He looked at her. “What does he git out of it?”
She was puzzled. “Who?”
“Mr. Fitch.”
Marylou was shocked. “Nothin’. How kin you think a thing like that? Mr. Fitch’s a fine man. He jes’ sees how bad things is an’ wants to he’p out.”
“’N’en why don’t he give Paw a fair price fer his corn?” Daniel asked.
“That’s different,” his mother answered. “That’s business.”
“It’s the same thing to me,” he said. He finished his food and stood up. “Seems to me a man cain’t be one way in one thing and another in another.”
Marylou was angry. “You have no right to talk like that about a fine man like Mr. Fitch. He’s always been good to us. Don’ he give us credit at his store when we ain’t got no cash?”
“He gits it back when he comes to git the squeezin’s. He ain’t takin’ much risk.”
“You hush your mouth, Dan’l,” she said sharply. “Your paw won’t like it if’n I tell him what you said. Mr. Fitch’s he’ped many a family out here. He also foun’ good jobs fer many of the young ’uns. So you jes’ min’ your tongue an’ your manners.”
Still without speaking, Daniel went outside. He crossed to the front steps and sat down. He stared down the road along which his father would come. Maybe it would be a good thing if he went down to town.
Molly Ann could be right after all. There really wasn’t very much here for him either.
Chapter 4
“If y’all don’t dawdle along the road, you should reach Mr. Fitch’s store afore sundown.” Jeb squinted up at the morning sun. “Shouldn’ be too hot today, so ’twon’t be too bad.”
Daniel looked up at his father. “Won’t be.”
“Got yer extry pair of pants an’ shirt nice ’n’ clean,” his mother said. “Now, remember to wash yer drawers ever’ day.”
“I’ll remember,” Daniel said.
“We don’ want people to think we live like pigs jes’ because we’s mountain people. We got a good name, old an’ proud as any, an’ I don’ want them to fergit it.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. The shoes he was wearing were already beginning to feel tight. Usually he didn’t wear shoes until the first frost of winter.
Molly Ann answered her mother. “I’ll keep after him, Maw. Don’t you fret none.”
Marylou turned to her daughter. “You be a good girl. Remember what I taught you. Don’t you go listenin’ to sweet talk from those no-’count fellers, now.”
“I know how to act, Maw,” Molly Ann said. “I’m not a baby.”
Marylou looked at her daughter. She didn’t speak.
Molly Ann flushed. She knew what her mother was thinking. “I’ll be good, Maw,” she said.
Jeb reached into his pocket and came up with some coins. “I’m givin’ y’all a dollar between you. That’s jes’ so’s you kin pay fer yer food an’ board until you begin to work. You don’ accep’ nothin’ from nobody. I don’ want to hear that the Hugginses took charity from anyone.”
Silently Daniel took the coins from his father and slipped them into his pocket.
“That there’s a lot of money,” Jeb said. “Don’ go fritterin’ it away on foolishment.”
“I won’t, Paw,” Daniel said.
Jeb looked up at the sky again. “I think you better git goin’.”
Daniel nodded. He looked at his parents, then at his brothers and sisters all gathered in the yard around them. “I guess so.”
The children stared silently back at them. This was a solemn moment, but there was nothing for them to say.
Daniel half-waved his hand, then picked up his small cotton sack with his other shirt, pants and union suit. He pushed the small stick through the knot and placed it over his shoulder. “C’mon, Molly Ann.”
The girl looked at him for a moment, then ran to her mother. For a long minute Marylou held her eldest daughter, then let her go. Quickly Molly Ann pecked each of the children on the cheek, then rejoined Daniel. Slowly they started toward the road.
“Dan’l!” Jeb’s voice was hoarse.
They stopped. “Yes, Paw?”
He came toward them. “If’n it don’ work out,” he said awkwardly, “fer whatever the reason, y’all come home. Don’ fergit you have a family that loves you an’ is proud of you.”
