“Come on, Doanie.” Abeleen pulled at her. “We’re sisters now. Get up. We gotta help Miss Worie get them little ones back.”
Doanie could hardly stand. Her eyes was sunk in her head, partly from her hardships, but mostly from havin her heart ripped out.
“Doanie,” I said, “we’re gonna fix this. It’s gonna take some figurin, but we’ll fix it. But right now we have to shovel the pain over our shoulders and get on with business. You understand?”
Her head wobbled like an apple teetering on a split rail. When she got her feet under her I saw somethin I never thought I’d ever see. That girl’s face changed. It went from hurt to anger. Her eyes turned from a soft brown to black, and I could see the fire in her.
“Abeleen, take Sally and go down to Ely’s. Tell him what happened and get him up here to help us pack up. A house is just a place to stay, it ain’t our life.”
She bridled the horse, then climbed up. “I’ll be back, Miss Worie. I promise.” She leaned down from the horse and rubbed the tears from my face with her thumb.
“I know you will. Now go on. Get Ely.” She pulled Sally around and bolted out of the barn into the driving rain.
I took Doanie by the hand and headed to the house. “We need to load up what we need to cook with. Start carryin things out to the wagon. Hurry.”
Ever step she took, she stomped. Mud splashed up her legs and all over her skirt. But the child made haste.
I walked straight to Momma’s secret place, lifted my fist, and slammed my hand against the loose stone. It popped free. I put her jar in my apron pocket and took an empty jar from Momma’s shelf, jammin it into the hole. Then I replaced the stone and straightened it perfect.
“There you go, Calvin. I hope you find it.” I had no intentions of makin his search easy, and all I really wanted was to see the disappointment on his face when he finally found the hole. That is, if he was smart enough to find it.
Doanie and me stuffed all we could into the wagon. When we left, I aimed to take all I could just to spite Calvin.
“Ho there.” Ely’s voice lifted above the roar of the rain. “Miss Worie!” He climbed from his wagon and run hard to the house. “Abeleen come to the house. Is you alright?”
“I’m fine, but we . . . we . . .”
“We have to leave. Them men took my brother and sister.” Doanie stepped in front of me.
Ely pulled her close and hugged her. “Don’t you worry none. We’s gonna figure this out. Right now we need to load them beds the pastor built.”
One more time I realized I’d forgot the pastor. “Where is Pastor Jess?”
“He’s down at the cabin helpin Bess. Come down right early this mornin, huntin for Bess’s biscuits and gravy.”
The rain went from a hard wash to a soft sprinkle, but it didn’t help the mud that was made. We traipsed out to the wagon. Lord bless her heart, Abeleen had done hitched Sally up. Ely wrapped his arm around Doanie and picked her up. Her head seated against his neck.
I walked into the house and looked around. I realized what I’d told Doanie was truer than I knew. A house is just a place, it ain’t a life. We’d make a way. My mind was made up. I took the quilt Momma made and wrapped her Bible in it, then without a second thought, I kicked open the door. Lightnin cracked over the back mountain, and thunder echoed through the gap. One, two, three, four . . . and another rumble of thunder. Four miles till the rain made its way here again.
I lifted the covered Bible to the sky. “Momma prayed all the time. I reckon it can’t hurt to try.”
Ely winked. “I always believed the good Lord was faithful.”
“Well, that’s good to know, Ely.”
Shakin the Bible at the sky full of black clouds, I shouted, “Seein as You are the good Lord, I just ask one thing. Strike this house with lightnin and burn it to the ground.”
Thunder shook the ground and a bolt of lightnin hit that blessed ole cedar tree.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The rain finally quit. All that water that fell over two days left the mountain lookin like it was weepin. Streams poured down the side of the mountain like tears. Put me in the mind of Doanie. The child cried ever time a body looked at her. I could understand. She’d lost her family. Then so had I.
They wasn’t no comparin losses. Not one soul had ailed any greater than the next. We’d both lost people we loved. Whether you was a youngin or somebody like me, a loss was a loss.
