Read The Crystal City: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume VI for Free Online

the dust. “Hexy house.”
    An older woman joined in. “You pretty bad trained, boy,” she said. “You talk to a white girl and never say ma’am.”
    “Sorry ma’am,” said Arthur Stuart.
    “Where we come from,” said Alvin, “polite folks talk to the master.”
    The woman glared at him and moved away.
    The teenage girl, though, was still curious. “That Mama Squirrel, is it true she has babies of all colors?”
    “I don’t know about that,” said Alvin. “Seems she has some children that tan real dark in the sun, and some that just freckle.”
    “Personne know where they get the money to live,” said the girl. “Some folks say they teach them kids to steal, send them into the city at night. Dark faces, you can’t see them so good.”
    “Nothing like that,” said Arthur Stuart. “See, they own the patent on stupid, and every time somebody in the city says something dumb, they get three cents.”
    The girl looked at him with squinty eyes. “They be the richest people in town, then, so I think you lie.”
    “I reckon you owe a dollar a day to whoever has the patent on no-sense-of-humor.”
    “You are not a slave,” said the girl.
    “I’m a slave to fortune,” said Arthur Stuart. “I’m in bondage to the universe, and my only manumission will be death.”
    “You gone to school, you.”
    “I only learned whatever my sister taught me,” said Arthur Stuart truthfully.
    “I have a knack,” said the girl.
    “Good for you,” said Arthur Stuart.
    “This was sick water,” she said, “and now is healthy. Your master healed it.”
    Alvin realized that this conversation had taken far too dangerous a turn. To Arthur he said, “If you’re done offending everybody in the neighborhood by talking face to face with a white girl, and not looking down and saying ma’am, it’s time to haul this water back.”
    “I was not offended,” said the girl. “But if you heal the water, maybe you come home with me and heal my mama.”
    “I’m no healer,” said Alvin.
    “I think what she got,” said the girl, “is the yellow fever.”
    If anybody had thought nobody was paying attention to this conversation, they’d have got their wake-up when she said that . It was like every nose on every face was tied to a string that got pulled when she said “yellow fever.”
    “Did you say yellow fever?” asked an old woman.
    The girl looked at her blankly.
    “She did,” said another woman. “Marie la Morte a dit.”
    “Dead Mary says her ma’s got yellow fever!” called someone.
    And now the strings were pulled in the opposite direction. Every head turned to face away from the girl—Dead Mary was her name, apparently—and then all the feet set to pumping and in a few minutes, Alvin, Arthur, and Dead Mary were the only humans near the fountain. Some folks quit the place so fast their jugs was left behind.
    “I reckon nobody’s going to steal these jars if we don’t leave them here too long,” said Alvin. “Let’s go see your mother.”
    “They will be stole for sure,” said Dead Mary.
    “I’ll stay and watch them,” said Arthur Stuart.
    “Sir and ma’am,” said Alvin. “And never look a white person in the eye.”
    “When there’s nobody around, can I just set here and pretend to be human?”
    “Please yourself,” said Alvin.
    It took a while to get to Dead Mary’s house. Down streets until they ran out of streets, and then along paths between shacks, and finally into swampy land till they came to a little shack on stilts. Skeeters were thick as smoke in some spots.
    “How can you live with all these skeeters?” asked Alvin.
    “I breathe them in and cough them out,” said Dead Mary.
    “How come they call you that?” asked Alvin. “Dead Mary, I mean.”
    “Marie la Morte? Cause I know when someone is sick before he know himself. And I know how the sickness will end.”
    “Am I sick?”
    “Not yet, no,” said the girl.
    “What makes you think I can heal your mother?”
    “She