My Children Are More Precious Than Gold (16 page)

“
Besides Lou’s carrying a
torch. Why would they need a light in the day?”

“
I don’t know. Why didn’t
ya ask em?”

“
I never thought to. Let’s
follow em and see what they're really up to, Bess,” suggested
Dillard.

“
I don't know - -,” Bess
hesitated. “They would be mad as old wet hens if they caught
us.”

“
We kin stay back far
enough that they won't see us. I know we kin. Come on.
Please.”

“
All right, but if we get
caught I'm gonen to tell em it was yer idea, Dillard,” warned
Bess.

Bess and Dillard hurried along the
pasture cow path until they could peek over the crest of the hill.
Lue and Don had picked up their pace, hurrying as they skirted
around the bottom of the hill toward the ridge timber and away from
Little River. When the boys faded from sight among the dense stand
of trees, Bess and Dillard ran down the hill. As they rushed passed
the peacefully grazing jersey milk cow, Daisy, jumped aside letting
out a dolorous moo to let them know they had startled
her.

Reaching the timberline, Bess and
Dillard made their way by a patch of may apples, plants with
umbrella shape tops and covered with green balls, scattered about
in a plum thicket.. The rough, overgrown path for hard walking for
the children, hurrying along it to catch up to their brothers.
About fifteen minutes later, the path ended at the edge of a
clearing. Suddenly, Bess put her arm out to stop
Dillard.

“
Sh, there they are!” She
whispered, jerking Dillard down behind a clump of rhododendron
bushes. Parting the pink blooms amid dark green leaves, they
watched Lue and Don, crouched low, sneaking toward a small log shed
at the back of a homestead.

“
Where abouts are we?”
Dillard whispered.

“
That’s Tutt's place from
the backside,” Bess informed him.

“
Why did they go in that
there shed?”

“
I don't know. Be quiet
now and watch,” hissed Bess.

Soon Lue's head peeked out the crack
in the shed door. He looked all around, checking to see if the
coast was clear. Thinking there was no one near, he slipped out and
crossed the clearing with Don right behind him, headed back toward
Bess and Dillard.

Suddenly, Dillard began to squirm. He
squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth wide. When Bess
realized Dillard was going to sneeze, she grabbed his nose and
pinched it hard. The sneeze went away when Dillard had to breathe
through his mouth, but by the time he'd struggled to release
himself from Bess’s grip, his nose was bright red and smarting. His
angry glare made Bess put her finger to her lips to warn him to be
silent, or Lue and Don would catch them spying from behind the
bush.

Lue lead the way down the path past
Bess and Dillard’s hiding place still totting the lit pine torch.
Don, close behind him, carried a cylindrical shaped red object
about eight inches long with a string dangling from one end. He
kept it at arm's length as if it might bite him.

When the boys disappeared from sight,
Bess motioned for Dillard to get up, and they followed off to the
side of the path through the underbrush. After listening to the
crunch -- crunch of dried leaves coming from behind her as Dillard
shuffled along, Bess turned and stopped him. “Dillard, pick up your
feet,” she scolded in a hushed voice. “Member how Pap told us to
pick the spots we put our feet when we're hunten? Ya best do that,
or Lue and Don are goen to hear us followen em fer
sure.”

“
All right,” grumbled
Dillard.

Hearing the sounds of muffled voices,
Bess edged on, realizing that they might be getting too close to
her slow moving older brothers. Suddenly behind her, she heard a
loud snap and the rustle of dry leaves mixed with a softly expelled
oof. The noise was loud enough to still all the birds along the
trail and a chattering squirrel, too. Bess flattened beside
Dillard, putting her arm over him to hold him down in the dried
leaves, stirring up a whiff of humus underneath them.

“
Holy Moses, Dillard! The
whole ridge will know that we’re out here now with all the noise
yer maken,” she hissed as she peeked around a tree in the direction
of Lue and Don.

“
What was that?” Asked
Lue. The boys stopped to look back down the path.

“
I don't know. I can't see
anything. Should we go back and look?”

