My Children Are More Precious Than Gold (7 page)

They nodded yes.

“
Dillard, was it ya all?”
Nannie asked.

“
No, Mama, I was with
Veder and Lydia on the porch all mornen. Member?”

“
Maybe we better look
around the barn afore we go back to the field this afternoon,”
Jacob suggested then he returned to the business of
eating.

That evening settled in with a chill
that made the warmth of the fireplace inviting when the tired
Bishop family gathered near it's flickering flames. Nannie lit
their two kerosene lamps, glass chimneys atop blue metal bowls,
that sat on the table. Between the fireplace and the lamps, the
long room had a dim glow about it that was always in motion like a
yellow and black prism, swaying back and forth on the ceiling where
the light reached, but the glow couldn’t quite extend to the dark
corners of the room.

Jacob placed his chair
among the children. He opened a Zane Grey book called
Spirit Of The Border
to
read to them until bedtime and slanted the book toward the fire
light.

Nannie sat down at her spinning wheel
near the table in the light of the lamps. It relaxed her to listen
to Jacob read while she spun, too. She picked up her carders out of
the sack of wool and combed out a piece of wool, removing weed
seeds, until the wool turned to fluff. That was the easy step in
the process of making articles of clothes with wool.

In the spring when the sheep no longer
needed their winter coats, Jacob and his sons sheered the sheep
with long shears. That was a backbreaking job, sitting the sheep
upright on their backsides and cutting down next to the skin until
the wool lay in a pile around the sheep. Then Nannie and the girls
took the wool to the steam to wash much of the dirt out of it
before dying it. The different colors of dyed wool were hung on the
clothesline in gunny sacks to air dry. Then Nannie carded and spun
the wool then she had to twist two strands together to make a
strong yarn to knit.

It wasn’t any easier to turn the three
acres of flax into linen for clothes. Jacob and the boys cut the
plants with a hand cradle, bundled the flax into shocks and let the
shocks stand on their heads until the heads decayed enough to fall
off. Then the whole family helped to rub and break the stems until
the wood fiber fell out. That left the outside which was called
toe. That toe was run through a carding machine to make it fine
enough to spin, then the strands were twisted together and woven on
a loom to make linen material.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“
What's that noise, Pap?”
Inquired Dillard.

Everyone strained to
listen.

“
I don't know, Dillard.”
Jacob walked to the open window to look out. All he saw was the
tiny, yellow beacons on the tails of the millions of lightening
bugs glowing in the dark. “Sounds like the same noise I heard this
mornen,” Commented Nannie.

“
Maybe I better go check
the barn again,” Jacob said. “Light me the coal oil lantern
Nannie.”

“
I'll go with ya, Pap,”
offered Sid.

Wordlessly, the family listened to the
night sounds coming through the screen door while they waited for
Jacob and Sid to return. The cicadas droned their tunes high in the
trees. Scratchy splatters sounded on the door screen when moths
drawn to the light met their death. Very close to the log cabin, an
owl, roosting in a pine tree, hooted intensely three
times.

An eerie, uneasy feeling crept over
the Bishops at that ominous sign as the owl's hoots resounded
around them. The ridge people believed that an owl hooting close to
the house meant there could be a death in family soon. Bess
couldn't help stealing a look at her sister, Lydia, to see if she
looked all right. She sighed in relief as she watched the pale
faced, little girl smile down at her rag doll then hug
it.

In the distance, the perky calls of
whippoorwills came close together as they crept about in the ridge
underbrush. At the same time a multitude of tree frogs screeched
their tunes, trying to drown out the irritating creaks of crickets
from inside the house as well as outside.

Stepping up on the porch out of the
darkness, Jacob opened the screen door and entered with Sid right
behind him. “We didn't find anything,” he said as he sat down
again. “Now, younguns, gather around. I'll read another chapter of
this here book afore ya hit the hay.”

A couple of weeks later on a Sunday
afternoon, Jacob leaned back against a porch post to relax. “Doak
Woods, ya know how long it's been since Otillie and ya have been
here fer a meal?”

