Chapter 13
The night after I’d chased Leland Tew off, a stiff wind blowed in out of the north, a sure sign winter would come soon. The gusts created a feeling of helplessness when a particularly strong one almost took our fire out, sending sparks over us just as we’d started eating supper. We had to beat on the blanket and quilt where some of the bigger ones burned tiny holes into the material. The beans I’d cooked looked like I’d added pepper to them. I tried not to think of the soot what settled over the top when I went to eat. We couldn’t waste a pan of beans over a little ash.
The gusts got even stronger the next day, and I sniffed the air. There was a crispness to it, a sharp, intense cold. It smelled of snow. Then, the barn got to creaking and groaning like an old woman with the rheumatism. Smoke stayed in our eyes, and went down our throats and set us to coughing. I tried to do some more work on the logs, but most of the time I found myself wanting to sit, nose and eyes running, and wondering where we’d be in a week, a month or even a year from now. I couldn’t imagine surviving a winter like this. Plain and simple, we wouldn’t. The image of how it could go is what made me think Papa might be right, leaving might be our only choice.
The breeze blowed straight through my dress as I sat hunched over, contemplating how bad things could get, when an odd grinding noise from the barn made me lift my head. It come again, and with it, the building moved, sort a swaying like some live thing. The gusts increased, and with a loud screech the barn finally give up, falling in on itself in a matter of seconds, discharging a cloud of dust. The wind carried the airborne dirt straight over me, swirling like a dust devil before it lifted into the sky. Poor old Pete was only about twenty feet away when it happened, and the commotion startled him. He thundered off into the woods, tossing his head and braying. He come to a stop in between some trees, and showed his teeth in one of his ridiculous mulish grins.
Momma and Laci both jumped up from their spot by the fire, looking like they’d been touched by the cold hand of a haint. It was sure to have happened, and now it had, I was glad. I was glad because I still seen Seph lying in there in my mind. And it seemed like we’d all been waiting on it to fall in since we got here. I stood, brushed myself off and walked over to the pile left behind. There was good pieces in there. I was sure Papa would want to save them. Momma had her hands on her hips, eyeing what had become of the barn with a helpless look, like everything was spinning out of her control.
I said, “I’m going to see if I can loosen up some of them boards and maybe use them to fashion us some sort of shelter by laying them over there against that big pine near the fire.”
Momma had already sat down. She waved her hand like she didn’t care.
I said, “Laci, come on over here and help me.”
Momma spoke sharp, unnatural like. “Wallis Ann, she’s not strong as you, especially now.”
Surprised, I said, “She won’t have to do nothing heavy. Only help me get some of these boards loosened up, so I can stack the ones close by I want to use. She could put the broken ones aside for the fire.”
“I don’t want her to wear herself out.”
Laci stood as if to come help, even with Momma saying she couldn’t.
Momma pointed at the spot Laci vacated. “Laci, sit down.”
Laci sat. Momma had only catered a little to one child over the other in the past, some towards Seph because he’d been the baby of the family, and a little towards Laci because of her issues, though I’d never felt too put out by none of it.
Maybe she was scared of Laci getting sick like Seph and still I persisted. “Maybe it would do her some good, get her moving about and warm her up. I tend to feel better when I’m doing something. She looked like she wanted to help. She still eats pretty good too.”
Momma straightened up and fixed Laci with a look.
After a few seconds, she shook her head, and said, “No. She needs to stay here with me.”
I shrugged like it won’t no concern a mine, deciding now won’t the time for me to start having any petty little jealousies over things what had always been part and parcel of our way with one another. I started towards the flattened barn and got to pulling on the boards, taking hold of the ends and yanking hard as I could to free them one by one. I took several of the longest ones first. The broken ones I added to the woodpile for the fire. I worked like I’d done when I first come, when I was by myself. Doing something give me a new energy and I kept my back turned to them while I worked and worked and worked because when I worked, I could almost believe I was warm. A while later, I heard Momma scraping at the skillet, fixing dinner. I ignored it and kept right on. I sensed it was well beyond the point of the midday when she come to get me.
