by Risner, Fay
“Either she’s sick or she’s not,” argued Dillard.
Lifting his head from Daisy’s side, Don asked, “Then which is exactly wrong with Mama, Sid?”
“Mama’s goen to have a baby, and she needs some rest,” explained Sid.
“What’s she goen to do that fer? She’s got all of us. We don’t need no more babies,” Dillard complained, climbing down the ladder to confront his older brothers.
“It’s not up to us how many brothers and sisters we have.” Lue smiled at Dillard’s question. “Cause if it was we’d have had Mama stop afore she had ya, Dillard.” Lue reached over to rough up Dillard’s golden curls to let him know he was teasing.
“Ah, Lue, cut it out,” Dillard growled, dodging out of his brother’s reach.
“Hey, ya boys foolen around, or have ya about got em chores done?” Jacob called from the pig pen where he and Tom had just slopped the hogs.
“Jest about Pap,” Lue said. “Don’s taken his time milken Daisy. That’s about it.”
“I’m about done,” Don bit back.
“It’s right cool this mornen so I thought we might see if we could raid that honey tree I’ve had my eye on in the timber. The bees should be hold up fer a while til it warms up,” said Jacob.
“Sure, Pap. We’ll go get some pails out of the smokehouse to put the honey in,” Lue offered. “Hurry up, Don so ya can get that milk taken to the house for the girls to strain. Dillard, let Daisy loose and shoo her out of the barn.”
“I’ll get the crosscut saw. Don, bring back a lit torch from the house,” Pap called over his shoulder as he headed toward the tool shed.
In the kitchen, Bess rubbed the inside of the pan that had held the cornmeal mush with her dish cloth, looked it over, then stuck it into the rinse pan. Cass picked the pan up, waited for it to stop dripping and dried it with her towel while Veder put the stack of clean dishes and pans away.
The three younger girls, each with a worried expression on their face, sat with their heads in their hands, watching the others do the breakfast clean up.
“Mama, must be real sick if she couldn’t cook breakfast,” began Alma.
“Is she real sick?” Lydia asked, a frown on her face. She worried Mama may have caught whatever had made her feel sick last winter.
“No, Mama’s not real sick. She jest has to stay in bed fer a while,” Cass explained as she turned to look at them while she dried a pan.
“Mama, seems to be getten fat lately. Is that what has made her sick?” Lillie looked at the older girls for an answer and noticed the smiles that passed between them. “Okay, ya know a secret. I can tell. So what is it?” Demanded Lillie.
Cass came over to the table and leaned over toward the girls. She whispered, “Mama, is goen to have a baby.”
“A tiny baby!” Lydia squeaked excitedly.
“A boy or a girl?” Asked Alma.
“When will it get here?” Lillie wanted to know.
“What will we name it?” Asked Lydia.
“Hold it!” Cass held up a hand to quiet the little girls. “One question at a time. Yep, the baby will be tiny. It’ll be here sometime in January. We won’t know if it will be a brother or a sister until it gets here. The name, Mama will pick jest like she did fer all of us.”
The screen door opened with a clatter, and Don stuck his head in. He held out the pail of milk for one of the girls to take. “Hand me a lit torch, will ya Bess?”
Bess reached behind the stove for a torch. She opened one of the circle lids on the cookstove, stuck the torch in to light it and handed the burning torch to Don. He took it and slammed the door behind him, before he bounced down the porch steps.
Don heard the door squeak open.
“Hey, what’s yer hurry?” Bess called after him.
“We’re goen to raid that bee tree Pap’s been watchen,” Don replied over his shoulder as he kept going toward where Pap and the boys gathered by the tool shed.
Bess ducked her head back into the cabin and shut the door to block out the cool fall air. She turned to see Cass had placed a crock on the work counter. She was straining the milk through a dish towel. Bess took hold of the dish towel and pulled it tight so it wouldn’t fall into the crock from the weight of the milk as Cass tipped the pail to pour. Soon all that was left on the dish towel was a heap of foam mingled with a few stray tan hairs from Daisy and flecks of dirt that fell from her while Don milked.