Daniel felt a tightness in his throat. His father’s face was stiff and controlled, but his pale eyes were watering. “We know that, Paw,” he answered, with an unaccustomed feeling of gentle understanding. “But don’ worry. We’ll be all right.”
Jeb looked at him silently for a moment, then nodded. “I know you will,” he said finally. He blinked his eyes. “Look after your sister, son.”
“I will, Paw.”
Jeb reached out a rough hand and took Daniel’s in his grasp and pressed it. Then abruptly he let it drop and turned and walked away.
Daniel watched his father walk around the corner of the house until he was hidden from view, then turned back to his sister. “C’mon, Molly Ann,” he said. “We got a long walk in front of us.”
It was thirty-four miles, to be exact.
***
The day had turned warm, much warmer than Jeb had predicted. The sun hung high over their heads, its white rays beating down unmercifully on the dirt road.
“’Bout how fur d’you think we’ve come?” Molly Ann asked.
Daniel pushed his wide-brimmed hat back on his head and wiped at his face with his forearm. It came away wet and salty. “Mebbe eleven, twelve miles.”
“My feet hurt,” she complained. “Kin we take a few minutes an’ rest?”
He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I guess so.”
She followed him off the road into a field and they sat down beneath a tree. They quickly took off their shoes and, lying back, let their toes wiggle in joyous freedom. “The on’y thing I don’ like ’bout goin’ to town is shoes,” she said.
“I don’ like ’em neither,” he agreed. He rubbed his feet. “But I guess we’ll have to git used to ’em.”
“My mouth is dry,” she said. “I wish we had some water.”
“There’s a brook ’bout three miles fu’ther on,” he said. “We kin get a drink then an’ have our san’wiches.”
“An’ wash our feet too?”
He laughed. “That too.” He got to his feet. “Let’s go.”
She stared at his feet. “You didn’ put your shoes on.”
“I reckon we ought to save ’em,” he said. “Otherwise by the time we git to town they’ll be all wore out.”
She smiled. “That’s good thinkin’.”
Carrying their shoes, they began once again walking down the hill. After a few minutes, she spoke. “Dan’l.”
“Yes?”
“D’you think Mr. Fitch really meant what he tol’ Paw?”
“I reckon he did.”
“You don’ like him, do you?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Well, it don’ matter, if’n he really kin git us the jobs he said.”
Daniel thought for a moment. “I reckon it don’t.”
“Dan’l.” A strained note came into her voice. “Dan’l, I don’t feel too good.”
He looked at her quickly. She had suddenly gone pale, and there were beads of perspiration standing on her forehead. Quickly he pulled off his hat and put it on her head. Her long light brown hair was hot to his fingers. He took her arm. “Come over here ’n’ set,” he said. “You have a tetch o’ the sun.”
She let him lead her slowly to the shade of another tree. He put her down gently. “You rest a mite.”
She shook her head weakly. “No. We have to keep on or we won’ git there.”
A note of command crept into his voice. “You set. We ain’ goin’ to git there if’n you git sunstroke neither. You lay there while I see if’n I can fin’ us some water.”
She leaned back, closing her eyes. “All right, Dan’l,” she said meekly.
Nimbly he untied the knot that bound his sack and found the tin mug that he had placed among his clothes. He ran down the hill toward a larger group of trees. Generally, where there were that many trees there would be water. He knelt and scooped a handful of earth and sniffed at it. It was damp.
Dropping to his hands and knees, he crept along, tracking the moisture. When his fingers came up wet with the earth, he began to scratch away the surface with his hands. The water began to trickle through when he was about a foot deep into the ground.
Quickly he scooped out a round hole in the ground, then patted the earth hard around its sides. Spreading his fingers, he pressed the heel and palm of one hand down against the bottom of the hole and threw his weight against the earth. A moment later the water began to gather around his fingers. He kept up the pressure until it had almost reached his wrist and was beginning to drain away into the sides; then with his other hand he held the cup until it was filled with water.
Holding the cup carefully, he ran back to his sister. Molly Ann was lying quietly, her eyes closed. She didn’t seem as pale as she had been. She opened her eyes wearily and tried to sit up.
