Rogue's Hollow

by Jan Tilley

  It wasn’t hard to hide his ‘blessing’ use from Malachi. There were a couple of times when he almost got caught, but he was able to skirt around the issue and change the subject quickly. Malachi was so easy-going and had such a forgiving nature that is was easy for Travis to conceal his use and distract his elder friend with some random curious question.

  A couple of times Malachi caught a glimpse of changes in Travis’s behavior. But he knew that the kid was going through a lot. There was so much baggage with Travis that Malachi worried his closet would overflow. Travis was a master of emotional introversion. He was able to disguise his fears and feelings so that Malachi overlooked any erratic changes in his behavior.

  So much had happened so quickly in their lives that it was hard for Malachi to process it all sometimes. The terrible tragedy in the woods had sent Travis into a spiraling depression. It took Malachi weeks to turn him around. As nervous as he was to tell Travis the truth about their ancestors, he’d seemed to handle the information fine. There appeared to be no residual confusion or anger. Things were moving along smoothly, until Doug showed up at the grocery store in Canal Fulton. That altered Travis’s mood and attitude greatly. He went through the motions, but Malachi could tell that there was something different about him. He could hear the boy pacing the floor late at night and he was antsy and easily agitated. There was no substitution for a good night’s sleep and it didn’t seem like Travis had gotten one since Doug stepped his dirty cowboy boots back into town.

  Malachi tried to talk to Travis about it, but he would just brush it off. He’d shut off all emotional ties with his father and didn’t want to even mention his name. Malachi felt that it was best to just let it lay and Travis would talk when he was good and ready.

  By mid-winter Travis had grown to love taking long solitary hikes in the snowy woods. Malachi loved trekking through the forest, but not in the snow. One good slip or fall and his old bones might snap like brittle twigs. He wasn’t willing to take that chance, as much as he did love the thought of it. He would stand by the window and watch Travis make his way up the narrow trail that led to Sugar Ridge. It amazed him how sure footed youth could be. Malachi was content watching the beautiful red cardinals desperately search for food from the safety and warmth of his kitchen window. There was a whole clan of beautiful birds that hung around the mill, mostly because Malachi threw food out for them every day. He felt sorry for the little buggers out there in the freezing cold with nothing to eat. Ohio winters could be brutal.

  Travis spent hours out in the woods and when he finally did return, he seemed a bit edgy. Usually those solemn walks helped Malachi clear his mind and calm himself. It appeared to have just the opposite effect on Travis. He was snappy for the rest of the day. When Malachi would ask if he was okay, Travis would smile and condescendingly say, “Grand and dandy.” As worried as he was about Travis, he took comfort in the fact that his grades were good, he was focused on school and looking forward to graduation in just a few months. Malachi chalked it up to a bad case of cabin fever.

  As spring began to peek around the corner, Malachi grew increasingly concerned about Travis. His behavior had become sometimes irrational. One moment he was calm and relaxed, the next minute he’d be spastically jumping from task to task. He saw on the T.V. news that a lot of kids suffered from something called ‘senioritis.’ Malachi wasn’t really sure what that was but assumed it had something to do with being anxious for graduation.

  Travis needed a distraction and Malachi knew just the ticket. It was time to tap the maple trees and begin gathering sap to make their famous maple syrup. This was a tradition that Malachi’s family had been doing for centuries. The reformists gathered their energy and resources and built both the sugar shack and the brick kiln around the same time. It was quite an undertaking, but the syrup helped them make a little extra money. There was always down time at the mill during the winter. Wool would not be readily available until the spring shearing. So, the syrup business gave the men something to do while they waited for the wool.

  Malachi was excited, ready to pass on yet another tradition to Travis. He was pleased that Travis seemed genuinely interested in the syrup production. They gathered their tools of the trade and headed off into the woods. It was still cold and the ground was splattered with patches of snow. Malachi moved slowly and cautiously to prevent a slip which could lead to a nasty fall.