Cass picked the crock up to carry to the spring house. Veder opened the door and followed her out. Sitting in the middle of the spring’s run off to the creek was a small bottomless shed. Inside were shelves above the water level and some below. In those days, a spring house took the place of refrigerators. The girls tucked the tail of their dresses up into their waist bands, then wadded barefoot into the very cold water. Veder took the lead so she could open the spring house door. Cass wadded into the dark cool shed and placed the crock along side other containers on a shelf.
“There now. We can come back as soon as we get time when the milk has cooled. We'll skim the cream offen the top to make butter,” Cass said as she backed out of the door and closed it.
Veder edged carefully across the stream, watching silver minnows dart out of her way in the clear water. She headed for the green mat of watercress that grew behind the spring house and spread to the bank. The plants small, bright green, leafy, clusters looked inviting enough to eat despite the fact she could see white blooms scattered about.
“Don’t ya wish that watercress was still good to eat? A mess of that would sure taste good with a pan of hot cornbread.” Cass seemed to be reading Veder’s mind.
Veder, standing at the edge of the mass of watercress, broke off a cluster and brought it out of the water to inspect. The green, scalloped leaves, attached to stems covered with white roots, snapped crisply. She nibbled on a leaf, then spit it out and tossed the rest of the plant into the spring.
“That watercress is too hot! We’ll have to wait until spring to gather any of that. We best go pick some greens and turnips fer dinner, Cass.”
While the girls picked fall vegetables in the garden, Jacob and the boys climbed up the ridge, disappearing into the timber on their way to the honey tree. All summer, Jacob had been watching the bees going in and out of the hole in the tree, waiting for fall to rob the honey for the family’s winter use.
Treks through the timber was something that Jacob and the boys enjoyed, but it was also a serious matter of survival for the boys to learn how to gather food from the woods. Jacob had taught his sons how to hunt mushrooms, nuts, herbs, and wild game as well as watching for a honey tree.
The lush tree and brush foliage had taken on the colors of fall and floated down around them to make a deep carpet of dried leaves that rustled where they walked. Occasionally, there would be a plunk when a walnut, pecan, acorn or hickory nut hit the ground.
A loud, raspy chatter high in a tree ahead of them got everyone’s attention. Lue pointed at the squirrel he spied perched on a limb, eating an acorn. His bright red, fuzzy coat contrasted with the blue of the sky, making him stand out easily. “Lookee there!” Lue said. “Another squirrel!”
“How many of em have we seed so fer?” Sid asked. “They must know we didn’t bring a rifle with us. They sure are acten brave.”
Continuing on their way, Lue happened to notice a grove of persimmon trees that were loaded with fruit. The sweet, golden fruit was just right to eat, although the persimmons were a lot of work to get ready for cooking, filled with good sized flat seeds throughout the pulp.
“Pap, on the way back home kin we stop and pick some of these persimmons? Mama could make us some sweet bread,” Lue wanted to know.
“Sure, we kin,” Pap agreed.
“I want enough soen Mama kin make us some persimmon pudding, too,” Dillard said. He licked his lips as he looked at the fruit laden trees. “Only thing is, I’m hungry now so kin I have a persimmon to eat on right now.”
“Reckon I cou
ld get ya one if I tried,” Lue said. “Sure, ya wouldn’t want to wait until spring when the fresh ones are ready, Dillard?” He winked at Tom who gave him a questioning look.
“Oh no, ya ain’t gonen to play that trick on me again!” Last spring, Dillard hadn’t realized that persimmons weren’t good to eat before they turned yellow. Lue had given him a green one. One bite was enough to pucker the inside of his mouth for some time. He hadn’t forgotten the trick Lue played on him.
“Seems like we have come a fer piece, Pap. How much further to the tree? I’m getten tired,” Dillard complained as he took a bite of his persimmon and spit out the seeds.
“We’re about there,” said Jacob.
A muffled hum came from the tree as Jacob and the boys approached it. From a hole high up, a few bees flew out, disappearing in the distance as the sun warmed them up.
“Give me one end of that crosscut saw, Sid, and we’ll cut a hunk offen this tree so we can get at the honey. The rest of ya boys can pile up some leaves and get a fire goen so we can smoke the tree to slow down the bees.” He grabbed the end of the saw offered to him by Sid, and they began to saw rhythmically back and forth in the groove. The saw’s raspy grating transmitted rhythmically throughout the timber as sawdust piled up in a heap at the base of the tree.
