by Risner, Fay
“Yep, Mama. We hear, don't we Don? We'll take em back up behind Tutt's place right now and turn em loose. They will join the rest of his turkey flock, and Tutt will never be the wiser,” Lue planned out loud with a wink at Don.
A few weeks later, Tutt rode up to the Bishop's hitch rack, trailed by one of his skinny black and tan coonhounds. He dismounted as Jacob rose from the edge of the porch to greet him. “Hey, Tutt. Come up here and join me on the porch. This here shade is as cool a place as we can find these days and that ain’t sayen much.”
“Hey, Jake. What ya know fer sure, cept how hot it is, huh?” Tutt spit an amber stream off to the side of him, spraying most of Nannie's orange tiger lily flower bed as he stepped onto the porch.
“It’s mighty hot. That's fer sure,"”Jacob nodded in agreement. “Ya know any news?”
Tutt sat down slowly beside Jacob. He dangled his short legs off the side of the porch, brushing with his scuffed boots the Virginia Blue Bells Nannie had carried down from the ridge and planted behind the tiger lilies.
He rubbed the whisker stubble on his chin and said, “Not much I know about. Jest thought I'd stop by. Sure need rain bad, huh?” Tutt leaned over to spit again and sprayed a black cat just as it streaked under his feet chased by Tutt’s dog The cat didn’t stop until it scrambled up on a high limb in the mulberry tree. The coonhound, baying as if he had a coon treed, jumped up and bounced off the tree.
“Here now! Clemalick, stopped that. That ain’t no coon ya got treed. That’s a dern cat.” Tutt jumped off the porch, waded through the already laid low flowers and kicked at the excited dog. Dodging Tutt’s foot, the dog ran through the open gate and took off toward the barn, yipping all the way as though he was in pain.
Tutt joined Jacob on the porch. “Say, Jake, ya heard about what happened over at Genon Mitt's ta other day?”
“Nope, Tutt. Haven't seen Genon fer a spell.”
“I was hoofen it cross her pasture and heard some yellen fer hep. I looked around fer the ruckus and spotted Genon up a tree. That scrawny black bull of hers was snorten and pawen the dirt right under her. He had that ole gal treed.”
“By golly, that scrawny runt is no bigger than one of Genon's cows. He went mean?”
“Yep! He turned ornery all right. Funniest sight I ever seed was ole Genon hangen onto that limb she was a straddled of, looken bug eyed, and holleren at him at the top of her lungs to scat away so she could get down.”
“What did ya do?”
“I started to laugh. Couldn't hep myself. Then Genon heard me. She threatened to put a curse on me ifen I didn't hep her. Dang if Genon don't scare me more than a mean bull.”
“Me too so what did ya do?”
“I seed Genon's six cows watchen the ruckus from aways off so I got behind em and hollered. Got em stampeded at that ole bull. When they got to the bull, Genon started yellen worse that any banshee could. That ole ornery bull took off with the cows. As soon as the cattle disappeared over the hill, Genon slide down from that tree -- hee, hee. She was right stove up from sitten so long soens she could hardly stand, and out of sorts. She was in no mood to talk. She pointed her crooked finger at me and warned me she best not hear tell of me sayen anythin about her and her bull to anyone. Then she trekked off toward her cabin, walken kind of stiff legged. Reckon she'd been up that tree a good long spell, I do,” snickered Tutt.
Jacob pictured Genon stuck up a tree and grinned, but he cautioned, “Best not be talken about this then, Tutt if she warned ya not to. Genon kin be a mean one to reckon with when she's riled.”
All the time Tutt was telling his story, he’d watched two young turkey toms, darting back and forth across the yard after grasshoppers. “Member that turkey hen I was tellen ya about the other day that I thought the coyotes got?”
“Yep, reckon I do,” Jacob replied, studying his hands to avoid looking Tutt in the eyes when he asked, “Why?”
“Funniest thing happened. She showed up with a batch of poults about the size of yers. I don't know how she got away from that coyote with her younguns, but she must have put up some kind of a fierce fight from the look of her. She's plumb bald.”
