By Dottie Dewberry
MABEN — If these walls could talk, one would hear the sounds of horses and wagons crunching in the gravel in front of the W.M. Shuffield office, which is over 100 years old, as they back up to the sack feed loading dock to get loaded up once again.
Maybe they would hear the gentile Southern voices of Miss Rachel Cooper or Mrs. Sally Boatman as they tallied the sacks of feed left in the room each night: one, two, three. … This was an everyday closing-time ritual. Whatever these