Dark Water Rising Read Online Free Page B

chicken pen. While I stood there wondering if he had a wife inside waiting to cook his breakfast, his hands dropped to his sides as if he knew he was being watched. He picked up the pan at his feet, slowly turned, and looked my way.
    I waved, feeling a bit embarrassed about my staring, but even more so about the stool dangling from my hand. Ezra hesitated, but only for a moment, then he gave me a wide grin and waved back.
    We finished off a breakfast of ham, eggs, and grits, then packed up the few things we’d needed for the night and loaded them back into the buggy. Ezra had already left in the dray, headed for the rental.
    Uncle Nate turned Archer west, down Avenue R, taking us past Woollam’s Lake. He said there were only about thirty houses in the Denver Resurvey, so Mama was pleased to find we had so many neighbors close by.
    “The Masons live next door to your rental,” Uncle Nate said, “and Captain Munn, the Vedders, and the Peek family live behind you toward the beach. Richard Peek is our city engineer.”
    He’d already told us about Fort Crockett, with its brand-new artillery emplacements, which lay just south of us, close to the shoreline. And about Saint Mary’s Orphanage, too, which housed ten sisters and almost a hundred children. The two large dormitories sat about ten blocks farther down the island, in the dunes right next to the beach. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose both your parents, but I figured that if it had to be so, then living in a place where you could go swimming and fishing every day was where I’d want to be.
    We pulled up to a small, two-story house facing north, its back turned to the gulf. Like most of the homes in Galveston, it was built atop a raised basement. It had electric lights and a porch, or “gallery” as they called it here, that ran across the main floor and wrapped around the east side to catch the gulf breezes.
    Mama looked excited. The house was nicer than anything we’d had in Lampasas. She and Kate climbed the steps to look it over, and Matt and Lucas ran after them. I grabbed one of the few crates left in the dray to carry up with me, but Uncle Nate put his hand on my shoulder.
    “Ezra will do that, son.”
    I stood there, gripping Mama’s china while Papa and Uncle Nate continued their talk. I’d always been expected to help before and didn’t see why this time should be any different. Besides, Ezra was old, and he’d already made countless trips up those stairs.
    “No need a-worryin’,” Ezra said, easing the crate from my hands. “I’ll take right good care of it, Mr. Seth.”
    The old man snuggled the china close to his chest and headed up the stairs, mindful of each step to the main floor. Two more trips and the dray sat empty. Uncle Nate said his good-byes and left Ezra to take Papa into town for groceries.
    While they were gone, a woman named Virginia Mason came to welcome us with fresh baked bread and a bundle of jasmine cut from the trellis in her yard. The sweet-smelling blossoms reminded me of the honeysuckle that had grown outside my bedroom window in Lampasas. While I put the vines in water for Mama, I heard Mrs. Mason say that she and her husband lived next door with their three children and a servant. “And if we can be of any service in helping you get settled,” she said, “please do not hesitate to call upon us.”
    The fact that so many here had colored servants seemed a curious thing to me. In Lampasas, most had been Mexicans or immigrants who spoke little English.I never had any firsthand experience with them, though. Mama and Papa had always considered hired help to be an extravagance when they had three strapping boys to help with the heavy work. I grew up scrubbing floors, tending horses, washing clothes—whatever was needed—and it appeared that nothing would change much with this move.
    All day Saturday, Mama had us doing things that would’ve made any man my age balk, dangling the chance to see the Labor Day