But poor Doanie . . . that little girl was sufferin. She was sufferin because of greed and selfishness. My anger begin to boil. There was nothing I could do. I ain’t sure what made me maddest. The fact that Calvin did this to spite me or that I was the cause of her hurt. I shoulda seen something like this comin. Calvin is good at what he does.
The sun was dippin toward the mountain. Underneath the rain clouds a gentle breeze eased over the pass, givin the hawks what they needed to soar from peak to peak without flappin their wings. For a minute, I was lost in the haven of the Smoky Mountains.
“I hate we couldn’t get them beds the pastor made before the trail washed out.” Ely leaned against an elm tree close to the edge of the mountain. “Them mountains is beautiful, ain’t they?”
I crossed my arms and stretched my head upward. “They are somethin. And Ely, it ain’t your fault. The trail will dry in a day or so and we can dig the wagon loose. Besides, dusk is settin in. We did the best we could despite Calvin and the storm.”
“Yes’m, we did.” Ely nodded. “We got you and the girls. You’s safe.”
I smiled and slipped my arm through Ely’s. Him and Bess was good to Momma and Daddy. They was the kinda people who loved folks despite theirself. When Daddy passed, Ely helped Justice bury him. Then Momma. I remember when Bess give birth to them twins. They was born lifeless. Momma tried to rub life back in them, but them little ones wasn’t meant to live. I won’t never forget the wails Bess let out. They was never able to bring no other babies into the world, so Miss Bess always loved extra on me.
By the time me and Ely hauled what we could to his barn, night had closed in. We’d made countless trips on foot to the wagons mired down in the thick red mud of the mountain. We was tired. Worn clean down, but Ely helped me do what needed to be done.
Bess rocked Doanie most of the night by the fire. She understood the loss and made no attempt to put Doanie to bed. Instead, she untied the child’s braids and kept running her fingers through her hair. Ever now and again, I’d see her rub her knuckle softly over Doanie’s cheek.
Ely followed me onto the porch. “Bess said the child never stopped cryin. She’s brokenhearted.” He wrapped his hands around mine and squeezed. “We’ll figure somethin out.”
“I know. Her spirit is broke. I’m much obliged for y’all puttin us up whilst I figure things out.” I leaned against the porch rail and took in a long breath. Tears hung in my eyes, but I wasn’t about to let them fall.
“Worie, I’ve knowed you since you was little. And I knowed your momma and daddy. They was good people. And cause I knowed them like I did, I feel like I can speak to what they’d say.” He pulled his arm away and buried his hands in his pockets.
I blinked back the tears. “Say your peace, Ely. Just spit it out.”
Ely looked out over the ridge, ponderin his next words, then he spoke. “This ain’t your fault, but it is the hand you’s been gived. Good Lord tells us He won’t never let us be tempted more than we can bear without givin us a way out.”
My stare told Ely I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“I can tell you is tempted with vengeance in your heart. It ain’t hard to see them wheels turnin in your head. You’s thinkin of a way to get even. And as much as you wanna do that, take my word on it. Nothin good comes from vengeance.”
My anger was at a slow burn, just waitin for fuel to be shoveled on. “And what’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m gonna do somethin foolish?”
“Don’t get your drawers crumpled. All I’s sayi
n is you’s been through a lot. It’s what people do when they’s been run through the mill. Vengeance is what naturally works its way outta us. I can see what’s normal workin its way up on you.”
“Ain’t you the wise one?” I snapped.
“Now that you mention it, I is the wise one here. I’s the one who made my way from the Georgia plantations to the mountains, first a slave and now free. I know what pain does to a body. And I know what runs through your head.” He took the cup I was holding and pointed over the ridge. “Them mountains, they’s like the hills and valleys in our souls. We can’t have one without the other, but we can figure the best way to climb.”
How could I fix this? What could I do? My mind went to turnin. I could only see one way and I couldn’t do it with youngins in tow. “Ely, can them girls stay here? I can’t mind them now. I need to figure what to do.”
