Good Ground

by Tracy Winegar

  “You don’t gotta go and tell everybody what we done talked ’bout to ourselves,” he scolded.

  She pursed her lips and gave a quick nod. “Yes, Fergus, I s’pose you’s right.” She said very little after that, contenting herself to listen to what Fergus had to say.

  “You ortta’ve seen Clifton Davies when he done found out ’bout Elvira and me. Oh, he don’t like that I got the purtiest girl in town. No, he don’t like that none at all. Just as sly as a snake waitin’ in the grass to strike. I tell you he was downright covetous, lookin’ at my woman. He nigh on didn’t trust what I’s a-sayin’ to him ’cause she’s so good to look at. He says to me, ‘What, this little gal?’ And I says to him, ‘Yessir.’ And he says, ‘Did she get kicked in the head by a mule or somethin’?’ And I says, ‘No, sir.’ And he says, ‘Well, what be the matter with her then?’ Just like that. ‘Well, what be the matter with her then?’” Fergus railed.

  Ellis thought that if he was a rooster he’d be crowing. Fergus was doing his best to mimic Clifton, and it tickled Ellis. He was pleased to see that for once, as unexceptional as Fergus was, he had the upper hand. He had something he could be genuinely proud of.

  “You go on and laugh. I woulda liked to have socked him right in the noodler.” Fergus continued, smacking his fist against the palm of his other hand. “You knowed I coulda too. I ortta taught him a lesson. That’s what I ortta done.”

  “Clifton prob’ly don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Ellis consoled.

  “Clifton don’t got no woman, and I do.”

  “For sure he don’t.”

  Before their visit was over, Ellis was ready to be alone again. Fergus sure could carry on, and Ellis found it grating on his nerves. He showed them the new pen he’d constructed for the pigs and the tobacco drying from the rafters in the barn before they got into what was once Purvis Little’s car and drove off. He waved to them as they left. Ellis was happy for Fergus but couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Elvira and he were all wrong for one another. He was relieved that they were gone and content in his solitude—cured of any loneliness he might have felt earlier.

  A few weeks later, a man came around to buy his tobacco and haul it off. Ellis got a good price for both his and his daddy’s harvest and was happy with the bulge of bills that he had stuck in his pocket. He would have enough to purchase feed for his animals to get them through the winter and enough to purchase seed come spring for his next crop. There was also a new plow he had his eye on too. The one he used now was second-hand and had seen better, more productive days. The prospects of what he could do with that money raised his spirits. It was pleasing to have goods to trade with, but there was nothing as liberating as having paper to buy what he wanted and needed. It was that green paper that prompted him to go to town on the day that his path crossed with an angry blizzard.

  Part III: Taking Root

  Chapter 11

  Late Fall of 1934

  ELLIS WAS NOT IN A MOOD to be at home. Bored by the lack of variety in his life, he was eager to go into town to get supplies before the weather turned. His same old routine had begun to feel like shackles. He was used to solitude and generally didn’t mind being alone, but he missed visiting his daddy now and then. Ellis was truly alone now that his daddy had passed on. He still was able to get out and see his Aunt Sissy every now and again, but an old woman wasn’t exactly stimulating conversation. There were days when he’d have gladly spoken to anyone just to hear words from another soul.

  Too late for second thoughts, Ellis stood by his Red Baby truck, which he had parked outside of the general store, gazing into the gray sky above, questioning his own judgment. I should have stayed on the farm and followed my instincts, he thought. The clouds that had been threatening in the sky were breaking open, and soggy, wilting flakes were drifting down. The ground became wet and turned the dirt road into a slippery quagmire. He debated whether he should get back in the truck and head right back home then and there.

  He ignored his instincts because snow storms were uncommon for the beginning of November, and he was down to the last bit of flour in his bin. He was worried that if he got snowed in until spring, he might be without necessities. Wintertime was a lean time. He reasoned also that the snow didn’t seem in much of a hurry to get anywhere as it drifted gracefully to the ground.

