Aunt Nancy Needs a Loan (After Jerry Clower 1926-1988)

Most people in Cottonville know that when Aunt Nancy was a child a lot of people didn’t bother with too much schooling. When she was in the third grade at Arkabutla Consolidated School, she had what she thought was the best teacher in the world; Miss Elizabeth Chalmers, or Miss Lizzie, as most people called her. She learned to read pretty well and she learned her multiplication tables. It was a good year for her. She had come a long way, but she had no idea how far she had to go. The next year she decided that it had been so good she would just stay in the third grade. Everybody tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t hear of moving up. So they let her stay. The second year was so good, she wanted to stay again. This time however, her mama said no.

                “People will thing you’s slow if you spend another year in the same grade,” she said. “I can hear the gossip now. I ain’t gonna let you stay in the third grade for the third year.”

                “I don’t care what people say. If I can’t stay in Miss Lizzie’s room, I ain’t gonna go back.”

                And that’s just what she did. She quit school and helped out at home. This was not unusual; a lot of folks in America did just that. It seemed to work out pretty good for Aunt Nancy. She learned all she needed to about farm life. She learned to cook and can, to tend to a garden and the livestock, and to run the farm accounts, including the banking. Then when she was 16 she met Mr. Gilbert Hoskins and they got married, had a couple of boys, and settled into the rest of their lives. But then when the boys were 6 and 8, he died, leaving Aunt Nancy all alone with those two young’uns.

                Aunt Nancy may have quit school after two years in the third grade, but she wasn’t dumb by a long shot. She sold a little dollar cotton, raised a few cow, and traded some mules, and she managed to send her two boys off to Ole Miss and save a little on top of that. And she had done it all on that little forty acre farm near the Savage bluff.

                It wasn’t just any forty acres though. It was the nicest little piece of bottom land in the county.  Anybody in their right mind would have jumped at the chance to buy it, if only it came up for sale. Many of the locals sat there waiting for the opportunity. The problem was Aunt Nancy didn’t want to leave. Her boys had moved away and had their own kids, and their kids had had kids, and their kids were having kids, but she wouldn’t budge. She was about as stubborn as a mule. For almost fifty years they had been trying to get her to move in with them, but she refused to even talk about it.

                “Your Pa died on this place,” she always told them, “and I reckon I’ll do the same.”

                And so she stayed on. Every year she out lived a few of those people wanting her piece of land, and eventually their kids and even their kids. But now these were good people, they may have wanted Aunt Nancy’s farm, but none of them were jealous of Aunt Nancy, and of course they would have never tried to beat her out of it, all but one banker over in Tunica that is.

                Banker Dave was a low down, no good, scallywag, money hungry Yankee, from Memphis.  His Uncle had moved down to Tunica and bought the bank years ago. He was ok by most people’s standards around these parts. He had been fair and honest, or at least as fair and honest as you would expect from a banker. He was pretty good people. Most folks liked him, and he was accepted as a local. Then his family lost him. When I say they lost him, I don’t want you to feel too bad, he didn’t die. He went down to Moon Lake fishing one day, and he never came back. He met Mr. Terry Johnson’s widow and lost all interest in banking, and eventually shaving. That was when Banker Dave came down and took things over. Banker Dave, unlike his Uncle, was not good people. I don’t want to start any gossip, but it’s said he ate supper before saying grace.

                When Banker Dave first came down he was single. This didn’t go unnoticed by the local gaggle of single women in and around Tunica. They hounded that poor man night and day. The worst of them was Marge Jessup. She was an over developed waitress at the Welcome Wagon Restaurant in a real short skirt, high heels, and a platinum blond wig. Fighting the local singles off was a second job, and Banker Dave got tired of the work. It didn’t take long before he decided to ask his girlfriend, Miss Elizabeth Crump, to get married. All went well, she said yes, and he decided to bring her down to Tunica for an engagement party. The whole town got ready, and one Friday afternoon she took the train down to Tunica and checked into the Marie Hotel. On Saturday, the day of the party, she went to meet Banker Dave for lunch at the Welcome Wagon before the party. Now Banker Dave has never been anyplace on time. Gossip has it his poor mama was in labor with him for two days. When he did show up Miss Elizabeth was so hot she pitched a hissy fit right there, went back to the Hotel, and refused to leave.  She was going back to Memphis, and the wedding was off. Nobody could get her to change her mind. And nobody could get her to leave for the engagement party. Then Aunt Nancy walked into the Welcome Wagon for a piece of their apple pie, and heard the whole story.

