In Grandma's Attic

by Arleta Richardson

  “You’ll have to ask him,” Grandma said with a smile.

  Uncle Roy sat down on the steps and fanned himself with his hat. “Animals?” he replied. “Well, I guess the orchards take as much time as I have. And you don’t have to bring trees in every night!”

  He chuckled, and his eyes twinkled as he looked at Grandma.

  “Do you remember when the cows were your job, Mabel?”

  “How could I forget?” Grandma answered. “I suppose you still see something funny about that, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes,” Uncle Roy admitted. “It did have its humorous side.”

  He laughed, and I looked eagerly at Grandma.

  “I guess I was about eight years old when Roy decided that he was too old to go for the cows,” Grandma began.

  “Pa says Mabel is big enough to bring the cows home at night,” Roy announced one evening at supper. “And since I’m going into town with Pa tomorrow, she can start then!”

  Roy looked at me triumphantly, and I quickly appealed to Pa.

  “I can’t bring the cows in alone,” I protested. “Molly Blue doesn’t like me, and if she doesn’t move, none of the others will.”

  “You can take Pep to help you,” Pa replied calmly. “I think you can handle it this summer. Just start early so that Reuben can milk before dark.”

  The matter was settled, and I knew better than to argue. But I was exceedingly unhappy about the arrangement. I didn’t really know that Molly Blue didn’t like me, but from past experience, I knew I didn’t like her!

  Molly Blue was a bawler. She was forever getting her foot caught, or her head stuck in the fence, or her bell snagged on a bush. And when she did, she bawled. It was no delicate cry for help; she could be heard clear to the house. It had become my job to go to her rescue. The boys were usually in the field with Pa, and when Ma couldn’t stand the racket any longer, she would call me: “Mabel, go and see what is wrong with Molly Blue. That bellowing makes me nervous.”

  I would reluctantly leave my dolls and trudge to the meadow to pull Molly Blue out of whatever predicament she was in.

  As the trips seemingly became more frequent, I began to be more annoyed with Molly. When Ma called for the third time one day, I complained.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that stupid cow, Ma. She just wants company. She quits bawling as soon as I get there.”

  “Well, go keep her company then,” Ma replied. “I can’t stand that everlasting noise!”

  So Molly Blue and I were not friends, and I did not look forward to my new job.

  True to form, Molly Blue began bawling soon after Roy and Pa had left for town the next morning. Ma looked out the door at me, and I sighed as I started across the barnyard. My feelings were not very charitable.

  Molly Blue was standing in the creek with her nose in the air, her mouth opened wide. I noticed that she had her eyes in the direction she knew I would appear, and as soon as she spotted me, the bawling ceased. Her foot was caught between two stones.

  “What’s the matter with you, cow?” I muttered crossly. “How come you can’t do anything for yourself?”

  I waded into the stream and moved the stones. Molly Blue calmly stepped out and turned her back on me. With a look of disgust, I went back to the house.

  The rest of the day was quiet, and when Ma reminded me of the time, I decided that I would show Pa that I didn’t need help with the cows after all. I left Pep dozing in the shade and started out alone.

  We had only four cows, and I knew that when Molly Blue turned toward the barn, the others would follow. I suppose I expected that she would be obliging, since I had spent so much time on her, but of course she was not. She stood placidly on the other side of the creek and stared at the scenery. I soon realized that calling would do no good; I would have to go over and prod her.

  As I waded into the water, my mind was on that stubborn cow instead of where I was stepping. Before I realized what had happened, I was sitting in the middle of the stream with my foot turned under me. Surprised, I tried to get up and found that I could not. My foot was firmly wedged between two rocks, and try as I would, I could not move.

  I sat in the water and watched Molly chew her cud. Why couldn’t she bawl now so someone would come and see what was the matter?

  The sun began to go down, and Molly Blue and I continued to regard each other darkly. I knew that someone would wonder where we were pretty soon, but my watery seat was getting more uncomfortable, and my ankle hurt terribly.

