Mercy Me by Margaret A. Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

ma’am, I’ll have to see about that.” He rolled up the window and got on the radio to callheadquarters. All the time he was on the radio, he was laughing like this was some big joke. He stayed on the line for more time than I liked. When he finally hung up, he grinned and said, “Don’t worry about it, ma’am. We’ll see this mule gets a decent burial.”
    Well, I was not fool enough to take him at his word. I told him that me and the W.W.s were going to follow his truck and see to it he done what he said.
    I could see he didn’t like that one bit. Too bad for him.
    It was Clara’s car, so I couldn’t take Elijah along. But that was just as well, I guess. Horace drove that truck through town like a house afire, no doubt thinking he could shake us. But Clara had put Thelma behind the wheel, and Thelma stayed right on his bumper every turn he made. After swinging back and forth all over town, we finally wound up at the garbage dump.
    We piled out, the city workers piled out, and then we just stood there like it was a face-off at a basketball game, them leaning on their shovels and us all in a row.
    Horace jumped down from the cab, red in the face. “This is no place for you ladies! You are every one trespassing on city property! Whyn’t you all go on home before you get arrested?”
    Well, it dawned on me then that not only was Horace the sheriff’s son, but in addition to driving the city truck, he was made the deputy by his daddy, which meant he took two bites out of our tax money. I realized this man could make trouble for us, but I didn’t share this with the other ladies. We had no choice but to stick by our guns, even if he radioed for help and dragged us off to the city jail. As for Roger Elmwoodbacking us up, we couldn’t count on that unless it was good for him politically.
    As Horace fumed, the laborers turned their faces away, thoroughly enjoying the standoff. Finally, Horace said, “Get going with those shovels, men.”
    After they had dug a hole about three feet deep, he said they could stop.
    â€œOh, no,” Thelma said. “That won’t do. Dogs will dig poor Maude up. You’ve got to dig down—how far, Esmeralda?”
    â€œTen feet or more.”
    The workmen looked at Horace, hoping he’d say no. I tell you, he looked like he might. But he just started cursing, calling us names and kicking at the dirt.
    I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but I bit my tongue. Finally, he swore again, looked disgusted, and climbed back in the cab.
    That just goes to show you that what Splurgeon said is true: “If a donkey brays at you, you don’t have to bray back.”
    The men would dig a little, then stop to wipe sweat. From time to time, they all slacked up, resting on their shovels. But we didn’t say anything, and seeing as Horace was not getting out of the cab, they’d go back to digging.
    The sun was getting low by the time it looked like they had dug deep enough. All of us women peered over the hole, and when each one had nodded their approval, Clara told the workers they could stop digging and go get Maude.
    By the time they unloaded Maude and dumped her in the hole, it was getting late, but we dared not leave. Wewaited until every spade of dirt had filled up the grave. Then I went to the cab and told Horace we would be back every day to make sure Maude was not dug up again. He spit out the window, revved up the motor, and after the workers had climbed aboard, he roared back to town.
    Late as it was, we all trooped back to Elijah’s to tell him he could rest easy. He kept thanking us over and over again.
    On the way back to town, we were feeling so good we stopped at the Dairy Queen for a dip. As we sat around talking and laughing, we felt proud. We women get a kick out of bossing men around.

8

    We had high winds the Monday after we buried Maude but no rain, and the phone went out. Beatrice tried