                “Well if brains was lard the lot of you couldn’t fry an egg,” she said. “Now ya’ll just git Banker Dave over to the party, and leave the rest to someone who understands women.”

                As the group headed out she told Pinky Douglas to go over to the Marie Hotel, sit down in the lobby near Miss Elizabeth, and wait for her. Pinky did just that. Then after about ten minutes Aunt Nancy walked in and sat down beside her.

                “Oh, heavens to Betsey,” Aunt Nancy said. “You should see what’s goin’ on over at that party. Marge Jessup is in a skirt so short it might as well be a belt. She’s got everything the Good Lord give her hanging out, and when she bends over you can almost see all the way to the promise land. It’s shameful, that’s what it is, and him almost a married man. I don’t know where that fiancé of his is, but if she don’t git over there pretty quick, it’ll be too late.”

                About that time she glanced over to see what Miss Elizabeth was doing. But all she could see was a blur headed for the door. Aunt Nancy walked over to the party and said her howdy do’s and went on back home. In June they got married in Memphis, and that was almost fifty years ago.

Now you would think saving his marriage like that would mean something to a man, and at first he was as thankful as he could be. But then on his first trip to Cottonville to thank Aunt Nancy, he fell in love with her farm. Instead of being grateful, he decided he had to have that farm, at any price. Now when he said any price, he didn’t mean he was going to walk up and offer her a wagon load of money. No sir’re. He meant no matter how hard it was going to be to beat her out of it; he was going to do it. And he tried everything, but nothing worked. Aunt Nancy always won. And it always cost Banker Dave. He either lost his money, a little bit of his pride, or both.

                One day in late winter Aunt Nancy bought a $10,000 railroad bond and she needed a place to keep it safe. She went in to the bank and talked to the teller, Poky Dot Miller, for a few minutes, and then went and sat in front of Banker Dave’s door. Poky Dot motioned for him and he came out and spoke.

                “Ms. Marks,” he said. “What a nice surprise. Come right in and tell me what I can do for you today.”

                “I need to borrow some money,” she said as she sat down.

                “Well any amount of money you need Ms. Marks,” he said as he smiled.

                “I need to borrow a dollar,” she said, with a straight face.

                “A dollar,” Banker Dave yelled. “I can’t lend you a dollar, that’s crazy.”

                “You’re a liar then, ‘cause you just said you would lend me any amount of money I needed, and I need a dollar. But if you don’t want my business then Mr. Beadie over at the Farmers Bank might be interested.”

                “Now hold on Ms. Marks I guess I can loan you a dollar,” Banker Dave grumbled. Everybody knew it wasn’t her business he was afraid of losing, if she stopped banking with him, he’d never get that farm.

                “Good and I have this here $10,000 railroad bond for collateral,” she said.

                This got Banker Dave’s attention. If he couldn’t beat her out of the farm, maybe he could get that bond. An old woman like that borrowing a dollar when she had a big old bond must be senile. She’d probably forget all about the dollar, and forget what she did with the bond. So he drew up the paper work and charged her 16% interest to boot. He said he would loan her a dollar, but he never said anything about being neighborly about the interest rate. She signed, gave him the bond, got her dollar in change, and went home.

                A year went by, and the day the loan was due came around. It was a miserable day. It was cold and sleeting, and nobody was coming into town. All day Banker Dave kept his eye on the door waiting on Aunt Nancy. As each minute turned into another hour, he got happier. Then, ten minutes before closing time, here comes Aunt Nancy.

                “Ms. Marks, bless your soul, why are you out and around on such an unpleasant afternoon.”

                “You know why I’m here,” she said. “I need to pay my loan.”

                Banker Dave looked confused. “Oh, I am sorry Ms. Marks; I forgot that you even had a loan.”

                “Do tell Banker Dave, I find that hard to believe. Shall we go back to your office?”

                Banker Dave did his best not to show how upset he was over the matter. Not two minutes earlier he was sure he had become $10,000 richer. He showed her in, and Aunt Nancy sat down. She pulled out four quarters, put them on his desk, then pulled out two nickels, and two pennies, and put them beside the dollar.

                “That’s the one dollar for the loan, and there’s the twelve cents interest,” she said. “Now I’ll be having my bond, and I’ll head home.”

