Valley So Low

by Patrice Wayne

  “Oh, no, it wasn’t,” Maude replied.

  McGill grunted. “Well, time’s up anyhow. You need to go on home.” She nodded but turned back to Harry. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she told him. “Just remember things aren’t always as black as they sometimes seem. If there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  Her use of a worn-out platitude demonstrated the depth of her distress. Under ordinary circumstances Maude shied away from using such adages, but with the sheriff’s attention focused on her, she wanted to reassure Harry without McGill’s understanding. Harry nodded. His expression turned gloomy and on impulse she pressed her face to the bars, lips puckered for a kiss. Although the lawman’s presence normally turned him bashful, Harry stepped forward and touched his mouth to as much of hers as he could. The kiss lasted seconds but Maude savored the contact as she departed. Harry’s whispered “I love you” resonated in her mind.

  Maude loitered along the way back to Fred’s house. She’d promised to help Granny beat rugs and clean the house but when she arrived, Granny stood on the front porch, arms folded, deep in discussion with Mrs. Smith, one of the neighbors. Granny’s frown line was in evidence and when Maude came up the few steps, the older woman stopped her.

  “Maude, you know Miz Smith, don’t you?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, Granny continued. “She says more people’s coming down with the flu again. I thought it was ‘bout done but it’s flared up again. I don’t know but maybe you ought to go back to the farm. I wouldn’t want you to come down sick and I know Harry’d have a fit if you did.”

  She didn’t need to think about it. “I can’t go home,” Maude said. “I won’t until Harry can go home with me.”

  Granny shook her head. “I thought you’d say that,” she said. “But I wanted to try because I had it myself and I was powerful sick with it, but not as bad as poor Gert or Rose Mae or the two girls. Go on in and I’ll be there in a minute. If you want to start sweeping the kitchen, go ahead.”

  Maude nodded. Most of the time, keeping her hands busy prevented her thinking too much about Harry, but once she began the task, she worried about Harry. Like most people, she’d heard horror tales about epidemics spreading through jailhouses and she figured he had more chance to get sick than she did. His misery and hopelessness bothered her too, but Maude possessed enough stubborn qualities she wasn’t planning to give up. Something’s got to happen, something to change everything and get Harry out of jail. What, however, she didn’t know, but it needed to be soon.

  The sole bright spot in the day turned out to be a letter from Aunt Mary. Maude read it quickly for news of her boy, then re-read it until she had it memorized. George is doing fine, her aunt wrote in her fancy script, but I think he misses both you and Harry. He is a bundle of joy to me and I’m having the time of my life watching him for you. He goes with Tommy down to the farm sometimes to feed the stock but he always wants to go to the house and ‘course Tommy won’t let him. George gets along fine with Old Blue, our hound, and the dog lets him crawl all over him. Tears filled Maude’s eyes as she read about her son and she slept with the letter beneath her pillow.

  Over the weekend, Granny and Fred both brought home tales of more people falling sick, among them Fannie Farnsworth. Serves her right for telling lies. Maude regretted her cattiness as soon as the thought popped into her head. She didn’t want to wish bad things on anyone. All I want is out of this nightmare.

  People were afraid. Although the numbers of those sick didn’t come close to the levels reached at the height of the epidemic, there were enough ill that church services were cancelled and most folks kept close to home. Fred, who spent most of his hours away from home since Gert’s death, didn’t ramble. His constant presence turned Maude shy and she spent more time in the small bedroom upstairs. She walked down to the jail both Saturday and Sunday mornings to spend her few minutes with Harry, but when Maude arrived Monday no one answered her knock for a very long time.

  When Sheriff McGill came to the door, he hadn’t shaved and he wore his suspenders drooping down over a red flannel long underwear shirt over his uniform pants. His hair stuck out in six directions and he glared at her with more hostility than usual. “Oh, it’s you,” he said in a gruff voice. “I hoped it might be the doctor. My wife’s down with this Spanish influenza. If you want to go back to the jail, come on but you can’t stay very long. I’ve got too much to contend with now.”

