“How cold it has become.” I noticed the gray air had darkened around us. Without further words, we stood and began our descent down the path. The wind picked up as we walked, and whistled as we reached the clearing.
“I wonder if we might soon see more snow?” I hugged my arms across my front, watching Josh untie the horses.
“Not yet,” Josh said, frowning at the sky and then at our two restless animals tossing their heads, as if there was something in the air they could smell or see that we could not. “Here, Betsy, let me help you.” Josh lifted me onto Moses and I recalled his hands about my waist in the fall when we were tormented with branches. At least the Spirit had not unleashed violence on us. I was attempting to comfort myself, as I felt unable to return to my prior state of pure enjoyment. The kiss we’d shared lingered with me as a precious gift I wished to take home and examine privately, but at that moment I had hidden it away. I watched Josh mount and settle himself, thinking the black snow-covered branches around us, so recently magical, seemed menacing and strange to me now.
We set out together walking on the path until the river turned again to stream, and there we steered our horses up the bank so we might ride beside the meadow. Abruptly Moses strained beneath me and reared up, as though startled by some hidden menace. I held fast, attempting to shorten his reins as we came down to regain control, but suddenly he seemed to be a steed I knew not. He jerked his head so my grasp was loosened and leaped up the embankment. The laden branches of the trees along the bank whipped at my hair and back as I struggled to stay astride him. I tore past Josh, who was meant to lead the way.
“Hang on, Betsy,” he cried, as Moses raced to the crest of the hill. I heard the hooves of his horse pounding as he kicked her to come up behind me. Overcome with fear, I felt frightened and doubted my abilities.
“What should I do?” I called when Josh reached my side.
“Go faster!” Josh shouted, laughing, slapping Moses so hard on his behind he vaulted forward and I was forced to throw my arms around his neck and simply hang on for dear life as he burst from the trees and soared across the snow-covered field. As Moses let loose his strength, the ride became smooth as flying in a dream. My fear disappeared, swept away by the tremendous rush of cold air. Josh raced only a short distance behind me and we flew all the way to the southern boundary before Moses slowed for a break and Josh reined in his horse so we might stand together.
“Did you enjoy that, Betsy?” Josh’s laughter burst from behind the frosty smoke of his heavy-breathing horse and I could tell he knew I had.
“Yes, thank you!” I laughed with him. The tension and fear I’d felt as Moses shot up the bank had dispersed like the flakes of snow kicked up and pummeled by the horses’ hooves.
“It is like flying,” Josh observed.
“Like riding on the wind!”
“I wanted you not to be frightened, dear Betsy.” Josh was cautious in confronting my emotions, but kept a shy smile and his eyes on mine.
“I was frightened!” I readily admitted the truth, “much more than I care to say.” I wanted to tell him how often I felt frightened. I wanted to tell him nothing could have been more right than his mastery of my moment of fear. I wanted to say how grateful I was that he had seen a strength in me I had not known I possessed.
“Sometimes when I am frightened, Betsy, I try simply to feel my heart racing, my wild eyes, my quick movements and tension in my limbs. This concentration allows me then to surge forth, as I bade you do, just now, and in the progress there I find release.” Josh looked endearingly bashful as he spoke his wisdom and I knew I could trust him with my thoughts.
“Nothing could have been more perfect, Josh.” Holding his smiling eyes to mine, I wanted nothing more than to stay in that white field for eternity, enveloped in our horses’ breath, warmed by our inner excitement.
“I wish it were not so, but I must get home,” Josh informed me reluctantly, looking away. “I promised my father.”
“If you must, so be it,” I replied, with more acceptance than I felt. I hoped my expression would convey my sincere dismay that we must part.
“God go with you, Betsy,” Josh said and I smiled at his reminder as I turned Moses to home. Looking back, over my shoulder, I saw he was watching, not leaving, and I was glad. He waved and I kicked Moses hard, into another flying gallop, wanting again that exalted feeling of speed, feeling distinctly unafraid. I rode as fast as I could, churning the snow, all the way back to the stables. I tore into the barnyard, and scared Zeke, who came startled to open the stable door, scowling his greeting to me.
