 Billy Daily loved his life, and he loved Amanda Wheeler. He'd sit with her on the front porch swing and ache to touch and feel her. He loved her like a unmarked soul likes to love another one. He'd hold her hand when he could, and then he'd hold the other one.  Billy Daily loved his life, and he loved Amanda Wheeler. He wrote her unsent love letters that one day away he'd steal her. Their favorite nights were summer - safe and sweet and dark and warm. When she came in close to him, her breath would brush along his arm. But as much as he loved her - as much as he wanted - there was another that touched him even deeper - that called him by his real name, and slipped under his skin when he was a helpless sleeper.  It was the River that slipped silky into his dreams, running round the land and through the valley floor. Penetrating his sleep, its endless rippling seams ran their fingers through his core. And as much as he loved Amanda, it was the river that sang the boy's song, and called him to the boy's life growing wild and free and strong. So, he and his pal Matty Bell would pray through the winter's cold - pray for school's rules to end and free them to the river's fold. Then, catching an ore car through the Hopewell tunnel when the engineer turned a blind eye, they'd hike down from the Clarkdale smelter to a world of water and sun and sky. Building a raft out of the broken limbs the spring flood threw up on the beach, they'd drift from the sand pits to the Anazazi ruins wanting for nothing not within their reach.  They'd pretend they were the old ones that had long since disappeared. They'd paint their faces with river mud like warriors white men feared. The days were long and slow and filled with the Arizona sun. When it got too hot they'd dive in the deep spot and try to touch the bottom.  One day as Billy was rambling about Amanda and all she was to him, Matty laughed and said that Billy's love-soaked brain was getting dim - said the girl was ruining his friend, just by being feminine. "You know, you're going down. I never seen the like. Your eyes are glassy, got a fever probably. You ain't talking sense, and your knees are wobbly. A Wobbly, that's what I'm calling you boy. Twitchy and shaky - Amanda's little toy." Then he laughed and pushed Billy off the raft. Billy rolled into the moving water clear and cold as a preacher's daughter. He tumbled weightless in the stream, silver trout flashing all around him.  Billy Daily loved his life, and he loved Amanda Wheeler. He thought he had the insight on the inside of the real her. Her eyes were a mysterious place where love sick boys got lost. He spent himself upon her and didn't count the cost. It was always the river though that pulled him from her spell. How deep it ran inside of him he had no words to tell.  When the sun was warm, and the river smooth under the raft, slipping through the shade of the Cottonwood trees, they rode through an untouched world, and life was as pure and sweet and free as you please. On the tenth of July in aught-seventeen they spent the whole day in liquid motion. floating and dreaming somewhere in between the valley and the inevitable ocean. They fished with cane poles and worms and caught a few dace and bass. They were lazy in no uncertain terms and lived the day until the last. Then, running up the hill, They caught the five fifteen. Supper was at six, And they had to be clean. Matty was still riding him about being so much in love, calling him a "Wobbly" who needed help from heaven above. When they got into town, they could see that something was wrong. There were armed men everywhere - soldiers on rooftops with gatling guns. His friendly neighbors had turned into a mob shouting and screaming in the dusty street. He saw Mr. Perkins, Mr. Chavez, Charlie Persons, and even his drunk uncle Pete. They were all yelling one word over and over, and they were yelling it clear. "Kill the Wobblies!” they shouted, "We don't want no god-damned Wobblies here!" For the first time in his life Billy Daily tasted fear. Every face he saw was filled with hate. They wanted to hurt him shoot him undo him. "Kill the Wobblies!" was all they could say. He saw the sheriffs driving men before them, rifles pointed at their heads, forcing them into box cars at the depot, grown men like the walking dead.  He heard one man singing in a proud but sorrowful voice, singing about how all workers deserved to have a choice. "You will eat, bye and bye, In that glorious land above the sky; Work and pray, live on hay, You'll get pie in the sky when you die." * He watched as the sheriff clubbed him - watched him fall down to the ground - watched his stunned eyes close and his mouth cease to make a sound. It was then the sheriff looked up and glared hard into his eyes. He said, "Wobblies are the one thing that I really do despise."  Billy ran like he had never run before, down the shadowy hill to his home. Still the screaming voices chased him, chilling him to the bone. He ran into his mother's arms, held her tight and started to sob. He told her about the soldiers and the guns and the vicious, violent mob. Told her how they yelled and how hateful people could be, and how they wanted to kill him just because he was a Wobbly. His mother took and held him tight, and told him everything was fine - She told him that he was not the Wobbly that those folks were trying to find. He stopped and looked into her eyes, and saw that it was the gospel truth, but something precious there had slipped away. It was the last bit of her youth. She looked a little older now and sadder, that's for sure. A certain light had grown clouded there that used to shine so pure. Billy Daily changed that day. as somethings became much clearer. He learned to hold those that he loved just a little nearer. Billy Daily loved his life, and he loved Amanda Wheeler. He'd sit with her on the front porch swing and ache to touch and feel her. He loved her like a soiled soul likes to love a purer one. Between the lost and innocent, the innocent's the surer one. And the river? It remained the same. Was Billy who let it go. He was replaced by a younger boy who had no sin to know.  |
