Before We Were Yours - Lisa Wingate Page 0,27

officer steps up, grabs my arm like he means to stop me. “Ain’t you a pretty little river rat?” His tongue slides across his teeth, and for the first time, he’s close enough that I can see his face under the shiny hat brim. His eyes are gray, and they’re mean, but they’re not cold like I thought they’d be. They’re interested, except I don’t know why. His look moves from my face down my neck toward the shoulder that’s hanging out of the nightgown right now. “Somebody oughta feed you up a little.”

Behind him, Silas wobbles to his feet, blinks, and staggers. He settles a hand on the axe that’s standing by the woodpile.

No, I try to say without saying it. Doesn’t he hear the men down shore and the motorboat coming closer?

From inside the shanty, there’s a soft, high squeak, just loud enough that I catch it. The outhouse door. Camellia’s trying to sneak away through the back.

Do something. “M-my little brother just got off the pot. I need to clean him up before we go, or there’ll be poop everywhere. Unless y-you wanna do it.” It’s the only thing I can think of. Men don’t like messy babies. Briny won’t touch one at all except to dunk it in the river if Queenie or Camellia or me aren’t there to do it.

The officer curls his lip, lets me go, and turns to listen over his shoulder. Silas jerks his hand away from the axe, stands with fists gripped at the ends of his skinny arms.

“Better hurry along.” The policeman’s lips spread into a smile, but there’s no kindness in it. “Your mama’s waitin’.”

“You go on now, Silas. Just git.” I stop in the doorway, stare at him, thinking, Go. Run!

The officer looks from me to Silas. He reaches toward his belt, toward the gun, the club, the black metal wristlets. What’s he planning to do?

“Go on, git!” I yell, and give Silas a shove. “Briny and Zede wouldn’t want you here!”

Our eyes lock. He shakes his head a little. I nod mine. He closes his lashes real slow, then opens them again and turns and runs down the gangplank.

“There’s one in the water!” another policeman yells from the riverbank. The men in the motorboat holler, and the kicker throttles up.

Camellia! I spin around and rush inside, the officer’s heavy footsteps coming after me. He shoves me, and I land against the cookstove, and he thunders to the back, where the stern door is hanging open. Fern, Lark, and Gabion are clustered along the rail. The man throws them back inside, hard, and they land in a pile screaming and crying.

“Mellia! Mellia!” Gabion wails, and points toward the outhouse, where our sister has shinnied down the privy hole into the river. She’s slogging her way toward shore now, her wet nightgown clinging to her long, sunbrowned legs. A police officer runs after her, and the men in the motorboat follow along in the water.

She climbs a drift pile, as quick and nimble as a doe.

Gabion lets out a high-pitched scream.

The policeman on the back porch yanks his pistol from its holster.

“No!” I try to lunge forward, but Fern’s got my legs. We land on the floor, toppling Lark with us. She lets out a sharp cry, and the last thing I see before the woodbox blocks my view is the man onshore leaping over a branch, stretching out a hand, and catching Camellia by her long, dark hair.

When I come up again, she’s fighting like crazy, kicking and screaming and growling. Her arms and legs flail as the policeman holds her away from his body.

The guys in the motorboat throw their heads back and laugh like drunks at a pool-hall fight.

It takes three of them to get my sister in the boat and two to hold her down once she’s there. When they pull up to the Arcadia, they’ve got Camellia pinned on the floor. They’re muddy and mad because she smells like the bottom of an outhouse, and she’s gotten it on everybody.

The officer on the Arcadia stands himself in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning like he’s comfortable there. “You get your clothes changed real nice now…out here where I can see. We’re not gonna have anybody else running off.”

I’m not about to get dressed in front of him, so I take care of Gabion, Lark, and Fern first. Finally, I just put my dress on over my nighty, even though it’s way too hot

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