by Ryan Scott
Chapter 7
With time running out at their last home, the women worked hard to make their “new home” livable, sweeping away cobwebs, patching the windows with cardboard, beating the dust from the furniture, and scouring the entire house with bleach:, but their provisions were running low.
. Francis reported, “Almost all the food from my last place is gone; even those nuts we found saved in the attic by squirrels.”
Ella, still sweating from the cleaning, replied, “We could beg for food, but I would be mortified to do that.”
Francis looked grim, saying, “we might have to do that if we run out of food.”
Ella clicked her tongue. “In the meantime, I think I’ll try to trap our food like the way James taught me when I was a kid. If I’m lucky, we’ll have roast quail tonight; but I wish we had a shotgun."
After searching in the barn, Ella found a heavy wooden box, a short stick, a ball of twine and a handful of stale oats. Good! Now I have what I need for a trap, she thought triumphantly.
She walked stealthily to the stand of wild dill where she found tracks in the dust. Quickly, she covered them with oats, propped the box over the bait with the stick and tied the twine to the stick. Then she crouched behind a bush, ready to spring the trap, anxiously holding the string in her hand.
After a few minutes, a top-knotted cock hopped up to the box, but it warily refused to go any closer. She tried to will the bird with her mind, thinking, “Come on you, get under there.
The sudden throb of a twelve cylinder engine frightened the bird away. She slapped her knee and cursed, “! Shit! I almost had that God Damn bird.”
A midnight blue Packard Parked in her Yard. When a well-dressed man got out of the car, she immediately recognized him and yelled, “Hi Mr. Carlini, What brings you here?"
He waved. "Hello Ella. What are you doing with that contraption?"
"I’m trying to trap quail, but I guess they’re too smart for me."
"Well, there's more than one way to get a bird. Where's your big boy?"
She hesitated, like the wary quail, thinking, maybe he was sent by my damn husband. Finally, she replied, "Thank you for asking, Mr. Carlini. How did you know I was here?"
He raised his hand nonchalantly and replied, "Oh you know; word gets around. I brought something for you and your mother."
His driver unlocked the trunk and withdrew a gun. She caught her breath, feeling scared, but Mr. Carlini took the weapon from the chauffeur and said, "This is an old .410 shotgun, but it still works. There's also a box of shells. You might have more luck putting quail on your table with this gun instead of that old box."
She released her breath. “Mr. Carlini I don't know how to thank you, you must read minds. Only this morning we were talking about needing a gun. Will you teach me how to use it?"
"Yes, but first, I have something else," he replied and reached into the trunk, withdrawing a fishing pole and tackle box. “This is for you,” he said.
Her mouth dropped. "Thank you so much, Mr. Carlini, I don't know what to say."
"Wait. There's more," he replied, motioning to his chauffeur who lifted a fifty-pound sack of potatoes from the trunk. Grunting from the effort, the driver asked, "Where would you like me to put these potatoes, Ma'am?"
She ran her fingers through her hair, saying, "Please put them in the kitchen. Oh, Mr. Carlini! We've been so worried about food."
When Frances came out of the house, Ella shouted, "Look Mama! Mr. Carlini brought those potatoes and a gun and a fishing pole."
As Francis held the door open for the chauffeur, she exclaimed "Lands sakes Julius; those things are life savers. God bless you!"
"Think nothing about it, Mrs. Schultz. I also have arranged with a neighbor to bring fresh milk every other day, “he said and then turned to Ella, saying, “Now, I’m going to show you how to use that shotgun."
After he broke the gun open, he inserted a shell into the chamber, saying, "You load it like this. Now, I’m going to show you how to shoot.” Come and we'll get some quail."
She followed him quietly to the brushy area where the quail were happily chirping. Suddenly, he stopped, put the gun to his shoulder and fired.
"Oh Mr. Carlini you got three of them!" she shouted, running to grab the flopping birds.
He nodded with satisfaction as he ejected the empty shell and said, "When you're hunting, I suggest you wait until you have at least two birds lined up in a row before you fire. The sportsmen object. They like to kill them in the air, one at a time, but it's all right to change the rules in hard times. This shotgun can also kill a deer at close range. Sometimes they come around the house late at night. It's against the law to hunt after sundown, especially out of season, but keeping alive is more important, if you get my drift. Now it's your turn."
She fired twice, missing on her first try but hit a bird with her second shot.
When they returned to the house, she held the quail up by their feet, triumphantly shouting, "Look, Mama. He got three of them with one shot."
Frances broke into a smile. "Julius, now that we have something to offer, won't you stay for dinner?"
He held up his hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Schultz, I can't, but I'll return soon to see how you're doing."
While he was climbing in his Packard, Little Rico came out of the house, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Mr. Carlini studied him for several moments and then said, “Ella, keep that shotgun away from that boy. Remember, it's not his fault that Rico is his father."
When their benefactor left, Ella and her mother sat on the porch watching the sunset spread hues of red and orange. Ella was smoking a cigarette from her dwindling supply of tobacco while Francis rolled a cylinder of prescription marijuana. Ella asked, “Mama what’s brewing with Mr. Carlini and all the help?"
After she inhaled a puff of marijuana, she replied, “Oh, I think he’s just being clannish. He knows Little Rico’s half Italian and he wants to take care of him.”
Ella blew a smoke ring and watched it dissolve, saying, “Mr. Carlini's an attractive bachelor with lots of money. Maybe you should set your sights on him."
Francis laughed uproariously. "Lands sakes! At my age, what would I do with a man? Maybe you’re the one he's interested in."
Ella stood up and stretched, replying, "Forget that!”
When they heard a strange-looking vehicle with a homemade flatbed extending far beyond the rear bumper laboring up their road, they looked up. The truck shuddered to a stop and a short round man bounced from the cab. "I’m a your neighbor, Luigi Campo,” he announced, executing a courtly bow. “Mr. Carlini, he sent me. I've got to milk and an eggs and a cheese. The missus she sends an onions and tomatoes and the Swiss chard from her garden."
Frances stood up, saying, "How do you do, Mr. Campo. My name is Mrs. Schultz. This is my daughter, Ella, and my grandson, Rico. Mr. Carlini said someone would bring us milk, but I didn't expect all this food."
"Just a call me Luigi. Mr. Carlini, you know a he helped out a little also," he said, grinning a gap-tooth smile as he rubbed his thumb and finger together. "But, I'm a glad to do what I can do anyway."
He walked to the rear of his truck and picked up a box of vegetables. Ella hurriedly said, “Oh Luigi, let me help you."
He handed her a gallon of milk, replying, "You can take this. I’m a carry the rest."
Frances held the screen door open for the farmer, saying, “Thank you so much Luigi. We'll certainly have a feast tonight. Please thank your wife for the vegetables."
"I’m a tell her. I’m a come a back in two days.”
That evening, Ella and her mother eagerly prepared dinner, cooking Swiss chard; roasted quail seasoned with wild dill and baked potatoes stuffed with cheese. After they ate their meal, Ella pushed back from the table and patted her stomach, saying, "Mama that dinner was better than any meal we could buy at a ritzy restaurant. All we need now is coffee."
"Lands sakes, yes, a cup of coffee
would certainly hit the spot! Now, I’m going to put this boy to bed. He looks half asleep."
After her mother left, Ella looked around the old fashioned kitchen made soft by candlelight. As she leaned back in her chair, she thought, It was only a week ago that we were worrying about survival, but now we have a roof over our heads and I’m stuffed with yummy food. Tomorrow we’re going to see about catching fish. Maybe we’ll survive after all!