The tree began to lean, making a loud creaking sound. “Heads up!” Jacob shouted, giving the tree a shove. He backed up with the boys to watch it fall in slow motion amid the limbs of surrounding trees on the way down, crashing to the ground. A cloud of leaves bellowed up around the fallen tree as it landed. Then the loud drone of the shaken bees began.
“Quick, boys, get those smolderen leaves over around the bee hole so the smoke will settle them down,” ordered Jacob.
Picking up leafy limbs, they all raked the leaf pile over to the tree as the white smoke swirled up toward the tree tops. As soon as the cloud of smoke thickened and covered the tree, the droning noise lessened.
Jacob and Sid moved into the smoke with the saw to cut the tree below the hole where they thought the honey was stored. A few stray bees darted around their heads, looking for the hole to their hive. They flew away from the smoke back through the trees. Jacob turned loose of his half of the saw. Sid backed out of the way. Jacob gave the hunk of tree a swift kick to roll it away from the smoking bee infested portion. Smoke bellowed out the fresh cut hole as air circulated through the tree from where the smoldering leaves were placed on top of the tree. A few bees crawled to the edge of the fresh cut opening, trying to get away from the smoke.
Jacob and Sid gave the log another kick to get away from the smoke. The sweet, thick, amber colored honey oozed from the wax cones out the opening, matting the sticky leaves to the tree.
“Quick, Lue and Don, get the pails over here so we can dig the honey out. The rest of ya boys, toss some more leaves on that pile to keep it smoldering so those bees will stay quiet,” Jacob ordered. He knelt by the fresh cut hole, tilted a pail over to the opening and reached his hand in to dig out the wax honey cones. Soon the pail was full. Jacob stopped to roll up his shirt sleeve, before he laid down on his stomach and reached further into the log to bring out the cones for another pail. Finally, he stood up, dangling his sticky honey covered arm away from his side. “That’s about all I can reach, and we have three pails full. The rest of the honey we kin leave for the bees to feed on this winter.”
Lue and Don each picked up a pail. Sid put out the pine torch. Jacob took the saw and dragged it across the pile of smoking leaves to scatter them. Then they all stomped on the leaves to put the fire out. Dillard, ready to move on, tried to step over the top portion of the trunk only to trip and disappear down into the leaves and branches on the other side.
“Be careful, Dillard,” scolded Lue.
Dropping the saw, Jacob reached a hand down into the branches, grabbed Dillard by the shirt collar to help him stand up so he could climb back over the tree. Not one of them was watching the bees become more active again that the smoke had died down. All at once there was an army of bees darting at Jacob, the target closest to their hive. He began to bat the air with his straw hat, yelling as he ran, “Let’s skedaddle!”
Pails held high to keep from getting them hung up on the brush, Lou and Don took off. Sid holding onto Dillard’s hand followed them. Jacob, behind the boys, waved his hat around his head and shoulders. The angry buzzing stopped after a while. The only noise was the loud rustling of dried leaves and the sharp snap of twigs as Jacob and the boys rushed back the way they came. Soon all of them breathless from running, slowed down when they sensed they weren’t being chased by the bees any more.
Jacob spoke between panting. “Whoa, boys. Let’s stop. Em bees are gone now, and I have to sit down a minute.”
“Did they sting ya bad, Pap?” Sid asked, breathing hard.
“I think they got me plenty,” Jacob gasped as he put his back against a tree trunk and slid to the ground.
“Plenty is right,” Lue panted, leaning over to inspect his father. “Yer face and arms have sting places swelling up bad.”
“Ah, I’ll be all right,” Jacob said, trying to make light of his pain. “Did ya boys get stung, too?”
The boys looked at each other and shook their heads no.
“Not us, Pap,” Lue answered for them.
“Good. Yer mama would have my hide if I let ya younguns get hurt.” Jacob sighed as he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. “Sudden like, I’m feelen right poorly,” he gasped as he began to hold his chest. “I’m haven trouble breathen, and my chest hurts powerful.”