  Maude followed him and noted how quiet the house seemed. On any other day a certain noise and bustle brought it to life, but the silence echoed. So did her footsteps. Harry waited at the cell door for her as he always did and reached out to grasp her hands through the iron bars. His eagerness to visit with her would’ve pleased Maude more if his eyes hadn’t seemed too bright and wild. “Maudie, I’m glad you’re here,” Harry said without preamble. “I worried all night you might not come.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

  “I heard about the flu going around again,” he said. “I got concerned you might come down with it. And much as I wanted you to visit, I almost hoped you wouldn’t ‘cause I don’t want you to catch it. Miz McGill has it now.”

  “I heard,” Maude said. “But you know me, I never get sick.” Although not usually very superstitious, she crossed her fingers behind her back. “I’m worried about you, Harry, afraid the flu might spread through the jailhouse like brush fire.”

  She’d forgotten McGill’s presence until he snorted. “It’s likely to do just that,” he said. “Hurry up so I can head back to see about the woman.” He paused, cocked his head. “I think I hear someone at the door.”

  Before anyone said anything, a boy burst into the cell area.

  “You gotta come, Sheriff,” he cried. “She wants you right now and they sent for me!”

  “Whoa, boy,” Ike McGill said. “Who wants me and why? I can’t do much. My wife’s bad sick.”

  “Fannie Farnsworth,” the boy said. “She’s sick too and thinks she’s dying. But she says she won’t die with a black lie on her soul and you gotta come. She says she’ll go straight to the pit of hell if she don’t tell the truth now. Her ma’s weeping and carrying on something awful. Come along and go with me, Sheriff. They’ll tan my hide if I don’t bring you, sure as anything.”

  Hope, faint as breath of wind, stirred in Maude’s soul. She exchanged glances with Harry. Miss Fannie might have many secrets, but maybe the woman wanted to make it right about Harry. If she did, then there might not be a trial after all. His eyes sparkled with the same dream. Ike cussed and then apologized for it. “All right, all right, I’ll come,” he said to the boy. “Go tell them I’m on the way. I’ll get the oldest gal to look in on her mama. Missus Whitney, I gotta ask you to go. I cain’t have no civilians in here whilst I’m out.”

  “All right,” Maude said. She balled her hand into a fist and touched it to her mouth. Then she opened her fingers and touched Harry’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Harry,” she told him. Then, softer than a whisper she breathed, “Maybe sooner, if the good Lord’s willing.”

  A smile flickered to life across his mouth and he nodded. “I’ll be seein’ you, honey.”

  She didn’t realize she’d failed to give him the ham biscuits she’d put together until halfway home but Maude didn’t mind. She ached to run the way she did as a young girl when she courted Harry back at Silver Moon School, but she forced her pace to a sedate walk. At Granny’s, she burst into the kitchen, unable to contain her news any longer. Maude shared the morning’s events in a jumbled tumble of words but when she finished, both Granny and Uncle Fred understood.

  “I’ll be,” Granny said. “Oh, it’ll be a happy day if she confesses to the sheriff she made all that up about our Harry.”

  “It would,” Maude said. “Then we could go home.”

  “Don’t count your chicks before they’re hatched,” Fred warned. “I hope it happens too, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t get your hop
es up until you know something for sure.”

  “Best to stay busy and try not to think about it, honey,” Granny advised. “If it’s meant to happen, it will and if not, all the fretting in the world won’t change anything. If what she wants to tell is about Harry, we’ll hear in good time.”

  Maude’s nerves tingled. “I don’t know if I can bear waiting to hear,” she said.

  “I’ll keep your hands so busy your head can’t think,” Granny told her with a small grin. “Its laundry day and you can help.”

  Three hours later, her hands were reddened from scrubbing clothes with pungent lye soap. Maude’s back ached from using the dolly stick to agitate the clothing in the tubs. Granny’d done her share of the work and Fred assisted the ladies in running each garment through the wringer. He’d turned the crank or Maude figured she would’ve been dead on her feet. All the laundry washing equipment was kept down cellar, and when the clothes were scrubbed, soaked, and rinsed, she and Granny hung it all to dry on a series of clotheslines strung overhead. If the weather had been fair, they would’ve hung them outside, but mid-morning snow began to fall. Just a few flakes drifted down at first but the pace picked up, and by noon a fresh blanket of white coated the ground. When they paused to eat a light dinner, some soup beans cooked with bacon, Maude figured they were about halfway through. Tomorrow they would iron, a task she didn’t look forward to at all.

