by Risner, Fay
“Think ya gals kin figure out how to fry quail?” Teased Don.
“Sure we kin! We kin fix anythen if ya can manage to shoot it,” Veder bristled up at Don.
“If ya say so,” Don said meekly, backing behind Lue for protection from his much smaller sister.
“’Well, ya best get to yer chores now. The day is getten away from ya.” This seemed the time to separate the children until they cooled down. While she watched them file out of the bedroom, she scooted down under the covers.
Sunday arrived with a exhilaratingly mild temperature and brilliant sunshine that reminded the Bishops of early fall instead of being on the verge of winter. The boys were more than willing to miss church to be out of doors on the quail hunt. They headed up the pasture hill while Jacob and the girls walked down the lane on their way to church in Mosquito Hollow.
Lue carried the twenty-two rifle while the other three brothers spread out on either side of him. They walked slowly through the first grassy thicket they came to, hoping to scare up the covey of quail. Once through the thicket with no sign of the birds, they headed onto the next one. Suddenly, a loud rushing whir startled the boys. The quail rose up in front of them and the brown blobs soared away.
“Shoot, Lue! Shoot!” The boys shouted together.
Lue raised the rifle to his shoulder, sighted down the barrel and pulled the trigger. Bang! Bang! Bang! All the brown blurs glided toward the horizon and disappeared over the hill.
“Dog gone! Ya missed em all,” moaned Don.
“Em quail sure surprised me, comen up like that. I didn’t pect to find em this quick. They flew away too fast to get a bead on em.” Lue made excuses as he glared at his accusers. “Shooten em birds ain’t easy ya know.”
“Maybe we should take turns, Lue,” Sid suggested, because he thought he was the better shot of the two of them.
“Okay, ya try then,” Lue said, begrudgingly handing Sid the rifle.
The boys trailed the quail. After covering the whole pasture without seeing a bird, they gave up and turned back toward home.
“Those quail must have flew clean away from here, dad burn it,” complained Don. “I had a hankeren fer em fer dinner now that we’s been talken about it.”
“What are we gonen to do fer Bess’s birthday dinner? We were suppose to bring home quail to eat,” worried Tom.
“We’ll have to dress a couple of chickens. That’s all we can do,” Sid replied. “It don’t take long to catch and clean em.”
“That’s all right, but ya know em girls is goen to tease the heck out of us when we come home empty handed,” grumbled Don.
“Wait a minute! See that flock of birds in that ole, snaggled tree over yonder?” Lue pointed at the dead tree that sat alone in the middle of the pasture. An idea was forming while he watched the birds perched on the branches.
“Sure I see em,” Sid confirmed. “They’s jest pesky ole crows. They’s so noisy who could miss em. What about em?”
“Think ya could pick some of em off?” Lue asked, his eyes sparkling.
“I kin try,” Sid said, “but why waste the shells on em old crows?”
“I figured we kin skin em crows and take em back fer the girls to cook. They can’t tease us about comen home empty handed.” Lue grinned at the boys, proud of his plan.
“Crows fer dinner? Ugh!” Don made a face at Lue.
“Sure thing. Didn’t the girls say they could fry anythin we shot?” asked Lue.
“Yep, they did, but I don’t think they had crows in mind,” declared Sid.
“Em sisters of ours won’t know the difference between crows and quail if we clean the birds afore we take em home,” Lue reasoned. “See if ya can hit some of em, Sid.”
“Go ahead and see if ya can hit em crows,” Don egged beginning to take to Lou’s plan to play a trick on the girls.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Six of the large, black crows tumbled from the tree and the rest rose straight up, cawing loudly in fright. High above the tree, the crows hovered flying in a circle, hating to leave but sensing danger if they stayed.
“Good shooten, Sid,” Lue complimented as the boys ran under the tree to pick up the dead birds. Watching the rest of the flock circle high overhead, Lue said, “Boys, lets back up and see ifen em crows light in this ole tree again. We don’t have enough here fer a mess yet. We want enough crows to make it look like we had really good luck hunten.”
The brothers sat down in the grass within in rifle range but just far enough away that the frightened crows would come back to the tree. They quietly watched. Finally, the crows descended and lit in the tree.
