Hunter’s Moon

by Norah Hess

  Sarie was in the back room bathing. As she rubbed scented soap over her body, an Indian woman came in with an armload of towels. At one time she had been Molly's number one drawing card. A slim, dark beauty, her wild passionate nature had drawn the men nightly. But one night two drunken hill men had fought over her with drawn knives. In the ensuing brawl, she had been accidentally slashed across the face. She was left with a ragged red scar running the length of one cheek and ending at the corner of her mouth. Her lip was pulled up so that she wore a permanent half smile.

  But Molly had kept her on, and her firm young body had continued to pull its own share of the men into the establishment. But as she grew older, she had become fat, and fewer and fewer men asked for her.

  But Molly, big hearted and kind, wouldn't turn her out. She had kept her for other duties. She now waited on the younger women and served food and drink to the customers while they waited their turn.

  When her duties at the house were finished, she went to the slab hovel, directly behind Molly's, where she lived with Jim Buck. Jim Buck drank up every penny she made and had once tried to coax the tavern's derelicts to enjoy her—at a price. Molly had heard about it, and in a terrible anger, beat him with a piece of stove wood. Jim Buck had spent two weeks in bed with a sore back.

  Sarie wondered if she would end up the same way. She decided that after Dorie was safely settled, she would set aside the greater part of her earnings against the day she would no longer work.

  Mike arrived around six o'clock and spent the night with her.

  When the door opened and his broad frame filled its opening, Sarie smiled and ran to him. "Mike, I didn't look for you tonight."

  He grinned. "Why not, Sarie?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe you'd be stickin' closer to your own hearth these days," she teased.

  He didn't answer until she had poured him a drink and perched herself on the arm of his chair. Then, "With that slut in my home, I'll be farther away from my hearth than I ever was."

  "Why in heaven's name, Mike, did you ever bring her into your house if you feel that way about her?"

  "I have my reasons, Sarie, and you'll have to let it go at that."

  His tone was so final that she dropped the subject. It was enough to have him with her. She didn't mind how many Megs he took home as long as he continued to see her.

  There was only one woman who could keep him away from her, she knew, and hopefully her marriage to Jarvis would take care of that possibility.

  Mike extended a hand to the thin straps of her red dress. "Let's think of pleasanter things. I didn't come here to talk about Meg."

  Later, as he lay sleeping, his head heavy on Sarie's shoulder, she thought about going to Darcey Stevens and telling her of the love this rough hill man had for her and to make her understand that he was worth ten of Jarvis.

  But it occurred to her that maybe Darcey wasn't worthy of Mike. Maybe he'd be better off without her.

  Holding him closer, she whispered in the dark, "I'll stay out of it. It will work out in its own good time."

  CHAPTER 19

  Summer swept in with a vengeance, and the settlers were busy from first light until dusk. When Simon had said, "We've had a lazy winter and now it's time to get busy," he had meant it literally. He worked tirelessly, widening the fields and burning off trees that Josh had felled the year before.

  In the older, settled fields, he planted corn, wheat, potatoes, and turnips as well as a small plot of flax for Cindy's spinning wheel.

  And although the sweat poured down his face and neck, he was in his element. He loved every minute of it.

  Darcey and Cindy stood by, anxious to help if the load became too much. They were busy also, planting and tending the large garden patch. Cindy had brought her beloved flower seeds with her, and already many were in bloom. The cabin was beginning to look like a page out of a storybook.

  The long grape arbor was full, and Cindy liked to sit beneath its shade as she peeled potatoes or snapped green beans. Often in the early evening she sat there catching the cool breeze from the river. She would dwell on their future, and it was then that she finally admitted to herself that she was glad they had come.

  She and Darcey had benefited from their new environment, she thought. She had trimmed down to the youthful figure she had enjoyed in the days that Simon had courted her. Darcey had become as brown as a berry, and her white hair was startling against the dark skin.

