Torrent Falls

by Jan Watson

  Soon they’d need to prepare apple butter and pear butter. They’d all ride to the orchards on the sled (wouldn’t Lilly like that?) to pick the fruit, then haul full gunnysacks back to the house. The two little families would eat well this winter and have food left over to give away to those in need. Copper was very glad for the presence of Dimmert and Cara just across the creek. Many hands made light work, as the saying went.

  Her mind ticked off a full list of chores as she tugged at Mazy’s full teats. The milk streamed into the bucket. This would be a good day to beat the rugs. Wasn’t Mam’s old metal beater with the wooden handle up in the loft? She thought it hung on a nail beside the ladder. And she needed to get Dimmert to help her clean the chimneys. They could do hers, then go do his while they were both still covered in soot. Nobody needed a house on fire this winter.

  It was much later when Copper and Faithful crossed the creek from Dimm and Cara’s house. She’d stopped on their porch to wash her hands with some soft soap and to splash water on her face. It did little more than streak the soot that clung to her tenaciously. She reminded herself to give Cara some lye soap. Her hair was tied up in a scarf hastily torn from an old flannel shirt, and her dress was one fit only for the ragbag. She looked like a tramp, but the chimneys were ready for the fires of winter.

  Oh my. Spears Russell and two little girls were on the porch. “Hey, Spears,” she called out. “You all okay?” Copper tucked her none-too-clean hands in her pockets.

  “Looks like you been cleaning chimneys,” Spears said in his honest way.

  Copper laughed. “How could you tell?”

  “It’s a job I been putting off, I can tell you. Listen, Lolly and I need to beg a favor.”

  “Sure. Is Lolly here?”

  “No, she stayed home with her mother and the baby. That’s the problem—her mother.”

  “Do you need me to come? Do I have time to clean up a bit?”

  “What would help us out is if you could mind the girls for a few days. Lolly’s mother is . . . well, let’s just say she’s got a bad case of nerves along with terrible headaches. Lolly wants to take her to see her brother and sister down in Tennessee; sometimes that helps.”

  “We’ll be happy to have the girls,” Copper said.

  Spears’s face radiated relief. “I sure do thank you. The way her mother’s acting and with the new baby and all, Lolly’s at her wit’s end.”

  “What about the horses and the farm? Do you need me to send Dimmert over?”

  “My brother is there. He’ll watch out for things.” Spears turned and hugged his little girls. “You mind Miz Copper,” he instructed.

  “Wait just a minute. I’ve got something that might help those headaches.” Copper hurried into the house and unlocked the doors to the cherry corner cupboard her grandfather had made. It was the sturdiest piece of furniture in the house and perfect for storing her herbs and medicines. She shook a portion of powder into a small medical envelope and secured it with an attached string. She wrote Salicylate of soda for nervous headache. Take prescribed amount every three hours for first day, then every six hours for a few days thereafter. After adding how many grains to dissolve in an ounce of water, she took the envelope out to Spears. “This and a change of scene should help,” she said.

  “I sure hope so,” Spears replied. “She’s feeling as rough as a cob today.”

  “You all take care, and don’t worry about the girls.”

  There was a full table for supper with Flossie and Janie Russell seated on either side of Lilly, who refused to get in her high chair. Cara and Dimmert were there as well. The cookstove wouldn’t draw, Cara related. After Dimm put the pipes back together, the house filled with smoke. They were letting it clear out before they tried to fix the stove.

  “Maybe the damper is stuck closed,” Copper said to Dimmert.

  “Probably,” he responded.

  Flossie and Janie ate tiny bites of potato and one pinto bean a piece. Their little blonde heads stayed tucked into their chins. Lilly chattered away, too busy talking to eat.

  “Girls,” Copper said, “do you want to take your plates to the porch? You can play picnic.”

  At their nods, she picked up the girls’ plates and fixed them a place outside.

  “Maybe they’ll eat better if we’re not watching,” she said when she returned to the table.

  “Lilly will talk their ears off,” Darcy said.

  Cara sighed wistfully. “I’d like to have three little girls like that. Wouldn’t you, Dimm?”

