by Alan Black
She skipped around a corner and skidded to a stop in a small cloud of red dust. Blocking the road were four young men. Two of the men sat on horses and two were atop mules. Of the horses, one was a quarter horse and the other had the look of a crossbred Percheron draft horse. LillieBeth loved horses, like all girls her age, noticing them before she even looked at the men.
She did not recognize the two men on horseback. She did recognize the Braunawall boys astride their mules. She walked up to the Percheron and stroked its nose. It was a huge horse, even bigger than either of her mules. She ducked and looked. It was a mare and would foal king-sized mules.
She smiled up at the man sitting on the Percheron. “She is pretty. What is her name?” It was not the question she wanted to ask. He was much prettier than his horse and she wanted to ask him his name. She did like the Braunawalls, but this man looked like a knight or a warrior on his huge steed.
She would have been overjoyed if such a prince were to come calling on her. It was true she was only twelve, but she was coming into womanhood. A nice suitor would be exciting. This man may be nineteen or twenty, but that was not too old to come calling, if Mama was there to chaperone. She would not have wanted Mama there, but she did not know how to have a man come to call without her mother in the room.
Of course, both of the Braunawalls were right here. Trance and Dangle were both handsome, but so were both of these other men. Here were four suitors for the choosing, but she did not even know how to get them to come calling.
The man smiled back at her. “My horse’s name is a secret. What’s your name?”
She laughed, “I am as secretive as your horse. You may buy my name for the price of your name, sir.”
Both men on the horses laughed. The one on the Percheron said, “I am Steve Buckner and this fine lad is my brother, John.”
She gave a small curtsey and said, “I am Elizabeth O’Brien Hazkit. I live just back up the road apiece. It is nice to meet you. Excuse me, please.” She started to go around the men, but Dangle Braunawall turned his mule sideways blocking her path.
Trance Braunawall said, “About three miles back from here is a far piece. What are you doing this far away from home, LillieBeth?”
Steve Buckner, the man on the Percheron, looked at her. He said, “You kin to Art Hazkit?”
“That’s my Daddy,” she said with pride in her voice. “He is a veteran and a God fearing Christian.”
Steve nodded. “That is as it should be. We’uns was all too young to have fought in the war, but I know we would have done ourselves proud, just like your daddy.”
LillieBeth said, “Do you know my father?”
Steve shook his head. “No, but I would like to make his acquaintance. John and I heard a lot about him. We was told how he single-handed raced across no man’s land between the Americans and the Germans to take out two machine gun nests a’keepin’ our troops pinned down. Why, lots of folks call him a hero, giving him medals and such.”
LillieBeth said, “Daddy has always been a hero to me, war or no.”
Dangle said, “Hey! Instead of us riding all the way down to Samson’s place in Oasis, why don’t we just stop and have us a little party with LillieBeth?”
Dangle and Trance started to slide off their mules, but Steve stopped them with a wave of his hand.
He said, “Even if I was of a mind to party the way you mean or even of a mind to party four to one, I am not planning on tangling with any kin of Hazkit. Not even one as pretty as this one.”
LillieBeth said, “Thank you, sir. I am on an errand to visit a friend, so if you would let me pass, I will tell my father of your kindness.”
Steve Buckner said, “If you would answer one question, we will all let you go. How does that sound?”
LillieBeth gave a short nod and waited.
“You are a pretty girl. You wouldn’t happen to have an older sister at home just like you, would you?”
LillieBeth said, “I thank you for the compliment, Mr. Buckner. I am an only child, so far. Still, if you are looking to do honest courting, not like these Braunawall boys, but honest and respectful, I do have two friends who would not take unkindly to a visit.”
Trance said, “Courtin’? That is too much work for me. I would still rather ride on down to Samson’s place in Oasis. I can pay my dollar and still have time and money left over to get drunk afore going home.”
Steve looked at his brother John. “What do you think?”
“You know what I think. I don’t much care for Samson or them floozies. They all talk too much and won’t leave a man in peace.”