  On this day, Ellis walked into Forbes General Store with pleasure and ambled around, picking up things here and there as he went. He grabbed a new shovel and bucket, a ten-pound bag of sugar, two twenty-five pound sacks of flour, and a bag of beans—he couldn’t live without beans. He got himself a nice slab of bacon too; it smelled fresh, and he thought it had been a while since he’d had fresh meat, except for the squirrels he regularly shot. The piglets were too small yet to slaughter, and the mother and old Snaggletooth were for breeding. As many times as he had thought to kill that mean old sire, he needed him, which left him strictly off limits.

  He began stacking his selections up by the counter and went back to explore the shelves for more supplies. Ellis remembered the mystic allure, the magic he’d felt as a child when he had explored the odds and ends in this very store. Part of the fascination had been that he and his daddy hadn’t had two nickels to rub together, like many of the other small-time farmers that did their best just to survive, and therefore much of what was carried in the store had been unattainable. He shook his head; it was a whole lot more rewarding when you came with a little money in your pocket.

  Forbes carried just about everything: groceries, hardware, tools, knick-knacks of every description and use. It was a real country store with a hodgepodge selection to choose from. Closer to town, there were more specialty shops—grocery stores, feed stores, and such. In good weather, Ellis liked to spend time out behind the grocery. He could find plenty of fellows willing to try their hand at a game of horseshoes, while spectators sat in the shade of the porch, sipping at a soda pop or lemonade. It was a pleasant way to pass time. Right now, his main goal was just to get in, get what he needed, and get out. Maybe if the weather hadn’t turned, he would have gone and had a look around town and seen what was going on.

  A few old men loitered near the counter, arguing politics and commenting on the weather. If it had been nice out, they would have occupied the chairs on the front porch out by the wooden Indian, but on a snowy, wet day, they were content to mill around inside, looking for diversions to cut away the dead hours they had on their hands.

  He could hear them talking like a bunch of women, gossiping about some scandal one of them had just gotten wind of. It made him smile. When he approached, they fell silent, eyeing him distrustfully. He paid for his things with his cash.

  “Say, boy, where’d you get all that money from?” one of them asked. He was puffing on a pipe and let the smoke blow out the corner of his mouth, the cloud dispersing slowly toward the ceiling.

  Ellis shrugged. “What d’you mean where’d I get it from?”

  “You didn’t steal it, now did you, boy?”

  “No, sir. This here’s the last of my terbaccer money.” He faced the man. “Now why’d you go and think I stole it for, right off like that?”

  “You’s Jim Hooper’s boy, ain’t ya?”

  “For sure I am,” he affirmed proudly. “But my daddy never done a single dishonest thing all his life.” His tone was firm and allowed for no disputations.

  “I never said he did. No, Jim Hooper never a-stole. But it don’t stand that his boy wouldn’t.”

  Ellis could sense that his words had some sort of a double meaning, but he accepted his change, and with a nod of his head to the clerk, struggled to keep his anger in check. Before leaving, he turned to his accuser and said, “Well, sir, he done taught me right. I’d a-never stole no money neither. Like I tole you, this here’s what’s left of my terbaccer money.” He pocketed it and left.

  Ellis carried his purchases out onto the porch and began loading them into the back of his truck, carefully arranging it so that it
would all fit in nice and snug. He covered the whole of it with a canvas tarp.

  The snow was coming down harder, gaining momentum as the minutes slipped by. This gave him cause for concern. The winding mountain roads were not kind in bad weather. Ellis immediately altered his plans, and erring on the side of caution, decided that loitering about town would have to wait for another day. It was best to head home before it got too late.

  Before getting into the driver’s seat, he happened to glance up and see the foreboding scowl of the wooden Indian that stood watch next to the door of the general store. Bare-chested despite the inclement weather, arms crossed, feathers fanned out in an arc behind his head, he was glaring with piercing eyes at Ellis. It sent a chill through him, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the hostile eyes of the red man. With that stern image in his mind, Ellis got into the cab and headed home with dread of the long ride before him.

