Will O Wisp

by Risner, Fay

  “Oh, no! We got to get you back to the house so Miss Melinda can help you,” May Jean said. “How are we going to do it? Miss Gracie is too heavy for us to hold up.”

  “What if we bring the flat wooden wheel barrow out here and put Aunt Gracie on that? We might need Aunt Melinda to help us. Between us all we can give her a ride back to the house,” Shana said. “Stay right here, Aunt Gracie. We will be back in a minute.”

  As the girls took off running, Gracie croaked, “Where else do you think I'd go?”

  The girls came back with Melinda. Shana pushed the wheel barrow up beside Gracie. “Now we have to get Aunt Gracie to sit on the wheelbarrow without putting weight on that ankle.”

  Melinda positioned herself on the back side the wheelbarrow while the girls lifted Gracie under the arms. She groaned when the pain worsened. “Now Aunt Melinda, get her around the waist and guide her down on the wheelbarrow platform,” Shana ordered.

  Once they had Gracie seated, Shana said, “May Jean, you and Aunt Melinda grab hold of the wheelbarrow sides while I lift Aunt Gracie's legs and turn her around.”

  Working together, they twisted Gracie around so her legs were supported by the wheelbarrow platform.

  Shana said, “Now the two of you walk along beside Aunt Gracie and balance the wheelbarrow while I push. Try to keep her from tippin' over.”

  They took it slow. In a few minutes, they were to the porch steps. Next was the problem of getting her up the steps and into the house.

  “Let's sit her on a step and lift her up one step at a time,” Shana said.

  It sounded like a good idea, but Gracie cried out with the uplift under her arm. She hollered again when her ankle plopped against the ground on the first step. Melinda picked up Gracie's right leg and holding the ankle up until they reached the top step.

  “Now how are we going to get her in the house, girls?” Melinda asked.

  “Maybe we can put a quilt down for her to sit on and drag her in,” May Jean said. “We did that to Papa one time when he passed out on the porch. He was too heavy to lift.”

  “That work?” Shana asked.

  “It was enough to get him on the inside the door. We left him there until he sobered up. I think that was the next afternoon,” May Jean said, trying to recall.

  “I ain't laying in front of the door for you to step over until this ankle gets to feeling better. I just will not do it,” Gracie said as close to tears as Melinda and Shana had ever seen her.

  The creak of buggy wheels had them looking down the lane. Melinda cried in glad surprise. “Thank goodness, it's Millard.”

  “Oh no, just what I need is him in the way,” Gracie groaned.

  “Hush up, Gracie. He is just what we need. A strong man to help us get you inside and on the couch. You need that ankle up on a pillow for the night. That's the best place for you while you're in for all kinds of hurt,” Melinda scolded.

  Millard bailed out of the buggy and rushed toward them. “What happened? Gracie, you hurt?”

  “She is,” Melinda said. “She has a swollen ankle from stepping in a fox hole. We sure could use some help getting her to the sofa. We got her this far, and we're worn out. She is in an awful lot of pain.”

  “Open the door,” Millard ordered. He scooped Gracie up in his arms and tried to ignore her groaning protests as he carried her to the parlor. He eased her down on the sofa. “There now. Let's see that ankle.”

  Melinda took the high top shoe and sock off. “Oh my, it does look bad. Look at how discolored and swollen it is.”

  “You think it might be broken?” Millard asked. “I can go get the doctor if you need me to.”

  “What do you think, Gracie?” Melinda asked.

  “It hurts like blazes, but it's hard to tell if my ankle is broken. I know I can't put any weight on it. Put some cold water compresses on the ankle, and some pillows under it to get my leg up in the air. If the ankle doesn't look better in the morning, you can go for the doctor.”

  Shana remembered Clara had been left by the barn door. She grabbed the milk pail and told May Jean where she was going. Shana opened the back half barn door while May Jean stood behind her. Clara was in a big hurry to come in. She bumped into Shana. When Shana went down, she took May Jean down with her.

  By the time, they got on their feet, Clara had her head in the stanchion. She crooked her neck around to look out at the girls, waiting for her feed.

  Shana locked the stanchion in place and went for the feed. She emptied one of the cans, Gracie made up, in the trough and got the milk stool off the nail. Once she had the stool about where she thought Gracie put it, she placed the bucket under the cow and edged down on the seat.

  “What do you want me to do?” May Jean asked.

  Shana stared at the cow's full bag. “Tis sure I am I need to figure out how Aunt Gracie milked this cow. Do you know how to milk a cow, May Jean?”

  “Sure, I do. I haven't had to do it too often, but I know how.”

  “Let me give it a try. If I can't figure this out, you can take over. For right now, you gather eggs. Don't forget to carry the stick in the bush to hit the mean rooster with.” Shana put her hands on two of the teats and squeezed down. A small amount of milk dripped from the end of the teats and fell in the bucket. That was encouraging. Shana squeezed again, and the drips turned into a squirt.

  Bluebell heard the whoosh when the milk hit the tin bucket. She knew what that meant and came out of the manger to watch. When she meowed, Shana aimed a teat at her and squirted the milk all over the cat's face. Satisfied, Bluebell licked her face.

