"Mr. Best, I cannot thank you enough for coming to my aid this afternoon."
"Don't think a thing about it, boy. Why I couldn't let Meggie's cooking kill ye dead."
The old man chuckled at his daughter's expense and all three men glanced in her direction.
"Although I did hear that you tried stealing a kiss, so maybe you paid your due."
Roe flushed slightly and cleared his throat.
"And don't give that another thought neither. If more fellers had tried kissing my Meggie, maybe she'd be cooking for some other man today and her brother and I would be spared the misery."
Jesse laughed heartily at his father's joke. Roe managed a wan smile. Meggie, however, was not amused. She set the now heavily smoking black kettle on the hearth with a loud and disgusted bang and then turned her back on them.
The old man winked playfully at Roe.
"And don't you be callin' me Mr. Best like I'm some shoe peddler from St. Louis," he continued. "Just call me Onery like everyone else what knows me."
"Onery?" Roe had never heard such a name.
The old man chuckled again. "Yep, that's what they calls me. My name's Henry. Henry Best. But my mama was kindy Frenchy-fied and the way she said Henry sounded kindy like Onery. And since I was o'nery from the day I's borned, folks just took to calling me that."
"Onery," Roe said, smiling with genuine good humor. "Please just call me Roe, like Jesse does. It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir." He offered his hand in a gesture of polished politeness.
A disapproving huff could be heard coming from the far side of the room.
Best took his hand. "Even if you had to be nearly poisoned to do it?"
Meggie's huff turned to a cry of fury as she turned to face the men at the table, the long wooden serving spoon held in front of her threateningly like a weapon.
"Now Meggie-gal," Onery said, smiling. "Don't you be a-getting riled now. It's not good to show off your temper to your new beau."
"My new beau! I wouldn't have that mangy, two-toed varmint a-calling on me!" she snapped.
Roe was more amused than insulted by Meggie's words, but didn't like the inference that he might be calling upon her. He quickly sought to change the subject.
"I would like to apologize, Onery, for my dreadful manners," he said to the old man.
"What dreadful manners is that?" her father asked.
"Why, why upsetting your daughter and becoming ill in your house when I've hardly made your acquaintance."
Onery just chuckled.
"It weren't your fault, Roe," Jesse piped in eagerly. "It was Meggie. She gets upset with me a lot, too. And she ain't much for cooking. Her piccalilli would give an ox a bellyache."
"Jesse!" The word was spoken shrilly. Jesse held up his hands as if fearing his sister was going to use that spoon on him.
Roe didn't say another word. He just kept his eyes on his broth and hoped for a change of subject. Inexplicably, he allowed his gaze to drop to the floor beneath Meggie to spy the long bare feet that he remembered. Despite everything he'd been through Roe found the sight strangely alluring.
Mr. Best chuckled loudly. "Now, children, don't you get in a spat over this." He smiled at Roe. "Got to have a sense of fun about ye, boy, if ye live in the Ozarks. Mother Nature is having a joke on us folks near about all the time. And don't mind these younguns of mine," Onery continued. "Jesse just says whatever comes to his fool head and Meggie's a dreamy sort and a bit sensitive about her cooking."
"Pa!" Meggie protested.
"Meggie, show some manners with our guest. And get some victuals on the table 'fore I faint to the floor with hunger. Jesse, take your seat there by your new friend."
Onery chuckled at Meggie's dismay and smiled companionably at Roe. "We're always glad to have company down our way. And my Meggie ain't had a gentleman caller in a month of Sundays."
Meggie slammed the cornbread skillet on the table with a loud thump. "He's not calling on me."
Roe found himself amused with the exasperation in her voice. The joke was a good one, but he wanted to make sure the old man didn't get to thinking that perhaps there was some truth to it. "Did Jesse or Meggie tell you about my mission?"
"Mission? Nope, neither of these children said one word. You a preachin' man, Roe?"
"It's not that kind of mission," Meggie snapped. She slapped a huge hunk of cornbread on the table in front of the men's plates. Roe reached for his and flinched when his blistered hand tore a piece off the hot loaf.