  Dimm blushed the color of the cherry cobbler he was eating.

  “Boys might be less trouble,” Copper teased. “You should try for half a dozen at least.”

  “Are you going to the quilting circle tomorrow, Cara?” Darcy asked.

  “I don’t know.” She glanced Dimm’s way. “There’s lots of work this time of year.”

  “We could probably spare half a day for quilting,” Copper said. “What do you think, Dimm?”

  “Surely,” he said.

  Copper smiled. She should talk to Cara about the subtle art of getting a man’s permission to do almost anything. They just liked to be asked and have their opinions matter.

  “Who’s up for a game of Mother, may I?” Darcy asked, pushing away from the table. “It will be fun to play while we got the extra little girls.”

  “You all go on,” Copper said. “I’ll just put the dishes to soak before I come out.”

  As Copper scraped plates into the slop bucket and poured water over the stoneware cups and silverware in the granite pan, she let her mind wander. Would John ever be home again? His letter and one from Alice had come in the post this afternoon. Alice’s letter was pessimistic, full of gloom and doom. Her words of anger at the judge who treated John’s case so poorly scorched the fine-milled stationery in Copper’s hand. John’s letter she was saving for later, after everyone was in bed. She was fearful she would break down from the disappointment it would surely bring. Self-serving tears were better shed in private.

  Soon little girls’ squeals filled the evening. Lilly, Janie, and Flossie were perfect companions. Lilly at nearly three followed the six-year-old Janie like a lost puppy. She and four-year-old Flossie were happy to go along with Janie’s stipulations about baby steps and backward steps and saying “Mother, may I?” in just the right tone.

  After Dimmert and Cara went back across the creek, when it was almost too dark to see, Darcy filled a pan with rainwater from the barrel under the eave and washed three little faces, six little hands, and six little feet.

  “But, Darcy,” Lilly whined, “we wanna play.”

  “Don’t fuss in front of your friends,” Copper warned. “You girls get into your nightclothes, and we’ll listen to the bug serenade.”

  “Yay,” Lilly crowed, nearly twirling herself off the edge of the porch. “Sarah Nade.”

  “Who’s Sarah?” Flossie asked, finally finding her tongue.

  “Go in with Darcy and get ready for bed, and then come back and find out,” Copper said as Darcy herded the girls through the door. “Don’t forget to clean your teeth.”

  “Oh, Mama!” Lilly said.

  “Oh, Mama,” Janie mimicked, causing Lilly to get the giggles.

  Copper fingered the letter in her apron pocket. It was good to have some word of John close to hand. Would she ever get a minute’s privacy to read it? Glad as she was to help the Russells out, the timing was not good. Her spirit was sore and afraid. But perhaps God sent the Russells’ need to distract her from her fear. She remembered her daddy saying, “Nothing makes a body feel better than doing for someone else.” He’d also say, “Leave it set” when she fretted over something. Paying attention to Daddy’s advice, she’d let the letter and her fears set for the moment. The crickets were tuning up their fiddles, and the locusts their kazoos. The night was full of strange music.

  Later, when the girls were finally tucked away, Copper and Darcy finished cleaning up the kitchen. They coul
d hear laughing chatter from the bedroom.

  “I don’t know about having three girls like Cara wants,” Darcy said. “Maybe boys would be better.”

  “My mam always told me boys were easier because they were too bold to sneak. You always knew when they were up to something. But with me . . . sometimes she wouldn’t catch me for days.”

  “Miz Copper,” Darcy said, pouring two cups of tea, “I cain’t imagine you doing something wrong.”

  “My stepmother would tell you differently. Let’s take our cups back outside. Maybe if the girls don’t hear us they’ll drift off.”

  Their rockers squeaked companionably. The lantern cast a golden glow. “How many children do you want?” Copper asked.

  Darcy blew on her tea. She didn’t answer for the longest time. Copper thought she was studying the question. As if a woman had much choice. Nursing for as long as possible was the only hope of spacing babies. No wonder so many women died young.