  I was right. Reuben had started to wonder about me.

  “Ma,” he called, “where is Mabel with the cows? She should have been in half an hour ago. I haven’t heard Molly Blue bawling, so she can’t be stuck someplace.”

  “No,” Ma replied grimly, “but you’re going to hear someone else bawling if that child is playing down there.”

  She sailed out of the door and down the lane. Pep followed along to see the fun. I must have been some sight, my dress soaked from the waist down with creek water and from the waist up with my tears.

  Ma always said she saw the funny side of things first; then the other side didn’t hurt as much. The funny side was not apparent to me, but Ma couldn’t help laughing. She hurried to move the stones, and when she saw that I couldn’t walk, she quickly became sympathetic.

  “I can’t carry you, Mabel,” she said. “You’ll have to wait until I send Reuben.” Pep had started Molly Blue back, and Ma hurried after the cows. I waited grumpily, wishing that I had never seen a cow.

  Reuben soon came and carried me back to the house. He couldn’t resist a comment about useless girls around a place, but he and Roy both waited on me until my ankle healed.

  Grandma folded the sewing she had been working on and stood up.

  “Brothers are more of a blessing than not,” she said.

  20

  Grandma and the Gun

  I had been reading one of my books to Grandma while she worked. The story was about the pilgrims who carried guns to church to protect them from wild animals.

  “Grandma,” I said, “did your father have to carry a gun to church when you were little?”

  “Mercy, no!” Grandma said with a laugh. “I’m not quite that old. There were still wild animals around our place, but they didn’t often come out where there were people. Pa and the boys had guns for hunting, but they didn’t need them between our house and town.”

  “Did you ever go hunting, Grandma?” I asked.

  “No,” Grandma said. “I didn’t go hunting with the boys. In fact, there was only one time I ever had a gun in my hands, and that was almost a disaster!”

  “Tell me about it,” I said eagerly.

  “Well,” said Grandma, “I was about nine years old. Reuben was thirteen, and he had just gotten his first gun. He was mighty proud of it, and neither Roy nor I was allowed to breathe on it, let alone touch it.”

  This particular evening Reuben and Pa had come home from hunting, and we had just finished supper. Pa was sitting by the door reading the Bible, and Reuben was starting his homework at the table.

  Ma said to me, “Mabel, would you rather sweep the floor or wash the dishes tonight?” Of course, given a choice like that, I would rather sweep the floor. I went out to the porch to get the broom. “Mabel,” Reuben called, “close the door. It’s cold in here!”

  I hadn’t intended to be out there very long, but I went back and shoved the door shut. This may have been the thing that saved our family from tragedy that night; I don’t know. But I do know the Lord had His hand on us all.

  I turned to get the broom, and there, standing beside it, was Reuben’s new gun. Well, I thought to myself, old bossy made me shut the door; now he can’t see me. He won’t know that I touched his gun.

  As quietly as I could, I picked up the gun
and rubbed the smooth barrel. Since I had never held one before, I was curious to see what Pa always looked through when he held it up to his eye. I turned toward the light from the kitchen and held the gun up to my shoulder and face. I don’t know what happened, but somehow I pulled the trigger, and that gun jumped back and hit me in the jaw. I went sprawling on the porch, and that was the last I remembered until I awoke in the house some time later.

  Ma told me what had happened in the kitchen. The bullet came through the door and whizzed past Pa’s head. Splinters from the wooden door stuck in his hair.

  Ma had just decided that the dishwater was not hot enough and had turned to carry it back to the stove. The bullet hit the table where she had been standing.

  Reuben had gotten up to get a book, and the bullet went through the back of the chair he had been sitting in.

  It all happened so fast that for a moment everyone forgot that I was still outside. Pa rushed out to the porch and carried me in. My face was covered with blood. When they decided I hadn’t been killed but just had just lost some teeth, Ma’s mood changed from one of fear to indignation.