“
It's been a spell, I
reckon.” The elderly, heavyset man paused to light his corn cob
pipe. “Now that the weather is warm, we'll feel more like visiten
some, I expect.”

“
Right glad to hear that.”
Jacob's face turned serious. “Doak, yer family has lived on this
ridge a right long spell, ain't they?”

“
Longer than I know about,
but so has yers.” Doak puffed on his pipe as he slapped at a fly,
trying to light on his bald head.

Jacob nodded in agreement as he gazed
passed the family cemetery on up the hill to where his cattle
grazed. The herd sauntered across the pasture, their heads down
nipping grass and white clover blossoms that from the porch looked
like popcorn strewn about in the grass.

Suddenly a fluffy cloud covered the
sun, sending an extensive shadow creeping up the hill and over the
cattle. The dark shadow slipped through the grass, scaring the
cows. They scattered, twisting their backends high in the air and
waving their tails like flags. Jacob wondered if other Bishops
before him had been lucky enough to take the time to sit in that
spot on Sunday afternoons and enjoyed the same peaceful
scene.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“
What ya got goen on out
in the barn, Jake?”

“
Nothen, that I know of.
We've gave up looken fer the cause of that hammeren noise. It
happens mighty often lately, but we cain't figure out what's doen
it.”

“
Sounds like hammeren all
right, don't it? Are ya sure one of yer boys ain't up to somethen
in there?” Doak suggested.

Sid spoke up from among the boys
sitting on the other end of the porch. “Doak, we're all right here
with ya.”

“
Sure enough. Looks like
all of ya are here. Sometimes I kinda of loose count of how many
Bishop younguns there is,” said Doak, chuckling. “When did this
hammeren noise start, Jake?”

“
A couple weeks
ago.”

“
I see,” Doak said
thoughtfully. He removed his pipe as if to say more, paused and
placed the pipe back between his taunt lips. The old man puffed in
quick successions while the others watched the small smoke clouds
float away from him.

“
What's on yer mind, Doak?
Yer thinken somethin,” Jacob surmised.

“
Oh, nothen
much.”

“
Now, Doak, ya got an idea
so let me know what it is.” Jacob demanded.

“
Well -- well, maybe it's
jest ya cain't see whose doen the hammeren. That's all.”

Jacob looked at Doak sideways. “And
why not?”

“
Ever hear tell of Haunt
Dawson?” Doak asked reluctantly.

“
Nope, cain't say I have.
Who's he?”

“
Brother Dawson fell offen
a barn he was hepen build. He died. That was years and years back
so I forget when exactly,” Doak said.

Though he was curious to know more of
the story, Jacob had an uneasy feeling about what Doak's answer
would be. He turned to peer intently at the older man. “Whose barn
did he fall off of, Doak?”

“
Yer's, Jake,” said Doak
softly. He puffed on his pipe and studied the barn, thinking of the
tale from the past.

“
I was afeared that's what
ya was goen to say. Yer pullen my leg,” scoffed Jacob.

“
Nope, Jake. Afeared not.
Yer pappy used to hear hammeren in that barn quite regular after
Haunt Dawson died. Seems it always stopped after a
while.”

“
Funny that my Pap didn't
tell me about that. I am glad to know the hammeren will stop
sometime no matter whatever or whoever it is,” Jacob answered
dryly.

“
What did this Haunt
Dawson look like, Doak?” Asked Lue.

The boys listened intently from their
end of the porch. They had leaned forward, straining to hear what
sounded like an interesting conversation.

“
Don't know fer sure. It
was afore my time that this all happened. I did hear tell he died a
slow, painful death. Those who seen him afterwards when his spirit
came back to the barn said that first they seed a small glow, then
the light got bigger. Then there was a shadow of a man holdin' a
hammer appeared in the glow. He dragged one leg when he walked like
it got broke in the fall.” Doak squinted his twinkling eyes as if
to keep the pipe smoke from getting in them.