  Travis looked like a pack mule carrying all their tools. He had a bag full of supplies over one shoulder and a stack of buckets on the other. He didn’t seem affected in the least by the extra burden he carried.

  Snow on the forest floor glistened. The sun crept through the naked trees and danced on the snow. Birds were busy gathering twigs to build their nests. Malachi smiled remembering days long ago. When he was a child the birds would flock to the old mill. His grandfather would personally sift through the wool deliveries and pick out any imperfections or flawed material. He would then toss it out the back door. The birds would race each other to the scraps which they would hastily carry off to their nests. The wool was a prized possession for creating a soft lining for their eggs.

  Malachi took deep breaths of the crisp cool air. It felt good to get back out into the woods again. He missed communing with nature. It had been his only friend for many years.

  Malachi had a certain ring of maple trees that he used to gather the sap. He leaned against a tree and struggled to catch his breath. Each year it became more difficult for him to get back into the swing of things after a dormant winter.

  “Here we are, Travis.”

  “Are these the trees we use?”

  Malachi patted the trunk of a huge maple tree and smiled. “Yep. These old sugar maples produce the best sap in the area. Now, hand me that bag of tools.”

  Travis was anxious to get started. “Tell me what I can do.”

  Malachi slowly removed his gloves. “Well, first off, we need to drill some fresh holes.” He dug in the bag that Travis had carried and pulled out his supplies.

  “First thing we need to do is bore a hole into the trunk” He motioned for Travis to come closer. “See this hole here?”

  Travis nodded as he inspected the small hole.

  “That’s last year’s tap. We need to move about six inches to the right of the old hole.” He picked up the drill and said, “Grab the 7/16 inch bit from the case, son.”

  Travis grabbed it and held it up. Malachi smiled and handed the drill to Travis.

  Nervously, he responded. “You want me to do it?”

  Malachi smiled and nodded. “Yep. Let’s see those drilling skills you’ve been working on.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Drill a hole at about shoulder level. We need it a couple of inches deep and at a slightly upward grade, so that the sap will trickle out and not collect in the hole.”

  Travis put on his safety goggles and went straight to work. Bits of tree bark showered them as the drill penetrated the trunk. Travis wiped the hole with his hand and looked at Malachi for approval. “How’s that?”

  Malachi smiled. “Perfect. Now set down the drill and grab the mallet.” Malachi handed him a small metal spout. “Slide this spile into the hole and tap it with the mallet to make sure it’s seated snugly.”

  Travis did just as he was instructed. “Like that?”

  Malachi gave it a little tug. There was no movement. He patted Travis on the shoulder. “Snug as a bug in a rug. Good job, son.”

  Travis smiled. “Do I put another one in this tree?”

  “No. It’s big enough that it could tolerate another hole, but it just feels cruel to me. I feel like we’re draining the tree of its life blood. One tap per tree is enough. It yields plenty of sap.”

  Travis nodded. “Gotcha. So which one’s next?”

  “I usually tap this entire cluster of sugar maples because it’s close to the sugar shack.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  Malachi scratched his head. “It matters b
ecause this is a lot of work. These buckets need to be taken down every day and the sap removed. We carry it to the shack and store it in a cooler. Then, once a week for about a month we’ll spend most of the day boiling it down to syrup. It’s a lot of hauling and I’m old. I don’t want to have to lug the buckets any further than I have to.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  Malachi smiled. “Thank you, Travis. It means a lot to me to have you here helping. You’re such a blessing to me, son.” He hung a white plastic bucket on the spile and they moved on to the next tree. This seemed like a good time to talk so he decided to push it a bit and see what happened. “Are things going okay for you, Travis?”

  “Sure.”

  “You seem a bit down in the dumps lately.”

  “I’m fine, just worried about school I guess.”

  “Your grades are wonderful. You should be very proud of yourself.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I just want to graduate and get far away from Canal Fulton.”