                Banker Dave was having trouble letting go of that railroad bond. “Ms. Marks, you didn’t have to come all this way just to pick this up. I would have held that loan till it cleared up a little.”

                “Of course you would have Banker Dave,” she said with a smile. Then she wrestled that bond loose from his stingy little hands, and headed for the door.

                Banker Dave came out of his office in a conniption.  “Ms. Marks,” he barked in front of all the bank employees, “I do have one question for you.”

                “Yes sir Banker Dave, I thought you might,” she said as she stopped, smiled, and turned to see him standing red faced at the door of his office.

                If you had a $10,000 railroad bond, why in tarnations would you want to borrow a single dollar, did you go completely senile?”

                “Well no sir I didn’t do no such thing. You see I needed a safe place to keep my bond for a year. I asked Poky Dot about a safe deposit box, and she told me it would be $6.99, and I done got you to keep it safe for me for the whole year for just twelve cents.

                She turned and walked out, got in her wagon, and rode home. Banker Dave, they say, went in his office and cried for the rest of the night.

Cane Cutter’s Last Visit

Everybody knows the story about the race between the tortoise and the rabbit, however, most folk have no idea the race took place right here in Cottenville, and they don’t know the race was between Old Man Terrapin’s Granddaddy, and Brier Rabbits Great-Great Granddaddy. Now this didn’t bother Brier Rabbit much, but his relations down in Sunflower County saw it a bitty bit different. They’d throw a conniption fit whenever they heard the story told, and none of them cackled any louder than his cousin Cane Cutter. Cane Cutter was a big old swamp rabbit with a mouth to match. He was always carrying on some sort of foolishness about how their Papa Hare had somehow been cheated that day. Brother, I tell you he was some kind of an unhappy critter. If the Lord himself came down and gave him a five dollar bill he’d complain about how it would have been ten in not for that stupid race


Late one spring old Cane Cutter came up to Cottenville, with all his kin in tow, to visit with his Aunt June, Brier Rabbits mama. Brier Rabbit never really took a liking to his big loudmouth delta cousins, especially Cane Cutter. In fact Brier Rabbit did almost everything he could to cause Cane Cutter to throw a hissy fit. The way Brier Rabbit saw it, if he had to be around Cane Cutter, and being around Cane Cutter made his life miserable, the least he could do, was to make his cousin’s lives miserable as well. Of course this was common knowledge to anyone that knew Brier Rabbit, since he loved to brag about it. On this particular trip, Miss June, as we all called her, asked Brier Rabbit not to excite Cane Cutter. Well now you can guess how that went over. It was like asking a dog not to chase a cat. Brier Rabbit was more determined than ever to get that big mouth bully all riled up.

The second morning of the visit, Brier Rabbit asked Cane Cutter to take a walk with him. This drew the suspicion of, well everybody, since Brier Rabbit would normally have had nothing to do with Cane Cutter. Miss June was sure he must be up to something, but Brier Rabbit could talk his way out of the clutches of death, and he usually had to at least once or twice a week, so convincing his mama was really not much of a test at all.

Brier Rabbit had a plan. He knew Old Man Terrapin would be under the big oak tree, next to the pond, behind Supervisor Smith’s house. He also knew there was a little road that ran along the back side of the Smith place. All he had to do is tell Cane Cutter about Supervisor Smith’s garden, and he could put Cane Cutter and Old Man Terrapin right on top of each other. Nobody would even suspect poor little Brier Rabbit had anything at all to do with it.

Everything was going well till Brier Rabbit got half-way around the curve just before you get to Mr. Fox’s house. About that time he got a snoot full of something sweet. We all know there’s nothing on God’s green earth, Brier Rabbit loves more, than a sweet potato pie. And there was nobody, Miss June included, bless her soul, who made a sweet potato pie any better than Ms. Fox. Brier Rabbit could smell it all the way down the road. It did smell good. And when he turned the curve he could see not one, but two pies sitting on the window sill cooling off. Man alive he wanted those pies, but Old Man Terrapin wouldn’t be waiting there long. Brier Rabbit didn’t like it, but he knew he didn’t have time to stop. It was all he could do to let those pies go, but he did, which says a lot about how bad he wanted to ruffle Cane Cutters feathers.

