The Master is Here Stories Christian and Gay by John Addison Dally

Author:John Addison Dally
Format: epub

The Ballad of Charlie and James

April, 1937

Bogdon Holler, West Virginia

No one was quite sure when the boys had arrived in Bogdon Holler, or where they’d come from. One day the old Darby cabin was in an advanced state of dilapidation, and the next two young men could be seen making repairs and getting the place habitable once more. Everyone was curious about the strangers but no one asked by what right the boys had taken possession of Darby’s place. The old man had died without kin; was one of them some distant relative? How else would they know about the cabin? Everyone figured they’d need supplies sooner or later, and then the mystery would be solved.

And sure enough, that's how it came about. One morning in mid-April the two boys came striding into town looking for all the world like two young Charles Lindberghs, wearing identical leather bomber jackets, white shirts open at the collar, and corduroy britches tucked into knee-high lace-up boots. One was taller and seemed older than the other. He had sandy hair combed back from his forehead, a thin moustache, and perfect features like a model in a catalogue. The other boy, younger and shorter, was a ginger, his hair a mass of auburn curls on top of his head, the sides cropped short, and freckles all over his face, which was that of a pugilist. Both of them looked pretty humorless, but the younger one seemed like he would cut you dead if you looked at him wrong. They walked quickly and purposefully down the town’s only street as though they knew the place, and clambered up the three wooden steps into Chauncey Graves’s general store without slowing their pace. A small crowd followed them through the door, gawking. The expression of the older boy softened as soon as he engaged the owner.

“Good morning,” he said, flashing a sudden smile, announcing himself an outsider in three syllables.

“A jasper!” rippled through the assembled folk in hushed and surprised tones.

“Morning to ye,” said Chauncey. “What can I do ye fer?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, we have a list.”

As a matter of fact now got passed from mouth to ear among the onlookers.

“A fancy jasper!” one of them said. The phrase seemed to arouse the ire of the ginger, who turned on the crowd behind him.

“Yeah, he’s a jasper, but he ain’t no fancy jasper!”

Hearing the cadences of the holler delighted and perplexed the listeners. “What’s this young’un doing with a jasper?” they said to one another. Most foreigners who showed up here were either lost or taking photographs of the locals’ ‘misery’ on a WPA grant. They sure didn't come to live here.

“Hit were none of yore lookout what we’s fixin’ to buy for ourselves in no case. Don’t you’uns need to be a-workin’? Go on, scat now!”

“About that list,” the first young man said, sounding more urbane than ever after his companion's outburst.

“Fraid readin’s not strong with me,” Chauncey said. “If you might could speak it out, we'll jes’ see how I can holp ye.

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