“Where’s the fire, Miss ’Lizabeth?” He grasped Moses by the nose and helped me down.
“It is Heaven in the meadows, Zeke, sheer Heaven.” I left him to feed Moses, thinking Josh was Heaven sent to me, a light amidst the dark things in my life.
The boys and Mother were gathered at the dining table for the midday meal. The boys had red cheeks and shiny hair, slick from their wool caps. They were amusing Mother with tales of their morning frolics and a general air of merriment occupied our house. Mother had mixed and baked more fruit-cakes than I cared to count and they were cooling on every sill, desk and table. Their luscious aroma filled our noses, and made the boys dip their bread deeper in Chloe’s winter potato and onion soup.
“If only John Jr. were here, he’d take us for a sleigh ride, Mother.” Joel raised his eyes from his bowl, but I saw him glance quickly at Drew and Richard, as though they shared a plan. I sensed a movement amongst my brothers to prevail on Mother in Father’s absence for permission to hitch up the sleigh for an afternoon ride. They had thought of it, just as I had. “The whole winter will be ruined without John Jr.,” Joel pouted, and I could see he had rehearsed. “Wait!” he sat up brightly as though a brilliant idea had just occurred to him and we all waited, expectant. “Drewry is old enough to drive the sleigh, and Betsy too!” He clapped his hands together with unrestrained excitement. I had to smile and I saw Mother do the same. I hoped she had been taken in.
“Please, please, Mother, might we take him for a ride?” I begged with more enthusiasm than I had shown for many weeks.
“ ’Tis good to see you so robust and happy, dear Betsy,” Mother said, smiling and radiating contentment as strong as the sweet smell of her cakes. She looked at all our pleading faces. “All right then, you may take the sleigh. Enjoy yourselves, but be careful, and have Zeke help you bring it from the barn.”
We stood in unison, noisily scattering our chairs, rushing to crowd around the fire and gather our steaming boots and gloves. “Warm well your feet before you go,” Mother cautioned. “I’ll take back my permission if you don’t!” she threatened, but we knew that was unlikely. It was just words, called after us like blessings, for she was already picturing her house still and silent, her fruitcakes cooling in peace. Drewry and I helped Joel and Richard with their things, then raced back outdoors. We ran down the hill toward the stables and again I was overcome by a feeling of wild abandon at the thought that Father was not present and could not object to our outing. I felt free and full of energy.
Our family sleigh was a true delight, considered a rare luxury by most in the county, who were not so fortunate to have one. Dean had taken months to carve the rails from rich mahogany, and it glided like magic across the snow.
“We’ll have to fetch it from the tobacco barn,” Zeke said. He was not enthusiastic, but when we reached it, he helped Drewry lift and carry the sleigh outside while I got the skins from the cedar chest. Father’s owl was sleeping on its perch and I avoided looking at it. I concentrated on lifting the big bearskin and the two woolly sheepskins Mother had sewn together with her strongest spun thread. They would cover our laps and protect our shoulders from the cold. In the yard, Zeke had hitched Dipsy and another old mare to the harness and the boys were protesting.
“Zeke, please! Must we have Dipsy? We will go ever so slow!”
Zeke shook his head, and would not do it another wa
y.
“I seen Miss ’Lizabeth here go ever so slow once already today.”
“Never mind,” I said quickly, not wishing to discuss with my brothers how I’d spent my morning. “Climb up quickly, and we’ll be off.”
They scrambled up on the back bench and I cuddled them inside the bearskin, enjoying the glow of enchantment on their faces as they stroked the soft fur across their cheeks. They giggled, ready to go.
“Be mindful,” Zeke gave his warning to Drewry this time. “I done told you, the first snow excites the beasts as it does us.” Drewry laughed at the thought of Zeke excited over anything and, adjusting the sheepskins over my lap and his, he took up the reins.