  “There,” Granny said as she forced the last clothes peg down onto the line. “We’re finished for now. I don’t like it much but most of these clothes won’t dry for hours yet. It’s late, after four I think. Let’s go get some supper. I think there’s enough beans left if you want to make a pan of cornbread to go with it.”

  She’d rather put on her hat and coat and despite the snow head down to the jail to see if anything had changed. If she couldn’t do that, Maude would rather retire early. Alone in the bedroom she could think about Harry, hope and pray, even dream. But she knew better. “Sure, I can,” she said.

  In the kitchen, Maude grabbed the big brown crockery bowl from the cupboard. She measured out flour, cornmeal, baking powder and salt, then added eggs and shortening. Her hands sifted and stirred without much conscious thought. She probably could make cornbread or biscuits in her sleep if necessary. Just after she put the big iron spider into the oven to bake the cornbread, Maude heard someone knocking at the door. She wiped her hands on her apron and smoothed down her flyaway hair in case someone brought word about Fannie Farnsworth and her confession.

  Dark arrived early and snow still fell at a rapid pace as she opened the door. A figure stood there, humped over with cold and covered with snow. “Goodness,” Maude said. “Come inside before you freeze to death out here.”

  Until he lifted his head and she saw the man’s face, she didn’t recognize Harry. “I’d like that fine, Maudie,” he said with a weary grin. “I’m free, honey. Fannie told McGill she made it up, said she meant to cause me trouble with what she said.”

  The tight kernel lodged in Maude’s chest vanished as a flood of joy rushed over her. “Harry,” she cried. “Oh, Harry.” She stepped backward so he could enter and then pitched into his arms. He caught her, then released her. Perplexed, she looked into his face. “I’d love to hold you,” he told her. “But I’m crawling with lice and filthy as sin. You probably ought to not even let me in the door.”

  “Who’s here?” Granny called as she came in from the kitchen two rooms distant.

  She stopped short and put her hand to her mouth when she saw Harry. “I’ll be darned,” she said. “Praise Jesus, you’re out of jail. You didn’t bust out, did you?”

  His lopsided grin brought happiness to Maude. “No, Granny,” he said. “Like I told Maude, Fannie Farnsworth told the sheriff she made it all up so they couldn’t keep me.”

  “Why on earth did she lie?”

  Harry’s grin widened. “Well, from what Ike McGill told me, Miss Fannie and Delbert Jones had a mutual admiration. I guess they’ve been smooching for years now without anyone knowing. But after the war ended, Miss Fannie took up with Lester Carmichael from the bank so she told Delbert good riddance. He didn’t take it very well and he’s been deviling her until her brother Wallace chased Jones down one night. They got into a scuffle and Wallace’s knife ended up in Delbert’s belly. But Fannie kept a grudge for me from way back, and I guess she figured I’d make an easy patsy to blame. I doubt she’d told the truth yet ‘cept she got sick and thought she might die. She didn’t want to end up in hell so she decided to tell what really happened.”

  “Thank God,” Maude said. Until she touched her cheek and found it wet, she hadn’t realized she wept. “I never cared much for her but I hope she makes it.”

  Harry’s smile widened. “They say her fever broke an hour after her confession. Got anything cooking? I’m nearly starved.”

  “There’s beans on the stove and cornbread in the oven,” Maude said. “Come on, sit down, it’ll be ready in a jiffy.”

  He hesitated. “I’m dirty, and I really do have lice. I probably stink too.”

  Granny grabbed his arm. “It’s probably not the first time you’ve smelled, son. After you fill your belly, you can get a bath and get clean. We’ll get rid of the lice too.”

  “I know,” he said. “I reckon I’ll need to shave my head.”

  “Oh, no you won’t,” Maude cried. “You’d catch your death of cold if you do. Besides, there’s other ways to get rid of lice. Soon as we eat, you can get a bath and I’ll take care of your hair.

  “You can use the kitchen,” Granny told them. “It’ll be warmest there.”