"What's ailing you?" Onery reached over and grasped the young man's hand. Pulling off the bandage, he gazed with worry at the raw, red blisters he found on the palm.
"Lord, boy, you sure got your hands in a mess. What'd you do, slip a rope?"
Roe looked down at his hands. The pain in his stomach had temporarily made him forget their sting.
"It's nothing," he answered.
"Meggie made him split cordwood for his meal," Jesse said.
"What?" Best's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Tattletale!" Meggie snapped, glaring at her brother, a hot flush of color rising in her cheekbones. "And I didn't make him. He said he would."
Best glared at his daughter. "Mr. Farley, I don't know what to say. This is not the way that mountain folk treat visitors."
"Remember, my name's Roe, and please, don't give these blisters another thought," Roe insisted. "It's as your daughter says, I wanted to do something to help. Unfortunately, I'm not accustomed to chopping wood. I'm sure they'll be healed very soon. And Miss Best has already put some salve on them."
"That's what they was doing when Roe kissed her," Jesse volunteered with some pride in his understanding of the situation.
"I swear, Mr. Best, I wasn't trying—"
"Onery, boy, call me Onery." Best continued to eye his daughter with disappointment as she set the rest of the food on the table and took her place across from Roe.
"You're a city man, a one-eyed dog could see that a mile away," he said. "You'll toughen up a bit in time and your hands'll be all the better for the blisters on 'em now."
Turning to Meggie, the old man shook his head. "Now you, little gal, you shouldn't put your new beau to work. It'll turn a feller off you quicker than milk'll sour."
"He's not my—" she began uselessly. Her father loved to tease.
"I'm proud Meggie's done put salve on your blisters, Roe," Onery continued. "She's right good at nursing and that's a fact."
Meggie flushed slightly at the unexpected praise.
"Still," the old man continued. "This family owes you an apology and I'll be giving it to you now."
Roe shrugged and glanced down at his hands with unconcern. "Apology accepted. Believe me there is no harm done."
"There certainly is harm done and this family is obliged to make it up to you."
Onery was looking directly and sternly at Meggie, implying that it was she who ought to be doing the making up.
Less than enthusiastically, Meggie reached across the table and took Roe's hand in her own.
Roe felt her tremble slightly at the touch. A strange fluttery feeling expanded in his abdomen. He tried to attribute it to the bad piccalilli, but it was the taste of her lips that he recalled.
"The salve's purt-near healed him up already," she said. "It ain't our fault that the man ain't accustomed to working."
"It's 'cause he's a scholar, Meggie," Jesse explained proudly with emphasis on the new word he'd learned. "Just like I tole you. He's come from a college named Hazard."
Onery Best looked at his guest keenly. "Kentucky? My wife's folks got family in Hazard County, Kentucky."
"No, not Hazard, Harvard," Roe correctly quietly. "It's in Massachusetts, the Bay State."
"The Bay State? Woo-eee, Lordy, you've come one fer piece. Your people from there?"
"My people?"
"Your family."
"Oh, actually I don't have much family anymore. Just some cousins on the maternal side. Th
ey live in Philadelphia. I have a fellowship from Harvard."
"What's fellowship?" Jesse asked.
"It sounds like some kindy religious fal-de-ral," Onery said.
"No, not at all. The college supports my efforts to collect and catalogue folk songs of Celtic origin. I believe I will find some here in the Ozarks."
"What's folk songs?"
"Why it's just music," he said. "The music of the people. The kind of music you play, Jesse. Do you play music, too, Mr. Best?"
Jesse grinned proudly and spoke up before his father could. "It was Pa what taught me to play fiddle. I'm the best around these parts now. Even better than Pa and he used to play itinerant for a living."
Roe's eyes widened with interest. "I'd be very interested to hear both of you. It's my conjecture, and I hope on this mission to prove it, that many of the ballads and play-party songs that are popular here can be traced directly to songs in the highlands of Britain and Ireland. These songs and their history are already lost in their native lands, through wars and assimilation. But since the Ozarks are so remote, the songs may still be sung. If they are to be saved at all, they must be saved by those of us in the current generation. Folkways are passing quickly and we must document all that we can."