“Those bee stings are getten to ya, Pap. We best keep moven toward home,” said Sid.
“I know. I reckon if I’m goen to be sick I’d rather be home,” Jacob said as he held onto the tree to get on his feet then staggered down the path.
“Pap, slow down. We’ll help ya. Lue, get on one side of Pap and I’ll get on the other,” Sid ordered. “We’ll support ya til we get ya home.”
Going slow and stopping to rest often, they finally emerged from the trees and made their way down to the cabin. Opening the door, Tom backed up to let Don and Lue help Jacob pass by him.
“We were wondering how much longer ya were goen -- ,” Cass stopped when she noticed her father’s swollen face. “What happened? Bess and Veder come here quick,” she yelled upstairs.
“Make a pallet on the floor fer Pap so he can lay down. He got stung by the honey bees, and they made him sick,” Lue told the girls.
Nannie heard raised voices, threw back the covers, and climbed out of bed. She leaned on the door frame, watching the frantic girls scurry about the kitchen and over to Jacob.
“Mercy sakes, what’s goen on here?” She asked.
“Pap’s been bee stung.” Dillard pointed over by the fireplace where the boys were helping Jacob lay down on a pile of quilts.
“Let’s see,” Nannie said as she waddled over to where the children stood around Jacob.
“Nannie, ya better get back in yer bed. I’ll be right as rain directly,” Jacob scolded between gasps for breath.
“Uhump! Not likely lessen some of em stingers and the poison is removed,” Nannie bit back at him. “Try getten some of em stingers out of him, Lue. We need to make a paste from that drawen powder Genon Mitt brung us to draw out some of the poison and take down the swellen. Jacob, ya lay still while they work on ya. Ya younger children get outside and play fer a while and give the others room to work. Pap will be good as new when he gets taken care of. Don’t worry.” She waved her hands at them then slowly moved back toward the bedroom. Shaking her head as she rubbed her rounded stomach, she muttered to herself, “Jacob, we’re getten too old fer such doens.”
“What’s that ya say, Nannie?” Asked Jacob.
With a wry smile, Nannie half turned at the bedroom doorway to look at her husband. “I’m getten too old to have babies, and yer getten too old and too slow to rob bee trees,” she said, then she disappeared out of s
ight on her way back to bed.
Chapter 17
The Quail Hunt
From her bed, Nannie strained to hear the muffled voices of her children while they chattered in the other room during breakfast. Listening to their sweet voices and laughter, she longed to be out of her bed, sitting with her family. She had been isolated from them for weeks now. Nannie laid the cornmeal mush encrusted bowl down beside her on the bed and struggled to straightened up. Smacking the pillow a few times with her fist, she placed it behind her, trying to get the feathers to mold into the hollow of her aching back.
It had quieted in the other room so breakfast was over she surmised. “Younguns, come in here!” shouted Nannie.
Suddenly what sounded like a herd of stampeding cattle came to Nannie’s ears just before the children burst into the bedroom, concern showing on their faces.
“Mornen younguns. Hold up there. Don’t look so worried. I jest wanted to talk to ya a bit.”
“Mornen, Mama.” The children chorused as they lined up around the bed.
“Our breakfast is over, Mama. I kin take yer bowl to wash with the other dishes,” offered Cass.
“Thank ye, Cassie. I have to say ya girls are getten better at fixen the vitals. There was hardly any lumps in the mush this mornen,” Nannie complimented, noting how that statement created a pleased look on the faces of the three older girls. “Think ya could fix a birthday meal fer Bess come Sunday next, Cass?”
“Sure, Mama,” Cass replied, confidence showing on her long, slim face. Her thin lips spread into a wide pleased smile at her mother.
“I don’t know about that, Mama. That’s goen to take more cooken then eggs and mush.” Lue feigned a doubtful look as a quiver developed at the corners of his mouth.
“We kin do it,” Veder defended, glaring at Lue. “I’ll hep Cass and Bess.”
“Good fer ya girls,” Nannie encouraged, shaking her head at Lue to silence him.
“Say, Mama, we seed a covey of quail in the pasture lately. Suppose we bring home a mess of quail fer dinner?” Lue offered to get back in his mother’s good graces.