  The closer he inched toward home, the heavier the snowfall became, blanketing the trees, the road, anything it settled on as it fell. As he drove, his uneasiness grew. The windshield wiper struggled to keep the glass clear, and the tires spun through the snow, churning up the mud below and causing the truck to lurch and slide as it forged ahead.

  He made it about halfway home when he glimpsed someone walking on the side of the road, struggling to make headway against the blowing snow. As he drove by, he saw that it was a young woman.

  She was leaning forward into the wind, wearing what appeared to be a man’s coat, clenching the lapels together to keep it shut against the cold. Her stride was exaggerated as she lifted her knees high to compensate for the men’s work boots that were too big for her feet. She was hatless, and her dark hair whipped violently around her face.

  Ellis passed her by, loathing the idea of sharing his ride with a stranger, still in an ill mood after his exchange with the men from the store. But his conscience got the better of him. He knew his father would have stopped to help the unfortunate traveler, and he braked and put the truck in reverse. Once he pulled up next to her, he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out onto the running board.

  He shouted at her over the sweep of the wind, “Need a ride?”

  She wore an expression of suspicious concern, as though trying to decide if she could trust him or not. “I just live up the road yonder there a-ways,” she hollered to him, gesturing with her head.

  “It ain’t nothin’ to me to drop you off up the road,” he assured her. “I’m headed that a-way anyhow.”

  The girl hesitated. She turned back toward her destination, the snow pelting her face in stinging waves. He could see she was contemplating the overwhelming notion of continuing to brave the weather or take the ride.

  Finally, she shrugged and faced him again. “I’d be grateful to you.”

  “The latch on that there door is busted,” Ellis informed her as he pointed to the passenger side. He stepped off the running board to let her in. “You gotta get in through this here door.”

  She made her way around the front of the truck, got into the cab, and slid under the steering wheel and all the way over to the other side, hugging the other door to keep herself away from Ellis. He eyed her for a moment, in her worn penny cotton dress, faded red baggy wool leggings, the men’s work boots, and oversized coat. Even under that large coat, it was obvious she had a small, lean frame, and her cheeks were nearly gaunt yet rosy from the chill. He gave her a smile that he hoped was reassuring as he started back up the road. The rubber tires spun until they gained traction, spewing snow and mud behind them.

  He noticed her wet face and her runny nose and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. It was worn and gray now instead of white, but like her dress, it was clean.

  “Looks like you might could use this,” he observed, handing it to her.

  “Obliged,” she said, although she seemed reluctant to accept it. She blotted her face and then blew her nose. Wadding it up into a ball, she crushed it in her fist, stuffing it deep into her coat pocket.

  They traveled in silence as the truck labored through the snow, which was now a good three to four inches deep in places. Ellis dared not push his speed past a few miles an hour, and they crept along at a painfully slow pace. Every now and then, the back of the truck would slide wildly back and forth, fishtailing on the slick surface of the road. He could almost feel the girl holding her breath. The road took a course that meandered around the mountain. At times, the wall of the mountain was to the inside of their path; other times, it was to the outside. Either way, there was always a steep incline or a sheer drop off that threatened their lives. One ill-planned maneuver, and the truck would simply fall off into oblivion.

  Visibility was next to nothing, and it worried Ellis that he couldn’t see what was coming, that he wouldn’t be able to tell where the danger lurked, and the two of them might end up dead at the bottom of a drop somewhere. How long would it take for someone to discover the wreckage left behind? Or, perhaps no one would find them, and they would lay there undiscovered.

  Whatever happened to Ellis Hooper? they would ask themselves. Their disappearance would be a mystery to all who might wonder over what had become of them. In truth, he hoped that the apprehension churning in the pit of his stomach was not showing on his face. He squinted and leaned in closer to the windshield, wiping the condensation building there away with the back of his hand.