  But the blisters on Darcey's hands had become callouses, and Cindy was always after her to use the creams and lotions she had concocted. "Because we live in a heathen country," she would scold, "don't mean that we have to look like one. There's always someone around to notice them things."

  But Darcey would merely laugh. "Cindy I never felt better in my life, and my skin has never looked better."

  Cindy sniffed and grumpily agreed.

  One evening in her usual bluntness, Cindy asked, "Is that stud Jarvis coming for supper tonight?"

  Darcey didn't answer, knowing it would only lead to an argument. Shortly after the night that Mike took Meg home she promised to marry Jarvis. She knew that she had been foolish—she had been in a jealous rage—but she felt she had to go through with it. From then on, Cindy never missed a chance to put Jarvis in a bad light.

  She and Simon were very bitter about her coming marriage, and Darcey knew that Cindy would never become reconciled to it. Cindy disliked Jarvis intensely and nothing would change her mind.

  One evening she told Darcey why she didn't like him. "For one thing, he reminds me of a pair of young bucks I knew in my youth. They belonged to a plantation next to where I lived at the time. The two young men were kept for breeding purposes only. They started young, layin' the young girls that the master alloted them, and by the time their seed was strong, they could service every woman on the place. They spent their entire time prowlin' around lookin' for women."

  She laid her hand on Darcey's knee. "That's exactly the way Jarvis Delaney strikes me. I ain't never seen him that he don't have that look in his eyes."

  Darcey had laughed and Cindy had grown angry. "I'll tell you this, Miss Smarty, if he don't wear you out in a year's time, it will be because he's going somewhere else in between. There ain't a woman livin' that can take care of his needs single-handed."

  Darcey hadn't laughed at Cindy's parting remark. She had her doubts too.

  She wondered how Jarvis had the energy for his insatiable, unrestrained sexual drive. He worked long hours in the fields like all the others, but according to the wives, their husbands were so tired that all they wanted to do was sleep. Cindy and Simon's mattress hadn't rustled for over a month.

  She sighed and walked out on the porch. A neighbor couple rode by in a jolting wagon, and she waved to them. She envied these women who worked at their husbands' sides, helping them in whatever they did.

  She envied them all, the way they went about their work without apparent urgency and still at the end of the day, accomplished a tremendous amount.

  She looked across to the field where Simon worked and decided to take him some fresh water. He gulped down a dipperful and then poured some over his head. "Whew. It's gonna be another sizzler by the looks of it."

  "Yes. But it's fine for the crops."

  Simon led the team beneath the shade of a large oak and sat down. He patted the grass beside him. "Sit with me while I rest a moment."

  He fanned his face with his hat a moment, then, "I'm gonna start buildin' the barn soon. Come fall, we'll have a nice big place for the animals and our crops," he bragged.

  "And Cindy is already using her new kitchen, don't forget about that," Darcey added.

  "Yeah. You know, Darcey girl, we've made a pretty good showin' for ourselves, don't you think?"

  "I sure do. Especially you."

  "That's only because I have you and Cindy to inspire me. If a man don't have a woman lookin' on, he don't have much interest in things."

  "I expect that'
s true, Simon. And I think it works the same way for a woman. If it wasn't for you, Cindy wouldn't work so hard at keeping the cabin nice and cooking such good meals."

  He studied Darcey for a long moment. "What about you, honey? Are you gonna have that desire, married to Jarvis?"

  She was a long time answering, as though she weighed his question. "I hope that I will, Simon. I pray to God that I will," she finally said.

  He reached over and patted her folded hands laying in her lap. "Things will work out, honey."

  She sighed. "I expect so."

  Returning to the cabin, she walked through the pasture. She was sorry that she had lingered and talked with Simon. Their conversation had only reminded her of how fast her wedding day was approaching.

  "I will not think about it," she cried harshly. "I've hashed it to death a hundred times."

  She gave herself over to the beauty of the day and to enjoying the sensation of the dust fluffing up between her bare toes. Then she paused to wipe her sweating face, and when a gentle breeze sprang up, she lifted her chin to cool her throat.

