I closed my eyes and said a quick blessing before beginning to eat. I choked down a few mouthfuls before my stomach protested. Our neighbors had gone through a lot of trouble to prepare the food, and I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I scraped the food around, pretending to eat.
Time stopped for me. My back ached and my feet hurt from wearing Aunt Jenny’s shoes. My fork wavered back and forth, and I wondered how many times I would have to pretend to take a bite before I could leave.
Aunt Jenny and Laurie’s eyes rested on me, and they both stood at the same time I did. Aunt Jenny cleared away my plate, and I thanked her with my eyes.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I sat back down, lacing my fingers together in my lap. Uncle Colt, William, and Zeke came in, and the ladies prepared plates for them.
Zeke picked at his food. Dark circles were under his eyes and his hands trembled. My eyes welled with tears. What had Momma been doing that had him worried so?
I turned away from him, pushing back my chair. I offered to help with the dishes, but the women would have none of that. Nor, would they allow Aunt Jenny or Laurie to help. We wandered out to the front porch, and I collapsed in a chair. Aunt Jenny and Laurie pulled up chairs on either side of me.
“How much longer?” I murmured.
Aunt Jenny grimaced. “Sometimes people stay until after dark.”
I groaned.
“Maybe they’ll leave in a little while,” she said soothingly.
Silence descended. Thunderclouds built in the distance, and the air blanketed us, thick and heavy.
The children were scattered in small groups around the yard and barn, playing or talking quietly. There was no sign of Michael. I guessed I had scared him off when I fell in his arms crying. But he had hugged me back, hadn’t he?
The door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, our closest neighbors, came out. I dutifully gave each a hug and thanked them for coming.
Aunt Jenny and Laurie walked with them to their wagon, and I dropped back in the chair.
The leaving of the Stevens opened the floodgate. Mrs. Yard was the next to leave.
She pointed her finger in my face. “Don’t you go worrying your momma any. And take care of your brother.” Spittle ran down the side of her mouth, and she wiped it away.
“Yes ma’am,” I murmured, averting my eyes.
She waddled down the steps and, within thirty minutes, the yard had emptied of all the mules and wagons, except for Uncle Colt’s. The two cars were the last to drive away.
Aunt Jenny and Laurie went back inside with me. Momma still had not moved, and Aunt Jenny slid into a chair next to her.
“Molly,” she asked. “Is there anything we can do before we go?”
Momma didn’t answer.
Chapter 23—The Car
Aunt Jenny cleared her throat. “Okay, then. We’re going to leave now. Sarah Jane and Zeke can spend the night with us until you’re feeling better.”
Momma swirled around to face Aunt Jenny. “Ain’t no one taking my kids. They’re staying with me.”
Aunt Jenny shot me a glance. “It’s not any trouble, Molly.”
Momma simply ignored her. Aunt Jenny pushed back her chair.
“If there’s not anything we can do . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she sighed. “Laurie, let’s go find William and your poppa.” Aunt Jenny followed Laurie out.
I swallowed and approached Momma. “Momma, Zeke and I would like to spend the night with Uncle Colt and Aunt Jenny.”
Momma didn’t answer, simply stared into space. Would she know if Zeke and I slipped out with them? Would she even notice we were gone?
I went into our bedroom and stuffed a pillowcase with some clothes for Zeke and what few of mine I had left. I slipped out of the side door.
Laurie, Uncle Colt, holding Zeke, and William walked toward the house. I motioned for them to stop.
“Zeke and I are going with you,” I said.
“Did you ask your mother?” A crease appeared between Uncle Colt’s eyes.
“She doesn’t want us to go, but we can’t stay here.” I hugged the pillowcase against me.
Zeke tightened his grip on Uncle Colt. “I want to go with you.” He buried his head in Uncle Colt’s shoulder.
Uncle Colt looked from Zeke to me, before heading toward the wagon. Aunt Jenny was already sitting on the seat.
