Maybe … I decided to chance leaving Granny alone for an hour. I’d climb the slope and go over to By Golly’s. Get him to play and sing for my recorder. Neal hadn’t had time to play any of his recordings for me but maybe when he did, I’d surprise him with a couple of my own.
I wore shorts and a tank top, as little as possible, but I was soon damp all over from the exertion of climbing the mountain at midday. Would By Golly be asleep too? I’d call quietly and then come back if he was.
Something about getting outside and away from the cabin felt wonderful. Like I’d escaped for a few minutes. I didn’t feel that watching over Granny was a prison sentence, but it was certainly more confining than I’d thought it would be. She’d be fine alone, I assured myself. Rue had put that lock on the door even though Granny never used it. I hunted till I found the key in a blue vase on the knickknack shelf. Granny was locked in and I fingered the key in my pocket to remind myself that no one could visit her unexpectedly.
The air smelled of pine and honeysuckle and my dark mood of the last few days lifted and sailed away on the fluffy clouds. Downhill to By Golly’s was so steep I slipped and slid and had to keep from running out of control.
By Golly was on the front porch, propped against the wall in an old wooden chair. His eyes were closed so I sat quietly on the steps. A dipper and a bucket sat on the corner of the porch, and as soon as I spotted it, my mouth felt twice as cottony. I tiptoed over to drink before I settled down to study By Golly’s scenery. It wasn’t as spectacular as Granny’s, but the woods were leafy and green and gave the illusion of coolness. A sudden breeze teased the heavy air.
I guess the breeze woke By Golly. “By golly, hit’s a breeze. How are you, Valerie?” He acted as if he woke up every day to find a visitor on his porch.
“I reckon I’m fine, Mr. Talley.” I smiled at my imitation of the mountain speech. “I got to thinking you might sing for me so I came over while Granny was asleep.”
“Annie was the prettiest girl on the mountain,” Mr. Talley said. “But I could never get her to marry me.”
When he paused to take a breath after talking about Granny and his troubles courting her, I asked, “Mr. Talley, it seems like all the songs I hear are sad. Do you know any funny or happy songs?”
“I’ll think on it.” While he was thinking he pulled the jaw harp from his overall pocket. I guess he kept it handy in case he felt like playing. Twang, twang, twang. A melody took shape. Then without any instrument accompanying his singing he went right into “The Devil and the Farmer.” It was a song about the devil taking a woman to hell and having to bring her back because she was so mean.
I laughed but just barely had time to turn my tape over when By Golly took a breath and started “A ditty of pore Oma Wise. How she was deluded by Lewis’s lies.”
“Little Oma, little Oma
I’ll tell you one mind,
My mind is to drownd you
And leave you behind.”
“Naomi asked Lewis to take pity on her but he didn’t,” By Golly added, then sang,
“The screams of pore Oma
They follered him nigh.
Oh, I’m a pore rebel
Not fittin’ to die.”
Lewis went to prison at the end of the song, but what good did that do poor Naomi Wise? I gave up getting happy songs and listened to By Golly sing two more. Once I’d gotten him started singing, it might be hard to get him to stop. I guess he was glad for company, an audience. But I stood up the next time he took a breath.
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Talley. I have to go now. Granny might wake up and worry about where I am.”
“Annie never worried a day in her life. By golly, that woman were a rounder.”
I guessed that a rounder was a person who had a good time, and I was glad Granny had enjoyed her life. Then I waved to Mr. Talley who continued to play and the twang, twang, twang followed me down the path, making my feet bounce until I started uphill. This side of the mountain was even steeper than Granny’s. Near the top I fell to my knees and had to struggle to get up.
I wasn’t hurt but as I got up I heard voices. Looking all round, I kept very still, wondering who might be on the mountain when I thought I was alone. I stood. Waited. No one appeared and I didn’t hear the talking again. It had been muffled, but not far off. Was it my imagination? Had songs of young women being murdered stirred my imagination so that I started hearing things?