She laid a hand gently on my bent back and asked in a quiet voice, “Aren’t you hungry, Wallis Ann?”
I had plenty for a shelter, and what I was doing now was only work to be working, piling up wood for whatever Papa wanted to use it for. I was hungry though.
“Wallis Ann?”
I stopped and brushed my hand across my damp forehead. “Yes. I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. I’m tired of being hungry.”
Momma twisted her hands. “I know. Come on and get you something to eat. Maybe you shouldn’t do any more today.”
It was as if Momma was feeling a bit guilty and trying to make up for her partiality earlier. It won’t going to change nothing, so I spoke what come to mind first.
“If I don’t do it, Momma, who will?”
“Maybe it don’t matter at this point, Wallis Ann. Maybe it don’t matter at all.”
I won’t sure what she meant by that. Hearing how she sounded scared me, as if she’d given up on things getting better. She’d been sitting and sitting, thinking too much maybe.
“Sure it matters, Momma. We can’t give up, can we?”
Momma’s gaze circled around the property, from the line of trees what give a bit of seclusion to where the cabin had stood, then on to the fallen barn, the wasted garden, right over to the flattened fodder in the field beyond the tree line, and then back to me.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m only trying to get through each day. Come and eat. I don’t need you falling sick neither.”
I tossed the board I held onto the others and followed her to the fire, where she’d saved some of the food she’d cooked. I ate with a faked enthusiasm, only to appease her while Laci eyed the extra corn pone Momma give me to munch on as she ladled out the watery beans in a pan.
When I was done I said, “I think I’ll go check the traps Papa set out. Maybe something’s in them now.”
Laci shivered like a newborn calf, looking weak as one too, and she’d make the going slower, but I felt sorry for her right then. I seen how she needed me.
I hesitated, then said, “Momma, can Laci come?”
Momma had picked up the bucket and the skillet, about to go down to the creek to clean the pan and to retrieve the evening’s water. Once more she looked Laci over. What was curious was how Laci tucked her trembling hands behind her as Momma studied her. Laci stared back, peaceful, almost like she was wanting to persuade her.
Momma sighed, then said, “Well. I reckon it might be all right. Go on with Wallis Ann, and the both of you don’t take too long.”
“No, ma’am. I’m only going to check them traps and we’ll be right back.”
I hurried, and soon the brush, and pines swallowed us up. We located the two traps Papa set not too far off. He’d put a few pecans down as bait, never going back to check on them after Seph got sick. I figured nothing would be in them. I was wrong. The small, tan, brain-shaped nuts he’d laid in the center, after cracking the shells between his palms, had enticed two victims. Big old gray squirrels, each hung by the neck. Excited at having squirrel meat, I hurried over to the dangling bodies, and quickly got them down.
I released Papa’s snares from their necks, and encouraged, I told Laci, “Let’s look for something else to use to bait and reset these traps.”
Holding on to the squirrels by their tails, I began walking deeper into the woods, looking for an acorn tree while Laci followed. We went further and further, until I finally found one. I laid the squirrels down, and pushed the leaves aside at the base of the trunk to uncover the small, round nuts. I scooped them into my hand, and showed her. She reached out and I put them in her hand to hold. Next I scraped about for a rock to crush them open, thinking if I did half the work, a squirrel might be more inclined to investigate. I found a good-sized one to use, and squatted to dig it out of the dirt.
When it was free, I reached up and said to Laci, “Here, let me have them acorns.”
I held my hand midair, only no acorns was dropped. I looked back at her, seen the direction of her gaze. Something about her expression, wide-eyed, caused me to freeze. The acorns she held fell out of her hand right then, scattering around her feet. She was staring at something, and the hairs on my neck pricked straight up. I twisted so I could confront whatever it was, afraid it might get to us before I had the chance to do something. A large red wolf sat not more than thirty feet away. My fingers gripped the rock tight. It didn’t move and neither did we. A few seconds later, two sets of eyes, identical to the momma wolf, peered out from behind her. Pups. She licked her mouth and blinked.