LillieBeth said, “Magnolia is not much for talking either. I do not know much about kissing and such, but I do know that she has real soft hands if you wanted to hold one for a while.”
Steve said, “I would be in your debt if you would give us the ladies names and location. And I promise my brother and I will behave like gentlemen with your friends.”
LillieBeth grinned. “I know being a gentlemen is hard for a young man of your age, but if you mean to try, then you can tell Fern and Magnolia Schmitt that I sent you along. You get to their place back up this road about six miles. Turn south into a hollow and follow the road along the creek for a mile or so. They have a big place there with lots of pigs. You just follow your nose when you get close, you cannot miss it.”
Steve leaned down and offered his hand to shake. “Miss Hazkit, you are a gentile young lady and I wish you all the best with that Bible scripture you was shouting to the trees.” He looked at the Braunawalls. “You boys coming with us?”
Dangle shook his head. “Nah, we are going just a short bit with you. We will take the trace on down into Oasis.”
LillieBeth stood still as the four young men urged their mounts around her and raced away. She shook her head and waited for the dust to clear. She sighed. She had barely gotten to know the man and his brother before giving them away to Fern and Magnolia. She wondered if it was just because it was Sunday, but she had an attractive man on her arm and had let him go to Miss Harbowe without a fuss. Here she deliberately sent two potential suitors off to the Schmitt sisters. She sure hoped it was not going to become a habit of finding attractive men, only to let someone else have them.
As she turned to continue on, she spotted a patch of sweet peas at the edge of the road. These were a deep blue, almost purple. She collected a few and walked on. After a while, she spotted some white heliotrope and red royal catchfly. She hoped to find something yellow. All she saw were the yellow bellwort, but she did not like them as they looked heavy and droopy. She did not know Fletcher Marlowe Hoffman, but everyone liked flowers.
In her effort to gather flowers she had not noticed the Braunawalls. They had not gone into Oasis. They had turned around and followed her. They were on foot, leading their mules in silence, watching around corners and trying to remain hidden. They were just about to rush forward to grab her when she turned up Hoffman’s lane.
SUNDAY - LATE AFTERNOON
There were three signs nailed to the fence posts. “No Tresspassing”, “Keep Out”, and “Private Property” warning all possible visitors to stay away. LillieBeth was unconcerned about the threatening signs, no matter how incorrect the spelling. Signs like those hung on dozens of gates around the hills. She had not heard of any shootings in a couple of years and was not worried about the threats against trespassers.
Besides, she was holding a bouquet of fresh wildflowers to convince Mr. Hoffman of her peaceful intentions. Wildflowers, while a good protection, did not compare to the power of God wrapping her like a shield. She was on a godly mission, following the word of the Bible and the instructions from an ordained Methodist minister. She tried to keep the pride out of her strut. It was hard to do as her cause was not only just and righteous, it was such a pretty day to do it. It was a Sunday to boot, the holy day of the week.
She slipped up the loop on the gatepost, stepped through and closed it behind her. Normally she would h
ave squeezed between the barbed wire strands on the gate, but she was still in her Sunday dress. She did not want to tear or snag it on the barbs.
As she walked down Hoffman’s lane, the afternoon sun filtered through the overhanging leaves, the grass overgrown any wagon ruts, devoid of rocks, so very smooth and unusual for the Ozark Mountains. It was not a long lane to the house, not long for these rural hills. Some homes had lanes from the main road that seemed to wind around forever. Some homes, like the old widow Bailey’s house, sat within rock throwing distance of the main road, just far enough back for the dust to settle before reaching the porch. Hoffman’s lane was little used, the trees and brush pushing against the thin byway working to block out the sun and squeeze the lane to little more than a wide path.
LillieBeth stopped and stared at some of the trees. They were not any taller than the rest of the trees in the area, but their trunks were huge. Miss Harbowe had taught how most of the Ozarks were second and third growth trees. The old forest had been cut down to stubs, stripping the hills, opening the rocks and scrub brush to the sky. The beginning of the industrial revolution required lumber. The Ozark Mountain forest provided the millions of ties and bridges needed to drive the trans-continental railroad from the east coast all the way to the Pacific Ocean.