I walked on quietly, continuing to look around. At the top I paused and felt that same creepy feeling of eyes following me. Someone watching. Waiting for me? Following me?
I kept walking despite the fact that I knew I wasn’t alone. “We don’t want you here. Go away.” The words came back to me and I wondered how badly someone wanted me to leave. Was I in any danger? Real danger?
Stopping again, I looked behind me. There were so many trees and lots of them big enough to hide behind. There was undergrowth, bushes anyone could duck behind.
I stopped for a breath and glanced along the ridge. At a distance I saw a tall, thin man watching me. On his head was a soft felt hat, crumpled, probably old. He carried a gun — a rifle or a shotgun, I don’t know the difference. I froze, unable to take another step. He didn’t move but kept looking at me — or in my direction. I guess he could see me. He seemed undisturbed by my presence and in no hurry to move on.
Was he a hunter? People hunted squirrels and rabbits here, probably deer. Was he looking for game and as surprised to see me as I was him?
Finally he turned and disappeared over the side of the mountain, toward Granny’s. Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better. In fact, now I felt some urgency. I wanted to get back to Granny.
My legs, wobbly, started to function again and I hurried. Then although there was no one in sight, and I could see the cabin, I ran and slipped and slid on the pine-needle path until I reached the yard. I pounded round to the front.
Still locked. I stopped to take deep breaths before I went inside. Opening the door softly, I stepped in, but Granny was up. She sat and rocked and hummed. A loud signal sent me to the phone. It was off the hook. I wished I could leave it that way. But I hung it up. Granny was on a six-party line and someone might need the line.
“Did someone call, Granny? Who called you?”
“I don’t like that machine. Rue made me get it.” She rocked. The chair creaked slightly, and Granny’s feet softly bumped the floor with every push she gave the rocker.
If Granny knew who called, she’d forgotten. Or wouldn’t tell. While I fixed some leftovers for supper the phone jangled again. I picked it up quickly and used my firmest voice. “Hello.”
“Hello, yourself. “Are you always so sharp?” It was Rick and I felt silly that I had practically shouted my greeting.
“I was just hurrying.”
“Okay, I won’t talk. Come over tomorrow and explore the cave,” he said.
“I’ll have to get a granny-sitter. Can I call you back?”
“Yep.” Rick gave me the code to get his number since he was on Granny’s line. I knew he thought I was silly to get someone for Granny, but I knew better. I would never enjoy the trip if I knew she was alone.
Thinking about going caving with Rick lifted my spirits and I pushed aside my scare on the mountain. I was jumpy after hearing By Golly’s song about the murder of Naomi Wise. I would enjoy the safety of the streets of New York. I laughed at the thought.
“Listen, Granny.” After supper I put on the tape of By Golly singing.
Granny rocked and nodded her head to the rhythm, sometimes humming along. But when the tape was over she said, “I don’t like him.”
“But Granny. He likes you. Why can’t you and By Golly be friends? You’re neighbors. You could sing together and tell stories.”
“He’s up to no good.”
“Now what could he be up to at his age?” I laughed at Granny’s thinking By Golly was up to no good. Maybe she had been a “rounder,” but she was downright anti
social with the men now.
After waiting half an hour to get a free phone line, I called Fleecy and when she said she could come and stay with Granny, I called Neal. He wanted to go. I called back Rick and said the plans were on, but I decided that if Neal found he couldn’t go, I’d postpone the exploring.
Did I have the guts to go underground again, and this time into a bigger and deeper cave? A wild cave? I would not think about it. I’d just go and have fun.
Two cute guys, Valerie. How could it not be fun?
Right! I told myself, insisting I forget the scary part and concentrate on the company, the great time we’d have.
CHAPTER
9
IT was fun at first. Neal came to Granny’s and we walked to Rick’s. What a difference there was in walking in the woods with Neal instead of alone. We laughed and joked, and then he told me about an old woman he hoped he could record soon. She was ninety-three and lived in a place called Mourning Dove Hollow.
“When can I play some recordings for you, Valerie? I know, I’ll get mom to invite you and Granny to dinner. Dad said Granny needs to keep getting out.”