One of the youngsters poked its nose forward, catching our scent, and the adult let out a low rumble, growling a warning at her pups—or us. The young ones faded into the scrub behind her. I heard Laci breathing fast above my own hammering heart. I began to formulate a plan to run at the wolf screaming and waving my arms if she come at us. Only she didn’t move. I shifted my weight slow and careful, letting my fingers creep along leaf-covered ground to brush one of the squirrel’s tails. I kept my eyes on her as I dragged it towards me so I could grip it in my hands. I rose to my feet slow, deliberate, my gaze locked with hers.
Bending forward, I tossed one of the squirrels and it landed halfway to her. She curled her lips back to show her teeth. Dear God, don’t let her take it as a threat. I stayed still as she bowed her head low, catching the scent of it. She come forward a step, and raised her head to snarl a warning at us. Even with her aggressive nature, I was certain by now she won’t going to attack. She come forward another step, and another, and when she unexpectedly rushed forward, I stumbled backwards into Laci. The wolf grabbed squirrel and took off the way her pups had gone, her big brushy tail the last I seen of her. Laci’s hands was on my shoulders as I let my breath out.
I said, “Come on, Laci. Hurry!”
I didn’t drop the rock. It was all I had if the wolf decided to follow us. I didn’t hear or see no signs of her after that, but resetting the traps won’t going to happen, least not right now. We hurried to the campfire, and I didn’t mention what happened, or else Momma wouldn’t allow me to set foot nowhere.
I held up the squirrel, triumphant. “Momma, look!”
It was the first smile I’d seen on her face since Seph passed over.
Momma said, “Praise God, we’re going to eat good tonight! I’ll stew it if you’ll clean it.”
I hurried down to the creek with the squirrel, where I skinned and gutted it and carried it back to Momma. She placed it in the skillet and added water before dragging the pan over a section of our fire. That afternoon it was all I could think about. I only wished it was the time of year for ramps, they would’ve added just the right touch of seasoning and would’ve made stewed squirrel perfect, but I won’t one to complain over not having that little extra.
Occasionally I’d catch a whiff of it as I went about gathering up wood to keep ourselves stocked. My belly would rumble loud, but it didn’t bother me like before because soon I’d have something to put in it. The breezes died down later in the afternoon, and I was able to get working on the shelter. Momma watched me for a while, and to my surprise she got up and helped.
As we worked, I said, “It still smells like snow.”
She glanced up at the gray clouds what looked heavy, like big, bulging sacks ready to burst. When dusk was upon us we finished arranging the boards to suit our needs. I took the quilt, and draped it carefully over the wood. Laci and I gathered up pine branches, and tucked them underneath. Next, I lay the blanket over top of them inside the shelter, and it looked a bit like a snug little cave. I went over to the fire to watch Momma stir the squirrel, and the meat started to fall off the bones. She took the bigger ones out and we sucked on them hard.
When it come time to eat, we didn’t gulp it down. We ate slow as we could. We savored each bite, and the rich taste nearly brung me to tears. After we cleaned up, we crawled underneath the shelter, and soon the snow went to falling as the light went out of the sky. Heavy, wet flakes come hard, and I worried it would spoil all our hard work. It took no time to coat everything white. I was closest to the opening, and I went out at one point to add more wood to the fire. I took a pine tree branch and tried to knock snow off the top of the shelter, off the quilt, which when wet would weigh too much to hold up. The shelter was good but it won’t going to stand a lot of wet snow, or if the wind come up again.
I stayed awake, unable to sleep, watching as the white flakes fell. It might have been around midnight when it finally stopped. I went out again, added wood to the fire once more, knocked more snow off, then I scurried inside, my feet so numb with cold, I had to put them towards the blaze until some of the feeling come back. If Papa showed up with the truck right then, I wouldn’t have hesitated climbing in and telling him, “Let’s get out of here.” This was only a dusting, barely two inches, and winter won’t really here yet. It would be impossible living this way for too much longer. I could see that now.
I finally fell asleep. Morning come and when I opened my eyes, I had to squint against the dazzling bright white of sun on snow. I smelled coffee. It couldn’t be Momma, she would have had to crawl right over me and Laci to get out. I poked my head out. Papa squatted by the fire cooking something in the skillet what smelled like side meat. From the look of him, he’d been through some bad times, his clothes like ours, filthy dirty, yet when he seen me, he smiled. I crawled out, went to him so he could hug me tight.
