The Other Side of the River
by
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Just call me Lige. Don’t like my last name. Ain’t much I can do about it, but it still don’t make me like it." They sat in silence for a few minutes as they finished up their meal and laid their dishes to the side. Lige took a deep breath as he wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. "Mighty fine meal. As I was saying, some folks say I’m crazy. Could be maybe they’re right. Don’t matter much one way or the other, anyway." "What brings you out this way, Lige?" Johnny asked. "I live out here. Can’t afford no vacation. Not just here. All over the place. Been prospecting for gold. Ain’t found the motherlode yet, but one of these day’s me and Nellie, we are gonna strike it rich. That’s Nellie right over there." He pointed toward the mule and she brayed as if she knew that he was talking about her. "This here’s one of my regular spots. Don’t many folks come around here ‘cuz they think it’s haunted." "Why would they think that?" asked Bobby. "Don’t rightly know myself," said Lige. "Guess ‘cuz they used to be an insane asylum right here on this very spot. That was many years ago, though. The government burned it down during the last rebellion. Lots of the local people claim there’s ghosts around here. But they don’t bother me and I don’t bother them. Maybe ghosts don’t mess with crazy people. Or maybe crazy people ain’t got sense enough to be scared of ‘em. Got any sugar?" "Sure," said Johnny and he handed him a bag. Lige took it and poured a big handful and walked over to feed it to Nellie. "Nellie loves that stuff, never eat it myself. Anything that tastes that good has got to be bad for ya. Probably kill ya. I ain’t ready to go yet. Still gotta find that motherlode." "Whatever got you to wandering around out here looking for gold?" asked the professor. "Got tired of the government interfering with everything. Couldn’t even go to the bathroom hardly without the government wanting to know about it. Tax this; tax that, it’s unlawful for you to do this or that. Told you when I walked up here, I didn’t care for the government. Never have and never will. Out here, at least so far, they ain’t messing with me and Nellie. Probably will, though, if we ever find that motherlode. That’s if I tell ‘em. Just as soon spend the rest of my days doing just what I’m doing right now. Living free. Or just as near to freedom as anyone can expect to obtain in this country anymore." "Do you mind if I take your picture?" Bobby asked. "Well, I don’t know. I haven’t had a picture in years." "It would make a good momento of our vacation scrapbook," said Bobby. "Well, if you just gotta have one, ya gotta take one of Nellie, too. I wouldn’t want her to go and get jealous on me." Lige went over and untied Nellie from the branch and stood holding the reins in one hand and his old slouch hat in the other. Bobby affixed the flash attachment to the camera and asked Johnny and the professor to get into the picture with Lige and Nellie. Johnny said, "Bobby, why don’t you set the timer on the camera, put it top of that rock there and get in the picture with us?" "Okay, Johnny," Bobby answered. He made the necessary adjustments and slid in beside the others. The camera snapped and the flash went off. Nellie brayed and tried to get away from the bright flash. Lige put his hand over her eyes and whispered into her ear as he stroked her on the neck and she soon settled down. "We’ve had ‘bout as much excitement as we can stand for one night, so I guess we better mosey on," said Lige. "I ‘ppreciate the supper, it was mighty fine." "Why don’t you go ahead and spend the night here with us, Lige?" said Johnny. "We’ve got plenty of room and plenty of firewood, something to eat and you are sure welcome to stay." "Naw, boys, me and Nellie, we gotta get going. We still gotta a lot of looking to do if we ever gonna find that motherlode. If’n you boys ever make it back out this way, stop on in. I’ll be around these parts somewhere and maybe we’ll run into each other again." He shook each one of their hands, took Nellie by the reins, and walked off into the darkness singing his own rendition of "Ol’ Brown Rosie, the Rose of Alabamie". When the sound of his voice faded away, only the sounds of a whippoorwill and a coyote were heard.
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About the Book
This book is intriguing, informative, and humorous while at the same time it is also thought provoking, as it will get you to thinking about families and the importance of all your heritages no matter who we are or where we come from. You will also find the seriousness of war the possible consequences of lies and deceit. It was written in a way that can be enjoyed by children and adults alike. If you are looking for dirty language, sexual exploits and racial prejudices, this is not the book for you. If you want clean family fun and enjoyment with a different historical twist you should enjoy this book.
About the Author
Born in northeast Arkansas, the author moved to Florida during his first year of school. He has always been interested in history, especially Civil War history. From this interest stemmed a short career as a Civil War re-enactor with Company E 7th Florida, a membership with the Sons of Confederate Veterans and the authorship of a book of Civil War poetry, from the southern point of view of course. The author also has been working on his own family tree for the last twenty years. He graduated from Winter Haven High School in 1970. He is an industrial electrician by trade, the father of three boys and two girls and currently has five grandchildren. He moved back to his native Arkansas in 1996.