[Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek

by Jan Watson

  Copper carried the milk bucket across the frozen barnyard. She tucked her chin into the collar of her coat as the biting wind whipped around her. Molly waited at the stable door, anxious for her breakfast and a respite from the cold.

  A rainstorm that turned to hail and then to snow ushered in a record-cold December. Smoke poured from chimneys up and down the hollows of Troublesome Creek as families huddled before fireplaces, their front sides roasting while their backsides froze. John Pelfrey had brought news last night of a man from near Yancy’s Branch who died when a foot-long icicle broke loose from his roof and impaled him just as he opened the door.

  Copper took several items from her pockets and hid them in the haystack before pulling the milk stool up to Molly’s flank. She rubbed her hands vigorously and began to stroke the cow’s teats. “Hope that helps a little. I don’t want to freeze you.”

  Molly responded with a swish of her tail, clouds of steam rising from her body.

  “Purty?” The low, thick voice that never failed to startle came from the empty stall next to Molly’s. “You be doing all right? It’s fearsome cold.”

  Remy had been visiting for weeks now, but her voice in the stillness caught Copper so off guard she nearly kicked over the milk bucket. “I’m fine, Remy. How about yourself?”

  “Better’n you’d expect. I found these gloves, and I’m near toasty. Wish I could find me some bigger boots.” She kicked the plank that separated her from Copper. “These here’s got my toes stove up. If I was home, Ma’d cut the tops out so’s I’d have growing room.”

  Copper nearly laughed but caught herself, sorry her cast-off boots didn’t fit. Who would’ve expected a scrawny girl like Remy to have such big feet? Copper kept her face carefully composed so she wouldn’t offend her friend’s stubborn pride. For every time Copper tried to draw Remy in or anytime she mentioned taking the girl’s problems to Daddy or Mam, Remy reacted like a feral cat, turning skittish and mean. And when Copper would press her to spend a night in the house, to have a warm meal, to let Copper tend to her frostbitten ears, Remy would accuse her of baiting a trap. She’d say, “Let it be, Purty, else I’ll have to disappear into that rarefied air way on up the mountain.”

  She wouldn’t let Copper give her anything outright, not the stalest biscuit or the sparest dress. So by leaving items about the barn—clothes and food—for her to “find,” Copper pretended the situation was normal, like every fifteen-year-old girl had a wild friend such as Remy. It was the only way she could figure to help the girl who’d nudged into her heart, first with her desperate plight, then just because she was Remy.

  She thought back to the day in October when she’d met Remy in the cave. At first she hadn’t known what to make of the odd colorless being with the wild white hair, but then she’d discovered she was just a girl. Albeit a strange girl, one who wore a red foxtail affixed to the back of her dress.

  Twelve years old and abandoned by her family—or so it seemed—Remy had taken to visiting on occasion, during Molly’s early morning milking. Just like today, she’d pop up in the second stall. Copper never saw her come, and she never saw her go. Remy would stand with her back to the rough plank wall that separated them—she didn’t like to be looked at—and tell stories. Copper surmised that some of the stories might even be true, but as much as Remy liked to tell tales, she was closemouthed about her family and where she’d come from.

  Even her name was a secret to be guarded. But one morning she’d revealed her identity as if it were a precious gift, and Copper knew it was. Remy Riddle . . . the name fit like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle, as fey as the girl herself.

  While Copper milked, she sneaked glances through the cracks in the wall, some wide enough to throw a cat through, and tried to judge if Remy was eating, if she was clean, if she had appropriate clothing for the weather.

  “Purty—” she peeked at Copper now through a knothole—“air ye spoke for?”

  “Spoke for?”

  “Spoke for . . . I been spoke for. Quick Hopper’s gonna give Pap six gold pieces for me. I seen ’em flashing in his hand when him and Pap was drinking shine one night. They liked to have caught fire they was so purty.”

  Copper wobbled on her T-shaped milking stool. “You can’t mean you’re to marry, Remy! You’re much too young.”

  “That’s what Ma said. She said not ’til I get my womanhood anyways. Air you a woman yet, Purty?”