“Is that a fact?” Jacob fend interest as he turned his face away to hide the grin that was spreading from ear to ear. Then he figured it was time to change the subject so he turned to his neighbor and asked, “Tutt, ya have time to hep us make hay next week?”
Chapter 8
Hay Making
Close enough, Jake," Tutt yelled from atop the stack of loose hay on the sled wagon as he directed Jacob along side the barn.
“Whoa,” Jacob hollered, pulling back on the work horse's reins. “Whoa, Buck!”
Above the four tong hay fork that dangled directly over the wagon, Tom, Lue and Don watched from the hay mow door. They were ready to start forking the hay and move it away from the opening when the tongs came up in the loft and released a load.
Sid helped Jacob unhitch the roan and hitch him to the pulley. The wheel made a loud creaking noise when the pulley began to turn, threading the rope across the mow, lifting the fork full of hay slowly up and through the barn door. Then the tongs released the hay and the empty fork traveled back down to the wagon to reload.
Standing in the unrelenting sun, Jacob ducked his head to wipe the sweat beads on his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and squinted to watched the fork once again rise up into the loft.
“We're about half done. I could use a rest,” wheezed Tutt.
“By golly, I could, too. Let's sit down a minute.” Jacob came around the pile and plopped down beside Tutt on the edge of the wagon. Lifting his shirt tail, Tutt wiped his sweaty, dirt streaked face.
“Jake, why's it always so blazen hot when we's maken hay?” Whined Tutt.
“Don't work too good maken hay in the winter, Tutt,” Jacob wisecracked, grinning at the wizen fellow beside him. “Here comes the fork back. Best get moven so we can get this job done today.” Jacob stood up and stretched, wincing as pain seared through his stiff muscles.
Jacob watched the fork inch its way down. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the bleared image of a medium size, dark blue snake darting over the top of the hay pile toward Tutt. “Look out, Tutt! A blue racer is comen yer way!”
“I see it! I'll fix that varmint.” Tutt raised his pitch fork handle above his head ready to clobber the snake.
“Be careful, Tutt. Nothen meaner that a riled up blue racer.”
“I kin handle a little ole snake,” bragged Tutt. Raising his pitch fork high above his head, he made a downward swing. He struck the snake in the middle, causing it to sink into the loose hay.
Angered by the blow, the reptile lunged at Tutt as Jacob yelled from the top of the stack where he sat watching, “Look out, Tutt! What did I tell ya? He's still comen at ya, and he's mad as a wasper now.”
Hearing raised voices, Sid stopped the horse to turn and look at the wagon. Tom, Lue, and Don peeked out of the hay mow door in time to see Tutt pounding the wagon with his pitch fork while the blue racer writhed one way than the other The snake, dodging the blows, lunged at Tutt's right shoe.
“Jake, hep me get him offen my shoe,” squealed Tutt, kicking his foot wildly in the air.
Jacob made his way down the hay pile just in time to see the snake disappear up Tutt's pant leg. Quickly, he scrambled back up the stack out of the way. Dropping the fork, Tutt grabbed his leg with both hands, hopping up and down while he screamed curses at the snake on its way up his leg. He still held the hopeless belief that he could shake the snake loose or scare him out of his pant leg.
“Tutt, slow down. Get out of em pants,” Jacob cried, stifling a chuckle at Tutt's gyrations.
Tutt unzipped his pants one handed, letting them drop passed his hips. All the while, he had a good grip on the snake to keep it contained in the pant leg until he had both legs out. Tutt slammed his pants down on the wagon. Mad at the snake for showing him up, the skinny little man grabbed his fork and pounded his p
ants. The boys weren't sure which was vibrating the wagon more; Tutt pounding his pants, or Jacob doubled over in a fit of laughter.
Just then Nannie came around the barn. She froze. Her mouth dropped open, not knowing what to make of the scene before her. Tutt was only wearing a pair of dirty, red, one piece long johns. He was unaware his audience had changed to include a female. He continued to beat his pants, speaking some very unladylike words while Jacob and the boys laughed uncontrollably.
“Mercy sakes! Ya all been touched by the heat,” declared Nannie.
At the sound of a woman's voice, they all looked in her direction. Tutt dropped his pitch fork, grabbed his dust covered pants from the wagon bed and had the forethought to shake them vigorously to lose the dead blue racer before he jumped off the wagon and hid behind the barn.
