What Momma Left Behind

by Cindy K. Sproles

  Justice suited up the wagon, and Bess and the girls added a few provisions. Ely handed me Daddy’s shotgun and a bag of shells while Justice spun the chamber on his gun. I hated the thought that we’d face Calvin on these terms, but he’d done gone over the edge. He was a cocked gun ready to be fired.

  “Hup there, Sally. Hup.” Justice gently tapped the mare with the reins.

  Sally groaned and leaned into the yoke. The wagon wheels turned and we headed up the rocky path to Momma’s house. Every stick that broke, every rock that slipped and fell, put us both on edge.

  “You as jumpy as me?” I asked.

  “Jumpier than a toad on a hot rock.”

  “This is the right thing to do, ain’t it?”

  Justice leaned his elbows on his knees and let the reins droop between his hands. “It’s the right thing.”

  “Calvin ain’t gonna make this easy, is he?”

  Justice bumped against me. “Ever knowed him to do anything easy?”

  I chuckled. “No, I reckon not.”

  Bess had put my things in my bag. The jar with the notes, the satin bag. She’d laid Momma’s Bible beside me on the wagon bench. I traced the edge of the worn leather with my fingers. “I feel like this is all the possessions I have in the world.”

  Justice glanced over, then back to the path. “Uh-huh. But it ain’t. You got me. You got them youngins. You got what counts. So do I.”

  “I reckon so.” I eased my hand into the bag and pulled out the satin pouch that held the stones. “I’ve decided we need to give this to Calvin. I didn’t give you no say-so.”

  “Don’t need none. Been penniless all my life. Ain’t got no plans of changin that now.”

  I stared at Justice. He never give me no back talk at all. Lookin at him, just one more time, reminded me of Daddy. How could he? Still he did. I remembered lookin in that mirror at the forge and thinkin I was lookin at Momma. I couldn’t understand how. How could either of us remind me of Momma and Daddy when we wasn’t their blood children?

  The wagon bumped and bounced along the trail. It had been a spell since we’d been home, and the trail proved that. Weeds growed in the furrows where the wagon wheels rolled, and tree limbs hung low over the path. Had Calvin even been back here? After kickin me and them youngins out, had he just left the place empty?

  I’d said before, Calvin only wanted what he couldn’t have. He was like a mountain lion that played with its prey then walked away, leavin it half dead and wallerin in the dirt.

  Justice took his hat and rested it on his knee. His hands harbored long, slim fingers. Fingers just like Daddy’s. How? How on earth?

  “I was gonna say you reminded me of Daddy, sittin there like that.”

  Justice laughed. “Kinda funny, ain’t it? How we can look like somebody who ain’t our blood?”

  I cocked my head and shrugged. “But you do look like Daddy. I can’t explain it. But you do.”

  Then it come to me. The folks we are around are the folks we imitate. Me and Justice looked like Momma and Daddy because we took on their expressions, their movements. We didn’t have to be blood children to take on the things about Momma and Daddy that stayed with us.

  The cabin come into view as we rounded the bend. The cows wandered in the field and the chickens picked at the grass. I was glad it was the warm part of the year. The animals could forage the land and make do.

  To the left of the cabin stood two crosses. Momma and Daddy’s final restin place. The dirt we’d mounded on top of Momma had settled to a smooth, flat place where a thick of grass grew. Mornin glories strung their way around the two crosses like we had planted them there. Their blooms dangled and moved gently in the breeze. Daisies lifted their heads toward the sky around the foot of their graves. Momma would have liked that.

  Justice pulled the wagon to a halt and helped me down. I stepped over the ashes left from the mattress I’d burned, and Justice picked up what was left of the frame from the screen door Calvin had ripped off the house.

  Outside of the cold quietness, nothin had changed. I knelt down and memories flooded back. The stench of blood rooted deep in that mattress burned in my memory. I twisted my palm up, and in my mind I could see Momma’s blood puddled between my fingers and under my nails. I cringed.

  “You alright?” Justice draped his arm over my shoulders.