“
Nope, it's probably a
deer we spooked. I seed some fresh tracks a ways back,” Lue said,
shaking his head. “We better get goen before someone sees us,
besides we want to get those fish home and cleaned afore
supper.”

“
Listen! They still talk
like they's goen fishen, but they still don't have poles. How they
goen fishen without poles, Bess?”

“
I don't know,” grumped
Bess, getting tired of the whole situation.

“
And what's that red thing
that Don's carryen so careful like?”

“
I don't know that
either,” Bess hissed. “But the way yer doen, they're gonen to catch
us, and we'll never find out cause they'll send us
home.”

Suddenly, Dillard began to scratch
first one place then another, writhing around on the ground. “Ouch!
Ouch!”

“
Now what's wrong with ya,
Dillard?”

“
I'm layen on an ant hill.
They’s biten me all over. Ouch!”

“
Sh! Get up then and get
yer shirt and pants off. Shake em out of yer clothes quick. Quit
foolen around. The boys are getten away.”

When Bess and Dillard finally reached
the timber edge, they saw the white ripples of Little River's swift
currant below them. Lue and Don stood in the weeds along the river
bank under a large burr oak tree. They seemed deeply engrossed in
conversation. Bess and Dillard eased along the edge of the clearing
and flattened out behind a clump of tall ferns to
listen.

“
Let me have it,
Don.”

“
Oh no. I had to carry it
this far so I want to throw it.”

“
Don, I'm older than you,”
Lue argued. “I should get to throw the dynamite.”

“
Dynamite! Oh Lordy,
they've got dynamite,” Bess whispered hoarsely.

“
What's die - a -
mite?”

“
It explodes. Makes big
holes. Tutt Jones used some to hep Pap take out some tree stumps
once. It's dangerous!”

“
Ouch! Ouch!” Dillard
moaned as he began to rub his arms.

“
What's the matter now?
More ants?” Bess questioned crossly.

“
Nope, but I hurt all over
like someone's poken needles in me. Look at all these red bumps
poppen up on my arms. Ouch!”

“
Lordy. Look where ya
picked to lay,” Bess snapped impatiently. “That's stingen weeds yer
layen in. Don't ya know anything, Dillard? I wished I had never
come with ya. We better move back from here anyway. I don't want to
be close when that stick goes off. Don't rub those spots. It'll
jest make em hurt worse, and they'll go way on their own after a
while.”

Crawling further away, Bess and
Dillard settled down to watch in a clump of tall grass. Lue finally
gave in to Don. Shakily, Don held the dynamite out, and Lou lowered
the torch so the flame made contact with the fuse. A thin trail of
smoke wafted up from the hissing stick. Lue shouted, “Now!” Don
drew his arm back, gave a hard throw, and the boys ran for cover of
a boulder near the clearing edge.

Bess and Dillard watched the red stick
sail into the burr oak tree, catch on one of the limbs and twirl
around and around just before they folded their arms over their
heads and hugged the ground. Boom! Leaves, green acorns, slivers of
twigs and fragments of larger limbs showered down on them from
above while the ground vibrated beneath their bodies, then came
complete silence. Bess and Dillard peeked out from underneath their
folded arms and saw the large splintered snag of what was once an
ancient, burr oak tree, jetting above the debris piled around its
base. They watched the older boys walk down to inspect the
splintered tree snag left standing. The younger children crawled
closer through the weeds to listen to Lue and Don’s
conversation.

“
Dang it, Don! I told ya
to let me throw it. Ya've got rotten aim. Look what ya did to that
pretty, old tree.”

“
I'm sorry, Lue. I didn't
know the dynamite would get stuck in the tree.”

Furtively, Lou looked around them. “I
reckon we better get fer home quick afore someone comes to see what
happened. Somebody was bound to hear that racket.”

After Lue and Don disappeared from
view, Bess and Dillard scrambled down the river bank to get an up
close look at what was left of the tree. Looking puzzled, Dillard
walked around the snag, stopped to scratch his head, and walked
down to glance over the river bank, scratched his head again and
returned to study the tree.

