Fleetie's Crossing Read online

  Earlier that morning, the men also built a coal fire to burn debris, limbs, broken furniture—whatever could not be repaired or cleaned and saved. Beside the bonfire, the old cooking pit fire, covered with a heavy metal grid, held the double tub that bubbled all day as Leatha and I pumped cold water to keep it full and then carried bucket after bucket of hot water to those waiting for it. It started to seem that every time we walked two feet from the well, the cry would go up for more water.

  Emma and Rebecca, Fleetie’s eight- and nine-year-old cousins, dug out the dishpan and washed and dried dishes, pots, pans, knives, spoons, forks, lamps, and anything else washable. Their stubby fingers would reach into the pile of discards and save pieces that only needed a good washing. As soon as they stacked their clean, wet dishes, Fleetie took a bucket of our boiling water and scalded them. She also scalded anything else that might be lying around and she thought might need a good germ killing.

  “Watch out, Leatha, she is going to scald us next, as dirty as we are,” I said.

  “Maybe the lye soap and hot water would feel good. At least we would smell better,” said Leatha.

  Fleetie spent the day running from the yard of her own flooded house back to Helen’s to check on the baby and Geneva. On one of her trips, she managed to put together a hot lunch of bean soup, cornbread, and a jar of sweet pickles resurrected from where we dared not ask. The lunch was hot and good, but the cold air and the hard work soon made all of us ravenous again for a good supper.

  Earlier in the day, Daddy, always using his head, went to the A&P and brought home the biggest roast I had ever seen. On one of my trips up the hill, I could smell it cooking as soon as I stepped into the house. We might have all been too tired to eat, but the signs pointed to the possibility of a full table of good hot, filling food to keep our forks busy.

  A weak sun managed to shine all day, and a drying breeze meandered itself down the mountain. As the long afternoon wore on, the house was again nearing normal. The mattresses and pillows were still damp and would be for days, but stacks of newly washed clothing, blankets, sheets, and towels, already dry, were put in the drawers and shelves, ready to use again. The wooden furniture, kitchen chairs, tables, and bedsteads were some dryer and placed back in their old places. The broken windows were covered with plywood, and the windows that had survived were now clear and almost shining. The sink was scrubbed back to white, and the stove was covered in a coat of fresh black. Piece by piece, the Sargeants’ flooded household goods were moved back into the house.

  Leatha, Dovie Rose, and I kept trying to sneak away to check out our clubhouse hidden in the back of the toolshed. We knew it had to be a mess, and no telling what might have been swept there. Every time we tried to slip away, we were caught, and more work was dumped on us. But just about quitting time, Dovie Rose and I finally slipped away. Leatha was still putting up quilts. Dovie stepped up to the door of the shed and gave it a hard push and quickly stepped inside. Her nerve-rattling scream filled the air and froze every person in the yard.

  “Copperhead!” She screamed it over and over. I echoed her shriek.

  Riled by the flood and startled by Dovie’s sudden step, the snake sank its poison fangs deep into her ankle. No terror equaled snake terror for any of us kids living on Nolan’s branch. We thought Dovie Rose would die or go blind or go blind first and then die. Every parent up and down the river brainwashed each one of us against snakes. We lived every day with warnings that snakes lived only to lie in wait and kill one of us.

  The adults flew into the lifesaving dance that had been choreographed through a hundred years of indispensable experience about how to rid victims of the snake venom right now pulsing inside Dovie Rose.

  Burl killed the snake and hung it high on the fence to ward off more evil. The men held Dovie Rose to the ground as Susanna burned her knife in the fire coals. Fleetie wrapped her apron strings around the leg and twisted the makeshift tourniquet. Aunt Roberta took the knife and, before the children had time to look away, cut a squat X across the bite marks. I saw Dovie’s body go stiff as the knife cut her leg. Her eyes opened wide, and her mouth flew open, and she yelled and moaned at the same time. Her eyes rolled back as she fell limp in their arms. Aunt Roberta sucked blood from the cut and spat it on the ground. Blood drops stained her white apron and trickled down her chin, terrifying the little children even more, and they did not move an inch. And even more surprising, they did not cry. Somehow, they seemed to know that no one had time to comfort them anyway.