“All right, Sid, shoot now!” Lue commanded softly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three more crows fell to the ground. The rest of the birds protested loudly, rising up and circled once over the tree, then they flew away.
“Em birds is gone this time fer good. Anyways its getten time to head fer home,” Lue said as he looked at the position of the sun high overhead. “Let’s skin the crows we got and get goen. Pap and the girls will be home from church soon. Not a word mind ya that these birds are crows,” Lue warned, looking hard at Dillard.
Understanding the meaning of Lue’s look, Dillard made a face at him, and asked, “But are they’s good to eat?”
“I’ve heard tell of folks eaten em,” Lue said to Dillard, hoping to ease his mind enough that he wouldn’t get them in trouble when they got home. “They’s jest not as tasty as quail is all. Anyways we’ll dress a couple fryers, and we kin eat em instead of the crows. That suit ya, Dillard?”
“I reckon,” Dillard nodded, satisfied that Lue knew what he was doing, and besides he liked fried chicken so no need to worry about eating the crows.
Jacob and the girls were coming back from church when the boys came over the pasture hill. Jacob cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Have any luck?”
“We got nine birds, but we better dress a couple fryers soen there’s plenty,” Lue called back.
Lue and Sid held the crows close to their far side while they approached Jacob so he couldn’t get a good look at them.
“I’ll go catch the chickens,” Jacob offered. “Ya boys get em quail in the house soens the girls can start fryen em.”
By the time Jacob came into the kitchen carrying two featherless, gutted, plump, yellow skinned chickens, the girls had the frying pans full of flour coated small birds sizzling in hot lard on the wood cookstove.
Jacob laid the chickens on the work counter for the girls to wash and cut up then he joined his sons on the porch to wait while the girls cooked dinner. Jacob had just sat down on the edge of the porch and dangled his legs over the side when Tom noticed a buggy coming down the lane toward them.
“Look, Pap. We got company comen.”
“Who would that be right at mealtime?” growled Lue.
“Now, now, younguns, don’t get excited. It’s jest Preacher Irby and his misses. We invited em fer dinner since it’s a special day for Bess and all.”
With his eyebrows arched, Sid glared at Lue, elbowing him hard in the ribs. With clinched teeth, Sid muttered, “What about the quail?”
Overhearing, Jacob answered, “Oh, the girls are doen a tolerable job of cooken now. There will be plenty of meat to go around with the fried chicken, too. Don’t ya all worry none, boys. Ya’ll get yer share of the vitals.”
“Sure, Pap,” Sid agreed lightly while he glared at Lue. “Us boys could eat the quail soens the company kin eat that good chicken the girls are frying up. Right, Lue?”
Lue gave a slight nod in agreement. When Pap wasn’t looking he mouthed the words to Sid, “It’ll be all right.” But somehow the desperate look on Lou’s face as he ran his fingers through his hair didn’t make Sid or the other boys feel any better.
By the time, everyone made it through the line to wash their hands, the girls had the bowls and platters of steaming food on the table between the plates. The three young cooks stood
proudly waiting for everyone to get seated.
“These young women are taken after their maw with their cooken. Looks like a right good feast, don’t it, Sara?” Preacher Irby boomed to his wife as he hungerily surveyed the food. “Let’s say grace over this tasty looken meal and dig in. I cain’t wait to sink my teeth into this here platter of fresh quail sitten by me.”
Sid, Don, Tom and Dillard looked at each other. Then all the brothers looked at Lue with helpless expressions of dread before they all bowed their heads and joined hands. Lue had to come up with a plan fast, but first he prayed for one of Preacher Irby’s lengthy blessings.
Making sure all the rest of the family had their heads bowed, he elbowed Sid, and with that familiar glint in his eyes, he carefully slipped the platter of quail off the table and handed it to Sid who passed it to Don. Don pointed to a spot by Bess then gave the platter to Tom who set it down beside his sister’s plate. Lue pointed at the fried chicken and crooked his finger at Tom. He picked the platter up and passed it back. When it got to Lue, he gently set the platter down by the preacher’s elbow, then grinned at the other boys, confident that he had solved their problem. The girls would get the crow meat. Lue, knowing the preacher’s appetite, figured he’d fill up on whatever was close.
