small rocks, he would race down the steep bank in search of another.
The afternoon passed quickly as the two enjoyed the quest.
Tiring from too many trips up and down the creek bank, Andy scrambled once more down to the water. In his haste, his feet slid out from under him, and he sailed into the creek, head first.
Emerging as quickly as he had entered and giving a loud snort, the boy quickly regained his balance. Andy looked down at his muddy, wet clothing and then slowly looked up at his great grandfather. “ Popee, Mama’s gonna tan my hide I know. If she don‘t, Aunt Betty sure will.”
The old man smiled down at the boy. “You didn’t drown did you?”
“No Sir, I’m still alive, I reckon.”
“Then you wash the clay off your clothes and then come on up here. I think you need to rest a spell.”
“You ain’t mad at me, Popee?”
“Heavens no, child. I been waiting on you to get in that water and I’ve been disappointed that it’s taken you this long to get soaked. You come on up here and we’ll go get us another one of those sodas.”
“What about Mama, Popee?”
Placing his arm around the boy the man replied, “Your clothes will dry and this will just have to be our secret. That all right with you?”
“Yes sir. I wish I could stay with you all the time. You’re a lot of fun.”
Entering the store again, the two found the clerk in a rocking chair sound asleep. Hearing the floor creak, the clerk aroused from his slumber, adjusted his glasses and muttered, “May I help ya?” Recognizing the two, he continued, “I thought y’all might be long gone by now.”
“Been down to the creek hunting for arrowheads and I kinda fell in the water. Need another one of those cold sodas, Sir.”
The old man smiled down at the lad. “It’s getting pretty hot out there. By the way, where is everyone? Looks like you ought to have more business than this.”
“Most folks is out in the fields this time of the year and it’s hotter than four hells out there today. Ain’t nobody stirring ‘round here, except maybe folks like you who is from everywhere. Here’s your soda. Just leave yore money on the counter. I’m going back to my chair.”
The old man and the boy decided it was time for them to leave the clerk in peace so they quietly made their way back out to the bench on the porch.
Sitting there in the shade, Andy stretched out on the bench and rested his head on his great grandfather’s lap. “World looks different down here looking up, Popee. Kinda hard to see up through your fuzzy white beard though. It looks like a briarpatch and your nose holes resembles some tunnels where trains come through puffing and clanking.”
Pushing the boy’s hair out of his face, the old man replied. “You have some kind of imagination, boy. I used to like to daydream too.”
Growing sleepy, Andy gazed up at the sky and pointed. “Popee, I can see all kind of things up there in those clouds. I think I see an elephant. No, it’s just an old bear, maybe.”
Eyes closing, he mumbled, “Popee, would you tell me one of those stories about when you were a young man? One of those about the big war you fought in?”
“Your Mama don’t like for me to tell about the war,” he replied, but thinking back he began to reminisce. “My life has been good in many ways, but there are things I want to forget. Things too painful to think about, much less speak about.”
Glancing back down at Andy, he saw that the boy was sleeping soundly. “Sleep on young man. Chase your dreams, harness the rainbow, fight your battles and enjoy the life the good Lord has given you.”
Looking up at the clouds, he could see himself as a youngster lying on a sandy creek bank listening to the water ripple across the rocks bringing fantasies tempting him to another kind of life. Shutting his eyes, it seemed that time had played a trick on him. The same sky full of puffy clouds had not changed at all. The sun was still up there laughing at him, tempting his patience. Thinking harder, he could vividly remember his days as a young man returning from a war that should have taken his life, only to find that his older brother had died up in Virginia and another had deserted the army and fled to the West. He remembered the pain of loosing the woman he had worshiped since childhood and finding his country devastated by four years of struggle for survival against overwhelming forces.
It was a perilous time for the South. Home government was a thing of the past. The South lay conquered. The year was 1866.
2
HOPE IN DESPAIR
The late march winds gently nudged the tops of the trees creating an eerie sound as it whistled around the corners of the stately home located on the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia. Inside, a man wrapped in a dark red housecoat stood with arms crossed, staring out a large window.
Hearing the door open behind him, he turned and muttered, “Come on in, Joshua. I know it’s about time.”
An old Negro man dressed in a dark suit entered, holding a bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other. He nodded politely. “Mas’ Stephen, it shore is some kind of cold out da’er and dat wind will cut ‘chu in half.”
“You can drop the Mas’ Stephen, Joshua. Those days are over,” replied Robert Stephens as he reached for the spoon.
“I always called you dat, sir. Ever since I can remember. What you wants me to call you?”
Smiling over at the old man standing patiently in front of him, Stephens replied, “Well, you can call me Mister Stephens or I guess maybe, Senator. Some folks still use the term.”
Nodding his approval, Joshua said, “I thinks I’ll call you Mister Senator. I’ll never forget them days we spent up da’er in Washington. You with all them high fluting folks, and I’ll never forget you being invited to dine with the Pres’dent. Them was some days to behold.”
Pouring the medicine into his spoon, Stephens nodded in agreement and pointed back to where a fire was burning in a fireplace located at the back of the room.
“Joshua, sit a spell with me. I get a little lonesome, especially this time of the year. She left me about this time two years ago.”
Not accustomed to socializing, Joshua dropped his head and replied, “You shore you wants me to sit with you.”
Making himself comfortable, Stephens continued, “Joshua, I’ve known you all my life. You served my father when he was alive; you took care of me when I was a youngster and when the war ended and the slaves were freed, you wouldn’t leave us. You go ahead and have a seat.”
“Yes Sir, Mister Senator, I ain’t never left you. You is the only family I got. You know, Mister Lincoln sho enough freed us, but he didn’t tell us where to go or what we ‘spose to do,” easing into the chair next to Stephens. “I decided I’d just stay right here with you, if’n you’d have me.”
Trying to refrain from coughing, Stephens grabbed his chest.