  “It sure is a-comin’ down, ain’t it?” he observed, more to himself than to her. “Maybe we ortta pull off to the side of the road and wait for it to clear up some.”

  His suggestion was met with seeming terror. “I gotta be gettin’ home. My pa is liked to blow if I ain’t back soon,” she protested. “It’s just up the road a-ways. Just a little further on up that a-way.”

  Ellis pushed on, getting stuck for a moment on the road at the bottom of a hill. He pumped the gas, listening to the engine roar ineffectually as the tires spun in the snow. He backed the truck up a bit and gunned it again. The tires got a grip on the road, and they were propelled upward until they crested the ridge and headed down again. He put his foot on the brake in vain as they catapulted downward, gaining speed and momentum. The tires skidded on the snow, and there was no stopping them. Blinded by a white fog of flakes, Ellis didn’t know which direction to steer. He wasn’t certain which side of the road was a ditch hugging the side of the mountain and which was the drop-off that would send them over the edge. He fought with the steering wheel as it rotated back and forth in his hands.

  He heard the girl next to him let out a squeak that evolved into a full blown scream. Her hands grabbed for anything that might steady her as the truck lurched down the knoll and then came to an abrupt stop in a pile of snow off to the side of the road. The two of them were launched forward, and her head slammed into the thick windshield with a thud, leaving a crack where her forehead had collided with it. Sitting there stunned, hearts pounding, silent but for the hiss of the wind, all was still.

  The girl shook her head, eyes wide, as if she were trying to shake off the confusion of what had just happened to them.

  “You all right?” Ellis asked, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

  “Bumped my head.”

  He leaned over and inspected it. “Looks like you got a knot a-comin’ on,” he observed, running his fingers over the bump on her forehead.

  She shrank from his touch, nervous by the mere proximity of him.

  “Let’s try and see if we can’t pull ourselves outta here,” he said, easing the tension by diverting the subject. He put the truck in reverse and punched the gas, but the tires merely spun. No progress made. He tried again. Still nothing.

  “I’m gonna get out and try and give her a push,” he said. “You give it the gas when I say. Can you do that?”

  She nodded her head solemnly.

  Ellis forced the door open against the strength of the gale, and the girl scooted back over to where he had been sitting. The cold wind nearly took the bre
ath right out of his lungs. He struggled to the front of the truck while blasts of air whipped his knitted scarf. The storm tugged violently at his hat and burned his eyes as it sent snowflakes to bombard him. He worked his shoulder into the front bumper and yelled above the bluster of the weather for her to give it gas.

  The engine roared and he pushed with everything he had in him, but the truck remained stubbornly lodged even as he struggled to move it. She let up on the pedal to avoid flooding the engine. Ellis, now covered in a shroud of white, ran his hand along the side of the Red Baby. He was anchored only by the brush of his fingertips against the cold metal of his truck as the storm raged around him.

  Every direction he looked, there was nothing but white; an invisible world loomed just beyond their perception. The implications of their predicament set in, and he knew that they were in a bad way. He climbed back into the truck, blowing into his hands to try to warm them.

  “Settle in. We ain’t goin’ nowheres,” he grumbled. “I’d go myself to get hep, but I can’t see nothin’. Wouldn’t make it far afore I’d be lost for good.”

  “But my daddy.” It was barely more than a whisper.

  “Your daddy’s just gonna have to see we ain’t got no choice in the matter here,” Ellis consoled. “No point in lettin’ the gas run out.” He shut off the engine.

  Chapter 12

  ELLIS WOKE, FEELING FROZEN all through except for the parts that were warmed by her body pressed to his. He could see her even, crystallized breaths escaping in clouds of white condensation. He didn’t move, worrying that he would wake her. The two had been forced to huddle together to try to keep from freezing all the long night. Ellis had given her his scarf, and she had covered her ears with it. At some point, they had drifted off to sleep, despite their fear of never waking again. The storm had calmed and then stopped during their slumber, leaving nothing but silence and a world baptized in shades of pure white.