The Curious World of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

uneasy glances at the sky and murmuring, “Don’t let us be too late.”
    â€œToo late for what?”
    â€œA terrible storm might be coming,” he said. “I fear the worst. We must warn them on the coast. Your mother has family in Galveston, does she not?”
    â€œThere’s Uncle Gus and Aunt Sophronia and their daughter, Aggie. That makes her my cousin, but I’ve never met her.”
    â€œYour mother should telephone them right away.”
    â€œTelephone? Galveston?” I marveled at the idea. We’d never done such a preposterous thing; the expense and inconvenience were unimaginable. I examined the plump cumulus clouds on the horizon, and although there were a lot of them, I saw no portent of doom. They looked like ordinary clouds to me.
    We passed the cotton gin once owned by Granddaddy and now by Father. A row of old Confederate soldiers and Indian fighters rocked back and forth out front, arguing over past glories and defeats, pausing from time to time on the forward swing to spit tobacco. The ground around them was dotted with foul, shiny gobs that looked like dead brown slugs. Willy Medlin had the sharpest aim, despite being the oldest and most decrepit, maybe because he’d practiced the longest. He could hit a cockroach, Periplaneta americana , dead-on from ten feet, an accomplishment much admired by my brothers. The old coots hailed Granddaddy, who had fought by their side during the War, but if he heard them, he gave no sign.
    We hurried to the Western Union office housed next to the newspaper and the telephone switchboard. The bell over the door signaled our arrival, and the telegrapher, Mr. Fleming, came out to greet us.
    On spying Granddaddy, he drew himself to attention and saluted smartly, saying, “Cap’n Tate.”
    â€œGood afternoon, Mr. Fleming. No need to salute. We are both old men. The War is long over.”
    Mr. Fleming stood at ease and said, “The War of Northern Aggression will never be over, Captain. The Cause is not lost! The South shall rise again!”
    â€œMr. Fleming, let us not live mired in the past. Let us be forward-thinking men.”
    I had heard similar exchanges before. Mr. Fleming was easily riled up and could spew pure vitriol on the subject of Yankees. Under normal circumstances, it could be quite entertaining, but today was not a normal day.
    Granddaddy continued, “We must hurry. I need to send three telegrams immediately.”
    â€œCertainly, sir. If you’ll pencil your message in this blank here, I’ll get them out as soon as I can. Who are they going to?”
    â€œThe mayors of Galveston, Houston, and Corpus Christi. But I’m afraid I don’t know their names.”
    â€œThat’s not a problem. We’ll address them to His Honor the Mayor, and that should do it. I know all the head telegraphers. We’ll make sure they get delivered.”
    Granddaddy wrote his message and handed it to Mr. Fleming, who peered at it through his half-moon spectacles and read aloud: “‘Seagull sighted two hundred miles from coast, stop. Evidence of major storm coming, stop. Evacuation may be necessary, stop.’” He lifted his glasses to his forehead and frowned. “That it, Cap’n?”
    â€œThat’s correct, thank you. Galveston Island lacks a seawall and is the most vulnerable, so please send that one first.”
    â€œThis is mighty serious business. You really think they should get out because of a bird?”
    â€œMr. Fleming, have you ever seen a laughing gull in Caldwell County?”
    â€œWell, no, I guess not. But it still strikes me as a pretty drastic measure. I’ll bet they’re used to big winds down there.”
    â€œNot like this, Mr. Fleming. I fear a calamity of the worst magnitude.”
    â€œYou really saw a seagull?”
    â€œMy granddaughter saw one earlier this morning.”
    Mr. Fleming cut his eyes sideways at me, and I