“
What's ya got now,
Dillard? A bait of ticks crawlen on ya?” Asked Bess, watching
him.

“
Nope, Bess. I jest can't
figure this out. How did Lue and Don think blowen up this ole tree
was goen to get em any fish for supper?”

“
Oh, Lordy. Will ya never
mind, Dillard,” Bess groaned. “Let's get fer home afore someone
notices that we're missen, and ya best keep yer mouth shut about
what we saw. Lue and Don wouldn’t like knowen we was watchen
em.”

Chapter 14

Apple Butter Party

Nannie came from the cold, clear
spring that bubbled out of the base of the ridge behind the cabin.
She tucked a stray wisp of graying brown hair back into the bun on
top of her head with one hand. She walked across her rock strewn,
sparsely grassed yard, balancing a tin dish pan full of water on
her hip with the other hand. Uncovering her high top shoes when she
pulled her long skirt up, Nannie stepped from the plank sidewalk
onto the porch. She paused at the kitchen door, and turned to
survey the laughing, shouting children playing Ante Over around the
smokehouse. A good portion of those children were hers, and she
searched for one in particular.

“
Sarah
Elizabeth!”

Wiping her straight, brown bangs from
her eyes, Bess, waiting for the ball to sail over the smokehouse,
studied a barn swallow' s vacant dried mud, bowl shaped nest
attached to the underside of the roof. A few weeks ago to protect
her babies, the sassy barn swallow would dive down on the children
when the ball came too close to her nest. Now the nest was
empty.

At the sound of her mother's voice,
Bess turned. “What, Mama?” When Mama didn't call her Bess, she knew
she was in trouble for something.

“
Ya and Jimmy Bob Parkins
quit playen and take yer turn stirren the apple butter kettle. Alma
and Jacky Tyler told me ya been shirken yer turn, and they’s getten
tired of stirren.”

“
All right, Mama. Come on
Jimmy Bob. We've got to go stir now.”

As they turned to leave the game, a
big red ball sailed over the tin smokehouse roof, and Bess heard a
thud, then a loud, “Ow!” She looked back into Jimmy Bob's pained
face. He was gingerly rubbing the unruly shock of black hair on the
top of his head.

“
Ouch. Bess, the ball hit
me square on top the head. That hurt!”

“
Surely not, Jimmy Bob.
There's nothen up there to hurt, is there?” Bess giggled then
darted off to the corner of the yard with Jimmy Bob chasing after
her.

That corner of the yard was bare of
greenery due to the frequent fires under the large, black kettle.
The kettle was used for soap making, lard rendering, heating water
for wash day, and apple butter making. The only living plant within
that corner of the yard's wattle fence was the mulberry tree. Now
with the very sweet, blackberry like fruit long gone, the tree
showed the fall coloring of mid September.

Right away Bess noticed the grouchy
look on Alma's flushed face. She was tired of standing over the
steamy, bubbling apple butter mixture while it simmered. Handing
over a long stick with the T- paddle board tied to the end of it,
Alma grumbled, “About time ya two took over. Yer late. Jimmy Bob,
get some more wood from off that rick yonder. The fire's getten
low,” ordered Alma.

“
I'm sorry, Alma. I hated
to miss out on the fun,” Bess confided. She lowered her voice to a
whisper. “Besides why do I always get stuck with Jimmy Bob? It’s
not fair that he never wants to stir. Makes me do most of it while
he sits and talks.”

“
Cain't hep that. We had
our turn and then some. Come on, Jacky.” Bess watched wistfully
while Alma and Jacky ran to join the fun around the
smokehouse.

Arms full of wood, Jimmy Bob returned.
He threw a stick at the fire under the kettle then dropped the
rest, scattering it on the ground.

“
Jimmy Bob, don't throw
that wood down like that. Ya jest got ashes all over my
apron.”

“
So? It will
wash.”

“
Wash day's not fer two
days yet. I'll jest have to turn it over and use the clean side
when we're done, but I'll know it has ashes all over it on the
underside,” growled Bess.