excerpt
Poodie James took to orchard work and to the Thorps. He was a
help with the irrigation and learned to patrol the ditches, repairing
cave-ins and clearing clogs. Soon, he knew every tree in the
orchard and adopted favorite spots for napping on hot summer
afternoons. Boughs of apples hung over the lane, so loaded with
fruit that they had to be propped. Sunlight dodged through the
leaves and stippled the floor of the orchard. The children picked
asparagus and the dogs ran barking between the rows of trees. The
adult Thorps lounged on the porch after supper when shadows
crept up from the river and through the rows. As the twilight
blended into darkness, the children played tag among the trees.
Poodie sat in his cabin reading books from the library. He read
about ancient Egypt, about whales, about the cultivation of apples.
As the fruit grew, he rode beside Thorp on the big flatbed
wagon loaded with wooden props. He helped place the supports
and groaned when apples fell to the ground.
“Nothing to worry about, Poodie,” Thorp told him. It unnerved
him when Poodie’s gaze locked onto his face, but he was getting used
to it. ”The trees have to thin themselves. If they don’t do it enough,we
come along later and help them. Can’t have the branches breaking.”
That first summer with the Thorps, when he was 17, Poodie
explored beyond the east edge of the orchard, among the scrub
brush and the glacial boulders along the river. Thorp taught him to
keep an eye out for rattlers. The river’s edge was punctuated by
inlets with pools where trout rested and fed. Thorp and the older
boy showed him how to put a worm on a hook and catch a fish. At
the school he had become a strong swimmer. Thorp found him
swimming in one of the big pools the Columbia had scoured, and
summoned him onto the bank.
“Look at me,” he said. “Poodie, stay out of that river. That old
river is dangerous. Be pulled under in a second. Never know what
happened to you. That’s no friendly river when you’re in it. You just
stay out of it.”
Libros Libertad 