  Copper’s face burned despite the chill in the barn. “You don’t have to marry if you don’t want to. I’m sure it’s against the law to buy a person.”

  “Good thing is you can smell Quick long before you spy him. He’s so old, he’ll never catch me anyways.”

  Copper’s temper flared. It was unbelievable to think anyone would be treated as Remy was. She’d like to thump Quick Hopper and Remy’s dad too if she was given half a chance. She wished Daddy had heard. Why couldn’t he have come into the barn for something? But her resolve to help her friend deepened. She’d never break Remy’s trust. “I wish you’d let me help you, Remy. I wish you’d let me tell my father about you.”

  “You gave your word, Purty.” One pale blue eye peered beseechingly at Copper through the knothole. “Pap says that’s when real trouble starts—when folks start helping. Riddles take care of their own selves. Always have.” Remy clutched the animal-skin cloak she wore and turned to leave.

  Copper felt like a tightrope walker. How was she to deal with this burden alone? Help me, Lord. Help me do the right thing.

  “Wait, Remy. Just a minute.” She dipped a canning jar in the bucket and set a full glass of warm milk on the manger. Knowing the girl wouldn’t touch it as long as she watched, Copper took the bucket and started toward the door. “Stay warm,” she called over her shoulder.

  “You too, Purty.” Remy’s voice followed her. “You stay warm too.”

  Outside the small cabin on Troublesome Creek Christmas Eve, the mountains lay blanketed under the season’s heaviest snowfall. Large wet flakes continued to drift gracefully from heavy, dark gray clouds.

  Frosty air gusted in the open door as Will kicked his boots against the doorjamb, scattering big clods of dirty snow about, then dumped an armful of wood in the box by the cookstove. “Let’s go sledding tomorrow,” he said as he turned around. “We’d go fast as Snyder’s hound down Turner’s Hill on this packing snow.”

  Copper looked up from her mending near the hearth. “Oh, Daddy. Close the door.”

  Daniel laid aside the dried beans he was stringing. “But, Daddy, we don’t have a sled.” Leave it to Daniel to worry over the details.

  “Why, I’ll just pull a piece of tin off the barn roof, and we’ll sled on that.”

  “That won’t be near as much fun as a real sled.” Daniel sighed, resigned.

  “How would you know, Son? Far as I can tell, you’ve never been sledding.” Will gave Grace a wink as she mopped up the melting snow.

  “I can just imagine it,” Daniel replied dreamily. “Going fast as the wind . . . but that’s okay. I like tin sleds too.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Daniel—you’re easy to please. Not like some rascals I know.” Will cast a glance toward Willy, who sat on the hearth, his lip poked out, clad in his new red hat, scarf, mittens, and kneesocks Grace had pulled up over his pant legs.

  “Answer me this, Daddy,” Willy said. “How can I sneak up on a squirrel if I’m wearing red socks?” He stuck his tongue through the space between his teeth. “You said when me and Daniel turned six you’d take us huntin’.”

  “Hmm, did I say six? As I recollect, I said fifty-six.”

  Willy collapsed in a heap, giggling. “Oh, Daddy, you did not.”

  Paw-paw, who’d practically taken up residence in front of the fireplace, yawned and huffed away from Willy’s shenanigans.

  Will slapped his hands against his thighs and headed for the door. “I say we wear our old gray toboggans and mufflers when we go hunting and keep these new red ones yo
ur mam knit us for church. Now is everyone ready? We don’t want to be late for Christmas Eve service.”

  The little white church in the valley of the mountains was beautiful, its windows aglow with candlelight and its door adorned with an evergreen wreath. The place was packed. Brother Isaac always said there’s nothing like the Birth and the Resurrection to draw a crowd of backsliders. He took his place behind the pulpit, then paused to look out over the people he loved so much.

  There in the first row sat Will Brown and his family. Will, with his bushy white beard, had a twin on either side while his wife, Grace, beautifully attired as always, sat beside their daughter, Copper, who held Daniel Pelfrey’s newest baby, Julie Grace. Daniel and Emilee, along with the rest of their brood, filled an entire back row. The rows between held various Millers, Hunts, Turners, Nevilles, Darnabys, Mullinses, and Fugates.