The snow on the Adams―Cedar Hill high road before our house was as yet undisturbed, except by the track of an animal here and there. The trees lining the sides shook their limbs ever so gently as we passed, sending cascades falling to the ground. Richard and Joel squealed every time this happened and Drewry and I laughed at them. I felt very mature, like a lady, taking my sleigh down the road, and I pretended silently Richard and Joel were my children and I had a husband like Josh beside me instead of my brother. I imagined we were traveling to a Christmas service, or a grand event, to be followed by a music recital and socializing, like Thenny said people in Nashville did at Christmastime. I allowed myself to dream the day would come when all my life would be the happiness and light of my fantasies.
We were not far from the house when something appeared on the road ahead. At first I thought it was nothing more than a rabbit, then, instantly, I knew it was a witch rabbit, as certain as I could see the black spot on its left hind foot standing out against the white snow. I gripped Drewry by the arm.
“Slow up, and do not be afraid, but do you see?” I spoke quietly into his ear for I did not wish to alarm the younger boys.
“A rabbit!” Joel shrieked with enthusiasm before Drewry could respond and the witch creature leaped forward, straight toward us, as if shot from the sound of his voice. The horses neighed and skittered backward, sending the sleigh bouncing sideways on the lane, and then the sly creature dashed between the rising horses’ hooves, and we all near tumbled out.
“Whoa!” In unison Drewry and I tried to calm the old mares and hold the sides of the rocking sleigh to steady it. Joel and Richard fell off the benches to the floor, but they were so well bundled in the bearskin they remained unhurt.
“Stay there, ’tis a safer place if we must dodge rabbits in the snow,” I told them. Looking down the road for the creature, I saw nothing apart from the tracks of the sleigh, and a big circle in the snow where we had turned halfway round. Drewry and I climbed out, and straightened the sleigh back behind the horses. We had just accomplished this and taken up our positions on the bench with the reins, when the rabbit appeared again, ahead, but darting to the right, into the woods. Despite our attempts to rein them back, the two mares pushed forward and gathered speed as they turned to follow the rabbit through the small wooded area above our planting fields. God was with us for certain, as the mares flew wildly through the poplars, the sleigh bumping crazily behind. We narrowly missed crash after possible crash.
“Close your eyes and hold on!” Drewry shouted.
I followed his instructions and did cease to watch, until we burst onto the white expanse of meadow, the horses full of speed uncommon for their age. Richard and Joel screamed with equal parts fear and delight as we tore up the flat, and I prayed desperately, please Lord, let us live. The rabbit bounced ahead, leading the horses to make a great circle of the field, and the tracks of the sleigh deepened with each turn, causing the wood to glide ever faster as the surface grew firm beneath the rails. The boys grew quiet and I realized we were on a frightful course.
“If you would drive us so, take us to Old Kate’s farm!” I cried a challenge to the creature, hoping it would cease its endless circles. Drewry, without speaking a word of warning, pulled his gun from beneath the seat and jumped from the moving sleigh, tossing the reins to me in what I thought was a very dangerous manner. On the ground he stuffed his powder deep, struck the flint, and fired a lead ball so direct, the creature was struck down in just one shot. Joel and Richard burst into cheers and shouts of admiration and I was abruptly able to rein the horses to a stop.
The boys threw off their skins, and clambered into the snow to inspect the dead rabbit and congratulate Drewry. I too climbed out, but I had no desire to look at the rabbit’s form. I could not even look at my brother who had shot it and my legs quivered, so weakened was I by the rise and fall of fear left in the pit of my stomach from battling the witch creature. I tried desperately to recall what Josh had said I must do to fight my fear as I stroked Dipsy’s nose and loosened the bridles, allowing both horses to bend their heads to the ground and scoop up snow with their heavy pink tongues. From the corner of my eye I caught a movement, and looking up, I saw the witch rabbit, fast and well as before, heading back up to the road. I said nothing to the boys or Drew. I knew the creature was off to do some other mischief and, selfish as I was, I prayed the Being would torment some other persons for a while and not return to me. I thought it foolish to believe the Spirit in another form could die by Drewry’s rifle, for a witch rabbit like any witch creature must experience no such thing as death. I thought there must only be regeneration and mischief for all eternity for such entities.
