The Friendship Stones (An Ozark Mountain Series Book 1)

by Alan Black

  She dropped Ruth’s lead and let the mule graze in the lush grass. The mares and their foals in the meadow ignored both her and Ruth. The horses were grazing near the house end of the meadow. The pretty, painted colt gamboled near it’s mother, constantly seeking to nuzzle a quick snack. The other foal was a filly, brown with a strong, white blaze marking her long face.

  The horses were strong and well fed. LillieBeth knew more about mules than horses. Daddy always said mules were more stable and tougher. Ruth and Naomi had been their mules for as long as she could remember. But, she had a twelve-year-old girl’s love of horses whether she had ever owned one or not. She always watched horses, learning the breeds, asking questions, studying their features and becoming familiar with them. This stock looked sleek with clean lines and straight backs.

  She wondered how many horses Hoffman had. Somewhere he must have a herd, led by a stallion. How else would his mares produce colts and fillies? Somewhere he had to have a herd of last year’s crop, and maybe the year before. He would not be able to keep two stallions unless he had strong fencing to keep them separate. He would have to sell or geld the young colts before they grew large and strong enough to challenge the old stallion.

  She walked up to the lean-to, leaving Ruth to graze. She was not worried about Ruth eating grass Hoffman needed for his own herd. The lush meadow would support a lot more animals than he kept on it. With the spring rains coming, the field would practically grow grass so fast a horse or mule would not have to move to eat.

  Hoffman and the three-legged dog were both missing from the area around the lean-to. So was the stone she had left yesterday. Hoffman must have thrown it away.

  She called out but did not get an answer. The fire was banked and barely warm, waiting his return. It had not been put out, so he was not too far away.

  She caught a sour-sweet smell on the southerly breeze. She followed her nose up and around the big boulders near the lean-to. In a small hollow, she spotted a big brass kettle on a slow burning fire. A coil of copper tubing ran off to one side, dripping clear liquid into a jug. This was the first moonshine still she had ever seen, but she knew what it was when she saw it.

  The still did not look like it was worth the effort for men drive all the way down from Chicago just to buy its product. There must be a lot more money in liquor than she imagined. She did not understand why they could not build their own stills to make their own alcohol if they needed it so bad.

  LillieBeth walked back down to the lean-to. She pulled a brown stone with the white ring around it from her pocket. She sat it on the wooden crate in the corner. She wanted to believe she was making progress in becoming friends with Hoffman, but it was hard to accept that believing thought. He was not directly mean to her, but he was not a nice man either.

  She sat on a nearby rock and looked out over the meadow. It was so peaceful. A week ago, she would have been in bliss, giggling at the sight, glorying in the beauty, loving the world God had made, as if it had all been put together for her amusement. Today, the quiet ate away at her, boiling up memories of each meeting with Hoffman. How could this man be her friend? He had thrown a stone at her. He had swatted her with a switch. One day he had been forced to beat two men to protect her. It was just yesterday that he had killed a man. He had only shot because she had startled a man into shooting at her. Maybe no one would have pulled a trigger if she had not been there. The bald man had said he had only come to talk.

  Maybe Hoffman was so tired of her interference in his life that he was hiding and would not come out until she left. She knew he had not wanted to kill the man yesterday. He had said so. He had said he was tired of killing. His soul must be lost in deep agony.

  She looked at the empty, white and green house behind her. It was right there for the living, but he lived more like an animal in the lean-to with three open sides. The lean-to was in a pretty spot, protected by boulders, looking down across the meadow, opening up to the surrounding forest, but it also looked on the unused house.

  She had set out to do what her Sunday school scripture had said. But, it had become so messed up. How could she convince Fletcher Marlowe Hoffman to let her be his friend? She had caused him so much trouble. She was not sure she would want a friend like her either.

  FRIDAY - MORNING

  LillieBeth carried Mama’s thunder mug to the outhouse and emptied it, pouring it down the hole. The rains had poured all night long, but it was a southern rain, warm and soft. Mama would normally have just walked to the outhouse, but she still felt a little spookish from the Braunawall’s attack.