“
Imagine, someone seen a
haunt in our barn!” Gasped Don.

“
What did the haunt do
when they seen him?” Dillard asked. His eyes widen at the thought
of seeing a haunt.

“
Now, younguns, that's
enough of this here yarn of Doak's. Cain't ya tell when he's jest
funnen ya all? Now let us men be for a spell and go find somethin
to do,” commanded Jacob.

“
But, Pap ---- ,” Don
started to say.

“
Go! Now!” Barked
Jacob.

“
All right, Pap,” Lue
agreed, nodding his head at the other boys to follow him. “We'll
get our cane poles and go fishen. Dillard, ya better go back in the
house and see what Veder and Lydia are doen.”

“
I wanna go fishen, too,”
whined Dillard.

“
Nope, ya can’t keep up so
go on now,” ordered Sid. To ease Dillard’s hurt feelings he put his
hand down in Dillard’s mass of blond curls and rubbed his head.
“We’ll take ya with us one of these days.”

Dillard hated to be treated like a
baby. He especially hated to have his head rubbed so he darted out
from under Sid’s hand to open the screen door.

When the boys had gotten out of ear
shot, Jacob turned to look at Doak. “How much of that tale is
straight? Ya sure had my boys goen.” Jacob chuckled at how much
interest his sons had taken in Doak's ghost story.

“
Never did seed anything
myself, but when I was a young man it were yer pappy told me he saw
the haunt. He sounded like he was tellen the tale straight enough.
That might have been why he didn't mention the haunt around you. He
didn't like to talk about what he seed.”

“
Was that afore or after
Pappy sampled a fresh batch of corn mash in that crock he kept out
behind the smokehouse?”

“
Ya might have an idea
there, Jake. After I expect.” The elderly man grinned, remembering
his old friend's fondness for corn liquor.

Cane poles propped across their
shoulders, the boys set off in the direction of Little
River.

“
What do ya know! A haunt
in our barn!” Lue whistled at the thought.

“
Shuck! Doak could have
been funnen us like Pap said. Ya know how he is,” said Sid,
doubtfully.

“
He sounded serious enough
to me,” declared Don.

“
Me, too,” agreed
Tom.

“
Well, want to see ifen
he's right?” Asked Lue, stopping to face the other boys.

“
How would we do that?”
Inquired Don.

“
We'd hide out in the barn
in the night and see ifen the haunt appears. That's how,” Lue
said.

“
Lue, why would we want to
do that? I don't want to see a haunt face to face,” Sid stated
adamantly.

“
Maybe there's some way we
could keep Haunt Dawson from comen back to haunt our barn ifen we
knew how to get rid of him,” mused Lue.

“
We don't know what to do
unless ya do,” argued Sid.

“
Not me. Genon Mitts, the
old medicine woman, would know how to get rid of a haunt. Let's go
ask her,” suggested Lue.

“
I'm not so sure that's a
good idea. Genon’s spooky enough herself,” warned Sid.

“
Well, I think it's a good
idea. Let's go see her now.” Lue glared from Don to Tom as if he
wasn't taking no for an answer. They nodded agreement.

“
All right, I'm
outnumbered, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Sid
threw his hands up in the air and followed the others.

They turned into a squirrel path that
went through the timber to a secluded hollow. Genon's small log
cabin was at the end of the path. The cabin's chimney puffed a gray
trail of smoke across the sky year around. That was a sign Genon's
potions brewed on her wood cookstove.

Since the fire kept the cabin hot in
the summer, Genon usually sat on the porch in her rocker, waiting
for customers unless she was out scouring the ridges for roots,
herbs, and other mysterious ingredients to put in her medicines and
potions.

That afternoon, she was leaning back
in her rocker, resting. Her worn, dust covered, slouch hat with a
darkened sweat stain around the band drooped down over her dark,
brown eyes. The boys knew from under that brim, Genon watched their
approach with piercing eyes. She never missed anything going on
around her, and talk was she knew most things before they
happened.