  Such a blessing to minister to these rugged folk. He called himself “the preaching teacher.” He could scarcely say which he liked best—each was an important ministry.

  Isaac announced the reading from Luke and was rewarded with a whisper of pages as his flock thumbed to the place. Those who were able read along with him—and those who couldn’t, recited—the beautiful story from memory: “‘And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.’” He held up his hand, and the assembly paused.

  The sweet, rich tones of a dulcimer came from the back row as John Pelfrey played “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

  As the last note faded, Brother Isaac continued from the Scripture: “‘And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.’”

  When Issac finished, Copper took her place on the small stage and, still holding the infant Julie, sang “Silent Night.” Her angelic soprano wafted through the church and soared into the cold, clear night.

  Isaac finished the reading of the Scripture, and each baptized believer filed to the altar to kneel and partake of Communion, the symbolic broken body and shed blood of Jesus.

  “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” rang out from family to family after the service. At the church door each child received a gift from Santy Claus—a little poke of hard candy, an orange, an apple, and a Brazil nut it’d take a hammer on an anvil to crack. In the churchyard, a few men fired their guns into the air. Fire-crackers sputtered and banged, repeating like shotgun blasts up and down the valley as mothers captured children, and fathers unhitched horses and wagons.

  Home from church, Willy and Daniel dressed in gray flannel nightshirts and lay wide-eyed in their feather bed. “You just don’t understand, Sissy—me and Daniel have important things to do before Santy comes. We can’t just go to bed like babies. You forget we’re six now.”

  “Willy, Santy Claus will not come to our house if you’re awake. He is very shy. Now please,” Copper urged, more exasperated by the minute, “close your eyes and go to sleep. You too, Daniel.”

  “Huh,” Willy retorted, her words clearly having no effect on him. “You think we would let old Santy see us? Me and Daniel want to trap him and see what’s in that poke of his. Just think—we’d have enough toys and candy to last a year if we could just get that red sack.”

  “Yeah, Sissy,” Daniel chimed in. “Just think.”

  “Scoot over, fellows,” Copper said with a sigh. “I want to talk to you about Christmas.” She eyed them both to make sure they were paying attention. “Were you listening in church tonight? Christmas is to honor the birth of Jesus. Many years ago He came to earth as a tiny newborn baby.”

  “Like baby Julie?”

  “Yes, Daniel, like baby Julie, but Jesus had a great big job. He came as a newborn so He could live as we do, here on earth instead of with His Father in heaven. He gave us the greatest gift, eternal life, which means that if we believe and put our trust in Him, when we die we go to heaven, where it’s like Christmas every day.”

  “I know that, Sissy,” Willy snorted. “That’s why you got baptized that time, right? Me and Daniel here are gonna get dunked soon as we can. Brother Isaac’s been talking to us about it.”

  Daniel snuggled up under Copper’s arm. “That’s all good, Sissy, but what’s it got to do with Santy Claus?”

  Actually, not much, Copper thought. “Santy is to teach us about giving. He gives gifts to all good little boys and girls. What would happen to the other children if you took Santy’s pack?”

  Willy leaned toward his brother in alarm. “We didn’t think about that, did we, Daniel? Daniel?” He kicked his feet up and down to shake the bed. “Oh, fiddle-faddle—he’s gone to sleep and left me to do the figuring out of everything.” Willy rubbed his eyes. “I’m not the least bit tired. I’ll just listen for the reindeer.”

  When he glanced hopefully at Copper, she could see the wheels turning in his head. “I’ll leave old Santy alone, but I’m gonna see them flying deer. Yes, siree, I’m gonna get me a reindeer. An’ I’ll be real good and share and let sleepyhead Daniel ride it even if he didn’t stay awake to help me.”

  Willy yawned and snuggled under the covers until just his eyes peeped out. “Will Santy think I’m good,” he mumbled around his thumb, “if I let Daniel ride that deer?”