“Amen!” Preacher Irby boomed with gusto as he ended the blessing. He raised his head and eyed the chicken platter with a look of confusion. “Ah, I thought I had a platter of quail sitten beside me. I reckon I was mistaken. This is fried chicken. As good as it looks, I believe I’ll pass this here platter and wait fer the quail to get to me.” He picked up the platter to hand it to Lue.
“Oh, but sir, ya should go ahead and try that good fried chicken,” Lue urged. “The girls did a fine job of fryen it fer ya cause they knew it was yer favorite.”
“Right.” Don agreed, continuing, “That chicken looks right good and from the looks of things they overcooked the quail.”
“What do ya mean ------,” Veder bristled in defense of the girls, looking at Jacob for help to defend their cooking. He shook his head vigorously to keep her from arguing in front of company.
“Well, it’s jest that I had my mouth set on that fresh quail,” the preacher interrupted, “Cause its been a good spell since I et quail. Thank ye anyway, Lue, but I’ll wait fer the quail so pass this chicken on, please.”
Jacob looked sternly at Lue. “Take the chicken platter, Lue. Girls, pass the quail platter around. Company should be served first. Enjoy yer meal, Preacher.”
Jacob saw the worried looks that passed between the boys. He realized they must be up to something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He accepted the quail platter and handed it to Mrs. Irby who set it down by the preacher. Forking two piece of quail onto his plate, the preacher munched on one. Out of the corner of their eyes, the boys watched apprehensively while they nibbled on pieces of fried chicken.
“Somethin I’m wonderen about this here quail,” the preacher boomed, licking his lips.
The boys stiffened in their chairs.
“What’s that, sir?” squeaked Lue.
“Seems like these quail have awful puny breasts,” the preacher surmised, smacking his lips while he inspected the piece of meat on his plate. “I’m wondering if these birds were a late spring hatch by any chance?”
“Yep, that’s right!” Lue replied, relieved that the preacher had supplied his own answer.
“They’s a real late hatch,” agreed Tom.
“Yep, they must have been,” Don added to seal the fact.
“That’s what I figured.” Content with his answer, the preacher continued to eat.
Jacob noticed the boys relax even more as they watched everyone else busy eating. He wondered what they were up to, but he knew from experience he shouldn’t ask anything in front of company, especially the preacher. Preacher Irby was known for carrying tales on to other members of his congregation. Jacob made a mental note to talk to his sons later.
Daisy didn’t show up at milking time that evening so Jacob walked up the pasture hill to find her while the boys did the other chores. Not far from the snaggled tree, Jacob walked over a large pile of blue-black feathers. Empty gold shell casings glinted in the grass.
Caw! Caw! Upset at the man’s approach, the nervous crows warned each other and fidgeted on the tree branches. Jacob looked up at the noisy birds then down at the pile of feathers on the ground. Then he knew what had taken place. No wonder the boys had chicken on their plates for dinner, and they didn’t want the preacher to eat any of the quail. Everyone but the boys must have eaten crow thinking it was quail. Jacob couldn’t help but grin at this boyish prank. He figured they didn’t want to come home empty handed so they shot a few crows and cleaned them right there.
Jacob smiled as he thought about how the boys had squirmed at the table, afraid they were going to get caught in the deception. It served them right for trying to pass crows off as quail. It would be a shame to let those ornery boys get away with what they did, but Nannie didn’t need to be upset right then. If she knew what the boys did it would rile her something furious to think the preacher had been fed crow at her table. Not to mention that it would be hard to keep the girls from giving the boys a good going over if anything was said around them. Some things are best left untold at least for right now, Jacob decided, chuckling to himself.
Chapter 18
The Loss Of A Baby
“Nannie,” Jacob called softly from the bedroom door. “Genon Mitts is here to see ya.”
“Come on in, Genon,” Nannie greeted, struggling to sit up in the hole her body had formed in the soft feather mattress.
“Hey, Nannie,” Genon answered. “Jest lay still. I’m maken my rounds. Thought I’d jest stop and seed how yer feelen.” Genon removed her faded blue demin jacket covered with patches of brightly colored material and tossed it on the foot of the bed. She eased herself down beside Nannie.
“I feel like a bloated cow. That’s how I feel,” Nannie grumbled, rubbing her stomach with fingers that Genon noted were swollen.