  She gazed toward the pasture, and her eyes widened in horror. Black smoke was billowing over the timberline and stretching out for miles.

  "Dear Lord in heaven," she moaned aloud. Grabbing up her skirts, she sprinted for the cabin.

  As she ran, she kept her eyes on its course. It started back of the Wilson place, over behind Mike's and then circled in behind her own. As she raced along, she wished that Simon had cleared more land along the river instead of clearing more land behind the cabin.

  Her heart racing and panting for breath, she saw the cabin. It was fine for the moment. But only a half mile away, the tall pines and cedars were being swept by the leaping, roaring flames. The black smoke piled and rolled.

  She dashed through the cabin door, calling Cindy's name. But the black woman wasn't there.

  "She's helping with the fire, of course," she muttered.

  Swiftly pulling on boots, she ran back outside, and now she could faintly hear the sound of scraping shovels and chopping axes as the settlers desperately worked against time.

  The noise guiding her, she ran down a small knoll and saw the entire adult population of the settlement stretched in a long line, their backs bent and shoveling furiously.

  She spotted Cindy right away. She was spading and tossing, staggering with the effort. Darcey hurried to the spent woman and took the spade from her hands. Then taking her place, she worked the spade up and down, her arms working in rhythm with her back.

  Then the fire was upon them, its heat beating at their sweat-streaked faces. Step by step they retreated before it, silently praying that the cleared strip would hold it back.

  Into the roaring noise, Bill was calling loudly, "Come on, leave it. We've done all we can."

  Straightening her stiff, aching back, Darcey drew an arm across her dirty face and for the first time, noticed that she had been working next to Mike. For a long moment they gazed into each other's eyes, and then he was grabbing her arm and pulling her along with the others.

  The settlers gathered on a small hill and held their breaths while they watched to see if their labor had been in vain.

  The crackling roar moved steadily forward, and for a moment it seemed that nothing would stop it. It would burn until it reached the river.

  But when it came to the freshly turned earth, its reaching red tentacles could find nothing to hold on to. Slowly and stubbornly, it died out, only a few scattered flames striving to rise again.

  A great cheer from smoke-filled lungs exploded in the air. Darcey, her eyes shining with thanksgiving, turned to share her joy with Mike. But he was gone, and she was unable to find him.

  CHAPTER 20

  On a hot August day, Mike worked in his one acre patch of tobacco. He chopped away at the weeds that seemed to grow overnight. For the first time, he was trying his hand at a money crop. If the weather worked with him, in the fall he would have some cash to rub together.

  He would have rather raised grain. There was less work and gamble to it. But bringing a wagon load of wheat or corn over the rock-strewn hills was too much for a team of horses.

  If it weren't for his sister Clara, he would raise grain and turn it into moonshine. The horses wouldn't have any trouble hauling it in liquid form.

  But there would be no profit for him if he paid the high taxes that were demanded on distilled spirits. And if he made it without the permit and the law caught him, he would go to jail for a long time and that would bring shame and sorrow down around Clara's head. He had already shamed her enough.

  He worked on with a steady rhythm, the weeds disappearing as if by magic. After a while his thoughts left the distilling of grain and swung back to the decision he had made today.

  Many times that morning he had pushed the thought away from him only to have it return.

  "Damn, Sarie, anyway," he exploded.

  Last night she had gently but firmly asked him again about her sister Dorie. They had just finished a fine romp on the bed, and he was stretched out, relaxed, and contemplating a short nap before taking her again. He had just dozed off when her voice brought him back.

  "Mike, in my last letter from Dorie, she said that Paw is beginning to bring men around the house. She claims that they are looking at her mighty peculiar and that Maw has been urging her to go walking in the woods with them."

  He had lain quietly, saying nothing, and Sarie had hurried on. "You can see what the bitch is up to, can't you, Mike? She figures if she can't send Dorie away with Jake, she can still make money with her through other men."