Looking from the snake to Jacob and the boys still in a fit of laugher, Nannie shook her head in disgust. “Such foolishness! Ain't it hot enough worken in the hay without foolen around?”
“Nannie, ya missed the best part. Didn't she, boys?” Jacob heehawed.
“I don't want to hear about it,” declared Nannie, sternly. “I brought ya all a cool drink cause I thought ya might be hot from worken so hard. I'll set this pitcher of spring water and the cups on the wagon, and I get back to my work. I don’t have time fer foolishness.”
After she walked around the barn, she heard Jacob's teasing voice call, “Tutt, ya can come out now. The misses is gone.”
Nannie couldn't keep from smiling at the thought that Jacob and the boys played a joke on Tutt by putting a snake in his pants. The sight of Tutt trying to get the snake by beating his pants and him running off to hide behind the barn in those filthy long johns might be good for a laugh or two at the next quilting bee.
Chapter 9
Fourth Of July Picnic
“Easy, Buck.” Jacob pulled back on the horse's reins to keep him moving slowly as the Bishop's flat bed wagon bounced over the ruts and rocks, jostling the passengers.
Pap had taken the side boards off the wagon so the children could sit along all three sides, dangling their legs over the edge. Once in a while, one of the older children grabbed one of the younger ones to keep them from pitching head first off the wagon when it bounced in a rut or over a rock. Nannie sat stiffly in the seat next to Jacob, trying to keep the large kettle of chicken and noodles from spilling in her lap.
“Mercy sakes! I'm glad to see the Parkin swimmen hole ahead of us,” Nannie said, checking under the kettle for spills. “I was afeared I was goen to be wearen these noodles afore we got here.”
“Hang on, Nannie. Yer doen fine,” soothed Jacob.
“Yep, Mama,” Lue teased. “Don't lose any of em noodles. We want to eat all we kin get of em fer dinner.”
“Humph!” Nannie grumped. She brightened when she recognized the people already gathered for the fourth of July picnic. The tranquil clearing around the Little River swimming hole was alive with jabber and laughter. “There's Doak and Otillie Woods. My, there's no getten ahead of em two when there's a meeten. They always get to it first. Hi Tillie! Hi Doak!” Nannie greeted then she climbed down from the wagon then reached for the kettle on the seat. “Jacob, pull the wagon over in the shade. Tillie, we can use our wagon to set the vitals on.”
Otillie reached onto her buggy seat to lift off a big, black, cast iron kettle The thin, older woman bent over from the strain of carrying the heavy kettle. “Lue, hep Tillie with that kettle. It looks heavy. I hope that's a mess of yer brown beans, Tillie. No one cooks beans like ya all do.” Nannie smiled down at her elderly friend.
“Thank ye kindly, youngun,” the older lady said to Lue as he took the kettle from her. She looked at Nannie. “But that's pure nonsense, Nannie and ya know it. Beans is beans, but good guess. That's what's in the kettle all right.” She busily pushed a loose hairpin back through her long, gray braids that wound around the crown of her head while they walked together.
“Doak, did ya bring yer fishen pole? Sid and me are ready to try out that catfish hole around the bend afore time to eat,” said Jacob.
“Sure did, Jake, and we better get goen afore it gets too hot to fish. Say, we haven the largest fish contest again this year? I won last time, member?”
“Ya never let us forget that, old man,” his wife quipped. “Ya three get goen now. Some of the men have got a head start on y'all.”
“Ever seed such a bossy woman afore, Jake?” Doak teased in a raised voice as the men walked away.
“Yep, Doak. I knowed of at least one more jest like her,” Jacob joked loudly. He knew behind them the two women would be standing side by side, clucking at their jesting.
The Bishop children needed no encouragement to head for the swimming hole. The boys rolled up their pant legs, and the girls brought their skirts up between their legs to tuck the tails in their waistbands. Soon the clear, sun sparkled water riled to a rusty brown from the invasion of children.
Nannie spread a crazy patchwork quilt on the ground under the shade of the hickory tree grove. She sat down with the other women to chat and watch the children play in the water. Patting the spot beside her on the quilt, Nannie motioned for Tillie to join her.