Well it took what seemed like a month of Sundays to get Cane Cutter as far as the cut off to go to Supervisor Smiths garden, but they made it, and without a single second to spare. Just as Brier Rabbit topped the bank of the pond he saw Old Man Terrapin getting ready to hit the road.

“Morning Neighbor,” Brier Rabbit said with a big old grin on his face.

“Good Morning Brier Rabbit, sorry I can’t stay and chew the fat with ya, but I was just a leavin’,” he said before he saw Cane Cutter hop on top of the bank.

Cane Cutter couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Well don’t let us hold you up; I reckon it’ll take you till half past sundown just to get to that log over yonder.”

“And you brought that loud mouth cousin of yourns along,” Terrapin said. “And how are you today Cane Cutter, I declare you do look more like your great-great granddaddy every day.” Old Man Terrapin knew how to get Cane Cutters grits.

Cane Cutter took a giant hop off of the bank and Terrapin sunk back on his hind two legs. The whole time Brier Rabbit was laughing like he had lost his mind. They yelled and they screamed back and forth for about an hour. They were just about to go to fist city when Brier Rabbit stepped in.

“Come on now there’s no reason to be carrying on this kind of mess,” Brier Rabbit said.”I’m sure we can all find a solution to this problem.”

Terrapin spoke up first, “That no count cousin of yourns could go back to where he come from.”

“Yea! Well that slow poke-cheating-scallywag could shut up and race me,” Cane Cutter yelled.

Brier Rabbit couldn’t have been happier. Although he was enjoying the fight, a fight was never his real intention. He had a plan to put Old Man Terrapin over the finish line in front of Cane Cutter in a rematch, shutting that bully of a rabbit’s big old mouth once and for all. And his plan couldn’t be going any better.

“So you really want to race cousin,” Brier rabbit asked.

“Now Brier Rabbit you know I want to race, it’s that stupid turtle’s the one what’s a lily livered, just like his granddaddy.” Cane Cutter was fit to be tied.

“What about you my old friend Terrapin, I’m sure you ain’t gonna sit here and listen to Cane Cutter bad mouth your kin folk like that are you.”

Old Man Terrapin looked up at Brier Rabbit and scratched his head. “That cousin of yourns is as full of wind as a corn eating horse. I ain’t got no time for his foolishness, unlike his great-great granddaddy, and I don’t mean no disrespect to you Brier Rabbit, or your mama, but unlike his great-great granddaddy I got thangs to be’a doin’.” He knew Brier Rabbit was up to something, but he couldn’t figure out what.

Cane Cutter stood up and poked his chest out and said, “Don’t you go talking about Papa Hare. It was that cheating granddaddy of yours that started the whole thing. If he’d only give us a fair re-race back then, we’d be done with this nonsense.”

Brier Rabbit jumped up on the bank and spoke. “So, cousin, if Old Man Terrapin agrees to race you, once and for all, would you let the matter go, and live without all this commotion, and accept the outcome, no matter what happens.”

Cane cutter shook his head and agreed. Then Brier Rabbit turned to Old Man Terrapin, smiled, and gave him a big wink. Then he turned back to Cane Cutter and said, “You be up on that hill across from Mr. Fox’s house, where the first race took place, in the morning at 8:00 on the dot, and I’ll make sure Old Man Terrapin’s there.”

“But you know the rest of the family’s going to be leaving to visit Uncle Jack Rabbit by 7:00 in the morning, and I want them to see me win,” Cane Cutter said.

“Do you want to race, or are you getting scared,” Brier Rabbit shouted. “If’n you’re scared, just say scared, and we can call the whole thing off.”

“I ain’t scared,” he mumbled. “I’ll be there; you just make sure he’s there.”

“Okedoke, now you get back and tell everybody, and I’m gonna stay and talk Terrapin in to it.

Cane Cutter was about as happy as a hog in the mud. He was flipping and flopping and smiling like nobody’s business when he left the pond.

“What in tarnation do you got in mind,” Old Man Terrapin said as Cane Cutter left. “There ain’t no way I’m a gonna be able to beat him in a race. You no he ain’t ever gonna lay down and take a nap like your Granddaddy did. And by the way you know I always thought highly of your Papa Hare. He was good people. I was at that race Brier Rabbit, and he never ask for no re-race.”

I know that, “Brier Rabbit said. “That’s just the Cutters acting up. But I do have a way for you to shut him up forever. Just show up at the race sight at 7:30, with your three boys, and four white goose feathers.”