  “Only as many as I can take good care of,” Darcy finally said. “Some of the young’uns nearly starved before Mammaw took us in, and still times was lean.” She took a bite of the blueberry muffin she and Copper shared. A dribble of butter slid down her chin. “Then God sent me and Dimmert to you. I been full as a tick ever since.”

  “I’m thankful He did. What would I have done without the two of you?”

  “How about you? How many young’uns would you pick?”

  Copper let go of worry long enough to dream. “I’d like a boy or two. My brothers were such fun. And one more daughter. That seems like a doable number, don’t you think?”

  Darcy counted fingers. “Four? Piece of cake. Or maybe blueberry muffin.”

  “Darcy Whitt, you’re a sight.”

  “A sleepy sight.” Darcy yawned. “I’m going in. Want me to take the lantern?”

  “No, I’ll sit here for a minute. It’s so nice and quiet, and I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” Copper said. “Sleep well.”

  She waited a good fifteen minutes before she slipped the letter from her pocket. A moth beat its wings against the glass lantern. A hoot owl called to its mate. Copper shivered in her lightweight gown; she pulled a shawl from the back of the chair across her arms, then opened the envelope. John’s bold and handsome scrawl made her smile. He was left-handed and held his pen in an awkward upside-down position to write. She’d watched him many times as children when they learned their lessons together at Mam’s kitchen table.

  Leaning toward the lantern, Copper unfolded the lined tablet paper and began to read.

  Dear Copper,

  It is with some hope I write to you this dark evening from Lexington. Today we had a terrible storm that ripped the roof from the front part of Mrs. Archesson’s boardinghouse. Everyone is fine except for one old lady who got banged up some and also lost her ear trumpet. Now she can’t hear it thunder, as the saying goes.

  I was in my room before the storm hit, looking at the license I signed when I foolishly tied myself to Remy Riddle. Copper, here’s the hope: Remy didn’t sign the thing. It looked like a signature until I studied it under a magnifier; then I saw it was just R-scribble, R-scribble. I take it Remy can’t write, except for Rs! Nor read. I reckon she was too proud to ask for help that day. And am I glad she was.

  Even though Judge Ledbetter practically threw me out of court the first time my case was presented, Benton Upchurch thinks we stand a good chance of getting another hearing!

  I hurried on over to the Upchurches’ as soon after the storm today as possible. We moved all the old ladies into the old folks’ home until the roof is repaired. They are not happy, I can tell you. Mrs. Archesson and Robert are staying in the kitchen part of the house. Tommy, Andy, and me are baching it in the washhouse.

  Anyhow, as I was saying, Benton thinks the judge will have to look at this license and make a new ruling one way or the other. It will be a couple of weeks before we can get on the docket. That’s some lawyerly term. I think it means the judge’s calendar.

  If words were drops of cool springwater, there wouldn’t be enough to say how bad I miss you and Lilly and Faithful. I stay parched all the time.

  I don’t know if it is proper to say I love you when we’re not sure how all this is going to go, but I do and I can’t help but tell you. Wait for me.

  Yours faithfully,

  John

  Copper sighed. More waiting. Oh, well. I’m good at that. Faithful nosed Copper’s arm. She stroked the dog’s bony head and velvet ears. “He’ll be home soon, girl. I just know it.”

  It was a pretty time of the year to be traveling. The days were as warm as bathwater, but at sundown a chill set in. Winter was hiding its cold face until fall played out. John had ridden over rolling hills and puny knobs until he was at the foothills of the mountains. “It won’t be much longer now,” he told the horse as he dismounted to set up camp. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

  After walking a bit to stretch his legs, he shot a squirrel and dressed it for his supper. Soon the smell of fresh meat frying and coffee boiling over the campfire made his stomach growl. He had to say he liked these solitary times. If he’d lived in the earlier days, maybe he could have been like Daniel Boone or Simon Kenton, great men who helped to settle the wild land of Kentucky.