  “Uncle Fred may not want me taking a bath in the kitchen,” Harry said with a laugh.

  Fred appeared in the dining room doorway. “I don’t mind if you get your bath,” he said. “Granny’s right. But I don’t know if it’s proper for Maude to be there. You may’ve spoken for her but you ain’t married yet.”

  “As long as she’s willin’, I plan to take care of that business come morning,” Harry told his uncle. “I would’ve sooner but for the flu going round, but we’re here in town and after my time in jail I don’t want to wait. What’d you say, honey?”

  Maude wanted to jump up and down but she controlled her response and smiled. “I say let’s get married, Harry.”

  “But that’s tomorrow. I’m talking about right here, tonight,” Fred said. “Oh, hush,” Granny told her son-in-law. “They’re as good as hitched now. A few words said in front of the judge down at the courthouse won’t change anything.”

  Uncle Fred appeared to consider the thought, lips twisted with effort. “Oh, hell, all right,” he said after a long minute’s time. “Between this world war and the flu, seems like nobody cares about keeping things decent anymore but if you’ll wed tomorrow, I give you my blessing.”

  “Good,” Granny said. “Then let’s eat so Harry can get cleaned up.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maude noticed Uncle Fred shied away from Harry at the supper table but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the lice or the odor. The sour stench emanating from Harry and his garments wilted most of Maude’s appetite. She recognized the rank smell of the jailhouse but she didn’t enjoy it permeating her nose. Although Harry claimed to be hungry, she noticed he ate little enough and when he pushed back his bowl, he wrinkled his nose. “Guess it takes a fella a little time to get back on his feed,” he said. “I ain’t ate much for most of two weeks and I guess my belly’s shrunk. It’s good, though.”

  In the brighter illumination of the big oil lamp, Maude saw what she hadn’t at the jail—how weary Harry appeared and how haggard he looked with harsh lines cut into his face. He seemed awfully pale beneath the grime, but anyone would be white and wan after an ordeal in jail. “Let me clean up the dishes,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead and shave, then I’ll warm water for your bath and help you with your hair.”

  “I’ll be glad to lend a hand,” Granny said. Maude scrutinized the old
woman. Fatigue was evident in her face and had since Granny’s bout with the flu, but they’d worked hard doing laundry too. She started to reject the offer and changed her mind. Granny loved Harry too, and wanted to do what she could. “I appreciate it,” she said. “If you want to get the soap and lard ready, maybe Uncle Fred could fetch the tub.”

  Once the dishes were clean and put away, Maude filled the big galvanized tub about half full of water, then added hot water from the stove. Harry shed his dirty clothes and Granny snatched them before they touched her clean kitchen floor. She carried them outside with an extended arm. Harry watched her go. “What’s she gonna do with them now?”

  “She vowed she’d burn them,” Maude told him.

  “Good riddance to them,” Harry replied with a small grin. “I don’t know what I’ll wear, though. All my clothes are at the farm.”

  “Granny picked out some near worn-out overalls, a shirt, and long johns from Uncle Fred’s bureau,” she told him. “Go ahead and get in while the water’s warm.”

  Maude handed him a bar of Ivory soap and a nubbin of homemade lye soap. Harry used a faded rag to soap up and scrub hard. While he washed, Maude combed out his hair and then coated it all with grease. The slick fat coated her fingers and the sensation made her skin crawl, all the more after she caught sight of a few lice on the move. “Are you sure this’ll work?” Harry asked. “It should,” she said. “I’ve seen it work fine. The grease smothers the lice and then I can comb them out. Then I’ll wash your hair good.”

  Although some folks vowed the grease needed to stay in the hair all night, Maude had seen it work in a matter of hours. With fingers crossed and hoping for the best results, she helped him scrub until the bathwater turned dark with dirt. Long after both Granny and Fred retired for the night, Maude combed out the grease. Dead bugs and nits were thick in the lard and she wiped away each comb full onto rags which would have to be burned. It took a long time to get all of them removed but once she felt confident she had, Maude began the arduous task of washing the grease away. It took a long time, along with Ivory soap, but she managed to get Harry’s hair clean. He dressed in the hand-me-downs and sat before the kitchen fire, shivering until his hair dried.