So that’s what happened. Early the next morning, while Cane Cutter was having breakfast, Brier Rabbit excused himself to make sure Old Man Terrapin didn’t over sleep. But what he did was meet Terrapin at the race ground. It was late spring and there had been plenty of rain, and the grass was tall. So tall in fact, you could even see Terrapin on the ground. Brier Rabbit let the whole Terrapin family in on the secret. The oldest son, who was the spitting image of his daddy, would be waiting at the start holding a white feather so it could be seen over the grass as he walked. The other two would wait just as you started up the next two hills with their feather hid on the ground. And almost at the top of the last hill, just before you get to the finish line, would be Old Man Terrapin, laying in wait.

Everybody was in place when Cane Cutter showed up with the whole Cutter clan; there were more Rabbits than Carter had liver pills. Behind the parade of rabbits was almost everybody in Cottonville, animal and human alike. Brier Rabbit was afraid they might see the Terrapins if they stayed at the start, so he had them all move to the finish line. From there they couldn’t really see anything until the racers topped the last hill, and they had almost made it to the finish line. Then it would be Old Man Terrapin they saw win the race.

Cane Cutter stepped up to the starting line and Brier Rabbit explained about the goose feather. Cane Cutter pushed the grass aside so he could see Old Man Terrapin. He could just make out a Terrapin, but not well enough to figure out it was Junior Terrapin, and not his Daddy. Then he yawned and stretched and got in place.

When everybody was set, Brier let out a hoot that started the race. They were off and running. Cane Cutter didn’t hold anything back. He ran lickidy split down that hill and started up the other side as fast as his big old long rabbit legs would carry him.

“Where did he go Cane Cutter, where did he go,” Brier rabbit yelled. When he did, Old Man Terrapin’s oldest boy pulled down his feather.

When Cane Cutter looked back he didn’t see anything. He couldn’t figure out what had happened. When did Old Man Terrapin pass him? He hadn’t seen a thing.

“There he goes,” Brier Rabbit yelled. When he did the second son threw up his feather and as Cane Cutter was topping the first hill, he turned to see Old Man Terrapin already headed up the second hill.

He took off again as fast as he could down the first hill, and up the next hill past Terrapin. He was running as fast as he could. He was breathing hard, but he didn’t give up. He had no Idea Old Man Terrapin was that fast. Then he heard Brier Rabbit yell again, and when he looked back, that feather was gone. Then, when he heard Brier Rabbit yell the second time, he topped the next hill, and saw Terrapin in front of him going up the third hill. But he didn’t stop, he kept on running. Soon he was back in front.. Then, once again, he heard Brier Rabbit, and when he looked back, once again there was no feather. When he went over the hill this time, he saw Terrapin almost at the top of the last hill closing in on the finish line.

He ran as fast as he could, but he couldn’t catch Old man Terrapin this time. He was too far ahead, When Cane Cutter topped the last hill he could see that Terrapin was crossing the finish line, ahead of him, and in front of the forty members of the Cutter family, and all of Cottonville.

By the time they had all caught their breath, Brier Rabbit was there with them.

“I want a re-race,” Cane Cutter said. “Something was wrong, there ain’t no way a Terrapin can beat a Rabbit at a foot race.”

“You a story teller Cane Cutter,” Terrapin yelled. “It done happened twict now, right here in the same place.”

Brier Rabbit jumped between them and said, “Cane Cutter you said you’d let the matter go, no matter what happened, now are gonna keep your word or not. If you ain’t I’m sure Old Man Terrapin would be more than happy to write a publishment in the newspaper about it. Do you really want people to know you just got out run by a Terrapin? Your kids would be laughed out of these parts completely. I’m sure every newspaper in the world would repeat the story.”

Brier Rabbit was right. Cane Cutter and the whole clan hopped back to Sunflower County with their heads hung low. To this day not a single swamp rabbit has ever been back to Cottonville. Brier Rabbit, Old Man Terrapin, nor anybody else in Cottonville, animal or human, has heard as much as a single word from any of them to this day.