  With most of the fence swept away, Daddy pulled the car right into the yard. Susanna and Dolly wrapped Dovie Rose in one of Fleetie’s clean quilts and pulled her into the back seat. As soon as they shut the door, Daddy tore out of the yard and onto the county road. Total silence filled the yard as each pair of eyes followed the car long after it had disappeared down the drying ruts of the dirt road.

  With everyone in the yard stricken mute, Mother took charge. She leaned over and gathered every traumatized child in her sight. She went down on her knees, and with her arms wrapped around as many as she could squeeze in, she whispered, “Would you like to go with Aunt Burba and me up the hill to bring down some supper for everybody? We’ll take turns pulling everybody in the big red wagon. How about it?”

  In spite of the snake bite shock, some of the children began to grin. But even a copperhead was not enough to make them forget that no one went up the road to Mrs. Ramsey’s house without permission. Each child’s head hung low. They knew better than to ask to go up the forbidden hill.

  Looked like Mother had forgotten her place again, but it didn’t slow her down any. “Fleetie, are you about ready to stop for the day? Roberta and I have hot supper nearly ready. I need these children to help me bring it down to Helen’s.”

  Every child in the huddled group began to smile. There it was, the excuse that would let them ride in the red wagon and go up the hill to Ed’s house.

  “Law’ me, Kathleen, it would be a sight if any of us could eat after all this.”

  Mother wasn’t buying it. “Men always eat. It’ll perk up the children too,” Mother added as she walked across the road to the railroad crossing, herding the children before her. She turned back at the top of the crossing. “I can’t believe how much everybody has gotten done. In spite of all that damage from the flood and the never-ending rain and snakes on top of it, the place is actually moving back to normal.”

  Fleetie sighed. “Can’t hardly remember normal. That must have been way back. Lordy, I’ve got to see about Geneva. I plumb forgot her and the baby with all this.”

  “Boys, you better keep sharp,” said Burl. “Them copperheads always runs in pairs. There’s bound to be another‘un somewheres nearby.”

  A shudder rippled through the group.

  “Smell for cucumbers,” Nessa said. “Copperheads smell like cucumbers.”

  Mother and Roberta moved out, and they began to pull the wagon up the long hill. Roberta had the children take turns by age—the youngest first and all the others ran alongside. While they were having fun, I could not keep from watching for snakes. I never lifted my eyes from the vine-covered bank as we passed by. In spite of myself, I flinched at every shadowed movement on the steep banks. Down below us at the Sargeants’, Burl moved along the fence line to set up a fallen gate. The second copperhead lay low under the pickets, and as Burl tightened the barbed wire, he leaned down for the gate. He spotted the copperhead just as it sprang to strike. It threw itself against the barred gate Burl had grabbed as a shield against the deadly strike.

  “Goddamn it. There you are.”

  Copperheads liked a good fight, and as Burl scrambled backward, it sprang again toward his leg.

  “Hellfire. Junior, pitch me the hoe,” he yelled as he dodged the third strike. “Damn you! You’re gonna die right now.”

  Catching the hoe, he continued its arc and, with one powerful downward s
wipe, chopped off the head. The copperhead’s mouth was still stretched open, ready to sink its white fangs into Burl. With muscles still reacting, the headless snake continued to move. Burl was as white as the sky, and we saw him lean against the fence post as his knees turned to water.

  Dorotha screamed as she pulled away from our little group and tore down the road and across the track. “Did it get you, Daddy?”

  Her scream stiffened Burl’s pride, and he stopped his shaking. As Dorotha ran toward him, he swept the hoe under the moving carcass and held it up, blocking her. She gasped and fell backward. Her tears flowed down her cheeks, and her slender body shook.

  Mother and Roberta, who had gone down also, were right behind her, and as Aunt Roberta grabbed her, a steely voice warned Burl, “Dorotha, your daddy is just making sure the snake is dead.”