  “I’m fine. It’s just . . .”

  “Memories?”

  “Memories.” I could see by his face, Justice ached.

  “Worie, I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry.”

  “They was nothin you could have done, Justice. You heard what Momma wrote. She had a reason for doin what she did. Nothin would have stopped her. And if she thought for a minute one of us would grow sick from the fever, she’d have never been able to live with herself.”

  Justice pushed open the heavy wooden door into the cabin. What little things we had was strewed all over everwhere. Calvin had done just as he promised. Tore the place apart.

  Momma’s rocker was broke, and the drawers in her hutch was yanked out and throwed on the floor. It wasn’t enough for Calvin to just tear through and look. He had to make his point clear.

  I stared at the fireplace. Momma’s hidin place was closed tight. Calvin would have never found the jar. As I gazed around the cabin, lookin at the chaos and destruction, it come home to me that Justice was right. I could have prevented this.

  “It’s my fault. All of it.” I buried my head in the bend of my arm. “Lord have mercy, this is my fault.”

  “Stop it, Worie.”

  “But I could have. You said it yourself. I could have prevented this by just giving the bag to Calvin.”

  “Stop it. You hear me? We both said things in the heat of anger. You couldn’t have stopped Calvin. This ain’t your doin.” Justice took my shoulders and twisted me toward him.

  “All he wanted was the jar. I could have give it to him and he’d have left.” My voice quivered.

  “And Worie, he’d have been back for something else. You know better than the next person, Calvin’s got a greedy hunger ain’t never satisfied. Givin him that bag would have just put him off for a spell. He’d have been back lookin for somethin else. That’s who Calvin is.”

  I sat on the edge of the hearth and pulled Momma’s notes from the jar.

  From the book of Philippians, the fourth chapter and the seventh verse, the good Lord spoke these words.

  And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

  Good Father, I long for your peace. I long to understand why people is dyin and why, oh why, is their children starving. I can’t keep up with the loss, and now I’m findin my own self waverin. There is all them youngins hidin in the side of the mountain. Last I counted they was seven. Oh Lord, have mercy on them wee ones. Help me understand.

  “Oh Lordy mercy!” I shouted. “Oh Lordy.”

  “What in tarnation are you yelling about?” I reckon I scared Justice outta his skin. “You purt near give me heart failure.”

  “Look at this!” I shoved the note in his face and come to my feet. “We have to get up to that cave by the river.”

  Justice read the note. “Worie, you don’t reckon there’s still children up there? It’s been months. They’d be starved by now.”

  “Not if Momma was Momma. She’d have taught them to forage. We have to go. We have to try.”

  Justice helped me into the wagon, and we headed up the windy trail to a small cave where we played when we was children. The boys had built a ladder to the openin, and just inside the mouth of the cave, a small stream of fresh water had seeped from the rock wall. The water was clear as a mornin sky. All we could do was hope, and right now, hope was a lot.

  It took us a spell to make our way up the side of the mountain in a wagon. The path was made for walkin, not for wagons, but Sally proved her worth when we reached the summit. The ground was wet from the stream in the cave, and whereve
r we stepped water seeped into our prints, forming small puddles.

  “Here, Sally.” Justice bent over and scooped a handful of water. “Drink up, gal.” She lapped at his hand, then lowered her head to the puddle. “You’re a good ole girl.” Justice gently slapped her neck. “Good girl.”

  “Help me,” I said. “Is that ladder you boys built still here?”

  We hunted around until we found it. Odd as it was, it looked just like it did when we was youngins.

  Justice and me worked our way up the rungs to the cave openin. It was quiet as Momma’s house. To one side was three heaped-up piles of rocks. I didn’t have to guess that them rocks covered three bodies.

  I hollered into the cave, “Come on out. Momma sent me to get you. Come on.” My voice shook.

  Nothin. Silence.

  “Please come out. Please.” I commenced to sob ever word I spoke.

  After a minute or two, Justice turned me around. “They ain’t here, Worie. Let’s go.”