How Brier Rabbit Lost His Tail

Like all the other rabbits in the south, and I reckon in the world now that I mention it, Brier Rabbit has a pathetic little puff of cotton riding on his backside, that he calls a tail. You can usually see it hanging out the back of his over-alls, but it really ain’t much to look at, to be quite honest. But it wasn’t always that way. Once, a long time ago, he had a long bushy beautiful tail. It was the envy of pert near everybody in Cottonville, animal and human alike. And of course Brier Rabbit was not the least bit shy about showing it off. He thought it was about as pretty as a poky dotted puppy in little red wagon. He brushed it and kept it all dolled up. It was his pride and joy.


Then, one year, it came a cold snap like nobody could remember. It got so cold, and for so long, that even the Coldwater River down to Savage froze over. One afternoon, Brier Rabbit was out looking for some food to eat. He was cold and hungry, and his belly was slapping against his backside, when he came upon Mr. Fox with a mess of catfish. Normally, Brier wasn’t much on eating meat, but he was so cold and so hungry, that everything was starting to look good.

“Well pick my peas,” he said, “if it ain’t my old friend Mr. Fox, with a mighty big mess of catfish.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to Brier Rabbit, but you ain’t getting none of these fish, so you might as well not even try.” Mr. Fox knew Brier Rabbit about as well as anybody in Cottonville, and he knew what that tricky scoundrel was up to.

“I wouldn’t dare ask you for one of those beautiful things Mr. Fox.” Brier Rabbit summed up the situation pretty quick like, and he figured he stood a better chance of finding out where Mr. Fox got them fish, than he did beating him out of them. Everybody knew Mr. Fox was so tight he’d squeeze a nickel till the buffalo screamed, Brier Rabbit knew the river was frozen over, and so where ever he got them catfish, there had to be more.

“You wouldn’t dare ask me,” Mr. Fox said with a smile. “Since when.”

“Now don’t be like that Mr. Fox. You done flung a craving on me, and all I want to know is where you caught them things, so I can do the same.”

Mr. Fox was used to being beat by Brier Rabbit, and he suddenly saw a chance to give him some of his own medicine. He had an idea of his own.

“I’ll tell you Brier Rabbit, I went down to the river, cut me a hole in the ice, put my tail in the water, and waited. In no time at all, I had a bite. All I did was pull it out, and I had a catfish. I’d still be down there except Ms. Fox is expecting me home any time now.”

Brier Rabbit never thought Mr. Fox would be pulling one over him, so he took off lickety split without even saying a thank you. Mr. Fox just laughed and went own home.

Brier Rabbit did just what Mr. Fox said to do. He dug a hole in the ice and he put his tail in, and he waited. He could taste those fish already. Soon it started getting cold but he didn’t move. He waited and he waited. And he waited, and he waited, and he waited some more. But nothing bit. Directly he chuckled a bitty-bit when he figured out old Mr. Fox had beat him at his own game. By that time it was about as cold as a well digger’s backside on Christmas Eve, so he decided to take his cold, tired, hungry carcass home. But when he tried to get up, he couldn’t move. He squealed like a stuck pig. He thought a haint done grabbed him. But he looked around and nobody else was there. Then he saw what had happened. The hole had done froze over. The ice done took hold of him and wouldn’t let go, and he couldn’t move an inch. He pulled and he pulled, but he was stuck. After a while he was plumb tuckered out and it looked like dark was about to slip up on him. It was so cold he was about to freeze to death. Then all the sudden like, he could hear man-eater howling up on the bluff, and he knew he had to get out of there before somebody decided to take a mess of Brier Rabbit home for supper. So he decided to pull one last time as hard as he could pull. He slipped his hind two legs back on either side of his tail. Then he counted to three. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three. And he gave a tug. But the ice didn’t let go. However, his tail did. When he looked down, he’d done pulled his tail completely off. There wasn’t nothing left but a little bloody nub.

Oh it looked mighty pathetic. His big bushy tail was all gone. But he didn’t have time to morn none, because he saw Man Eater coming his direction. So he scampered on home as fast as he could, picked a little piece of cotton to doctor up his nub, and he went to sleep, cold, hungry, and with no tail to speak of.

The Governors Peaches

Once there were two brothers in Cottonville who lived on farms right next to each other. Both of them grew a little corn and cotton, raised a right nice size garden, and had an orchard with some plums, a few apples, and plenty of peaches. They also had a nice size family, went to the same church, paid their taxes, and did alright for themselves. To outsiders they looked just alike, but to their neighbors they were as different as dogs and cats. Jess, the older brother, was nice and kind. He worked hard on the farm and in the orchard, took good care of the trees, and was a good steward of the land. His brother Russ was none of those things. He was ornery, mean, and didn’t like anything or anybody. His house was falling down; grass took over his garden every year, cockleburs choked out most of his cotton, and his orchard made fruit so sour you’d have to add sugar just to drink the juice. On top of that he was just plain unfriendly, and pessimistic. He’d complain with a ham under each arm, and he‘d start an argument in an empty house.