She took Zeke from him, and he snuggled against her while the rest of us climbed in. My heart thumped in my ears.
“I don’t feel right about this, Jenny,” Uncle Colt said.
“I don’t either. But what are we supposed to do?” She looked at him with anxious eyes.
“Molly doesn’t need to be left alone. No telling what’s she’s liable to do.” He picked up the reins but made no move to urge the mules forward.
I held my breath. William caught my eyes and tried to smile.
Laurie drummed her fingers on the edge of the wagon bed, her eyes darting from the house to her poppa. “He’s as slow as the moon a shining,” she whispered.
I nodded my head in agreement and leaned toward the wagon seat. “We’ve got to go, Uncle Colt.”
William cleared his throat. “Too late.”
Momma stalked out of the house.
“Sarah Jane! Get out of that wagon.” She reached us and planted her feet, hands on her hips. “Give me my son, Jenny. Now.”
Everyone froze, and an eerie silence fell. Aunt Jenny squared her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face.
“Molly, come and go with us. You don’t need to stay here alone.”
“I’m not alone. I got my young’ns and, if I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. Now give me my son.”
Aunt Jenny handed Zeke down to Momma while I scrambled out of the back of the wagon. Momma grabbed my arm and propelled me toward the house. I didn’t offer any resistance.
Thankfully, Momma released me once inside. When she again returned to the table, Zeke and I scurried to our room.
“Will they come back?” Zeke whispered.
“Sure they will,” I said. I held Zeke until he fell asleep, my tears falling silently on his silky hair. Somehow, someway, I’d protect him from Momma.
How, I didn’t know.
AFTER I HAD FINISHED the chores the next morning, Momma shooed Zeke and me into the yard. With nothing else to do, I pulled weeds until all that was left was the smooth dirt.
Zeke dangled his legs from the porch and watched me with sad eyes. Chance lay beside him with his head between his paws.
I brushed the dirt from my hands and headed toward the porch when Zeke jumped to his feet and screamed.
Chance rose and barked staccato barks. Momma came to the door and shushed Chance. Zeke quit screaming and wrapped his arms around Momma’s legs as I watched him, puzzled.
Momma gave him a little shake. “What in the world is wrong, child?”
Zeke simply pointed. A car pulled into our yard. Zeke stuck to Momma like a sandspur on a sock. She wiped her hands on her apron as she moved toward the car.
My eyes widened as Dan emerged from the passenger side.
I sidled up behind Momma, peering over her shoulder. Dan’s poppa climbed out of the other side and approached Momma.
What a car! It was a 1935 Phaeton with flowing curves and shining chrome.
I left Momma’s side to get a better look. The car had whitewall tires, now reddish from the dusty road, and spoked wheels. I had never seen anything like it. I made my way to the front, and Dan met me there.
“What you think?” he asked. His lips pressed together as he waited for my answer.
The side of my mouth lifted in a half smile. “It’s all right.” I gave him a sweeping glance before going back to examining the car. The front grill narrowed, and a chrome dog, muscular and lean, leaped forward. The hood ornament glistened in the sun. Dan slithered up beside me.
“Do you want to see the inside?” Dan asked.
I shook my head and we stood there
in an awkward silence. Momma, Zeke, and Mr. Drake had disappeared.
Then I remembered Dan had spoken to me at the funeral. And I remembered what Uncle Colt had read. I reckoned I should be nice to him.
I cleared my throat. “Dan, would you like a glass of water?”
“Sure.” He stuck his hands in his front pockets.
We went inside the house, and I grabbed a glass off the shelf, making sure it wasn’t cracked, and poured him a glass of water. He sat down at the table and pulled a pipe from his pocket. He tapped tobacco into the pipe’s bowl.
Momma would have a conniption! Yet, didn’t she want me to be nice to Dan? What would Poppa want me to do?
Poppa had smoked his pipe inside. Surely, it wouldn’t upset Momma.
I cast around for something to say but came up empty. I drummed my fingers against the table.