“Be still,” he said, kneeling beside her. He pulled a small kerchief from his pack. Moistening it, he pressed it to her forehead and gently wiped her face.
“That do feel good,” she whispered.
He wrung out the kerchief and moistened it again. This time he squeezed the drops out against her parched lips. Her lips moved, and her tongue licked at them. “Better?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m so thirsty. Kin I have a drink?”
“Jes’ a little.” He put an arm under her shoulders and raised her. He held the cup to her lips. “Not much, now,” he warned. “Jes’ a taste.”
She took a small sip, then sighed. She looked up at him. “I jes’ don’ know what come over me.”
“You should’ve wore a hat,” he said. “That there sun’s powerful strong.”
“Kin I jes’ rest a bit?” she asked. “Then I’ll be all right an’ we kin go.”
“No hurry,” he said. “Mr. Fitch’ll be there when we git there.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes. A moment later, she was asleep. Slowly he wiped her face again with the kerchief and then let her rest. A little sleep would do no harm.
Daniel sat back and squinted up at the sun, then down at the road shimmering in the heat. It had to be about noon. No sense getting back on the road now. For the next few hours it would be like the inside of an oven. It would be best to wait until after two o’clock. By that time the sun would be over the hills to the west and the road would begin to cool. He lay back, putting his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes. A moment later, he too was asleep.
***
A warbler, sitting on a branch over his head, woke him up. Peering through the leafy branches at the clear blue sky, he stared up at the singing bird for a moment. Then he sat up. The bird, startled by the movement, flew away.
He looked at his sister. Her eyes were open. “How’re you feelin’?” he asked.
“Better,” she said.
He pushed himself to his feet. “Mought as well go, then.”
She sat up. “That never happened to me afore.”
He smiled. “You never been out in the sun fer four hours with your head uncovered afore neither.”
“I s’pose.” She rose and stood there for a moment, then looked at him. “I’m all right now.”
He nodded and began to tie up his clothing again. “We’ll git you a real drink when we reach the brook.” This time he picked up her sack as well as his own, and they started down the road.
She made a gesture to return his hat. “No, you keep it,” he said. “I’m more used to it ’n’ you are.”
They walked along silently for about a half-hour before they came to the brook. They left the road and joyously washed their faces and drank their fill.
“That there’s good water,” he said.
She smiled in agreement. “Tas’e’ lak sugar.”
“We got to keep movin’,” he said.
“I’m ready,” she said.
He led the way back to the road just as a mule and wagon came around from behind the curve hidden by the trees. He stopped at the edge of the narrow road to let it pass. She halted behind him.
A lanky young man, his face half hidden by his wide-brimmed mountain man’s hat, sat in the driver’s seat, the reins dangling loosely from his fingers. “Git a move on, there!” he called to the reluctant animal, who was dragging in the heat.
The mule never changed his pace, but just kept plodding along. The young man swore good-humoredly. “Goldanged critter!”
The wagon drew opposite to where they were standing, and the young man looked over the side of the wagon at them. “You kids want a ride into town?”
Molly Ann put a restraining hand on her brother’s arm. “Dan’l. Paw tol’ us to walk.”
Almost angrily, he shook her hand away. Dumb girl. Didn’t she know she was in no condition to make it? He looked up at the lanky young man. “We suah do, mistuh,” he said.
Chapter 5
Jimmy Simpson had sandy blond hair, blue eyes and a bright, flashing smile. He had never held a job in all the twenty years of his life and never needed one. Money was not a problem. He could get it in many different ways—from playing klab with the Polish miners, seven-card stud with the mountain men or pool with the city slickers. And there was always a little bootleg when things were tough. Like today.
He had spent the whole day in the hills. That hadn’t been easy. Old Man Fitch had made his rounds just the day before and had skimmed the cream. If it were not for the fact that Jimmy paid twice as much as Fitch, he would be returning now with an empty wagon. But his price was good. And it brought out the good corn, the corn they had tucked away for their own.