  “I declare,” she exclaimed. “I should tan that child for a trick like that. We could have all been killed!”

  “No, Ma,” said Reuben. “It was my fault. I should have put the gun away. Supper was ready when we got home, and I forgot it afterward. I’m the one you should tan.”

  “It was my fault too,” said Pa. “I should have taught Mabel how to handle a gun. She just doesn’t know how dangerous they are.”

  “I suppose I could strap you all,” said Ma in disgust. “But Mabel is old enough to know better than that. If she ever gets over being so thoughtless, it will be a miracle.”

  “Ma didn’t spank me,” Grandma concluded. “I guess she thought my black and blue face was punishment enough. But I have never had much interest in guns since then, I can tell you!”

  Grandma laughed. “The Lord was good to us, to protect my family from me!”

  21

  What Grandma Lost

  “I am going to wash some of your sweaters,” Grandma said. “If you’ll get your mittens, I’ll wash them, too.”

  “I can’t find them, Grandma,” I told her.

  “Haven’t you looked for them?” Grandma asked. “You wore them to school today, didn’t you?”

  “No, I haven’t had them for a couple of days,” I replied. “I don’t know where I left them.”

  “Now that was a careless thing to do,” Grandma scolded. “It seems as though you could put your mittens in your pocket where they’d be safe.”

  Then she laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t scold you about mittens,” she said. “I lost something a lot bigger than that when I was your age.”

  Of course I was anxious to hear about it, so when Grandma had finished the sweaters, she sat down with her sewing and began the story.

  It was in the spring, I remember. It was an unusual day, because both Reuben and Roy were sick. Ma was quite concerned about them, and she hadn’t paid much attention to me that morning. It wasn’t until I was ready to go out the door that she really noticed me.

  “Where are you going, Mabel?” she asked.

  “Why, I’m going to school,” I replied. “It’s time to leave.”

  “Oh, no, Mabel,” Ma said. “You can’t go by yourself. You’ve never walked all that way without one of the boys. You’ll just have to stay home today too.”

  “Oh, Ma!” I cried. “I don’t want to stay home! I feel just fine. I can take Nellie and the buggy; then I won’t be alone.”

  Ma looked doubtful, but she had the boys on her mind, so she said, “Well, go ask Pa about it. If he says it’s all right, I suppose you can.”

  I hurried out to the barn, sure that Pa would see things my way. But he was reluctant too.

  “I’d take you to school myself, Mabel,” he said. “But with both boys sick, I’m behind in the chores this morning. I’m not sure you can handle Nellie.”

  “Oh, Pa,” I said. “You know I can. I’ve even driven her to town when you were along. She knows the way to school, even if I didn’t show her.”

  Pa regarded me thoughtfully for a moment.

  “I guess you can’t start any younger,” he said. “Just be careful, and don’t try any fancy tricks.”

  “Oh, I won’t, Pa,” I assured him. “I’ll be extra careful.” I ran back to the house to tell Ma that I could go, and Pa hitched Nellie to the buggy.

  I felt pretty proud, I can tell you. I didn’t know of another girl at school who was allowed to bring a horse and buggy by herself. A lot of the boys did, of course. In fact, some of them just rode their horses to school.

  As Nellie clip-clopped along the road, I began to imagine what the boys would think if I should come riding up to the schoolhouse on my horse. They would certainly take notice of me, I was sure. The more I thought about it, the better the idea seemed to me. I began to wonder how I could manage it. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was conforming to the things that would make me popular instead of doing what my father wanted. The temptation to be noticed by the boys was irresistible.

  I had often ridden Nellie around the farm, so that was no problem. But what could I do with the buggy?

  By the time we came to Carter’s Grove, I had forgotten about Pa’s warning against fancy tricks. I decided that this would be a good place to leave the buggy for the day. I would put it off the road among the trees and get it on the way home.