Poppa had made the table from two wide pine planks. I ran my hand over it, admiring how smooth it was. Practically everything in our house was handmade by him. Even the chairs we sat in. Poppa made the hand-carved posts and stretched tanned cowhide to make the seats.
What did Dan think?
Why did I care? I moved restlessly and sighed.
Dan glanced at me. “We came to see about the pigs you have for sale. Paw had some bad luck with his.” He smoothed his hair back.
So that’s what they were doing here. “Poppa . . .” I cleared my throat and started again. “We have some fine hogs this year.”
“Jay. . .”
I looked at him, and his eyes were tender.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your father.”
I nodded my head.
“And, I didn’t mean to hit Blaze with the snowball that day. I had been . . .” He paused.
Barks from Chance floated through the open window.
“I’d better see what Chance is barking at,” I said.
Probably just barking at Mr. Drake or his car. I rose from the chair and walked to the window, feeling Dan’s gaze following me.
Chance jumped back and forth as he circled something.
It was a rooster, the rooster that plagued our lives, mine and Chance’s. It flapped its wings and flew, landing on Chance’s back. He yelped and snapped, as the rooster dug in his claws and jabbed vicious pecks at him.
“Get off him!” I yelled out the window. I turned around, and Dan eyed me with interest.
“Be right back,” I said.
I ran out, grabbing a hoe that stood by the back door.
Chapter 24—The Rooster
“Stop it!” I swung the hoe at the rooster, and he let go of Chance with an indignant squawk. I threw down the hoe and dropped to my knees. Chance crawled to me on his belly with his head turned sideways.
“It’s okay, boy. Wasn’t your fault that nasty, old rooster attacked you.”
A shadow fell over me. “What happened?”
Dan towered above me, and I jerked my eyes away. Warmth flooded my face.
I ignored him as I pulled Chance into my arms and examined him for damage. No cuts or scratches appeared when I parted his fur.
“You’re lucky that old rooster didn’t tear you up.” I rubbed his head, and he leaped up, put his front paws down, and yelped at me. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. We gotta do something ‘bout that old rooster.”
“Sarah Jane!”
I jumped to my feet, brushing off the dog hair and the dirt.
“Mr. Drake is leaving.” She smiled at Dan. “It was so nice seeing you and your father. Y’all come back and see us anytime.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dan smiled at Momma, gave me a fleeting look, and trotted away.
“What a nice young man.” Momma watched them drive away with a smile playing on her lips.
I started for the refuge of the house, but she swung her arm out to stop me.
“What in the world were you doing on the ground?” With eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms and waited for my response.
“That old rooster was after Chance again.”
“And you had to make a fool of yourself swinging a hoe and wallowing on the ground? How are you going to get him to like you when you act like that?”
I bit back a retort, and she gave me a push in the back.
“Mr. Drake’s going to buy two sows.” Momma smiled as she headed toward the house.
She suddenly seemed like a different person.
I checked Chance one last time before entering the house.
Momma had paused inside the door, sniffing the air. A tendril of smoke drifted from the kitchen.
“Something’s burning!”
A section of the kitchen table glowed red. Rushing into the kitchen, I grabbed a pitcher of water and doused the entire table. Dan must have dropped an ember from his pipe.
Momma rounded on me. “What did you do?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Dan was smoking a pipe.”
“Smoking a pipe?” She glared at me and then glanced down at the table. “It’s ruined!”
“I can sand it down, Momma,” I said calmly.
“You’d have to sand a hole in it to get out the burnt part.” She swirled and pointed at me. “Go get a peach tree limb.”
“It wasn’t my fault, Momma.” I looked down at the floor. “Besides, I’m too old for a whipping.”
She grabbed my arm and shook me. “You let him smoke in here. As long as you live under my roof you ain’t too old for a whipping.”
With Poppa gone, what choice did I have? My heart sank as I stumbled out of the house and made my way to the peach trees. Chance met me and nuzzled my hand. I jerked my hand away.
