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Margaret Lukas
a book bubble about
River People
Literature & Fiction
Author Insight
Remembering My Mother
Effie has never managed a wagon before and certainly not one headed down a steep incline. She’s completely out of her element and scared. When I wrote this section, I was thinking about my mother. We lived on a farm in central Nebraska, and she hated being called on to work around machinery…especially under my father’s eye. He, of course, was quite comfortable around any kind of equipment, and naturally didn’t understand her hesitancy or lack of expertise. What’s so hard about driving a car up a ramp? (Two boards, the width of the car’s wheels apart, propped against a flatbed trailer.) Or towing him with the pickup while he’s on a short chain five feet behind in the towed vehicle. If she went too fast, his arms flew up like a hawk’s in her rear-view, but should she immediately slow, there he’d be on her bumper, the arms even wilder. “Ah,” she’d moan whenever he stuck his head in the house saying he needed her to come out and help. And when his back was turned, “I’d rather clean the house for a week, then spend ten minutes doing that.”
Book Excerpt
River People
Rev. Jackdaw scowled as he handed her the reins. “Keep it slow.” He climbed out, made a shoving motion to Bridget, telling her to get out of the cart. He grabbed the bridle at the throatlatch and tugged. “Step on.”
Effie’s eyes widened as they started down, rolling over ruts and holes, some as deep as a foot. The cuts, from seasons of neglect and water washing down, made her think of monstrous claw marks. She clutched the reins as the buggy rocked and lurched. Each time she bounced inches above the seat, she slammed her foot harder on the brake and struggled to keep herself from flying off. She wished she’d been allowed to walk with Bridget, but she had no more say in how she descended than Nell.
“Slow!” Rev. Jackdaw yelled at her.
She tried to concentrate, to stay focused just on braking and keeping the reins taut. She couldn’t look at the lodge, couldn’t think right now about living in the uncivilized West with trees, an orphan, and a man who paid no more mind to her wants than he did to his horse’s.
“Slow!”
She stomped her full weight on the brake, the wood and leather pads gripping and squeaking. They had no choice but to go down. No one would risk leaving a horse and buggy unattended in this wild. But if a wheel sank into a furrow, though they moved against the cuts, or the bouncing snapped the old buggy’s axel, even if Nell stepped into a hole, splintering a cannon bone, Effie didn’t care. What lay at the bottom felt like dropping off the edge of civilization.
“Slow! Can’t you hear?”
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