“That would be fun.”
“Stop, Valerie!” Neal’s voice meant business and he grabbed my arm as he called out.
I obeyed immediately. “What’s wrong?” I whispered. Then I heard a rattling sound like dry paper rustling. We were in the shady, woodsy part of the trail near Rick’s.
“Just don’t move.”
We stood frozen, with my eyes searching as far as I could see without moving my head. Finally there was a soft swish and the grass near the path swayed slightly.
Neal pulled me into his arms and hugged me. “Sorry to scare you. It’s gone. It was a rattlesnake. You almost stepped on it”
“Rattlesnake! Why didn’t you say so?” I felt like running.
“See how you’re reacting? I wasn’t sure what you’d do. I know girls don’t like snakes.”
“I suppose you do, Mr. Macho.”
Neal laughed. “Not really, especially rattlers. But the only really safe thing to do is give it a lot of room and wait till it moves on. This is its territory. It must have been sleeping in this shade.”
“They should put up a sign here that says Snake Crossing.” I tried to joke about it, but I was still trembling. I was glad I hadn’t thought of snakes the last time I’d been in the woods. Now I’d have something else to worry about Pretty soon I’d have to hole up in Granny’s cabin for the rest of the summer. People with guns, snakes, the terrible silence. It would be hot inside, but safe.
“I came here planning to become a nature girl, to wander the hills. It sounded so romantic. I guess I’ll take the safe streets of New York any day.”
“Too bad I have to work so much. I’d wander with you.” His eyes on me said he’d enjoy it too.
“Come on, Sir Gallant. Rick will think we aren’t coming.” I skipped on ahead, my eyes glued to the path.
Rick wasn’t very glad to see Neal and he made it obvious. He pulled me aside in the store while Neal was fooling with his headlamp. “What’s the matter, city girl? Afraid to be alone with me?”
“Maybe so.” I flirted with my eyes. “I’m not one to take risks. I told you that.”
His smile was just plain mischievous. My dad was always teasing Rue. I guess some boys never grow up.
“See how much smarter I am this time.” I tugged off my day pack. I’d worn jeans and a blouse but now I pulled a sweatshirt from the pack and put it on. It seemed strange to be putting on more clothes in the heat of the store. Neal had brought me his mom’s rubber boots and her feet were enough bigger so that I put them on over my sneakers. They were snug but the tight fit made it easier to walk. Both Neal and Rick had on climbing boots and hard hats with headlamps. Each had a hat for me, but Rick popped his onto my head first. He flirted as he tugged the strap tight around my chin. I had a small lunch — cheese, crackers, and an apple. Neal had said he’d bring extra candy bars.
We followed the tourist cave to where the second light switch was—the one Rick could shut off to scare tourists. At that point he flipped it and we had only the beam from our headlamps to follow. The lamps threw out more light than flashlights, and shadows danced around us as we walked quickly. The sharp odor of burning gas mingled with the dark smell of clay and limestone.
I almost backed out — said I’d wait in the store — when the cave pinched down to a crawl space. I hadn’t thought I had claustrophobia, but the idea of getting down and squeezing through the narrow passageway terrified me.
“It’s a little muddy because of so much rain, but it’s not far,” Rick said, reassuring me. “I’ll go first to show you how far it is. Neal will stay on this side till you crawl through.”
Rick did as he promised, but I didn’t feel secure at all when I saw his boots disappear. It was farther than one body length. Then it seemed like a long time until he called out “Through. Now you, Valerie. You can do it. It’s not even tight.”
It was, too. I started in, first on my hands and knees, crawling. Then the space got smaller and smaller. I had to flatten onto my stomach and slide. My lamp dinged the side and at one point I had to turn so my shoulders could fit There was mud, cold on my hands and knees. Suddenly I panicked. “I have to get out of here!” Cold rock squeezed me from all sides. Ahead was more tunnel, lighted by my lamp, but I couldn’t see the end.
“Then crawl forward. Come on,” Rick coaxed. “It’s not far. Don’t think, just crawl.”