One year Jess had three of the biggest and best looking peaches he had ever seen. The strange thing was they were all growing on the very same limb. Every day Jess went into the orchard to tend the peaches, and before long those three peaches were almost as big as basketballs. People came from all over the county to watch them grow. They were amazed at how big they were, and they always asked what he planned to do with them. Some thought he might can them, others thought he would make preserves, or even a giant peach pie. But Jess had a better idea. He thought they were fit for the Governor. Of course his brother thought that was about the dumbest idea he had ever heard. First off why would the Governor deserve anything special? Second, the Governor was so rich he bought a new boat every time there came a heavy dew, so he could get peaches from any place in the world, why would he want Jess’s peaches. But jess just let his brothers hot air run in one ear and out the other. He didn’t pay Russ no nevermind.

Finally one day they were ready to be picked. Jess looked about as happy as a tick on a fat dog as he practically skipped out to the orchard. There were at least a dozen people pestering him on the way. When he first got there he just stopped and took a good long look until he figured out the best way to get at them, then he took his time and pulled them down slowly and carefully, paying close attention not to bruise them. One at a time he put them safely into the basket. You’d thought he was handling a baby the way he took care of those peaches. Once he was done with the picking he hitched up the wagon, loaded the peaches, and headed off to give them to the Governor.

“He don’t know you from Adam,” Russ said. “Why in tarnation would he even talk to you?”

“Don’t you worry none little brother, he’s a good man and I’m sure he’ll talk to me. Besides, don’t you know peaches is his favorite.”

With that he gave a yelp and his two mules Herman and Hyrum headed out. It just so happened that the Governor’s mama was having her 89th birthday party the next day in Hernando, so Jess didn’t have to go all the way down to Jackson. Instead he turned and went to Mockingbird Hill, then north to Hernando. Unfortunately the week before there had been a gully washer and the road was almost completely washed out all the way to the Coldwater River Bridge. But since it was the shortest way to get there he decided to take it any way. Everything had been going pretty good until about a half mile from the river. Then he hit a bump so bad that one of those peaches bounced out of the basket, rolled off the wagon, and onto the ground. He pulled the mules over and jumped out crying like a baby. You’d thought somebody done jumped up and took his birthday away from him. He was so tore up he didn’t know what to do. No matter how he looked at it, the peach was bruised, and since it was no longer fit for the Governor, so he had no other choice but to eat it himself. It was delicious. It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted in his life. And it was juicy. So juicy if fact, that after he ate it he had to practically take a bath in the river. Of course Jess didn’t have no aversion to bathing; he took one the first Saturday of every month whether he needed it or not.

After he had washed the peach juice off, and with just two peaches left, he was off to Hernando again. He rode strait through most of the night so he was making good time. Then, just outside of town, a coyote ran across the road and spooked his old one-eyed mule Herman. When the mule jumped, the second peach bounced out of the basket and fell on the ground. Jess pulled the team over and jumped off the wagon and picked it up. He was crying and carrying on like that peach was his own flesh and blood. Sadly it was no longer fit for the Governor so he decided to have it for his breakfast. Again it was the best thing he had ever had, even better than the first one. Oh how much the Governor was going to love that last peach. It was bigger and it was better looking than the first two, and Jess could hardly imagine all the good things the Governor would say. So he cleaned up once again and jumped back on the wagon.

In no time at all he was in Hernando. It was quite early and nobody was up and moving around. Soon he was right in front of the Governor Davis’s mama’s house. It was a big blue house just off Main Street with white trim. The yard was full of flowers and the whole place had been decorated for the party. Jess pulled up, stopped his mules, grabbed the basket and walked up to the door. But before he could knock, two big State Police Officers grabbed him.

“Why in the world are you walking up to the door of the mother of the Governor of the State of Mississippi,” one of the officers asked?

“I’m sorry officer, my name is Jess, and I’m here to give Governor Davis a peach.”

“A peach,” the officers said at the same time laughing.

“Yes sir,” Jess said, “a peach.”