His fault I was in trouble. Then I slumped to the ground by one of the trees. Chance flapped his tail back and forth and licked my hands. I threw my arms around him and murmured into his fur I was sorry.
He became restless and tugged away. I hauled myself to my feet, balanced for a second against the tree, and broke off a suitable branch.
Momma met me and led the way to the barn. She opened the door to the corn crib, and I climbed the three wooden steps before her.
Ears of corn had filled the crib in the fall, but now only a small hill lay in one corner. Husks and kernels of corn littered the floor.
Momma closed the door, and I handed her the peach tree limb. Squaring my shoulders, I faced Momma, determined not to cry.
“Do you think you did wrong, Sarah Jane?” She flicked the limb through the air, and it whistled.
I shook my head. “No, Momma. When Dan started smoking, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t figure it would hurt any.”
“How old is he? Seventeen?”
I nodded my head. “Almost eighteen.” I traced a pattern in the corn dust with the toe of my shoe.
Momma broke the limb into three pieces and stuffed them through a crack in the floor.
I stared at her in surprise. Why hadn’t she whipped me? Was she trying to make up for burning Poppa’s things?
She studied me for a minute with arms crossed. “Dan likes you.”
I pressed my lips together and frowned.
She shook her head at me and sighed heavily. “We’re going to Dozier Saturday to pick up supplies.”
Without Poppa, it would be a difficult journey. Even with Poppa, it was a full day’s trip.
“Get to the house and cook supper.” She closed her eyes for a second.
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I slipped out the door without a word.
THE REST OF THE WEEK, after school, I helped Momma plan the trip. I tried to think of everything we could possibly need to get through the summer. I made a list and read it to Zeke. He insisted I add peppermint candy. I wasn’t sure if Momma would buy any this year, but I added it anyway.
Around this time of year, our family always traveled to Dozier. Poppa had always bought his seeds and fertilizer on this yearly trip, plus any other farming supplies he needed. Zeke and I would get new shoes, and Zeke and Poppa had always gotten new overalls.
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br /> Sometimes Momma bought material for new dresses. She probably wouldn’t this year, but maybe she would at least get me a new pair of shoes.
Usually, I would be excited but not this year. It wouldn’t be the same without Poppa.
The week passed. Momma waited until Friday night to tell Zeke about our trip.
After we went to bed, Zeke, excited over the prospect of candy the next day, tossed and turned, rustling the corn husks. It was near dawn before he settled down, and I finally fell into a fitful sleep.
I dragged myself out of bed Saturday, still half asleep. Momma had cooked some biscuits and sausages the night before, placed the sausages in a jar with lard, and wrapped the biscuits tightly in a dish towel.
Our dish towels, like many things around our house, were made of flour sacks. Momma gave them to me to carry to the wagon. The moon still shone in the sky, making it bright enough to see.
Chance came out from under the house, and I rubbed his head and patted his sides.
“We’re going to be gone today. You’re going to be here all alone, so you’d better leave that rooster alone.” I wished we could get rid of that rooster. It was just one more thing to plague me.
Maybe I could take him with us to Dozier and sell him. Maybe even get some money to help buy material for a new dress.
If anyone would pay for him.
Well, I’d never know unless I tried. With Poppa gone, we would need all the money we could get.
I rooted around in the back of the wagon and found a fertilizer sack and twine. The chickens roosted inside a small chicken house fifty yards behind our house. Nest boxes, in which hens laid their eggs, lined one wall. Poppa had stripped tree branches and made roosting poles that climbed up like stairs. Luckily, the rooster was on the bottom, and I easily grabbed his legs, trussed them together, and stuffed him headfirst into the sack.
I threw the sack into the back of the wagon as Momma and Zeke came out of the house. Momma talked rapidly to Zeke, giving him strict instructions not to get dirty. Momma had pulled her hair into a tidy bun, the neatest I had seen her hair since Poppa died.
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