I squelched my fear, blanked out my mind, stopped thinking where I was. I scooted quickly ahead. Willpower. I can, I can. Don’t think. Don’t think. Ahead I saw Rick’s feet, and I slid all the faster. Out of the tunnel, I quickly stood up. I felt like a cork trapped in a bottle that had finally been released.
I breathed hard. “I’d have never come in here, Rick Biddleman, if I’d known I would have to do that.” Now I half laughed, half shivered, thinking where I’d been.
Rick put his arm around me and held me tight. He was warm and I buried my face in his chest. “Aha, I’ve got you all alone after all,” he wishpered, his breath warm on my cheek. “Maybe Neal will get stuck, and we can leave him here until we get back.”
“Don’t say that.” I turned my face up to scold him and he brushed my lips with his.
“Rick, you’re impossible.”
“But you like it, don’t you?”
Neal slid out in time to keep me from having to answer Rick’s question. This might prove to be an interesting day, aside from the cave trip. My wet and muddy knees reminded me that this was all real, not a dream. I was in a cave with two guys who were both attracted to me. When it came right down to it, my dad might not approve if he knew. But I knew they were nice guys, even if Rick was a bit forward.
I’d write Pam tonight. I giggled to think of her reaction. Everyday, ordinary Valerie, having all these adventures.
After the crawl space we entered an open area and since we couldn’t see the other side, I knew it was huge. We would walk a ledge, Rick said and pointed to where the ledge dropped down into a large room.
“Wow, look at those flowstones.” Neal shined his light on long columns of smooth rock, brown and caramel with reddish splotches trickling down them. “I guess you wish you could get tourists in here, don’t you, Biddleman?”
“We sure could charge more than three dollars.” Rick’s voice held anger, I thought. “This ledge is as wide as a road, but stay on the left.”
Rows of massive stalagmites lined the path as we started downward. Some were almost white, some pale orange. As our lights hit them I felt as if I were in some underground fantasy land. Rick shined his light on a clump of stone that looked like a sleeping bear, then on a curtain of white that looked like a fairy’s wing.
“Oh, how beautiful. What’s holding it up there?” The formation looked so delicate, almost suspended in space.
“From here it looks small and delicate, but it’s really about ten feet
high and probably has been there for centuries.”
“I don’t understand how all this happened under here.”
Rick and Neal took turns explaining how caves were formed. Both were very knowledgeable about the subject.
“Most caves are formed by running water. The water cuts through the limestone leaving the caverns,” said Neal.
“Then rain water seeps through the ground, leeching out minerals. As the water drips, it leaves some minerals behind. The curtain is made of calcite,” Rick added.
“It takes thousands of years for this to happen.”
Rick started walking again. “Up ahead are some calcite soda straws. You can see them forming, because this is a live cave.”
“What’s a dead cave?” I knew it was probably a dumb question, but I wanted to know.
“One where everything has stopped forming. It would be dried out,” Neal answered.
“Look, it’s a waterfall.” My light hit a formation that looked like a frozen Niagara Falls.
“That’s calcite too.” Rick turned his lamp to a stalagtite that was very orangy. “This orange strain is iron salts.”
“Does anything live here?” I’d probably be sorry I asked.
Before anyone could answer, the path started up. We brushed close to the side, but had to bend over because of an overhead ledge. My headlamp bumped the rock, making a screeching noise.
Thousands — it seemed — of birds or something flew close to us, wings flapping. One brushed my arm and I screamed.
“There’s your answer. Bats,” said Neal.
“Bats, ugh.” I shivered and backed up into Neal whose arms went around me quickly.
“Your hat hitting the wall startled them. They usually fly only at night,” Rick explained. “They hang on the ceiling to sleep. One of them bumped you because they fly by memory and it didn’t remember you were there.”
“Because I wasn’t there when it last flew.” I I tried to laugh and get over my fright, but I hoped the bats remembered now, since I didn’t want them touching me. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I had this tendency to associate bats with evil and vampires. Too many horror movies.
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