I wanted to go home. The skies were darkening and the smell of more snow coming was present in the air. The cold seemed to grow deeper with each passing moment and I wrapped my arms about myself, snug inside my greatcoat but knowing I would not be warm much longer. Drewry and the boys were arguing regarding what to do with his kill.
“If we bring it home Mother might make us rabbit fur hats,” Joel said, his preference obvious.
“Witch rabbit fur hats,” Richard added.
“Recall the jawbone and its relation to the Spirit. We will leave it here, where it lies,” Drewry insisted, and the young boys were made to understand they would not have their way.
“If you wore a witch rabbit hat, sister …” Joel said thoughtfully, as I wrapped him back up in the bearskin in the sleigh, “if you wore a witch rabbit hat, perhaps the Witch would stay away.”
I could not answer, for it occurred to me our prayers to God for deliverance had produced no noticeable relief, and neither had Dean’s witchball or Old Kate’s amulets. I had tested Josh’s strategy and failed, and I could not tell Joel I thought we were beyond the help a witch rabbit hat might bring.
We let the horses walk to the very end of the meadow where the stand of poplars broke, by the road. The gentle motion of the gliding sleigh lulled us into silence, and I thought Richard and Joel would certainly fall asleep before we reached home. I felt an intense tiredness myself, particularly in my arms, and I leaned against my brother, glad he was guiding the reins, for I had seen a lot of riding for one day. We turned out of the meadow into the trees on the path toward the road and I became suddenly aware of a change in Drewry.
“Sister,” he passed the reins to me, “I am so tired …”
He closed his eyes and I had hardly time enough to speak, “But Drewry,” before he laid his head onto my lap, overcome, with a deep sleep. Over my shoulder I saw Richard and Joel also sleeping soundly and I realized it fell on me to guide the horses home.
I kept them on the path to the road, toward the hill and house. We jerked along, despite my attempts at hastening the mares by slapping their backs with the reins. They were fatigued and stubborn too. I began to feel nervous, as the tall trees shut away more and more of the dim gray light. I tried to imagine how much stronger I’d feel if it were Josh’s curls lying on my skirt and I recalled his words to me, “There can be no greater God than He who walks with you.” Unholy as I was, it was the way his lips parted when he said my name that I drew strength from, not the thought of God’s protection.
We reached the foot of the hill and a tiredness unlike any I had previously experienced came over me and
I grew somnolent, watching the horses’ flanks rise and fall, hypnotic in their rhythm, climbing the incline yard by yard. In the next moment, it was as if I were waking from a deep sleep. The sleigh jolted sharply and my neck jerked up. Ahead in the road I saw Father on his horse, stopped at the crest of the hill. I rubbed my eyes to be certain and snow dropped from my gloves onto my cheeks. Yes, it was Father, but something was wrong, his clothing was at odd angles and his legs hung limp, as though he had no stirrups, and his spine slouched unnatural in his saddle.
“Look, there’s Father!” I cried, shaking Drewry hard with my left hand, but he would not wake. The horses seemed to find their momentum at that moment and trotted up the hill toward him as though toward their stalls in the barn. Abruptly I wanted to go more slowly, for something about Father’s appearance filled me with great trepidation. I saw a large black stain spreading out beneath his horse across the snow as we grew near, and I realized it was blood, dripping from his cloak and boots, and Father’s face existed no more. Inside his woolen hood his skeleton glared, white as the snow surrounding us but dripping strange icicles of skin and muscle like the hanging slabs of meat in the cold storehouse. His teeth stood out terrible and crooked, with many missing.
All That Lives Page 25