Houseboat Girl (10 page)

“You found your dog, I see!” he said.

The man passenger laughed. “Now the kids are happy. They’ve got their pet back again.”

Patsy and Dan watched the ferry pull away. Then Patsy looked down at the dog in her arms.

“Where were you going, Blackie?” she asked tenderly. “Were you going away and leave us?”

“He wasn’t going away,” said Dan. “He just got mixed up. He thought he was on the houseboat going down river.”

“We’ll have to watch him better after this,” said Patsy.

There was great rejoicing in the Foster family when Blackie was brought back and the story told. They all laughed about Blackie wanting to take a ride on the ferryboat.

In the morning, they were off again.

Patsy thought now and then about her old home in a real house in River City, Illinois. The two short years of her life spent there now seemed like a dream. Even the memory of her best friends there was fading. She never talked about Ginny Cobb or the Cramer girls any more. She never mentioned Pushcart Aggie or Janey Miller, and her pearl. All that was buried deep in the short past of her childhood. The experiences of now and the present were so rich, she was not reminded of what had gone before.

Now her life was the river, the great Mississippi River which had claimed the souls of so many people before her, people of all kinds, all ages and stations. The river was a mighty force that challenged human beings and dared them to meet that challenge. All her life now was bound up in the river. Some days she just sat on the deck and dreamed.

In her mind was a confused jumble of impressions—willow trees and sand bars, wooded islands and towheads, snakes, turtles and fish, water birds in the shallows and land birds in the cottonwoods, pile dikes, asphalt banks and cave-ins, buoys and river lights and day marks. Once when they stopped she saw the bright eyes of a raccoon looking down from the branch of an overhanging tree, but Daddy would not let her get it for a pet.

It was hard to remember the days of the week, or what town they had been in or passed by. It was hard to remember where particular events had taken place. One day passed and another came. The Foster family kept going without seeming intent or purpose, just to keep going. Sometimes Patsy wondered if they would ever stop and if she would ever live in a house again.

Now she saw the people on the river banks with a fresh eye. She would see children stopping their play and staring as the houseboat went by. She would see a mother hanging the wash out on a line, but the line was tied to a little house with roses blooming over the doorway and not to a houseboat. She would see the cars moving along the road with people riding in them, and now and then a train with people looking out the windows.

She felt sorry-for the land people now. They did not know what they were missing when they stayed in one place all the time. She pitied the children because they had only a yard or a few streets to play in, instead of a great river that went on and on even to the ocean. She knew they had stores and 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.

“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 Tennessee again,” said Daddy. “Seth Barker was never a man to stay in one place for long.”

“It would do my heart good to see Edie again,” said Mama. “Let’s stop at O’Donald Bend and hunt them up.”

“Like findin’ a needle in a haystack,” said Daddy, “but we’ll take a look at that chute.”

“And maybe stop and stay a while?” asked Patsy eagerly.

Daddy patted her on the back. “We just might do that, honey.”

The houseboat made good headway down river, around Island No. 18, and came to Cottonwood Point ferry in lower Missouri, where Daddy had to stop for some minor repairs. The children begged Mama to let them go to the store at the ferry landing.

“What for?” asked Mama.

“We want to see what’s up there,” said Patsy. “See the town and the stores and the houses and the people.”

“There’s no town at all,” said Mama, “nothing but a country road leading to the ferry.”

“Daddy said there’s a gas station and a store,” said Patsy.

“Gimme a nickel, Mama!” begged Dan and Bunny.

“Gimme a nickel, too,” begged Patsy, bringing Mama’s purse.

“Hush! All I got is pennies,” said Mama, giving some to each. “Go spend them if that’s any fun.”

Bunny dropped one of hers. “Where’s my penny?” she cried. Patsy picked it up.

Mama said, “Patsy, give it to Bunny.”

Patsy who was running, threw the penny behind her. Bunny finally found it, said it was not hers and began wailing for the other one. Mama watched them as they ran, followed by the dog and cat.

“Don’t let Blackie get lost,” she called after them.

In half an hour they came back with bubble gum and began smacking it. Suddenly Dan burst out, “I know what bubble gum’s made out of!”

“What?” asked Patsy.

“Dead horses!” said Dan.

“Oh!” cried Patsy. “How horrible!” She spat hers into the river. “Next time I’ll buy gumdrops.”

Patsy went out to the back porch where Mama

was peeling potatoes. She sat down quietly beside her and started to talk.

“There was a girl up there at the store, Mama,” Patsy said, “and I didn’t like her at all.”

“Why not?” asked Mama. “Anything wrong with her?”

“She had a pretty dress on,” said Patsy, “and a gold ring on her finger.”

“Well, what of it?” asked Mama. “Anything wrong with that?”