Fletcher Marlowe’s land had not been stripped of first growth trees. Huge oaks and tall pines still covered it. She even spotted a black walnut tree, with buds already sprouting for harvest, come fall.
The only evidence anyone had been beyond the warning signs on the gate were a few hoof prints, some shod and some not, and a few piles of road apples, slowly sinking into the deep green grass.
LillieBeth stopped in awe. The lane opened up to a beautiful meadow. Meadows this high up on the mountainsides were rare. Ozark trees were jealous by nature of any open space and struggled to claim and reclaim any land as their own. Here tall sturdy oaks stood guard protecting the green field from encroachment, ringing the meadow. Ankle deep grass covered the gently rolling field.
White asters bloomed in a sprinkling across the meadow, landlocked constellations twinkling in the sunlight, dancing in the breeze to the music of the brook neatly dividing the meadow into equal halves. She could hear the brook, beyond the tree line, crashing downhill, splashing from rock to waterfall to rock again in a race to the bottom.
A small herd of five horses stood heads-down in the grass, not bothering to look up at LillieBeth’s appearance. There were five mares, all very heavy and ready to foal. An old, gray-colored mule stood aside from the horse herd, protecting them and being shunned simultaneously. The mule stared at her, but it continued to stand aloof and watchful.
At the far end of the meadow, in a gap between the trees, she could see the blue and purple edge of the hills across the White River Valley. At the near end where she stood, was a cut lumber-sided cottage. It was pristine, pretty and painted, all unusual in the hills.
LillieBeth was startled to see a painted house. The closest any building came to being painted was their church/schoolhouse on the knob and the bank in Oasis. They were not really painted, but simply whitewashed. Money was too hard to come by in the Ozarks without wasting it on foo-forah like painting perfectly good, naturally colored wood.
The paint on this little house was white, leaving it standing bright and gleaming in the afternoon sun, with green trim neatly framing the door and windows. A rock-lined walkway led from the meadow to a flagstone porch and the front door. The same white paint as the house covered the rocks, but every third, fourth, or fifth rock was green to match the green trim. Off to the side, along its own painted rock path, stood a white and green painted outhouse.
LillieBeth almost decided Hoffman must be as crazy as everyone said he must be. Painting a house might be a bit eccentric. Painting an outhouse was more than a bit odd. Painting rocks on the ground was sheer lunacy.
An intricately carved silhouette of a horse replaced the usual star or half moon cutout in the outhouse door. The small outbuilding was turned, so in the morning, a body could leave the door open when seated, enjoying the beauty of the meadow and the hills beyond.
A year ago, a missionary from Africa had come through the area raising funds for his mission works. He carried with him a stereopticon and showed pictures of places around the world. LillieBeth had been fascinated at the sweeping grandeur of the pictures of Paris, New York, London, and the Taj Mahal. None of those pictures could compare to the house overlooking the meadow.
LillieBeth was sure old man Hoffman could not be a mean man. He might be crazy, yes. However, no man, woman, child or donkey could be mean surrounded by such beauty. She walked, ever more confidently, along the little path to the front door.
She stopped before reaching the flagstone porch. The smell of smoke caught her nose enough so she turned her head. Off to the side, hidden and protected by a jumble of huge boulders stood a rough-hewn lean-to. It was open on three sides, only having a northern wall. It covered an area no bigger than eight feet by eight feet. Within the small square hung an odd assortment of items, from a canvas hammock stretching from pole to pole, to a pistol hanging by its holster. Knives, axes and saws of every description hung without regard to organization.
In the middle of the lean-to a small fire burned. It was more glowing embers and smoke than flame. An old three-legged dog struggled to its feet, rising through the smoke, tail wagging, tongue hanging, and ears flapping. It hobbled up to LillieBeth and plopped its rump down, stretching its head to be petted, pushing up under her hand. After a few quick scratches behind the dog’s ears, LillieBeth stepped onto the porch.