Onery's brow furrowed. "And you think me and Jesse and the folks 'round here can help you document these old songs?"
"Yes, sir, I do."
"Well, it seems to me—"
"There is no playing nor singing when food's on the table," Meggie interrupted sternly. "That's just plain bad manners." She was as intrigued as her father and brother, but deliberately managed to break the spell that Roe's words cast.
Onery Best nodded in agreement. "That's true. The table's no place for music," he said. "But when Roe here's got some soup in his belly and the rest of us have eaten our fill, they'll be time for visiting and singing and the like."
Roe smiled. "I'd appreciate that, Onery. It would be a great help to me."
"A help you say?" Onery grinned big and broad. "Well, it's just like I tole you, this family owes you some making up. If just playing some good music and singing some songs be helping you, it seems like a right smart idea to me."
Jesse, Roe, and Onery were all smiling.
Meggie was not. Helping J. Monroe Farley document his folk songs would mean his continued presence at the cabin. And Meggie wanted the man as far away from her and her family as earthly possible. Farley was a music man like her father and brother. She knew all about men like that. Playing a couple of tunes could turn into a day-long concert. Once the music was started and the men were playing, it was hard to get them back to the plow.
Meggie was not musical. She loved music and would catch herself singing a tune now and again. But it would never be for her the excuse for wasting a day's work that it was for them.
Clearly Roe Farley was to stay for a good long while. Meggie didn't want that. She'd embarrassed herself and felt humiliated. But worse, she still felt drawn to the dark-haired city man. It was only force of will that kept her at her distance now. And she didn't know how long her will could hold out.
"Jesse, say grace if you will," Meggie ordered.
The three men looked at her startled. They were already halfway finished with their meal and now she was calling for them to pray over it.
Onery cleared his throat and lay his cornbread back on the table. "Guess we did forget that."
Roe bowed his head politely, but his heart was pounding. He couldn't think of the prayer or the food or his still aching stomach. After all these months of hope and planning, he'd finally stumbled onto this unlikely family of authentic Ozark musicians. And they seemed to welcome him.
He glanced across the table at Meggie Best. Well, her father and brother had welcomed him. Her head was bowed and slightly turned in her brother's direction. Her blue-gray eyes were bright with love and pride as she gazed at Jesse. The sight was almost startling. Earlier that afternoon he'd thought her pretty. But with that gentle, caring tenderness upon her face, she was beautiful. Roe moved slightly, making her glance at him. Unfortunately, when those eyes did look his way they were wary and disapproving.
Onery and Jesse might be eager to help him prove his premise, but Meggie was only eager to see him gone from this place. She'd sure changed her tune since she'd dropped into his lap that afternoon. Then she'd been as sweet as sugar candy. And soft and warm as a feather bed. Now, it was almost easy to believe that she'd tried to poison him.
"Dear Lord in heaven," Jesse said beside him. "We thank you for food to eat and all the world and life so sweet. We thank you for the stars above and your eternal grace and love."
The words came out by rote in a singsong fashion. Then the young man hesitated. "And thank you, God, fer my frien' Roe. I like him."
Chapter Six
The bear broth was not the best soup that Roe had ever tasted. But then, it had seemed to ease his stomach. And he didn't think he'd been poisoned, so he supposed that could be considered success. The cornbread was more than half palatable and Roe found himself eating more heartily than he expected.
"So tell me about your people." Onery Best interrupted his thoughts.
"About them?"
"Where they come from, what they do. That sorta thing."
"Oh." Roe nodded, understanding. Apparently things were not so different in the hills than in fine houses on the Eastern Seaboard. All his life he'd been J. Monroe Farley, a scholar with few relevant family connections. It was like a mark he wore upon his forehead or a millstone he wore around his neck.