  He had remained silent, giving her the impression that he was neither sympathetic nor curious. Suddenly she had thrown herself onto the bed. "Please, Mike. Won't you help me with Dorie? I don't have another soul to turn to."

  He had sat up in bed and shouted angrily, "All right, Sarie. Stop your damn caterwauling. I told you that I'd help you with the youngin' and I will. You don't have to nag me to death."

  Sarie had squealed and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Mike I'm so grateful to you. I was about to go out of my mind."

  "Forget about it, Sarie. I'll get somethin' going tomorrow."

  Sarie had been so grateful that his back was still feeling the results of it.

  He finished the row and then exclaimed impatiently, "Hell. There's no use putting it off any longer. I'll do it now and be finished with it."

  He flung the hoe to the ground and strode off in the direction of Clara's.

  Clara had been busy with weeds also. Since early morning she had been crawling along between her pole beans. Her back was sore, and she stood up to stretch weary muscles. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned and smiled.

  She had not seen Mike to talk to since that rainy day when he had heard of Darcey's engagement. She studied him as he walked toward her. He was a little leaner, she thought, and as he came closer she noticed the bitterness etched around his mouth.

  She smiled and touched his hand. "It's good to see you, Mike."

  His eyes crinkled. "It's good to see you too, Clara."

  "Come on inside and have a cup of coffee. Then tell me how you've been and what you've been doing."

  Mike sat down at the table and watched her fill two cups from the pot that always sat next to the coals. Clara sat down across from him.

  "So, what have you been up to, lately?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "Been tendin' my crops. Felled a few trees to burn next spring."

  "Yes, it's been a busy time of the year," Clara nodded. "But you mustn't work too hard. You look like you've lost some weight since I saw you the last time."

  "Naw. Just lazy fat from last winter turnin' to muscle." After he made polite inquiries about the health and whereabouts of the rest of family, Mike finally got down to the real issue of his visit.

  Never being articulate in voicing a request, he hemmed and hawed while Clara looked at him questioningly.

  "Clara, I would like to ask a
big favor of you," his words rushed out.

  "Why of course, Mike. If I can do it, I'll be happy to oblige you."

  He took a deep breath, and stammering a bit, said, "Clara, there's a . . . there's a young girl that I want to find a home for."

  Clara stared, speechless. She wouldn't have been more surprised if he had announced that he wanted to be a preacher.

  "She's not yours, is she, Mike?"

  "Clara. You know me better than that."

  "Yes, I do, Mike, and I'm sorry I asked such a foolish question. Who is the girl?"

  "She's a sister to a friend of mine. I promised that I would try to find a home for the girl."

  "Who is the friend? Do I know him?"

  "The friend is a she, and, no, you don't know her." When Clara continued to look at him questioningly, he decided to tell her the whole story. It was hard to lie to Clara anyway when she looked at you with her wide, honest eyes.

  When Mike finished Sarie and Dorie's story, Clara was outraged. "How could a mother allow such a thing to happen to her daughter, and encourage it yet. Why it's a disgrace to womanhood." She paused, too angry to talk. Then more quietly, she continued. "I can understand why this Sarie woman wants her sister away from there. And from the child's letter I'd say the sooner the better."

  Relief poured over Mike and his breath rushed out softly. "Whew, Clara, I'm glad you think that way. I didn't know for sure what your reaction would be . . . Sarie's job and all."

  "Well land's sake, Mike, that innocent girl has nothin' to do with the way her sister earns her livin'."

  A silence grew between them and each one dwelled on the problem they shared. While Clara's thoughts were still on the wrong done to Sarie and what was waiting for Sarie, Mike fretted over the hardest part of his favor yet to be asked.

  Clara thought how nice it would be to have another female in the house. She had always wanted a daughter. They would have so much fun together.

  Then she realized how small the cabin was. There would be no place for her in the already overcrowded cabin. It would be impossible to find a sleeping place for another human being. She looked at Mike, her eyes showing her unhappy reluctance.