The Legend of Bagger Vance Read Online Free Page A

effrontery were so egregious, my senses were struck numb. This was outrageous, unspeakable. Junah rose, steadied himself, then strode powerfully toward the black man. I braced myself for what certainly was coming: Junah’s fist smashing into the brazen fellow’s cheek, then Junah towering over his vanquished form, ordering the others to throw him out before he murdered him with his bare hands.
    I was terrified, yet anticipating it deliciously. Would Junah break his neck? Actually kill him?
    To my amazement, Junah strode straight past the black man, pausing only to brush an affectionate hand across his shoulder!At the breadboard, Junah plucked a knife and plate and called back to ask if cold chicken or ham was to my taste!
    “Forgive the tardy introductions, Master Greaves.” Junah’s gesture swept from me to the stranger.
    “My mentor and boon companion, Mister Bagger Vance.”

Six
    I HAVE PUZZLED FOR YEARS and lain awake many nights, trying to understand what it was about this mysterious fellow that held my attention so raptly. He did nothing whatever to put himself forward. When the elders arrived (which they soon did in a thunder of Reo, Hupmobile and Model A engines) and the drama decamped to its new setting in the library of the mansion house, Vance withdrew inobtrusively to a corner, where he took up a solemn post and stood absolutely still, observing with an utterly detached calm, saying nothing.
    I couldn’t stop staring at him.
    Despite the high romance ensuing in the lights at the front, my glance kept returning, furtively I’m sure, to glimpse his powerful presence, which radiated some…I don’t know what…some consciousness which I couldn’t grasp or define but which I was certain was of utmost importance.
    The best I can describe the effect the fellow produced uponme is to say that that night, watching the way Vance watched, was the first time I had ever glimpsed my surroundings with something like objectivity.
    Till then I had inhabited my boy’s world as a fish inhabits the sea, taking it utterly as a given. As the only world that existed. The only possible world. Now for the first time I grasped the existence of this world apart from myself . Do you understand, Michael? Like a fish suddenly made aware that it is swimming in water, I found every aspect of my perception changed.
    Not for long, of course. The drama up front was too compelling. There, by the grand piano, beneath the great wall of books, Judge Anderson was treading the boards like a tentshow revivalist. Invoking Savannah’s pride, her chance to place a mark upon the consciousness of the nation, and so on. The elders (twelve, including my father) reinforced the Judge like a phalanx of Pharisees. Before these, Junah stood, listening patiently with a wry twist on his handsome features. I saw his hand raised for respite, the Judge ignoring it, Junah smiling, lowering his eyes, then announcing in a soft but clear voice that there was no possibility that he would participate in the golf match.
    The elders didn’t hear.
    Or if they did, the words slipped past in a willed blast of disbelief and denial. “Of course you will,” Judge Anderson continued without hesitation. “Now: have you the proper clubs and equipment?”
    “I said I won’t play,” Junah repeated softly.
    “Don’t trifle on a matter of such import.” Anderson began losing patience.
    “Please don’t make me repeat myself,” Junah said. “I do not wish to participate. My decision is final.”
    The Judge’s face went plum-red. The man beside my father staggered, faint. Several of the others stiffened, seemed poised to step forward and actually thrash Junah. Others simply gaped in disbelief. As for myself, you could have scraped me off the floor with a spatula.
    “You cannot be serious, sir,” my father addressed Junah. “The city must have a champion, and no one but yourself is worthy.”
    “I’m sorry, Doctor. I have given up the game.”
    Blank silence. I