  “You haven’t run into your father again have you?”

  “I don’t really see him as my father. More like an enemy. And, no, I haven’t seen him and if I did, I would head in the opposite direction as fast as I could. I want nothing to do with the man.”

  “Good. That sounds like a plan. You’ve really got your head on straight. I couldn’t be prouder.”

  “I know for a fact that I’d be a drop-out by now, if it weren’t for you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Travis, all I did was to steer you in the right direction. You did the driving. Give yourself some credit.”

  “I guess, but I’m not naïve enough to think that I’d be where I am without you.”

  Malachi placed his stumpy-fingered hand on his young friend’s shoulder. “It was my pleasure, son. I am extremely proud of you.”

  A big smile crossed Travis’s face. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  “Come on now, back to work.”

  The pair circled the area, tapping into every maple tree with careful precision. When they finished Malachi said, “Follow me and I’ll give you a tour of the sugar shack.”

  As they headed inside, Travis noticed how sticky the walls and counters were. “Is this all sap?”

  Malachi smiled, “It’s the residue. I’ve got an exhaust pipe to vent the steam, but some of the sugar evaporates with the steam and leaves that sticky residue on everything. It’s impossible to keep it clean, so I’ve just learned to deal with it and let it go.”

  Travis cringed as he looked closer and could see all the bugs stuck to the sticky walls.

  Opening a chest freezer, Malachi said, “We need to get some blocks of ice from town. This is where we’ll store the sap and keep it cool. It should be boiled down every day, but I just can’t keep up with that schedule. I usually get to it every weekend. But, the sap still must be collected and preserved daily.”

  Travis nodded. “I can do that.” He walked over to a pit in the middle of the room and asked, “What’s this?”

  “That’s where we boil it down. I have an iron spider that we’ll place over an open fire. See that big cast iron cauldron over there? That fits on top of the spider legs and boils the sap into a beautiful thick syrup.”

  Travis smiled and licked his lips. “Yum.”

  “Yes sir-ee, Bob. Yum would be the appropriate word for it.” Malachi leaned back against the edge of a sticky wooden table. “You sure you’re up for this, Travis? It’s a lot of work. I don’t want it to interfere with your school work.”

  “Yeah. I can handle it. It’s only for a little while, right?”

  Malachi nodded. “Yep, once the trees start budding, we’re done.”

  “Why?”

  “The taste of the sap is altered. Some call it ‘buddy syrup.’ It tastes nasty, like bitter butterscotch. So, we’ve only got about a month or so to harvest.”

  As they walked outside, Malachi inspected the wood pile. “We’ll need to gather some more wood for the fire, too. We can haul it up here with the tractor and wagon.”

  Making their way back down the hill, they paused at the large rock which covered the mine shaft. Malachi placed a hand on the rock, as though honoring them with a momentary silent prayer. As he did this, Travis nonchalantly plucked a flower from the Angel’s Trumpet bush which stood guard beside the rock. He rubbed the flower between his fingers forcing its nectar out. It spilled onto his fingertips which he quickly placed into his mouth and sucked the sweetness off. Malachi never saw a thing. Travis was becoming very crafty at hiding his new habit.

  He closed his eyes and smiled as the drug began to block out the real world. It didn’t put him in a fog as most drugs would. In fact, this plant helped him see everything more clearly. But, as good as it made him feel, he wondered how long he could keep his little secret.

  Twenty-One

  Over the next week, Travis faithfully emptied the buckets into the cooler every day after school. He would spend hours alone out in the woods. By the time the weekend arrived, he’d collected twenty gallons of sap waiting to be steeped down into luscious syrup. Malachi couldn’t wait to get out there and show him the ropes. It was an annual task that Malachi loved.

  Their small tractor pulled the trailer through the woods with ease, pausing along the way as they scrounged for wood to take up to the sugar camp. By the time they reached the shack, their wagon overflowed with sticks and logs.