He stuffed a chaw of tobacco in his lip, chewed a bit, then spit. I could tell he was thinkin.
“I don’t think Abeleen will steal your chickens anymore if that’s what you’re thinkin on.”
Ely spit again. “Ah, once I knew what was wrong, I forgived her. Can’t blame a child for tryin to survive.”
“Will you and Bess watch over them? At least for a while.” I felt the pain of hurt well up in me. “I got no home no more, Ely. I got no place to go.”
Ely bumped against my shoulder. “Sounds like what the good Lord’s Son suffered. No place to lay His head, but He come round to do some mighty powerful things. I’m guessin you’ll do some powerful things too.”
I wasn’t sure why Ely felt such a need to keep pressin his wisdom on the good Lord at me, but it was growin irritatin. Right now, I couldn’t see no good in a God that allowed these children to suffer—or me, for that fact.
“You know you can stay here. Me and Bess, we’s find a way to make room.”
I slipped my arm through his again and rested my head on his shoulder. “You done so much already. It was more than any man should have to do, helpin me bury Momma. And then the way we found Mrs. Whitefield. I ain’t sure I’ll ever let that thought loose.”
“Times is hard. But they’s one thing for sure. Most folks are good people. Reckon the lot of them take to their knees and pray. Good Lord made us to take care of each other.”
“Makes a body wonder what happened to Calvin,” I said.
Ely shook his head. “The Lord knows about them few bad apples. He’s give us all free will to make our choices. Calvin’s made his choices.”
“Ahh, law. I can’t see no light yet.”
“Miss Worie, a person’s gotta trust. Yes’m. The good Lord knows and He works in His own time. Your job is to trust.”
I couldn’t stop the words before they spit out. “If He knows so much, why didn’t He see this mess acomin and fix it? If He knew them youngins was gonna end up on my doorstep, why, Ely . . . why would the good Lord let them suffer again?” The words from Momma’s Bible come to me. “What about them words in the good book that Momma had dog-eared? ‘Suffer little children.’ Seems the good Lord wants the children to pay a price.”
Ely scraped his lip with his finger and flipped what little tobacco was left to the ground. “I ain’t no preacher and I sure as whiz ain’t gonna waste my time arguing with you about the Almighty. But I can tell you this, Worie Dressar, them children comin to your doorstep wasn’t by chance. You can believe what you want, but I can done see there is a purpose for you.”
I’d got Ely’s hackles up, and it wasn’t hard to see his frustration with me. A man never empties his lip before he’s done with a chew unless he’s riled. Ely’s faith was more than I could or wanted to live up to.
“I got one more thing to say to you, Miss Worie, and I want you to take it to heart. The good book tells us the Lord knew you before you was put in your momma’s belly. He knowed the color of your eyes and”—he lifted his hand and rubbed my cheek—“the tint of your skin. Good Lord don’t turn His back on His children. No sirree.”
I stood silent. Ely’s words dug deep into my craw. There wasn’t no reason why I felt so ill toward the good Lord, other than seein my momma die. I wanted to smart off to Him, but I kept my thoughts to myself. After all, I couldn’t even count losin my cabin, havin a rotten brother, bein an orphan. No, they wasn’t no real reason for me to carry a grudge against the good Lord. Nothin at all.
“What about them girls? I don’t believe Doanie will give you no trouble. And Abeleen is strong-minded—determined.”
Ely took my arm. “Look in there. Just look.” He snapped me toward the window. There was Bess, Doanie on her lap, wrapped in a quilt. Bess rockin her and hummin. Abeleen laid on a quilt at her feet. “My guess is, you’s gonna have a hard time pryin them children away from Bess.”
I looked Ely in the eye. “And Abeleen? She might need a firm hand.”
“I can manage her.”
“The youngin is bitter. Angry. Bound and determined.”
Ely pulled me close. His fingers tightened around my arm. “Sounds like the same girl what come got me to help her bury her momma.”
Better words couldn’t have been spoke. Abeleen was a lot like me. That might be why we got along from the start. She was determined to survive. I was too. But now I had to find my way, and I couldn’t do it with them girls in tow.