  Copper pried Daniel’s arms from her waist and climbed over Willy. “I’m sure Santy will be pleased. You’ll have to be real quiet to hear the sleigh bells when the reindeer come.” She smoothed out the covers, making sure Willy didn’t steal them all away from Daniel. “Good night, Willy. Sleep tight.”

  “Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he muttered in return.

  The soft breathy sounds of sleeping little boys followed Copper as she stepped from the room they shared. It was barely big enough for her bed under the window and theirs next to it. Not that the boys used their bed. Most mornings she woke to find one or the other—and sometimes both—wrapped around her. It was surely a blessing when Daniel had finally quit wetting the bed. Oh, that made for a cold night.

  Mam was busy filling stockings with candy and toys when Copper came out.

  “They’re asleep at last. Willy’s keen on catching one of Santy’s reindeer. And he wants to take Santy’s pack. He can be really selfish sometimes.”

  A smile tugged at Mam’s lips. “They’re just boys.

  Understanding that it is more blessed to give than to receive comes with maturity, Daughter. Remember the bonbons?”

  Copper did remember. . . .

  She had been a feisty nine-year-old the Christmas of the bonbons. Mam had ordered candy from a department store in Philadelphia to distribute to the neighborhood children after church on Christmas Eve. It had been delivered in a pasteboard box. Copper’s eyes widened as she and Mam carefully unwrapped the sweets—shiny peppermint canes, spicy ginger wafers, chocolate drops, red and green gumdrops, and the most entrancing of all: a packet of pink bonbons. Copper drooled while she removed the crinkled waxed paper that protected the delicate morsels. She imagined that anything that looked so lovely must taste like heaven.

  She put a pair of green mittens, which she had helped knit, in the bottom of every small brown paper sack, then obeyed Mam and added two pieces of each candy.

  “Why two pieces?” she had asked. “If we just put in one of each kind, then we’d have some left over for me . . . uh, us.” Her face reddened as she glanced at Mam.

  “The first piece is to eat quickly, as children will. The second is to savor,” Mam replied. “Finish filling the bags while I nurse the babies. Then I’ll help you tie the bags with ribbon.”

  It se
emed like Mam was gone a long time. Copper could hear the twins mewling like new kittens from the bedroom. At least they were born with their eyes open, not closed tight like the barn cat’s kittens, but they were still funny-looking, Copper thought as she’d set out the rest of the candy. She played with the treats, admiring their rich colors. Scanning the room to make sure no one was looking, she licked the bottom of one bonbon before she put it in one of the little sacks, then nibbled just the tiniest piece of pink coating from another. She held one to her nose, sure she could smell its sweetness.

  “Laura Grace,” Mam called from the bedroom, “have you finished?”

  “Almost. I’m almost done, Mam.” She put the last of the candies in the bags . . . except for every other pink bonbon, which she stuck in her pocket. I should have some for filling the sacks. Nobody will even know they should have two.

  Not waiting for Mam, she tied a red ribbon around each sack, leaving a candy cane peeking from the top. Then, keeping an eye on Mam’s bedroom door, she wrapped the stolen treats in paper and tiptoed to her room to slide them under her feather pillow.

  When Mam stepped into the kitchen, fastening the top button of her shirtwaist, she said, “Why, your gifts are beautiful! I would never have thought to put the canes just so. Just think how the children will enjoy them.” She gave Copper a hug. “I wish I could see their faces when you give them out, but the babies are much too small to take to church.”

  Indeed, Copper had enjoyed standing by her father’s side, handing a bag of candy to each child as they departed the church after the Christmas Eve service. “A gift old Santy asked me to give to you,” Daddy said each time.

  Copper had a cane as colorful as a barber’s pole deep inside her coat pocket. Mam had placed it there right before they left. She stuck the peppermint in her mouth as soon as they finished passing out the candy, and Daddy pulled her up behind him on the horse. It left a tingly clean feeling in her mouth, sort of like cleaning her teeth with salt and baking soda. It was good, but what she really wanted were the pretty pink bonbons under her pillow at home.