  Man, John thought as he settled back, his granite cup full of black coffee, if these mountains are this awesome now, what must they have been like in ol’ Daniel’s time? Buffalo so thick you couldn’t count them, trees even thicker. It’s a shame how fast things are changing. Trees cut down to make way for roads, and soon enough rails will be laid and trains will come chugging right through the mountains. He shook his head to think on it. They oughta put a fence around these hills and only let in the folks who want to live in peace and beauty.

  He was happy to be shaking the dust of Fayette County from his boots, that’s for sure. No more city living for him. The only other thing he’d liked to have done before he left was finish Mrs. Archesson’s washhouse. Once the roof on the house was replaced, he’d started right in on the old stone building. It was mostly done though, and some men from Mrs. Archesson’s church had volunteered to finish it under the direction of Tommy. John had left money for supplies.

  Well, there might be one more little thing he’d liked to have done before he left Lexington. He’d have liked to pop that Judge Ledbetter in the jaw. He was one sanctimonious character.

  Judge Ledbetter’s words came back as strong as the coffee John sipped. He wore these funny-looking half-glasses that kept sliding down his long nose while he studied the document Benton Upchurch had given him. At least they were in the judge’s private chamber and not in court with all the riffraff and ne’er-do-wells when the judge scolded John.

  First Judge Ledbetter took off his little ladylike glasses; then he pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger, as if John’s business gave him a headache. He folded his arms over his black-robed chest and heaved a judgmental sigh. “You hill people are stupid as geese. You’ve come all this way, and you’ve taken the court’s valuable time to have me annul a nonbinding union.”

  The judge waved the license in the air. “This, sir, is a bunch of hogwash. There’s only one witness—a state-sanctioned marriage takes two—and this is not a legal signature.”

  John thought he might fall to the floor his relief was so great. At the time he didn’t care what came out of the judge’s mouth as long as he was set free. Anger didn’t come until much later. He was well on his way home to Troublesome when the judge’s parting words hit him like a slimy spitball right between the eyes. “How many other folks are living and breeding up in those hollows not married in the eyes of God or man?”

  Now as John sat in front of a crackling fire, he figured he could let Judge Ledbetter’s words sour in his belly like clabbered milk or he could let it go. Suddenly laughter rolled up his throat and boomed from his mouth. He laughed so hard
he spilled his coffee and scared his horse. What did it matter as long as he had Copper? Other than a private word with Brother Jasper, he’d keep the judge’s remarks to himself.

  Copper waited and watched. Surely John would be home today or Mr. Bradley would bring a letter and she would know he wasn’t coming. Her heart told her it would be good news—that God would answer her prayers. She longed for it to be so. She looked to the mountains as if they could answer. On the porch behind her, Lilly Gray played dollies with Janie and Flossie. Darcy churned butter. Cara embroidered a pillow slip.

  Only Faithful stood watch with her. Copper put out a hand to pat her loyal companion and felt the dog tremble. Then Faithful was off and running out beyond the barn and up the road. Shading her eyes, Copper saw a swirl of dust in the distance. Her heart beat fast. Could it be?

  And then John was handing off his horse to Dimmert. She thought to run to him but her knees gave way, and instead she sat in the rocker Darcy pushed behind her.

  “Come, girls,” she heard Cara say. “Let’s go inside.”

  Faithful ran back and forth between them with her tongue hanging out. John walked across the yard as if they had all the time in the world, and from his smile Copper guessed they did.

  “Come and sit a spell,” Copper said as he reached the steps.

  John pulled the other rocking chair up close to hers. He sat and stretched his long legs out, then reached for her hand. “Don’t mind if I do, sweet girl. Don’t mind if I do.”

  Jan Watson, award-winning author of eight historical novels, is a retired registered nurse. Chosen Best Kentucky Author of 2012 by Kentucky Living magazine, Jan also won the 2004 Christian Writers Guild Operation First Novel contest and took second place in the 2006 Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award contest sponsored by the Faith, Hope, and Love Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. Troublesome Creek was also a nominee for the Kentucky Literary Awards in 2006. Willow Springs was selected for Library Journal’s Best Genre Fiction category. Jan lives in Lexington, Kentucky, near her three sons and daughter-in-law.