The dog did not object, so she stepped to the front door. She had never seen a door with its own glass window before, nor even imagined such a thing existed.
She looked at the dog and said, “This is wonderful. Why, you could see who was coming to call without even opening the door! And here, even in the cold of winter, you could look out on this vision without having to leave the comfort of your own home. Did you do this, dog?”
The dog did not answer.
LillieBeth did not want to snoop. She tried not to look into the house through the window as she raised her hand to knock, but she could not help herself. She stayed her hand, knuckles ready to rap wood. The house was empty. She could see a cast iron heatstove in the middle of the floor. There was a doorway to a kitchen and another doorway leading off to another room. She peered through the glass. The house was empty except for a small, wooden chest resting on the top of the stove.
“Get away from my house.”
The voice startled LillieBeth and she jumped backwards, almost tripping over the dog.
“What’re you doing? You’re tracking mud on my porch.” The man stood near the corner of the house between it and the lean-to.
LillieBeth looked down. She had not tracked mud. It was a dry day and there was no mud to track. She smiled, mud or no, right or wrong, she was not going to sass an adult. She smiled at Hoffman.
He stood there, thin and ragged. He was as unkempt as the house was neat. His long gray hair hung in greasy strands, mingling with his beard. His hands were gnarled and bent, but his back was straight and his eyes were clear.
Hoffman pointed a rifle at LillieBeth.
She was used to guns. She did not have any of her own, but she used Daddy’s .22 to feed them. Guns held no fear for her, but this was the first time she had looked down the barrel of another man’s rifle. It did not look as friendly as it normally did.
She was not sure what to say. Here was a man, by all accounts a violent killer of men. Still, he had never been known to rape and kill women, white ones anyway, so she continued to smile.
Finally she said, “I am Elizabeth Hazkit, Mr. Hoffman. I just live back up the road a piece with my Daddy and Mama. I come down here to be friendly and say hello.”
Hoffman pointed the barrel of the gun skyward. He rested it on his shoulder, but his finger remained near the trigger.
“If
’n I wanted to be friendly and say hello, I’d a come up to your place and done it myself. I leave people alone and expect the same in return. Can’t you read those signs I put up? Says no trespassing. You’re trespassing.”
“That is just silly,” she said. “How can I be trespassing when all I did was come to say hello, all friendly like, and pet your dog.”
“Ain’t my dog,” he snorted. “Don’t know where it came from and I can’t get shut of it, short of putting it out of misery with a bullet. Seems like more problem to bury it than just leave it alone. And that is all I want, to be left alone.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Hoffman,” she grinned. “I know exactly how you feel. There is many a day I want just to be left alone to do my chores and maybe sit in the woods and watch God’s grace unfold around me.” She smiled bigger. She knew that all she had to do was get him to talking and they would be friends. And he had spoken.
He spit, not the dark tobacco spit of some men, but a light brown as if chewing chicory was his preference. He coughed again and winced slightly covering his eyes with his free hand.
LillieBeth recognized the look. It was the same pained face Daddy got when his headaches were coming on bad. Daddy had come back from the Great War in France with headaches. She wondered if Mr. Hoffman had brought his headaches home from the fighting Redlegs in the War of Northern Oppression along the Kansas border.
He spit again. “I don’t need you round here. You go on and get, before I take a stick to your backside and whoop you clean off my property.”
LillieBeth stepped close to the man, offering the flowers, saying nothing.
“You said you didn’t do nothing harmful. You cull them flowers from my land, Missy?”
LillieBeth shook her head, “No sir, Mr. Hoffman. I picked these on the way over here. I brought them as a gesture of friendship from one neighbor to the next.”
“Friendship? Ha. I don’t need no friends the likes of you. Why your friendship is just like all the other people I knowed over the years. Here today and gone tomorrow.”