He watched the boy place the two sacks he was carrying into the wagon, then help his sister to the bench and climb up beside her. He pushed his hat back on his head, and an unruly lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. “I’m Jimmy Simpson.”
The boy had grave eyes. “Honored.” His voice was deeper than Jimmy had expected. “I’m Dan’l Boone Huggins, an’ this yere’s my sister Molly Ann.”
“Pleased to meet ya,” he said, smiling. He looked at the girl. From what he could see of her face, hidden by the wide-brimmed hat that was obviously her brother’s, she was very pretty. “Been walkin’ fur?”
Daniel nodded. “’Bout fifteen miles since early mornin’. But the heat made it slow goin’.”
“How fur you goin’?”
“Fitchville.”
Jimmy smiled again. “That’s where I’m headin’ too. Visitin’?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. We’re goin’ to work.”
“You got jobs already?”
“Not yet. But Mr. Fitch tol’ my paw he would see to it.”
“Fer both of you?”
“Yes.”
Jimmy fell silent. The old bastard had the country by the balls. There wasn’t anything that went into or came out of the hills that he didn’t have his long greedy fingers into, even people. But there was no way the son of a bitch could lose with a whole town named after his great-great-grandfather.
Daniel glanced into the wagon. He recognized the jugs, even though they were covered by old sugar bags. He turned back to the road. It was none of his business.
Jimmy looked at the girl. She was leaning against her brother, her body swaying gently with the rolling wagon, her eyes closed. She seemed to be dozing. “If’n your sister is tired,” he said, “we kin fix up a place in the wagon fer her to lie down.”
Molly Ann straightened up. “I don’ want to be no trouble,” she said quickly.
He stopped the mule. “No trouble ’tall. ’Specially fer such a pretty girl.” He climbed over the seat into the wagon and moved a row of jugs to the side. Quickly he made a mattress of the cotton sugar bags, then rigged a small cover ove
r part of the pallet to shield her from the sun. “It’s not bad,” he said, straightening up. “Slep’ there myse’f las’ night.” He held out a hand to her.
Molly Ann looked at her brother for approval. He nodded. She took Jimmy’s hand and stepped back across the seat. She looked up into his face. “You’re very kin’, Mr. Simpson.”
He grinned. “Jimmy. Ever’body calls me Jimmy.”
“Jimmy,” she said.
Suddenly he became aware that he was still holding her hand. He dropped it. “Make yerse’f comfortable,” he said awkwardly.
She felt her heart beating wildly inside her breast and a flush beginning to rise into her face. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She must have taken more sun than she realized. She only nodded.
He climbed back into his seat and picked up the reins. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that she was already lying down. He snapped the reins. “Giddap, danged critter!” he swore, in a voice that was almost a whisper so that he would not disturb the girl.
***
Molly Ann awakened suddenly, feeling the evening chill in the air. As she started to sit up, she became aware that she had been covered with a coarse blanket. She pushed it down and drew a deep breath. She was better now.
She turned and saw her brother and the young man sitting, their backs toward her, silhouetted against the evening sky. Idly she wondered how long she had slept. The young man shook the reins. Again she felt a warmth in her face. He was nice.
“You’re awake?” Daniel had heard her.
“Yes.”
Jimmy turned toward her. “Want to come up here?”
She nodded. He stopped the mule and held out his hand. She took it. Again she felt her heart begin to beat wildly. In confusion, she let it go. “How fur we have to go?”
“’Nother couple hours,” Jimmy said. “I cain’t git this critter to move. He’s the lazies’ mule in the county.”
She looked at Daniel. “It’ll be late when we git there. What if Mr. Fitch’s store is closed?”
“We’ll git him in the mornin’, then,” Daniel replied.
“Got a place to stay?” Jimmy asked. “Any kinfolk?”
“No,” Daniel answered.
“I kin fix you up at my place,” Jimmy said. “The Widdy Carroll runs a fine boardin’ house.”
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