From the earliest days of his memory he'd been alone. When both his parents were still living, he was sent away to schools. His mother was in frail health and his father, an ambitious businessman, disliked having a child underfoot. By the time he was truly alone in the world, he was almost accustomed to it. His mother's cousins in Philadelphia had shown some inclination of taking him in. But by then, Roe was more inclined to simply lead his own life.
Presently, he was young and healthy and without attachments. He saw absolutely no reason to throw that away anytime soon. Music and history were his family and his life as well as a worthy pursuit. Worthy enough to be a life within itself for a man without family.
But even here, now on the top of this God-only-knows mountain, taking dinner with a gray-bearded Ozarker, his simpleminded son, and his barefoot daughter, here, too, his antecedents deserved consideration.
"My family is of English extraction from the states of Pennsylvania and New York," he said evenly. 'The Farleys were here prior to the Revolutionary War. My own father read law in his own legal firm on Wall Street in New York City," he said. "He was a Harvard graduate, as was my grandfather."
"Lawyers?" Onery asked.
"Yes, Harvard lawyers, for generations."
That fact alone was usually enough to reassure the most persnickety society matron.
Roe smiled warmly, assuming his host was dutifully impressed. But when he looked at Onery, he saw that the older man's forehead was furrowed thoughtfully and his bright blue eyes, shaded by thick silver-tinged eyebrows, turned their gaze to Meggie, his expression thoughtful.
Roe cleared his throat nervously. "My mother's side of the family are old Philadelphia. Came over with William Penn and all that sort of thing. They are very severe Yankee blue bloods, of course."
"Yankees?"
"Yes, of course."
Onery shook his head. "It's best not say another word about this, boy," he whispered. "Folks around here still don't take the War of Secession very easylike."
Roe's eyes widened. He thought Onery was making a little joke. But he appeared totally serious.
"I don't hold nothing like that agin a fellow," Onery continued with grave sincerity. "A fellow cain't be blamed for the family what birthed him. But around here, folks has got peculiar ideas about both lawyers and Yankees."
Shaking his head again, the old man made eye contact with his daughter as if making a pact.
> "We won't say nothing about that, son. Claiming to be a Yankee lawyer ain't going to gain you too many friends."
Strangely, Roe felt stung by the criticism. "I wasn't actually looking for friendships," he replied.
"Well, if you're looking to get folks to sing and play songs for you, you'd best be looking for friends. Ain't nobody else going to leastwise."
"That's right!" Jesse said as he slapped his hand loudly on the table. "That's it exactly." He turned his smiling face to Roe. "You're my frien', folks'll like ye 'cause they like me. Why, this is a lucky day for both of us. I was cheered to get a frien' of mine own. Now, I'm cheered to be a frien' to you 'cause you need one."
"Jesse's talking practically like he's got good sense," Onery agreed. "We'll take you along with us to the church and the Literaries and such. If you're a friend of ours, you'll be welcome. Afore you know it, you'll have ever' song in the hills for your own."
Roe was thoughtful for a moment. They were right, if he intended to make headway here he needed this family. Nervously he glanced in Meggie's direction. It wasn't the best situation here after the fiasco with the young woman, but Roe believed he could win her over. If Jesse and Onery Best were the local musicians, he needed to be with them. 'That's wonderful of you, Onery," he said. "I am eager to get started."
Onery chuckled and gave Roe a teasing wink. "Aw, it's the least we can do for the feller what's calling on Meggie."
"He's not calling on me," Meggie ground out through clenched teeth.
Onery roared with laughter.
Roe pulled nervously once more on his collar. The joke about being Meggie's beau was wearing a little thin. "Is there a rooming house somewhere near here?"
"What do you need a rooming house for?" Onery asked.
"I'll need a place to stay."
"Why, you can stay here," Onery told him. "You can sleep up in the loft with Jesse."
"Oh, I couldn't impose."
"They's room in the loft," the older man said. "I sleep in that bed there in the corner and Meggie fixes herself a pallet on the floor. There ain't no impose about it. And there ain't no rooming house neither. In Marrying Stone you got to stay with somebody and we're inviting you to stay with us."
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