  Anger flashed from Mother’s eyes as he dropped the snake. “Burl Sargeant, there has been just about enough misery today. Stop your foolishness. These children are tired, hungry, and scared half to death. They don’t need to see grown men act like jackasses. I’m just about ashamed I know you,” mother snapped as she turned to leave. Aunt Roberta held Dorotha and guided her back across the road.

  “I’m telling you, Roberta. He makes my stomach churn. He is such a coward. He can’t accept his own fear or the love of his own precious child. He leaves me in a raging fury. I cannot understand how that pitiful piece of humanity and Ed could ever be friends.”

  “He needs Ed more than the other way, Kathleen. Ed has always kept an eye out for him, that’s all. Burl is a mountain man. He don’t know nothing about being easy and gentle with women and children. He was raised rough, and that’s all he’s ever known. But if you are in some kind of trouble, he’ll be right there to help you out. He’s not all bad. He’s just like all the rest of us.”

  “You are too good, Roberta, but somebody needs to keep an eye out for Fleetie.”

  She didn’t say anything more. She didn’t have to. Everybody standing in the yard got the point. In the past, she might have seemed tender, even soft, but the word would spread that Ed’s pretty wife was more than a prissy city woman. From now on, Burl would watch his step around her.

  Chapter 15

  CONJURE TALK

  After supper, Leatha and I slipped down the hill to wait for Daddy to get back from town. We climbed up on the old foundation stones that Burl and Fleetie had set for their house. It was not far from the Mulberry tree that the Willis kids claimed as their own. The Willis house was about thirty yards from us on a straight line from the roadside tree. It was about dark, and Helen came out and sat on her front steps, lit cigarette in hand. Because of the baby and Gen, she did not dare light up in the house.

  George was sitting in the shadows, leaning his straight-backed chair against the wall. “I’d say from the looks of the place across the road, it’ll be only one more night before Fleetie will move Gen and the baby across the road and you can smoke anywhere.”

  “Can’t come too soon,” said Helen.

  I saw Daddy’s car coming way down the county road. There was still no dust. Things were getting dryer, but no road dust yet. After about three minutes, he drove over the crossing and stopped, looking for someone. He didn’t see me right away because George came down the steps and hailed him down. From my vantage point, I could hear their conversation.

  “Evening, Helen, George. Where’s Burl?”

  “He and Fred went up on the mountain. They’s helping with Hobe’s cows. They got out, and some has scattered up to the tree line. What happened with Dovie Rose?”

  Daddy said, “Roberta had already cleaned the strike out pretty good. Doc Begley said the leg will swell some, and it’ll be awful sore, but Dovie Rose is out of danger. The worst of the sickness will hit her tomorrow. He’s keeping her at the clinic tonight. Susanna and Dolly managed to keep themselves from going hysterical on me on the way to town, but the scare and worrying over Dovie Rose about did them in. I took them on home. They never said a word all the way back from town.” Daddy laughed. “Can you believe those two, quiet as a church on Monday?” Daddy laughed again just remembering it.

  “Go on! You know better. I ain’t never heard Susanny quiet. Want some supper? They’s plenty left. Miz Ramsey and your sister Roberta cooked enough for Coxey’s Army. It’s still good. Come on in the house and rest a spell,” said George.

  I knew that would be the last place he would go. The stories about how hard the women worked to clean up the place would make him leery of his muddy shoes. Daddy could probably already hear Mother fussing at him if he tracked the clean floors. She could bend the best intention into the worst kind of bad manners. Sometimes, Daddy couldn’t please her no matter how good he was trying to be to the neighbors or kin.

  “Thank you, George. Sounds good. Would Helen fix me a plate to take on home? I better not come in with the baby here. I’ve been in town, and no telling what kind of germs are on me. I’m beat too. You all about killed me today. I am a lazy man, and hard work don’t agree with my creaking bones. How is the little fellow getting along?”

  Helen said, “He seems good, but he’s awful small. Those women won’t put him down for a second. If you will wait a bit, I’ll get you that plate.” She opened the door and disappeared through the screen door and into the house.

  George spoke up, “You might find Mrs. Ramsey sorta riled up.”

  “How so?”

  “Burl found the second copperhead, and he was deviling Dorotha with it like he does. It set your missus off. I’m tellin’ you right now, she didn’t take to that at all.”

