Trifecta Challenge: Week Ninety-Three/ Drown

Trifecta: Week Ninety-Three
Welcome Trifectans to another Trifecta Week. This week I'm killing two birds with one stone by adding the prompt word to my Web Serial Debt. If you would like to catch up on Debt please follow the link 
I hope you will enjoy Drown.

GRACE (noun)

3

a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic

b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm grace

 of youth — John Buchan>

c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing
Debt/ Drown

 They was up near the road, the women. I didn’t know most of them, excepting Mrs. White and Mary Washington. Mama say they ‘run they mouths,’ whatever that means. 
 

I was watchin' the men folk wurk, throwing water on the fire. Every time that water hit it’ll howl something furious. The heat getting the better of Ole Pete, I’s seen he'd done took off his shirt. The sweat was rolling down his back like he'd gone a swimmin', thick muscles straining against the heavy buckets of water.

  I heard the women call Ole Pete good-looking; some said he got grace. I ain't know what they meant, cause them men were wurkin’ hard again that fire, besides I ain’t noticed much, but Billy and all that water.
 

 I couldn't help but remembering what he'd told me in the kitchen. How Ole Pete found him on the river bed chained with a thick rope round his neck. He'd say, " Ole Pete said I's been beat bad and near drown when he found me."
 

"You known who done it?" I'd wanted to ask but Billy hung his head talking to his feet. "I don't rightly know what happen." He shook his head. "Alls I know is that I had to get that there rope from around my neck."
 

 He was quiet so long I thought he weren't goin' never say nothin' again, but then he looked up at me, his brown eyes drowning in tears. “I’s remember saying, I rather drown than hung."

I’d seen the scars clear around his neck and wrist, but I's ain't said nothing. Moma always told me that ain't no reason to talk about a bird singing in the tree, we’s all hears it.
 

He looked like he was about to say somethin’ more but just stood to leave. “I’s best be gettin' back Syreeta."

 I stares at him now, wurkin' hard to keep up with them grown men, thinking about those scars. I wondered if they still hurt.

Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin