The Coffin Quilt

by Ann Rinaldi

  "Fanny? Hey, Fanny, you up there? Come on down, child. I'm here to take you home."

  Tolbert! Was I dreaming? I'd fallen asleep! I sat up and crawled across the playhouse floor to look down. No, I wasn't dreaming. It was Tolbert, sitting on his horse right below, peering up at me.

  "You in trouble with Alifair again?"

  "She's meaner than a black bear, Tolbert. I hate her. And they sent Ro away for good. Did you know that? I hate all of 'em, and I'm not going home!"

  "Not with me?"

  I came full awake then. "I'm allowed?"

  "Ma told as you and Alifair had a set-to; maybe it's best you spent some time with me, Mary, and Cora. I've got a bundle of your things. Well? You a-comin'? Or you aim to live in that tree house?"

  So, for all her Bible-quoting, Ma did have her wits about her. And she'd sent for Tolbert, to get me away. From the ladder he grabbed me around the waist and set me in front of him on his horse. If Yeller Thing was still in those woods, let him come out now. I double dared him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  FALL 1880

  BABY CORA TODDLED about on fat little legs, shaking her head and saying "no, no" when you told her she couldn't do something. I fed her, bathed her, combed her wispy baby hair, and I would have played with her all day if Tolbert didn't make me go to school.

  I stayed a week with them. I was feeling more and more at home at their place. The house itself comforted me. The wood in the common room seemed to gleam in the firelight more than ours at home. Mary had a quilt on the wall over the settee. Ma would say quilts belonged only on beds. Their candles smelled good, and somehow the things they used to live every day—apples drying on a table, Mary's butter churn and spinning wheel, her bunches of herbs hanging overhead, Tolbert's bullet mold, his pelts hanging on the walls, the baby's cradle—looked purty lying about. Ours didn't at home. Maybe it was only the play of the light, I told myself. The light seemed different here.

  I especially liked Tolbert's books. He had lots of them. One was Declaration of the Rights of Man. One night when I was supposed to be doing my lesson I asked him, "What's 'rights'?"

  He was molding bullets. "It's something God gives us that nobody can take. Rights to live and think free, worship, read, talk, have families and raise 'em the way you want. It's what our ancestors fought for in the Revolution."

  "You always have to fight for rights?"

  He smiled. "Most of the time, yes."

  "Do only men have them?"

  From a chair by the fire, doing mending, Mary spoke. "Well? Answer her, Tolbert."

  But instead he smiled. "What do you want, Fanny?"

  "I want to go visit Ro. I miss her and I'm afeared for her."

  "Can't let you do that. Pa's got men in the woods with guns lest Johnse comes by. It's dangerous."

  "You could come with me. It wouldn't be dangerous then."

  Silence. He wiped his hands with a rag. His yellow hair gleamed in the firelight. I saw him look at Mary, saw the look on her face, like she was saying something without opening her mouth. Saw him nod to her. Then he said, "All right, I'll take you." And I knew that Mary had rights.

  In bed that night I was so excited about seeing Ro I could scarce sleep. The last thought I had before going off was, Then didn't God give Johnse rights to wed Roseanna?

  ***

  TOLBERT TELLS THE best stories. On the way to Roseanna's we passed Granny Meeker's place, which is about two miles from Stringtown. She was limping around her yard and waved to Tolbert. He waved back. "Know why she limps?" he asked.

  'Course I said no. So he told me. Said that she was a witch. And she put a spell on old Henry Crumley, who had a farm down the road. And to go about without he should see her, she changed herself into an old hen turkey.

  "Well," Tolbert said, "Henry got vexed with this old hen turkey poking around his place and tried to shoot it. He shot lots of times and hit it, but it wouldn't die. So then a friend tells him that's because it's old Granny Meeker who turned herself into a hen turkey to plague him. And what he had to do was make himself a silver bullet and it'd kill her for sure. So Henry made himself a silver bullet and shot the hen turkey and it fell down dead. And the next time he saw old Granny Meeker she was limping around in her yard after a bad spell of sickness. And she never did bother him again."

  "Do you think a silver bullet would kill Yeller Thing?" I asked him.

  "If'n he'd stand still, maybe."

  I pondered Tolbert's story on that ride to Aunt Betty's. I knew about witches. A witch woman could ask to borrow something from you, and if you refused she could do you ill. Some people had witch marks over their doors to protect them. Ma said we didn't need one, Jesus would protect us.

  I wondered if a silver bullet would kill Yeller Thing, if anything would. As it turned out, I should have been pondering other things. Soon's we got there, Tolbert saw that Ro was expecting. Of a sudden it seemed like you could tell. And it came to me that I hadn't told Tolbert. He didn't say anything, just went about his business of fixing Aunt Betty's door, while me and Ro visited.

  She was working on the Coffin quilt, "Has Johnse been around?" I asked.

  "No. Nobody's been here, Fanny." She sounded sad. "I'm a marked woman. Not only for the baby but because I set the Hatfields against our family. I'm worse now than Belle Beaver. But it's all right. Aunt Betty is good to me. And we've been making baby clothes. I'm happy here. My baby will be born in March, and I'll have my little one to love."

  "But don't you miss Johnse?"

  She lowered her eyes, not looking at me. "I told him I won't marry him, Fanny."

  What had happened in the past weeks? I just stared at her.

  "All it'll lead to is killing," she said. "You heard how Devil Anse almost killed Pa. I don't want my baby marked by such doings." She was set on it and would speak of it no more. So we made small talk and soon the visit was over. There was no sign of Pa's men watching the place.

  I promised to come again. But before we left, Tolbert pulled me aside. "She's a-havin' a little 'un," he said. And he looked at me as if it was my fault.

  I nodded.

  "How long you known?"

  "Since before she left home. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. She swore me not to. Please don't be mad, Tolbert."

  He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and stared over my head to Ro. "You stay here tonight," he said quietly.

  Tears came to my eyes. "You mean you don't want me with you and Mary anymore?"

  "Don't be silly, Fanny. I want you to stay here because I'm a-goin' home and tellin' Ma."

  He was walking to his horse. I ran after him and grabbed his arm. "You can't! Ro doesn't want Ma to know." I hung on his arm.

  "Fanny," he said, "I wasn't angry, but I'm a-gettin' there. I don't care what Ro wants. I care about this family. I care about what's right. Ma would want to know, and you know it. Now let go."

  I let go. "I don't have any clothes with me," I said.

  "You can manage. I'll be back tomorrow with Ma. You stay here and wait, you hear?"

  "What if Pa goes after Johnse with guns?"

  He swung up onto his horse. "I want to find you here tomorrow, Fanny," was all he said. "And don't tell Ro, either. It'll work out, don't worry."

  ***

  I WISH I could say it all worked out. I wish I could end this account here and say the baby made a difference. Oh, it did with Ma. Like Tolbert said, he brought her back the next day. She came to see Ro, and they hugged and cried and sat and had cups of tea and talked like God was in His heaven and all was right with the world, the way women do when it has to do with babies. But nobody else came, and Pa never sent word.

  I went back home. Fall deepened. The nights got colder, though some days were still warm. We brought out the blankets. My brothers stacked the wood by the door. Alifair was off to a revival meeting for two weeks so I was free of her. I helped Ma make apple butter. We went to a corn shucking. In church they were getting ready for the Chris
tmas pageant and I was asked to be part of it. But all I could think of when they talked about Mary, and how as she didn't have a place to birth her baby, was Ro. And how there was no room for her at our house. Or at Devil Anse's. I said no to the Christmas pageant. Nancy McCoy played Mary. I sang in the choir. The songs gave me comfort.

  At Christmas I brought a special basket to Belle Beaver. She asked after Ro and I lied and told her, yes, I'd given her the comb and she loved it. "These people around here ain't the forgivin' kind," she told me. "She ought to take her feller and move away."

  I wished it could be so simple. In March, the end of a bitter winter, Ro had a baby girl. Only Aunt Betty attended her, though I went with Ma to see her. Ma was beside herself with joy. Ro's joy was quiet and tinged with sadness.

  "A darlin' little baby," Ma said. "Looks just like you, Ro." Aunt Betty agreed.

  The baby had blond hair, not dark like my sister's. Was everybody blind? Couldn't they see it looked just like Johnse?

  Chapter Twenty

  DECEMBER 1881

  RO'S BABY, LITTLE Sarah Elizabeth, loved me. She was only nine months in December, but Ro said she looked for my coming. When I did come she wanted only me, clung to me and stared at me with her big blue eyes as if I was somebody special. It made me all weak and mushy inside. I hated leaving her.

  "Your sister's in a little paradise all her own," Aunt Betty told me. "And I feel like a grandmother. I'm enjoying it a heap, I can tell you."

  I envied Ro, living in her cottony world, but the world outside went on, meaner than ever. I didn't tell her, of course. But neighbors gossiped about her and the baby, saying it was "conceived in sin," that it had the hated Hatfield blood. On the other side of the coin, word came to us that Devil Anse was sorry he hadn't allowed Johnse to wed Roseanna. He'd heard about the cunning baby and was going around bragging that it had his blood. But now it was too late.

  "Too late, why?" I asked Ma. But she only shook her head and didn't say.

  One day right before Christmas I lingered after school to help straighten up instead of going to Ro's, because Sarah Elizabeth had the measles. Ma had been there for two days now. I had the jimjams because I wasn't allowed to go. I hadn't had measles yet. All I could think of was little Sarah Elizabeth. Was she looking for me?

  Nancy McCoy lingered after school, too, but she wasn't helping. That's when she told me that Johnse was a-carousin' and drinking. "And seeking solace at Belle Beaver's place."

  "What for?" I asked.

  She grinned. "Well, it isn't for maple candy. It's such a shame, a nice boy like Johnse going to Belle for solace. She should be told to leave him be and maybe he'd wed who he wanted."

  Why was she taking up for Roseanna of a sudden? Then I decided that though Nancy was a low-down slithering snake, maybe she was right. Maybe all that had to be done was tell Belle to turn Johnse away so's he could think how much he loved Roseanna. He'd only been once to see the baby. That's what he needed, to visit again and see that adorable child.

  Ma had got up a big basket of vittles for Belle and I was to take it on the twenty-second. I thought it brave of Ma. Other church ladies were all in a huff about Belle. It seemed like a lot of their menfolk were visiting her again, so they'd sent a delegation to my brother Jim, who said he'd ponder it. Jim never did anything without he pondered it well. And I know he told Tolbert and Mary that it wasn't right to turn a woman out of her home in the snows of winter.

  A fresh layer of snow had fallen the night before, but it hardly counted as the snows of winter. It was powdery. And it glistened in the morning sun. On my way to school I felt good lugging Belle's basket. On this visit I'd talk to Belle, tell her about Ro's beautiful baby and how maybe she could turn Johnse away when he next came to see her. Adelaide and Trinvilla walked on ahead, making snowballs and throwing them at each other.

  A thin wisp of smoke curled up out of Belle Beaver's chimney. I hurried down her narrow path and knocked on the patched-up door. Usually she came right out, but now she didn't. I knocked again. There was a muffled sound from inside. I pushed the door open and dropped the basket. A jar of molasses and a ham rolled onto the floor. I stood there and screamed.

  Belle was hanging from the rafters. Buck naked. And dead.

  I turned to run, but a cry stopped me, and then her feet started to wiggle. She was alive! And then I saw she wasn't altogether naked, but that her print dress was pulled up and tied around her neck. Cloth was stuffed in her mouth. I had to do something! But what?

  She was mumbling through the rag in her mouth and casting her eyes in the direction of a small bench. I crossed the room to seize it. More muffled cries. She was shaking her head no. Why? Oh. She was now looking to a table where a bowl and cup and some utensils were laid out And I understood. There was a large, ugly knife. Of course. She wanted me to cut the rope.

  I grabbed the knife, dragged over the small bench, and climbed onto it, but when I reached up I could not reach the rope binding her to the rafters. I couldn't even reach the gag in her mouth.

  I must get help, I thought. The fire in the old stone fireplace was fast fading, the place was freezing cold. I jumped down from the bench. "I'm going for help. The school is closer than my brother Tolbert's house. I'll be back soon." Before I left I threw a log on the fire.

  I ran all the rest of the way to school. I heard Mr. Cuzlin ringing the old school bell before I even got through the woods, saw him walking back across the snow-covered yard to the school. I'd been running so fast I could scarce find my breath, but I stopped and yelled, "Mr. Cuzlin!"

  He turned, saw me, and waved.

  Right about then I slipped and fell and he started toward me. By the time he reached me I was on my feet, but tears were frozen on my face. There's no telling what the poor man thought, seeing me all out of breath and crying like that. Likely that I was chased by a black bear.

  No matter. When he heard what misery I was toting, he turned to one of the older girls who was just coming into the schoolyard, told her to take charge, and came with me back to Belle's.

  ***

  WE CUT HER down and took the gag from her mouth. She was dazed and freezing. We got her dress straightened. Mr. Cuzlin was so embarrassed by her state that he didn't look at me. Just gave orders. "Fetch that brandy over there. Make her a cup of tea and get that comforter." I did as I was told. Then he told me to build up the fire and I did that, too. I picked up Ma's vittles, which were all over the floor, and put them in the cupboard.

  When Mr. Cuzlin asked her who did this to her, she shook her head and couldn't speak at first. I confess that for a minute I held my breath, hoping it wasn't my brother Jim. But inside me I knew that Jim didn't mistreat women, even those labeled "bad."

  "Don't know," she said. "They had their faces covered. But they were young. Said they'd had enough of my evil ways and wanted me out of their God-lovin' community. Said I should stop corruptin' the likes of young Johnse Hatfield. Said their sister and him was a-fixin' to wed."

  I felt my face go hot. "It wasn't my brothers," I said. "They wouldn't do such."

  He said nothing.

  It wasn't, I wanted to scream. But who wanted their sister to wed Johnse Hatfield?

  "Like I invited that Johnse feller here," she was saying. "I ask you, sir, is this the work of God? What they did to me? Well, I'm a-leavin'. Belle doesn't want any truck with a place where the men don't treat women like ladies, even if'n I don't go to church. I'm leavin' tonight."

  "More snow is on the way," Mr. Cuzlin told her. "Might be you should wait a spell. You know how the snow gets in these mountains."

  "I'll take my chances with the snow and the mountains afore I take my chances with these God-fearin' people," she told him.

  We stayed with her a bit until she was herself again. Then we left. I went out the door first, as I was told, but when I turned to close it behind me I saw Mr. Cuzlin hand her some money. "In case you need it."

  On the way back to school again, I defended my bro
thers. "They don't even want Johnse to wed Ro," I told him. I found that I cared what he thought, dearly.

  He nodded. "Somebody could just be throwing the blame on your brothers," he said to me. By the time we got back to school it was near noon. Nancy McCoy had taken charge.

  "Don't you think I've done a good job?" she asked. Her eyes flirted with him.

  "I think you have done a complete job," he told her. "And you have gotten your way."

  I did not take his meaning. But Nancy did. She flounced to her seat. Soon I found that everybody in the schoolroom knew where we'd been and wanted to know if Belle Beaver was dead. Then I knew who had attacked Belle Beaver. But why? Oh, I didn't know. My feet were so cold, and the sight of Belle hanging naked was frozen somewhere inside me forever.

  On the way home when I passed her place I saw that she was gone. The door swung open, banging in the winter wind. There was no more smoke from the chimney. Ahead of me on the path I heard Adelaide and Trinvilla giggling. "Too bad," Adelaide said. "Now the only bad woman left in these parts for people to talk about is our own sister."

  I caught up with Adelaide, gave her a good smack, and kept running. I'd be punished when I got home by Alifair, but I didn't care. When I got home, though, there was no punishment. There was only Alifair waiting to tell us that she'd had word from Ma. Ro's baby had gotten pneumonia from the measles. And died. I dropped my books and ran all the way to Aunt Betty's.

  Chapter Twenty–One

  DECEMBER 1881–JANUARY 1882

  PA HAD NEVER seen Roseanna's baby girl, but now he stood with us on a knoll behind Aunt Betty's place when they put the little coffin Floyd had made into the cold ground.

  My heart was near ruined. Sometimes I thought it wasn't even there anymore inside me. All that was there when I reached was a hollow ache.

  Little Sarah Elizabeth dead! I couldn't believe it Nobody died from measles! But what haunted me most was, did she look for me to come and see her? Was she waiting? Did she wonder why I hadn't come?