He pointed to the shelter. “I knowed I could count on you.”
It won’t only the glow of the fire what warmed me.
I nodded my head towards the barn. “It fell in. I used some of the wood, and put the rest aside.”
“I see that.”
“It got right airish, blowing hard and down it went.”
“It won’t too far from coming down when I left. It was bound to happen.”
He poked at the side meat, turned and pulled eggs from a burlap sack he’d set nearby. I almost fainted when I thought of how good a runny egg would taste. I hadn’t had one in so long, they almost didn’t look real. I stared at them, my mouth watering. At the edge of the woods a half-licked salt block was keeping Pete busy. His long tongue petted the sides of it, and then swirled over the top. He’d even thought about good ole Pete.
He cracked an egg on the edge of the skillet.
I asked him, “Did you get the truck running?”
“I did. It’s on down the path, not too far from here.”
“Papa, how’d you get this food, and the salt block?”
“Well, that’s what took some time. After I worked on the truck, I helped a guy haul some wood and supplies to his place up on Cherry Gap. He give me the food as payment. I got the salt from another guy who lost his milk cow in the flood. And see? This is what I’m talking about. There’s always ways to make do.”
He cooked the eggs and I stared at the food like that wolf eyeing them squirrels. My stomach rumbled and wouldn’t stop.
“What’s other folks doing? Are there lots of other ones who lost their homes?”
“Right many. Some’s left. Others are trying to rebuild. It’s not easy getting materials in.”
“Are we going to leave here?”
“I reckon so.”
“What about Pete? How can we leave Pete?”
“He’ll be fine. Wild mustangs out west survive the winter. Don’t you worry none about Pete, he can take care a his self.”
Momma heard us, and come out from under the shelter. She and Papa hugged in silence, any disapproval she might have held gone now he was here again.
He let her go and said, “Soon as we eat, we’re gathering up anything worth taking, and we’re leaving.”
I half expected Momma to insist she won’t going nowhere, but she didn’t. She appeared worn down, as if her convictions had collapsed right along with the barn. Like she’d said, maybe none of what we’d tried to do mattered at this point. I crawled into the shelter and pushed on Laci. She was facing the other way, and I couldn’t see her face. When she didn’t move, I leaned over and put my hand on her side. I could feel her breathing, slow, like she was still asleep.
I pushed on her again, “Laci, get up.”
She flopped over onto her back and wiped at her face. When she looked over at me, Lord, her bloodless, white skin under the wild tangle of hair gripped me in the middle, made me want to hurry quick before we lost her too. Laci was hurting and couldn’t tell nobody, and it pained me to see her looking so poorly. Any smidgen of resentment I might have had towards her yesterday left me quick.
I rubbed her arm softly and said, “Papa’s here. He’s got something to eat what will make you feel better. Come on.”
She rolled over on to her side and crawled out of the shelter, and I followed. We gathered round the fire, and as we ate, the only sound was the scraping of our spoons through the tin pans, and the sound of the fire crackling. I give Laci part of my egg, side meat, and half of my piece of corn pone. I thought about winter coming and if I’d had any doubt about leaving, or whether or not we might could make it, my answer was Laci, because staying here would be a death sentence for her. Her hands shook as she held her pan, the spoon trembling all the way to her mouth. It was fine to leave for a little while. I wanted to ask Papa when we’d come back, only I was too nervous, and too aware how hard it was.
After we finished, I said, “Momma, I’ll clean this up.”
She nodded and I gathered up the dirty pans. I dreaded sticking my hands in the freezing water, only I wanted one last look at Stampers Creek. I wanted to see the weeping willows, the wishing rock, the bend of the creek, and all I was familiar with because who could say when I’d see it again? I hurried to get there, and when I finished cleaning everything, I found I couldn’t linger. Actually, I couldn’t hardly bear looking at what I’d come to see. Instead of taking the time as I’d wanted, I hurried away from the place I loved most.