“I reckon you know what I need to do,” I said.
“Yes’m. I just pray you use good sense.”
I left early that morning while the water still trickled down the mountain after the rain. Sally sloshed through the puddles of muddy water on the trail to the back side of the mountain. Her hooves sucked in and out of the mush, putting me in the mind of milkin a cow—ever pull on an udder, splattin milk in the pail. I wasn’t sure where I’d go or what I needed to do to get where I needed to be, but I figured the best place to start was with Justice.
The pastor said Justice was about dried out, so I reckon he oughta be about ready to get back to livin his life. I couldn’t be sure he knew Momma was dead . . . or that Calvin had run me off. Knowin Calvin and his selfishness, he could have done blindsided Justice.
“Ho there, Sal.” I pulled the reins. Leaning down from the saddle, I wrapped my arms around her neck. “Walkin in this mess is tirin. You need a rest.”
She slung her head from side to side.
“I reckon that was a yes.” I eased from the saddle and stretched to get my footing on a rock stickin out of the mud.
“Real toad choker yesterday.” A voice come from a dark part of the trail.
“Who’s there?” My heart skipped. I stepped behind Sally and run my hand down her side, feelin for Daddy’s shotgun.
“After all that work, you don’t know who I am?” Pastor Jess let out a big guffaw. “I was just headin up to your place.”
I slipped my foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up in the saddle. “Ain’t no need to bother, Pastor.”
“I’m guessin they’s a reason. You don’t hit me as one who would let a body off from doin their work.”
“Ain’t no need for your help now. My brother Calvin went and got papers to take the homestead from me.” I turned away.
“What?” The pastor got right testy. “Don’t turn away from me.” He nudged his horse to one side and stepped toward me.
“I don’t reckon I stuttered. Calvin give me a day to get out.”
“What about the children?”
“What about ’em? Ain’t nothing I can do.”
The pastor’s voice grew stern. “Worie, I ain’t funnin. Where’s them youngins?”
I rested my hands on the saddle horn. “I figured you for smarter, Pastor. They ain’t nothing we can do for them. Calvin brought some fancy man from the bank down in Hartsboro, and he took Farrell and T. J.”
“He can’t do that. What about the others?”
“I left them with Ely and Bess. It was best. I ain’t got a spot to lay my head, much less put up youngins.” I dug my heel into Sally’s side. “Hup there, girl.
”
She snorted, flipped her ears, and stepped off. It was clear Pastor Jess was in the dark.
“You was eatin with Miss Bess. How could you not know all this?”
“I left and headed down the path to visit the Thomases before I come back to you. Reckon I missed all the excitement.”
I believe he had a good heart, and it seemed he was rightfully upset. After all, he did work buildin them beds.
“Pastor, you seem like a right nice fella. Take leave. Go preach or whatever the—”
“Hey. Hold it just a cotton-pickin minute. You ain’t able to handle this mess alone. Now, like it or not, I’m trailin along with you. We’re gonna find out where them youngins are, and we’re gonna get your cabin back.”
“I’d thank you to know I am able. Darned able. I buried my own momma. I’m able.” I huffed.
The pastor stared, never speakin a word. His eyes spoke for him. It took him a minute, but he finally spoke up. “Looka here, Worie, I don’t feel sorry for you and I know you can figure things out. All I’m sayin is you don’t have to. You don’t have to do this alone. What’s happened is a terrible thing. Terrible for you and for them youngins. They ain’t no need to suffer.”
And there it was again. Suffer. But for how long?
“Town’s that way. Path is muddy,” I said.
“I can see that.” The pastor pressed his hat tight against his head.
“You still wanna go?” I nudged Sally and she commenced to lumber, her feet poppin in the mud.
The pastor nodded and followed.
As we rounded the summit, I pulled Sally to a halt. The gap laid ahead. There, like a piece of raw meat temptin a hungry dog, in the crevice of the mountain, was home.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
What Momma Left Behind Page 7