“You’re joking,” The other officer asked?

“No sir officer I wouldn’t joke with you, I had three peaches when I left home, but two fell on the ground and got bruised and I only have one peach left for Governor Davis.”

“You must be one crazy clod buster to show up at his mother’s house with just one peach. Have you lost your mind? You been out in the sun to long?”

“Well no sir, I don’t recon I’m crazy. It’s not just any peach. It’s as big as a basketball and it’s fit for the Governor. If I could just have a quick word with him, I’d give him the peach and be on my way.”

“You have lost you mind you crazy farmer. What makes you think a man as important as the Governor has time for some red eared farmer with just one peach? Now get out of here before we throw you in Jail.”

So Jess hung his head down and started to walk back to his wagon. Russ had been right. How stupid could he be to think the Governor would see him?

“Mister Peach Farmer,” a deep voice called.

“What sir,” Jess said as he turned to see Governor Davis standing on the porch.

“I heard what you said from inside and I’m sorry about my body guards, now what was it you wanted to see me about. I thought I heard something about a peach, and I’ve a hankering’ for a peach all morning”

“Well sir I have this peach fit for a governor and I just wanted to give it to you.”

So Jess walked up on the porch and showed him the peach. The Governor’s eyes got as big as plates. Even the two body guards were suddenly amazed when they saw how big it was.

“Now that’s a nice peach,” Governor Davis said.

Governor Davis took Jess inside to the kitchen and sat him down at the table. Then he woke up the whole house so they could see the peach. Then he jumped on that thing like a goose on a junebug. It was even better than Jess could have ever imagined. It was as sweet as sugar and so juicy it looked like it had been raining peach juice.

The Governor was so impressed he invited Jess to stay for the party. It was a barbecue with all the fixings. Jess ate ribs, potato salad, baked beans and fresh homemade ice cream. He even danced a few dances with the Governor’s mama.

Finally it was time to head home. But before he left, the governor gave him a brand new hundred dollar bill. Now back then that was a right smart sum of money.

When he road into Cottonville everybody came out to hear what he had to say. His no count brother Russ was the first one to speak.

“He didn’t see you did he? I told you he wouldn’t have time for some lunatic with three stupid peaches .Brother I always said you were a few pieces of chicken shy of a picnic.”

Jess just let it roll off of him like water off a ducks back. He told them the whole story. He told them about the two peaches that fell out, about the body guards, and about the food and the dancing. Then he pulled out the hundred dollar bill. Even Russ was smiling like a goat in a brier patch at that point.

Back home Russ grabbed a few baskets and took the whole family through the tall grass and they picked every peach in his orchard. They moved faster than green grass through a duck. Then they packed them onto his wagon and he told his wife he was taking them all to the governor.

“If that crazy old man will give Jess a hundred dollars for one peach, he’ll give me a few thousand for a whole basket.”

“Russ,” his wife yelled,” your peaches are as sour as lemons, and they’re so dry it takes a whole bushel to make just one little jar of preserves. The Governor would have to be dumber than a fence post to pay you one red cent for a wagon load of your peaches”

But Russ wouldn’t listen. He took off lickety split and ran his mules half to death just to get to Hernando. Then when he got there it was almost midnight. He yelled at the guards, pushed one to the ground, and managed to wake up the whole house. The Governor, thinking something terrible was going on, ran out onto the porch in his wives housecoat.

“What is all the commotion about,” he yelled.

“This farmer came running up with a basket of peaches demanding to see you. When we told him you were asleep he said he didn’t care he was going to wake you up. Then he pushed me down and started going inside.”

“Is this true,” Governor Davis asked? He was about as mad as a mule chewing bumblebees. His face was red and he had a big purple vain that popped out on his bald head. Every time his heart beat it would thump like an old clock.

“Yes sir,” Russ said. “I have all these peaches for you.”

Russ didn’t really grow on the Governor. It took about fifteen seconds for Governor Davis to tell Russ to leave before he tossed him in jail and threw away the key. So Russ did just that. He rode home with his head hung low. The Governor done clouded up and rained on his parade.

When he got there everyone wanted to know what happened. Of course what they really wanted to know was if he got a hundred dollar bill.

“No,” Russ said, “I didn’t get no hundred dollar bill, but I did learn a lesson much more valuable. I learned a gift is only a gift if it’s given from the heart.”

From that day on Russ was a different man.