  Baxter ran out of the woods and greeted them with a wagging tail and slobbery tongue. Malachi patted the dog on his head. “Good to see you again, my old friend.” The dog sniffed the cart with eager anticipation. Then he looked at them and whimpered. Malachi opened his cooler and grabbed a handful of pretzels. Feeding them to the dog one at a time, he talked to him with each crunchy treat. Malachi believed that animals had souls and should be treated with respect, same as any other person. He visited with Baxter until his handful of treats was depleted. Then he patted the pooch on the head and got busy.

  Malachi went straight to work building a fire as Travis unloaded the wood, stacking it next to the building under an overhang to keep it dry. Travis wiped his brow and then stood back, watching the smoke billow from the metal vent pipe on the roof. He stepped inside and looked at the ceiling. “How does all that smoke funnel out of the stack like that?”

  Malachi smiled and touched his temple with his stumpy finger. “Our ancestors were very smart. They built this shack much like a teepee. It’s designed so that the smoke will rise to the highest arch, and then it’s filtered out through the pipe in the roof.” He motioned around them. “Down here, we’re smoke free. Up there, it’s thick as mud.”

  Travis nodded. “Clever. Where did they get the idea from? Were they friends with any Indians? I don’t remember reading that in the book, but then again, I couldn’t make out half of what they were talking about most of the time.”

  Malachi smiled. “I’ve had to read that book several times over trying to make sense of it myself, so don’t feel bad. They tapped to their own tune, that’s for sure. Honestly, I don’t know where they got the idea from. I can’t recall reading anything either about any Indians they came in contact with. Although, I do remember something in one of the journals about a vision of a warrior who visited them. Maybe they got the idea from one of their Indian hallucination friends.”

  Travis bristled a bit, “Maybe it wasn’t a hallucination, Malachi. Did you ever think of that? Maybe there really was an Indian warrior here who taught them how to build this. Ever think of that?”

  “No, son. I never thought of that. Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t go judging people before I’ve walked a mile in their moccasins.” Malachi took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “Okay, so we need to get a good fire going. Leave that door cracked open; it get’s hot as blazes in here. Plus, it lets Baxter come and go as he pleases. Help me place the spider and the cauldron on top of the wood. It’ll take a while after we start the fire for the cast iron to get
good and hot. When it does, then we’ll start pouring the sap buckets from the cooler into it.”

  “How long will this take?”

  “All day, son. That’s why I packed us some food. It’s not wise to leave the fire unattended, so we’ll stay with it all day. At least in shifts.”

  Travis nodded. “Okay, so what do we do next?”

  Malachi smiled at how anxious Travis was to learn how to make maple syrup. He found that aging and the thought of death became less fearful and more of a comfort knowing that there was someone left behind to carry on the traditions.

  They dedicated the remainder of the day to that old sugar shack. Malachi stayed nearby, but occasionally Travis would need a break and wander off into the woods for a spell. He would get antsy and uptight, but after a short walk he was calm again. It amazed Malachi how just a short interaction with nature could change one’s entire outlook.

  He had no idea that Travis was wandering over to the old mine shaft to get a quick fix from the Angel’s Trumpet bush. When it would wear off, Travis would get nervous. As soon as he got another dose in his system, he was okay again. His body was calm, but his mind continued to race. At first it worried him when he began to hear faint voices, but over time he was beginning to find them comforting. Almost like friends or angels watching over him, keeping him safe. He became convinced that the Angel’s Trumpet really was ‘angel blessings’ sent from heaven above to help him deal with all the shit life threw at him.

  Sweet goodness filled the air as the sap gently boiled. The roaring hot fire and smell of bubbling sugar meant that spring had finally arrived. Malachi couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, he was so happy.

  Travis was very helpful as they filled up the small bottles with warm maple syrup. These would sell fast at the general store. As soon as local folks got a whiff of the sweet sap cooking, they’d come in droves to make their purchases.