“Hee, hee. Always the honest one, ain’t ya? Has Doc. Beanpole been here to see ya lately?” Genon inquired, pushing her slouch hat back on her head.
Nannie ignored Genon’s feigned sarcasm about the doctor. “Nope, I figured ya could handle this birthen jest as good as Doc. Jensen. No need to bother him,” Nannie insisted with emphasis on the doctor’s name.
“Of course, but I got to warn ya, this might not be an easy birthen.”
“Which one of em has been? Ya tell me that cause ya’ve been there fer them all,” Nannie moaned.
“Nannie, ya know what I meant. Ya should let Doc. Beanpole have a look see at ya.”
“Doctor Jensen would tell me the same things ya do. Stay in bed , take it easy, and be patient.”
“Pect that’s so fer right now, but I’m worried about when the birthen starts,” Genon confided. Seeing the stubborn look on Nannie’s face, she changed the subject. “I brung some dried chamomile to make tea. It’ll hep ya rest easier, and I got some ginger root to boil to ease an upset stomach. Maybe that will hep yer appetite some. All right?”
“Thank ye kindly, Genon,” Nannie smiled up at the midwife and patted her hand.
“I’ll be back by in a couple weeks, but if ya need me afore that jest send one of yer younguns by to fetch me, ya hear?” Genon stood to leave and picked up her jacket.
Nannie nodded and closed her eyes, too weary to answer.
Genon emerged from the bedroom and walked over to where Jacob sit in a ladder back chair by the fireplace. She plopped down in the chair beside him. He turned to look at her. “Well, how do ya think Nannie is doen?”
“Not good, Jacob. If the truth was told, I figure she’s feelen far worse than she’s letten on. I askt her to get the good doc out here to look at her, and she said no. That wife of yers is a stubborn one. She says I kin handle the birthen good as him.”
“Kin ya?”
“Usually I’d s
ay yep and better, but I have a feelen this ain’t gonna be a normal birthen so be prepared to send a youngun fer me as quick as ya kin. The older boys know where I live.”
“Humph! I reckon they do fer sure, Genon,” Jacob said then grinned. “I been meanen to ask ya all how much ya charged my boys fer that haunt powder they got from ya awhile back.”
“I’d not charge boys of yourn fer haunt powder. Ya should knowed that Jacob. I said fer them to pay me ifen it worked, and I heard tell that it didn’t work. Hee, hee.”
“I’m here to tell ya they did use it, but it was me they used that stinken powder on. The reckus em boys made in the barn that night was enough commotion by itself to scare away a haunt without usen that God awful stuff.”
“Hee hee. Now, Jacob, ya know that yer boys will be boys. They’s cut off the same cloth as their pappy. That’s fer sure,” Genon cackled as she rushed for the door, cutting the conversation short. On the way out, she called back over her shoulder, “I’ll see ya in a couple weeks unless ya need me sooner.”
A few mornings later, Bess went into Nannie’s room after breakfast to pick up her mother’s plate. “Mama, do ya want somethin else to eat?” The plate, laying beside Nannie, held two untouched fried eggs surrounded by a ring of cold lard.
“Nope, I’m not hungry this mornen, Child.” Nannie’s face held a drawn, pained expression, but she smiled weakly at Bess to reassure her.
“All right, Mama. I’ll take yer plate. Ya jest rest now.”
Setting the plate on the work counter, Bess turned to Alma and Cass at the cookstove. “I think Mama is feelen real poorly, and she’s tryen not to let on.”
“What make ya say that, Bess?” Asked Alma.
“Well, fer one thing she didn’t eat her breakfast, and she looks to me like she’s in pain. Do ya suppose Pap ought to send fer Genon?”
“I’ll go get Pap,” Cass offered. She quickly slipped her coat off its nail and went out the door. She took a deep breath of the crisp, winter air to clear her head as she walked across the yard. Looking at the overcast sky, Cass noted that it looked as bleak as the family’s mood. It sure was going to be hard to have a joyful Christmas this year with Mama feeling poorly, and everyone so worried about her. “Pap, Pap,” she called when she got to the barn door. “Ya better come see about Mama. Bess says she’s looken like she’s in pain. Genon Mitts may need to come look at her now.”
