside the old man found the boy standing in awe in the middle of the floor. Canned goods of every kind were stacked in shelves that rose to the ceiling and clothing on long racks ran the length of the building. Exposed beams were covered with smoked hams and sausages, and support braces holding up the roof were loaded with saddles, harnesses, bridles and every imaginable item needed for working animals.
“Shuu.., not so loud,” said the old man grabbing the boy by the hand and leading him toward the counter at the back of the store.
“But Popee, I ain’t never seen so much stuff like this. They have everything in the world in here. Look back there! They even got guns for sale,” the boy said pulling his great grandfather’s hand and leading him to the gun rack. “Will you buy me one of those? I bet I could shoot it. Mama said you were in the war and did a lot of shooting. Said you shot a bunch of Yankees. Can I hold one of ‘em?”
Frowning down at the boy and leading him away from the rack the old man replied, “You’re too young to be thinking about owning a rifle and as for me in a war, I try to forget those days. Killing other human beings just ain’t right—downright ungodly. When you get older your father will probably teach you how to handle one of these and there isn’t anything more fun than a good squirrel huntin’. Your time will come, lad.”
“Then how about that cool soda?”
“Sounds good to me,” he replied leading the boy to the counter.
The clerk who had been busy restocking a cracker barrel pushed his glasses up and carefully studied the two eagerly awaiting his service. “Well, I hope you don’t think I have intentionally been ignoring ya. I seen you was a havin’ a good time looking over the old place and it did give me time to catch up on some chores. Can I help ya?”
The boy yanked at the old man’s sleeve and motioned for him to bend down.
“Popee, they talk funny down here. I bet it’s Choctaw ain’t it,” he whispered. With a loud burst of laughter the old man exclaimed, “Choctaw? We’re in Miss’sippi, Andy. They talk southern down here.”
“You folks ain’t from here ‘bouts, are you?” the clerk asked, wondering what had brought this unusual pair into his establishment. “Say you want a soda?”
“Coldest you got,” said the old man reaching into his pocket for some change. “We’re hot and might near worn to a frazzle. By the way, how’s the times down here in Little Rock treating you young man?”
Placing two cold sodas on the counter, the clerk paused and wiped his brow. “They says a depression is hittin’ the country. I says we has always had hard times down here. The old folks say that it ain’t been the same since the Yankees took us apart back years ago. Now where’s you folks from?”
Andy opened his drink and began to gulp down big swallows. As he stopped to take a breath, he answered, “I’m from Maryland and my Pops is from everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” the clerk said. “That’s hard to imagine.”
The old man chuckled. “What he means is that I have lived in a lot of places. You know, I ain’t a spring chicken.”
Giving the old man his change, the clerk asked. “How old are ya? If you don’t mind tellin’ me, sir.”
“Well,” he replied, scratching his head. “I’m might near eighty-five, I guess. Eighty-five will do.”
The clerk shook his head. “Ain’t many of you fellows left ‘round here. You go back a spell.”
Just then the screen door opened and a group of women came in and approached the clerk.
The old man led his great grandson outside to a bench on the shady side of the porch.
“What do you think of the town, Andy?” the old man asked reaching down and patting the boy on the back.
“I thought you said this place was a village,” the boy answered, more interested in the soda than conversation. In a moment he continued. “I think the store is great.”
The old man smiled. “You see that bridge down yonder? I’d like to go down there and look around the creek. Might even see some fish or maybe a turtle. Who knows, we might even find one of those Choctaw arrowheads.”
“Arrowheads?” exclaimed Andy. “Let’s go” Andy jumped up and pulled on his great grandfather’s shirt sleeve.
“Not so fast, boy. You’ll pull me down if you don’t be careful. You run on ahead. I’ll catch up with you. Just don’t go near the water ‘till I get there. You hear me?”
“I hear you. Don’t get in the water,” the boy said over his shoulder as he sprinted for the creek.
Standing on the shady bank, Andy was mesmerized by his surroundings and the waters below. He could imagine a party of fierce Choctaw warriors as they stopped to rest and wash their wounds after a bloody clash with the north Mississippi Chickasaws. He imagined a deer easing to the edge of the water and then trying to escape before he could shoot an arrow at him.
“Well, what do you propose to do, Son,” questioned the old man as he looked down from the bridge.
Andy shook his head. “Popee, I rightly don’t know but I think it would be fun to wade out in the water and maybe see if I could find one of those arrowheads.”
The old man eased down and found a comfortable place to rest on the edge of the bridge., “Well, go ahead and get on in there. There ain’t no gators round here.”
Andy looked up at his great grandfather in uncertainty. “But I can’t swim very well. What if I fall and get drowned.”
“Drowned! The water ain’t knee deep. This used to be the place where wagons crossed heading in and out of Little Rock. Get those shoes and socks off and get on in there, Boy.”
The lad hesitated. “But, what if I get my clothes wet. Mama will sure get mad with me.”
“Mad? Your mother is too straight laced. She needs to let you be a boy sometimes. We’re visiting down here. It’s time to have some fun. She’s gonna make a softy out of you. Now if you want to get in that water, then get at it and if you don’t that’s also fine with me. Just make up your mind.”
Looking down at the cool, clear water, Andy could wait no longer. He sat down and hurriedly took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his britches legs and waded out into the stream.
For the first few moments, Andy splashed around enjoying the cold water and a new experience