  LillieBeth did not mind emptying the chamber pot. It was just another morning chore, even if today she was balancing it in one hand and carrying her rifle in the other. She had on an old hat of Daddy’s to keep the rain off her head. A few days ago, she would have put her braid inside her dress or tucked it under the hat to keep it dry, but she continued to wear her hair long and straight. A few days ago, she would not have carried the rifle with her wherever she went.

  In the short walk from the house to the outhouse, the rain caused her hair to hang in damp strands down her back and across her shoulders. She hiked up her dress and sat over the hole. Leaving the door open was fine for home. It was not like at school where every boy tried to peak through the cracks at the girls. Going to the outhouse was a partnership activity, with one girl to chase the boys off while the other did her business.

  Here the fresh air and clean rain made for a quiet time. She listened to the heavy drops splatter on the little roof. Normally, she would have thumbed through the catalog hanging on the string, thinking about getting this, pretending to buy that, wondering at the strangeness of some offerings. She knew what everything in the catalog was, but why people would want such things baffled her. Still, Sears, Roebuck and Company would not offer to sell them if no one ever bought them.

  Today she only flipped open the catalog to pull out a page. She wrinkled it up and straightened it out a half dozen times until it was softer. She wiped herself clean and dropped the page into the hole. She stood and stretched, dropping her skirt back around her legs. There was a bucket of ashes in the corner. The ashes were from the fireplace in the cabin. She took a handful and sprinkled it down the hole.

  She stretched again. She knew she had chores to do and the stretch was nothing more than a stall tactic. She wondered why she was going to keep helping the old widow Bailey. The woman was not helping the Hazkits at all. They had been good tenants. Daddy had built the lean-to on the back of the cabin, adding a bedroom. They had cleared and planted a good garden. Daddy had fixed the corral and mule shed.

  Walking down the hill past the corral and mule shed on the way to old widow Bailey’s made her realize they would have to move all of the hay and feed in the shed. They had bought it for their mules to get through the winter. There was not much left, but it was theirs. The produce from the garden should be theirs too, but the vegetables would not come to maturity until long after they left.

  She stuck Braunawall’s empty saddlebags under the hay to hide them, pulling the saddles from the rail to put them with the bags. She tossed the Braunawall’s boots on top of the pile. She felt deceitful trying to hide things from Daddy, but she wanted to explain things to him first. She was more than a little worried he would get angry, hunting down the Braunawalls, killing them and getting into trouble with the law. She felt an urge to cry, but could not. Even if she could cry, Daddy was not what prompted the sense of sadness.

  LillieBeth wanted to cry about school. What if they moved so far away she could not get to school even one day a week? What if she had to start all over at another school somewhere? She loved Miss Harbowe as a teacher and a friend. Her best friend Pearl went to school here, as did Fern and Magnolia. What if Daddy decided since they had to move, they might as well move to California? The word was there was always work for men in the Detroit factories or at the steel mills in Pennsylvania. Of course, the factories would not be any better for Daddy
’s lungs than smoke from burning charcoal. California was said to be a paradise.

  It was raining heavier, but the goats still lined up for milking. She found a second bucket under the back porch and separated the cream from the milk as best she could. It was not as scientific as the pictures she had seen at school of fancy shiny metal separators. She tied a short rope to the bucket handle and whirled it around her head. After a short while, she skimmed off the cream from one bucket, putting it in another. Mama would use the cream for goat cheese.

  The pigs refused to budge from their pen. She retrieved an ax from Mrs. Bailey’s tool shed and went to the forest edge. She picked a sapling and cut it down. The ax striking the little tree had added new showers to the already drizzling rain. Daddy had a rain slicker the government let him keep when he left the Army, but she and Mama just had their winter coats. It was too warm for a winter coat. She would stay dryer in the coat, but she would sweat enough to make up the difference from the rain.