“Nannie, here comes the Parkins family walken in,” Otillie pointed upstream. “I declare, Sister Etta May and her Mister are skinny enough to blow away in a strong wind and their younguns ain't much better. Em younguns can sure move though. Look at em head for that swimmen hole.”
“Now, Tillie, not ever one puts on lard as easy as I do,” Nannie patted her thighs and laughed.
“Ya look jest right to my way of thinken,” Tillie said, softly. “Hey, Sister Etta! Brother Parkins, my Doak, Jacob and Sid jest went off to fish in the catfish hole with the other men ifen ya want to join em.”
“Thankee, Misses.” Touching the brim of his straw hat, Bennie Lee Parkins grinned, exposing pink, toothless gums, before he strolled toward the river bend.
“Etta May, put that dishpan down on our wagon. That's what we's usen fer the food table. Then join us,” Nannie invited, patting her quilt.
“Praise the Lord. We made it. Jimmy Bob and Susie Kate could hardly wait to get here. They hurried us faster than I like to walk,” Etta May drawled slowly as she plopped down. “Woo ee! I'm plum tuckered out from walken in this heat,” she declared, wiping her forehead with the hem of her skirt.
When the sun was high overhead, the women shouted, “Come and get it!”
Dripping water, the children stampeded up the bank to the shade trees. “Easy, younguns!” Nannie held her hands out to slow them down. “Line up. The men will be here in a minute. As soon as they fill their plates, ya all get yer turn. Mercy sakes, ya remind me of a pack of wet dogs. Ifen ya was to shake, ya'd drown all of us.”
“Did we hear someone holleren it was time to eat?” Jacob called, leading a group of men around the bend.
“Come and get the food afore these younguns get started clean everythen up. We’s haven trouble holden em back," called Tillie.
“By gum, we cain't have that,” Doak blustered. “Cause us men are starved from worken hard fishen this morning.”
Nannie leaned over and hissed in Otillie's ear. “Lookee there would ya? That ole Tutt Jones is comen with the men. Who invited him?”
“Must have smelled the grub from a ways off jest like always.” Otillie grinned at Nannie's inhospitable tone of voice.
“Mercy sakes, he should jest go on back home to eat,” growled Nannie. She glared at the slouchy little man ambling along with one strap on his overalls flapping behind him.
“Now, Nannie, that's not very Christian of ya with him a bachelor and all. He probably gets lonely and likes a good meal once in a while.”
“Look at that, will ya? He's sitten down by Dillard. Couldn't he sit somewhere else? He'll be fillen that youngun's head full of his tall tales like always,” Nannie moaned, ignoring Otillie's compassionate plea.
“Now, now, Nannie, Tutt's harmless, I think,”
her old friend offered softly. “The younguns seem to like his story tellen. He entertains em. It'll work out all right, and we best get ourselves in line fer the food otherwise we might be the ones who don't get anythen to eat.” Otillie tugged on Nannie's arm to get her started.
Squatting down beside Dillard, Tutt wolfed down the food on his plate as if he hadn't eaten anything for some time. When the tin plate was cleaned until the shiny blue and white enamel showed, Tutt set it down beside him in the grass. He took a plug of tobacco from his shirt pocket and held it out toward Dillard, offering him a chew. He grinned when Dillard frowned at him and nodded no vigorously. Tutt gnawed on a corner of the plug until a piece broke off in his mouth and stuck the rest away. Wallowing the chew with his tongue around to his right jaw, he turned his head to the side to spit away from the others under the tree.
Tutt elbowed Dillard in the ribs to get his attention.“Ya been the one goen to the pasture after the milk cow lately, Dillard?”
“Sure, sometimes but most always she comes to the barn on her own. Why?”
“I jest wanted to warn ya to be careful about wonderen around yer pasture by yerself fer a while is all.”
“Why's that, Tutt?”
“Folks seed a black snake here abouts that's the grand daddy of em all.”
“That big, huh?” Lue butted in.
Tutt paused to look around to see how big an audience he had. “That big!” He declared, raising his voice now to include everyone.