  It was like I had give birth myself and the infants died one by one. The pain was tormenting, and all I could do was wail, “Lord, Momma asked for help. I’m askin now.”

  We eased down the steep and rickety ladder. The times we’d played in that cave as children faded into sadness. Me and Justice both shed tears.

  When we reached the wagon, we couldn’t believe our eyes. I covered my mouth and gasped. Four children, three boys and a little girl, stood peerin over its edge.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SIX

  We got them youngins down to the cabin. Justice rounded the boys up and took them to the river to scrub them down. I took the girl. Her little face was scratched and her fingers and toes raw from climbin on rough rocks. She had one braid that run down her back and looked like a nest of mice lived there.

  I pumped some fresh water from the well and set her on Momma’s table. I’d managed to find a few bowls Calvin hadn’t busted and a rag or two, so I give her a drink and then started to wash her down. The child was skinny from hunger, and it was hard to tell her age. Maybe eleven or twelve.

  I took the extra shirt Bess had tucked in my bag and shook it straight. “You can wear this until I get your dress cleaned.”

  She never uttered a word. And I didn’t force none. Instead, I just went to tellin her about Abeleen and Doanie. I told her about T. J. messin his pants, and it dragged a smile outta her. It took a minute or two to get that braid loose, but when I did, long brownish-blonde locks spread across her back. I dipped water over her head and scrubbed her clean, all the time singin and talkin to her. My fingers was the best I could do to brush through her hair, but once it was clean not a piece hung on my knuckles.

  She was a beautiful child. Blue eyes the color of the sky and a dark tint to her skin.

  I slipped my shirt over her head, ripped a strip of cloth from the rag, and tied it around her waist. “There! Don’t you look pretty?”

  She run her hand down the material, then pulled it out from her body. “Much obliged,” she whispered.

  I felt all my emotions rush to my face. “Oh honey, you are welcome. So, so welcome.” I pulled her close and kissed her head. “You got a name?”

  “Tilda.”

  I took her chin between my fingers and held her face close. “Well, Miss Tilda, my name is Worie. Worie Dressar.”

  “Momma Dressar?”

  Her words took me back. I cocked my head and smiled. “No, Momma Dressar was my momma. She’s passed on.”

  “That’s why she quit comin with beans?” Tilda asked.

  Momma had cared for these children too. How many more that I wouldn’t know about?

  Justice hollered inside the cabin, “Can we come in? You girls decent?”

  I had to laugh. He made it sound like we was both just little youngins. “Come on in.”

  Justice led the boys inside. He stopped and knelt in front of Tilda. “My, my, what a lovely young woman.”

  Her face turned crimson as a sunset, and she pushed him away, takin her place with the boys.

  “Worie, this here is Elden, Rocky, and Titus. And before we come back to the house we checked the springhouse. They was plenty of smoked meat.” He laid a slice of pork the size of a rock on the table. “What do you say we eat a bite?”

  I stood there starin. Justice looked like a different man. Maybe I was just seein him through new eyes, but he was different.

  “And the barn is filled with hay. I’m sure we can rustle up enough blankets to sleep on tonight. I done started a fire in the pit in the barn.”

  I let out a guffaw. “Ain’t you just handier than butter on bread?” I pulled my knife from my boot and commenced to cut the meat. “You reckon you youngins could come up with some plates that ain’t broke?”

  They scurried around like a passel of squirrels.

  “Justice,” I said, “thank you for trustin me to go up to the cave.”

  “Right is right. Momma ain’t led us wrong yet.”

  The sun was dippin fast behind the knoll, so we eat and made our way to the barn. Justice had done good. His fire was blazin right nice, and he’d started a pot of coffee. Miss Bess would never let us go without coffee. I felt peace settle over the little ones as we bedded them down for the night. They’d managed alone for months. Strong, that is what they was. Strong.

  Justice pushed the barn door closed and slipped a shovel through the rope pulls to hold it shut. “It ain’t a bar, but it’ll keep out the critters.”