  Standing at the border between field and forest, letting the rain dribble down the back of her neck, she stripped the sapling to make a new pig-staff. It was about a foot longer than the one she had broken over Dangle’s head yesterday. However, it was not as big around. It felt as if it were the same weight as the broken staff.

  She finished the pig-staff in time to see the old boar and his herd walking past her into the forest. The boar glanced at her on the way by as if snickering at her. She wondered if he was smart enough to watch her, not moving into the forest until she was ready with the new staff.

  She put the ax back, exactly where it had been. She took care to wipe any water off the head and check the edge for nicks or dull spots. She also took the time to clean a shovel blade Mrs. Bailey had left out. She hung it on the wall next to the ax, where it belonged.

  For each little chore, she wanted to curse old widow Bailey. She had always enjoyed working here on the Bailey place and at their place. She knew the Hazkit home was not really their place. If they owned their land and the little cabin then no one could tell them to leave. She did not curse Mrs. Bailey. She still loved the woman, but was angry at her at the same time

  LillieBeth was more confused than ever. How could she feel both ways at the same time? She did remember a scripture somewhere in the Bible about being double-minded. She did not know where it was or exactly what it said. It was about someone who tried to love God and love money at the same time and they were of two minds and unstable. Her conflict was not between God and money. She had little use for money. Money was Daddy’s responsibility. However, unstable was exactly how she felt.

  They had no home of their own for her to latch onto for stability. She might be losing her school. If school was too far from their new home, then church would be too far as well. She felt as if she was unstuck in the world without a solid foothold.

  She still had Mama and Daddy. In an unstable world, all she had to hang on to was God and family. Mama had been her bright and cheerful self this morning. She had brushed LillieBeth’s hair, chatting away while they ate biscuits and eggs, with a small bit of gravy over the top. It had been a comforting time, but it did not solve any of her mounting problems.

  She grit her teeth, snapped the rifle to her shoulder and pulled the trigger. She dropped a rabbit in its tracks and fulfilled the need to feed her mother and her. She was surprised to see the rabbit in the rain, but she harvested it anyway. It was a fat hare and it had lost its winter fur, but it was still soft and fluffy. She skinned it carefully with her new knife and gutted it over the pig trough. She left the offal, head and feet for the pigs. Pigs were strange creatures. They ate anything.

  She even took the time to scrape and stretch the rabbit pelt. She was soaked through by the time she finished the morning chores and got back into the cabin. Even though it was a warm day, there was a slight breeze, giving the moist air a chill.

  She set the rabbit meat and the bucket of cream down in the kitchen. She hung her hat on the peg by the door. She was grateful Mama had a small fire going in the fireplace. Normally in the spring, summer and fall, they saved the wood for cooking. Heating the house was a luxury for those rare cold winter days.

  Mama shrugged and smiled. “I decided it doesn’t make sense to save any firewood. It is not something we’re going want to take a lot of with us when we move.”

  They would usually have tried to make a year’s cutting stretch until Daddy chopped enough wood for the year after next. Daddy would cut a year’s supply of firewood and let it cure for a year before using it for heating and cooking. With Daddy cutting wood for a living, he was slow to cut more wood away from work. Next year’s woodpile for seasoning would have to wait until they were in a new home.

  Mama said, “Help me drag the table and chairs over by the fireplace. It is too rainy for you to go to Fletcher Hoffman’s today. We can just do some inside chores until you have to go back and do the evening chores.” Mama was in a good mood, but she still had all of the doors barred, even putting a bar across the west door, now that LillieBeth was back inside.

  The Braunawalls had not come back at night to steal back their saddles. They had been on the corral rail and were now hidden under the hay. She did not expect them to come by in the middle of the day, or if they did they would not take the time to root around to find the hidden saddles. Maybe they had believed her when she said her father would be home soon. It had been a bold-faced lie. Daddy rarely got home before Saturday noon.