  It didn’t take long to unhitch Nellie, but it was a little harder to push the buggy off the road. It was only a small one, but I wasn’t very big. Nevertheless, I managed to push it to a spot where I thought it would be safe for the day. Then I climbed on Nellie’s back and continued on to school.

  I was right about causing a stir at school. The girls all gathered around, and even some of the boys looked pretty envious. I tied up Nellie, and when we children went in to school, the teacher even mentioned it.

  “Your father must trust you, Mabel, to let you come alone with the horse. You must be very careful and go straight home after school.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I will.”

  But I was beginning to feel ashamed of myself. Pa had trusted me, and he certainly hadn’t expected that I would leave the buggy along the side of the road. However, the pleasure of having Nellie at school kept me from worrying about it for long. I would hitch up the buggy on the way home, and no one would need to know about it.

  Sarah Jane and I rode Nellie around the school grounds at noon and had a wonderful time. I even hoped that Reuben and Roy would have to stay home another day so that we could do it tomorrow.

  As soon as school was out, I started straight for home. I didn’t know how long it would take me to get Nellie hitched to the buggy again because I had never done it by myself before. Pa had expected that one of the boys at school would help me.

  I hurried as fast as I could get Nellie to move, and soon we were back in Carter’s Grove. When we reached the spot where I had left the buggy, we stopped, but I didn’t get down from Nellie’s back. I just sat there and looked at the trees.

  The buggy was gone! I glanced around to see if someone was playing a joke on me, but no one was in sight.

  Nellie stood patiently, waiting until I was ready to go on. There was no use standing in Carter’s Grove any longer. Someone had obviously come along during the day and taken the buggy. Maybe they had even taken it home—and I was sure to have something waiting for me when I got there.

  I was a pretty unhappy little girl. Besides having to face Pa, the boys would hear about it and never let me forget it.

  Fortunately Pa was out in the field when I got home, and he didn’t see me come in on Nellie. I put her in the barn and quickly ran to the house. Ma was relieved to see me.

&n
bsp; “Did you get along all right, Mabel?” she asked. “I worried about you all alone with the buggy.”

  I nodded and went into my room to change my clothes. Ma would really have worried if she had known that I didn’t even have the buggy! I knew she would find out, but it seemed better to wait as long as possible to break the news. I was so worried about what I would tell Pa that I must have looked sick, for after a while Ma felt my forehead. “Dear me,” she said. “I hope you aren’t coming down with what the boys have. Do you feel bad?”

  “No, Ma,” I replied. “I feel fine. I’m a little tired, I guess.”

  I got busy setting the table for supper and helping Ma around the kitchen. Long before I was ready for it, Pa came in to wash.

  “I see you got back safely, Mabel,” he said with his face in the wash dish. “You should have called me to unhitch for you. Where did you put the buggy anyway?”

  “I guess I lost it, Pa,” I said in a small voice.

  Pa stopped splashing water, and there was silence in the kitchen. “You guess what?” he said in a puzzled voice.

  “I guess I lost it,” I repeated in a smaller voice. Pa lifted his head slowly and turned to look at me in disbelief. The water ran off his beard, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Will you kindly tell me how you lost a buggy?” he roared. “Nellie hasn’t run fast enough to part with a buggy since she was a colt. How could you lose a buggy?”

  By this time I was sobbing, and Ma had taken me on her lap.

  Pa began to mop his face with the towel and stomp toward the door.

  “I declare,” he said, “if I had thought you could lose a buggy right out from under you, I never would have let you go this morning.

  “Maryanne,” he said to Ma, “how could that child possibly lose the buggy between here and the schoolhouse? I just can’t believe it. Maybe you know something about girls that I don’t know,” he ended in disgust.

  “Let’s just calm down and find out what happened,” said Ma. “Now, tell us, Mabel, where did you put the buggy when you got to school?”