  The fire cracked and popped, and the smell of fresh-burned hickory filled the barn. Momma loved the smell of hickory. She swore by it when it come to smokin pork. For what it was worth, her smoked pork beat anybody’s on this side of the mountain.

  I poured Justice a second cup of coffee and set beside him. I rested my head on his shoulder. “Did you ever think this could happen?”

  He pondered before he spoke. That was Justice. One who always thought on his words before they spilled outta his mouth. “I’ve been dragged through the mud so much, by my own doin, that nothin really surprises me anymore.”

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  “Little sister, we got us a new family. Don’t reckon I’ll be goin anyplace.”

  Them words was a comfort to me. I’d allowed myself to feel alone for so long that it was right nice to know Justice was stayin with me.

  An owl hooted in the loft, takin me back a little. It hooted again and then there was a swoosh. The bird dropped from the loft, run plumb through with an arrow.

  “Looks like the gates of hell just opened.” Justice picked up the bird and tossed it to the side of the barn. “Wake them youngins up. Get ’em back behind them haystacks and dare them to make a sound.”

  I knew I’d felt Calvin’s eyes on me more times than I could count. There was just no catchin him.

  I roused the children and hid them behind the haystacks. “Shhh. You do Miss Worie a favor and be quiet as a mouse. Lay down and cover up with this blanket. I’m gonna lay some hay on you so you won’t be seen. Alright?”

  They nodded.

  “Lay on your belly and rest your head on your arms. That way you can breathe good. And if me or Justice tells you to run, you run outta here as hard and fast as you can run. Hear me?”

  Tilda squeezed my hand. “We’re right good at hidin.”

  I rubbed her cheek. “Yes you are. Now, roll over and be quiet.” I covered them, then shook handfuls of hay over them.

  Justice climbed to the loft and was peerin out the door when I heard another swoosh. An arrow breezed past him, stickin in the wall behind him. “Dang coward. He can’t come out in the open.”

  “Right now that coward is whizzin arrows through the loft. Don’t you reckon you oughta come down?” I hadn’t hardly got the words out before another arrow flew past, this time nickin Justice’s arm.

  I’d never seen rage like that on Justice before. He was a peacemaker. Never the one who dished out the mess. But it was like his body blowed up with air. His s
houlders hunched and his arms hung away from his body. Ever step he took down that loft ladder was hard, and when I tried to touch him, he pushed me away.

  “Worie, this ends tonight. You hear me? Stay outta the way.” He took me by the good arm and pulled me away from the door. He pointed his finger in my face. “Stay outta the way. Now ain’t the time to be stubborn.”

  With that, he stormed to the barn door, yanked the shovel out of the rope loops, and swung open the door. “Come on, Calvin. You always was a coward. Lettin other people fight your battles. Hung over folks like a buzzard, threatenin them. Come on, brother. Be a man.”

  That was when I heard laughin. Hard laughin. Calvin was howlin like an idiot. Laughin like he was drunk. He stepped outta the shadows and walked toward Justice. “Lookie at you, all rough and tough. You ain’t never one time had the guts to stand your ground.” He walked straight up to Justice.

  Justice never uttered a word, but he stepped one more step, nearly touchin toes with Calvin.

  “What’s a matter? Can’t you talk? Missin your hooch? She’s a mighty fine lady, ain’t she?”

  Justice towered over Calvin, a full head taller. He stared down at him, darin him to lift a hand. I lit a lantern and took out from the barn. Never in my days had I seen this look on Justice. He was ready to let loose.

  “Justice, he ain’t worth this. Look, Calvin, I got Momma’s pouch.”

  He cocked his head toward me. “You had it all along?”

  I dangled the pouch in the air. “They is two stones in here. Ely says they are rubies. I didn’t know what they was. I thought you was lookin for money, not stones.”

  Calvin took a step to his left, and Justice stepped too.

  “Don’t do this, Justice. Please. Calvin, here’s what you wanted. Take it. Leave. Don’t never come back.” I tossed the bag at his feet. I could see Justice’s fists balled tight. “Go on, Calvin. Take it. Just take it and leave,” I squalled.