  “Lordy, I reckon not, George. She can’t stand teasing. It sets her wild, and I’d say teasing a young’un with a copperhead is not right smart. Poor old Burl probably got his ears pinned back.”

  “That’s it. She told him how it was. Pretty good. She’s a feisty one, ain’t she?”

  “Feisty is not half of it. She’ll fight a running buzz saw over a child, a puppy, or a kitten. You know women, George. A man oughtn’t to be too wild around them.”

  George laughed and replied, “I’d say Burl will be tippy-toeing for a while.”

  Helen came out and slipped back down the steps, carrying Daddy’s plate of food.

  “Thank you, Helen. I’m about as hungry as I am tired. This’ll be good.”

  “It’s right tasty. You come back now. Don’t be no stranger.”

  Daddy nodded, waved, and pulled away. I rose to catch Daddy before he drove on up the hill, and when I did, I could still hear Helen.

  Helen watched the taillights disappear up the hill. “Bet that’s the last time he’ll be here for a spell. Don’t talk to them from one year to the next, and then all at once, they’s here ever’ minute. Most of thems, except Fleetie’s pretty snobby if you ask me.”

  “Things ought not be that way,” George said and fell silent. George was too much away from his own kin. It was unnatural in this isolated valley. A man was expected to do right by his kin, but he had no way to get shut of Helen. I never could see any sign that he wanted too. As strange as she was, she seemed to suit George. Even with his crippled back and all the pain he had, he never said a cross word about her. But his people just never did quit yapping at her, and as far as anybody could tell, keeping peace between them was unlikely.

  “Leatha, do you think Helen will ever do right by the kids and George?”

  “What about George doing right? He knew she was a strange bird when he crossed that mountain and dragged her over here to have all that passel of kids. He ought to have left her alone if you ask me.”

  I had never thought of George as being forceful enough to drag anybody anywhere—even silly, half-crazy Helen. As I watched the two of them, I saw him shiver when a whip-poor-will started his night song. A deep, lonesome feeling began to creep up my back as I watched George. He squinted up, looking for the bird, not that it was
any use. No one ever saw the whip-poor-wills. It was gloomy enough just to listen to their mournful song.

  “That bird is out way too early,” said George.

  “It’s a danger sign. Watch my word. Something is comin’ we’re not going to want,” said Helen.

  “Shut up that conjure stuff, Helen. Half the valley thinks we’re plumb quare now.” He stomped up the steps and into the dark house.

  Helen smiled. “Just wait. The signs don’t lie.”

  Leatha shivered, and we gave each other a long look before we slipped off the old foundation stones to make our way up the hill.

  Chapter 16

  CANNED PEAS

  Daddy didn’t wake me up this morning with his fiddle playing, ham frying, and coffee perking. His morning routine always started my day, and he loved to make fun of me because I took so long to drag myself out of the covers. This morning, I was wide awake, and with nothing stirring, I tried to turn over and go back to sleep, but the more I tried to sleep, the more awake I was. Then it struck me. There were no noises. I sat bolt upright and flew out of the covers. There was no ham frying, no doors slamming, no washer humming, and no Daddy playing his morning fiddle tunes. My imagination ran away with me as I threw my clothes on. Was everyone outside because the house was on fire? Had someone taken every one of them captive? I slammed my feet into my shoes and ran to the kitchen, where I nearly crashed into a very silent, grim Daddy.

  Before I could get my mouth open to ask what was going on, Daddy pulled out his best lawyer voice and laid down the law. “Your mother is sick, really sick. You will have to get busy and take care of things.”

  There was something about the way his face looked that scared me. Nothing or no one on the whole earth was as important to Daddy as Mother. He could just barely put up with me. I mostly drove him crazy. It was one of those things I had to learn to live with, like my slanted eyes and crooked teeth. I didn’t like it, but there was no changing it. Some things were as immovable as boulders on the mountain. Jane and Logan did a little better with him, but only Mother brought out his gentleness and care. He spoke to her with a softer voice, and what patience he had, which was pitiful little, he exerted for her benefit.