  The heat of the fireplace felt good. LillieBeth knew it was going to be hard to get up and go back out to get wet all over again. The day felt designed for inside work.

  She emptied the rifle of all ammunition, putting the cartridges carefully off to the side. She double-checked the chamber, the tube-like magazine under the barrel and looked down the barrel to make sure it was empty. She got a small clean rag and the little bottle of gun oil. She broke the rifle down, wiping, cleaning, rubbing each part with oil and making it shine as if it was new. She used a thin metal rod to run a cloth back and forth, cleaning the inside of the barrel. She reloaded it and hung it carefully on the wall hooks, ready for its next use.

  Mama had the .38 revolver sitting nearby.

  LillieBeth picked up the gun and the box of ammunition. She emptied the cylinders of ammunition, putting the cartridges back in the original box. She put the ammunition box in the crate of her things under the bed. She took the now empty gun to the table to clean it.

  She had never cleaned a revolver before, but decided to try anyway. She double-checked the cylinder to make sure it was empty and looked at the gun in disgust.

  “Mama, it does not look like Trance has ever cleaned this thing. Look, there is even mud down in here by the spring.”

  Mama looked up from cutting cloth into smaller pieces. “Your father would have a fit if he saw a gun in such a condition. I don’t blame him. My Mama would have horsewhipped me if I left a kitchen pot looking so bad.”

  LillieBeth continued working a cloth in and out of every nook and cranny she could reach, even using the rod to push the cloth into tight spots.

  She said, “I should ask Daddy about how to clean a revolver. I am sure he knows.” Daddy’s pistol was a .45 semi- automatic with a magazine in the handle. “But, I think we should not mention we even have this until we are ready to tell him about the Braunawalls coming over.”

  Mama nodded in agreement. “I think that would be best.”

  “We will not have to keep it a secret from him long.”

  “That’s right, honey,” Mama said. “He should be home sometime tomorrow. We can tell him about the Braunawalls at church come Sunday morning, with Sheriff Grissom right there.”

  LillieBeth said, “Mama, we do have to tell him about moving right away. And I have to tell him that I shot a man down near Hoffman’s Lane. I do not want to, but I think it is best.”

  Mama nodded. She cut a small piece of cloth from a sock. She tossed the piece into the fireplace and watched it flare
and burn away. “Some of this cloth we rescued from the Braunawalls is next to useless. It is so worn and threadbare; I can’t imagine their mother letting them out of the house with it.”

  LillieBeth stopped cleaning the revolver. She looked at Mama. “Do they have a mother? I mean, I know where babies come from, so they had to have a mother at some time. But do they have a mother now?”

  Mama looked thoughtful. “I do not know. I wonder if…” She shook her head, letting the thought pass away.

  “If what, Mama? I think not having a mother teach them, is what made them start raping women instead of treating women with respect.”

  Mama said, “That was what I was thinking, but I imagine it has more to do with how their father treats women than how their mother treated them. I don’t know.”

  LillieBeth said, “Men are such strange creatures. I am beginning to wonder if I want one around at all.” She was serious, not even the crack of a smile peeking through.

  Mama laughed. “I wondered the exact thing myself until I met your father. Even then, it took a while before I decided I wanted him around. It took even longer before my father would let Daddy come calling.”

  LillieBeth put the revolver in the box under her bed with the ammunition. She sat down next to Mama and began knotting and tying lengths of twine into longer strips. She braided the strips and braided the braid. She was working it into a belt for the revolver holster. She knew a belt at her waist would get in her way and was thinking about braiding a belt for over the shoulder like the Illinois fellow Nitti, but she did not know what one looked like. Maybe she would ask Daddy after she told him about where the revolver came from.

  She was about out of twine. It sounded like the rain had eased up, so she thought about finding more twine in the mule shed. Before she could stand up, they heard clumping across the porch. The south door rattled. They froze when someone pounded on the door. LillieBeth had her hand on the .22 rifle to pull it down when someone shouted from the porch.