  Clara must have been contented for the moment. She swished her tail back and forth. Each time the tail came near Shana she felt the breeze from it. Then the tail came at her and hit her up side the head. Shana got over balanced and fell off the stool backward. Clara didn't seem to notice.

  Shana got up and dusted herself off. “That very tail is dangerous. If you want something to do, May Jean, see if you can keep Clara's tail from hitting me until I get done.”

  May Jean came over and grabbed the tail. By holding on to it, she could keep the tail from coming at Shana. She kept that up until the teats ran dry, but Shana still had two more to go. Her hands hurt bad enough that her fingers lost their grip.

  “Me hands are gettin' tired, they are. More's the pity, I'm only half done. May Jean, you spell me while I watch Clara's tail,” Shana said.

  So they switched jobs. Clara ran out of feed. Shana had to give her another can to keep her from getting restless.

  After they let Clara out of the barn, the girls took the milk bucket back to the house. Melinda was cooking supper, and Millard was trying to entertain Gracie to keep her from thinking about the pain in her ankle.

  Shana and May Jean went in to see how she was doing.

  Gracie said, “I wondered where you girls got off to. That cow needs milking. I sure ain't in no shape to do it.”

  Millard said, “I can milk that cow for you, Gracie. Why didn't you say something?” He stood up.

  Shana said, “No need to worry, sir. We just milked the cow and brought the milk to Aunt Melinda.”

  “You did?” Gracie said in surprise. “Much obliged, girls. That's really nice of you to do that for me without me having to tell you.”

  Millard stayed for supper that night. He promised to come back the next morning to help with chores. He told Shana he'd milk the cow for her after he checked Gracie's ankle.

  The next morning, Gracie's ankle didn't seem so puffed up. It was tender to the touch. In a couple of days, she could put enough weight on the foot to limp to the table.

  Chapter Twelve

  That evening at supper, Melinda said, “Gracie, it's your turn to say the blessing.”

  “All right,” Gracie said agreeably and bowed her head. “Lord, we are awful thankful for the food on this table. We're thankful for the fish we caught, so we didn't have to eat what was left of that old hen the possum caught last night. We are thankfu
l for the bowl of potatoes. Them fried from potatoes kept from freezing during the hard winter by hens sitting on them.”

  “Gracie,” Melinda interrupted. “I think we get the idea. Just wind it up before the food gets cold.”

  “Lord, Melinda says to say Amen now so Amen.” Gracie winked at the girls. They giggled.

  “You're not setting a very good example for these girls,” scolded Melinda.

  “Next time we'll let Shana say the blessing, and see just how much she's learned,” Gracie said. “Now start passing the food.”

  Melinda had warmed up the leftover fish along with the other left overs. When the fish platter passed from Shana to May Jean, the girl looked at the pieces of fish. “Here, Shana. Take the platter back. I don't want whatever this is.”

  “Why not?” Gracie barked, taking the platter from Shana.

  “Cause I don't know what it is,” May Jean said timidly.

  “It's the fish we caught yesterday morning,” Melinda explained. “We caught so many we couldn't eat all of them at once.”

  Gracie offered the platter back to May Jean. The girl shook her head no and kept her hands on the table. “You say that's fish? I still don't want it. Us Graves don't eat no fish that don't have a head on it. That's how we can tell what we're eating.”

  “Fine then,” Gracie said, setting the platter down. “It just leaves more for the rest of us.”

  For dessert, Melinda dished them up a bowl of strawberry shortcake and spooned whip cream over it.

  “This sure is good,” Gracie said. “Much obliged to you girls for picking the strawberries. You know we can have more of this if you pick the berries every other day until they're gone.”

  “I'm for that,” May Jean said. “Mama don't bake much at our house.”

  “Why not, dear?” Melinda asked.

  “She said doesn't do any good to bake cookies or a cake, cause there are so many of us we eat it up too fast,” May Jean said.

  “I thought that's what bake goods were for,” Gracie said, looking at Melinda.

  Melinda looked baffled.

  “Did you notice Thad's cows while you were in the pasture?” Gracie asked the girls.

  “Sure and we did, but I didn't count them. Did Mr. Sawyer tell you how many head there was?” Shana asked.

  “Thirty five cows with calves by their side. There's a bull with them, too. Thad didn't say the bull was mean, but you girls stay away from him just to be on the safe side,” Gracie warned.

  “We will,” Shana said.

  “I don't want to be chased by a mean bull,” May Jean agreed.

  “Aunt Gracie?” Shana began after being thoughtful a moment.

  “What?”

  “The Sawyer cattle pretty much all look alike. How do you tell them apart?”

  “Thad is with them so much he knows each one of them right off. Usually by markings and size,” Gracie said.

  “What are the cows names?” Shana asked.

  Gracie put her fork on her plate as her voice rose. “Why in the world would anyone want to name a whole herd of crapping critters?”

  Shana put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  “Gracie Evans! Watch your mouth! We're eating supper. It seems you have forgotten that,” scolded Melinda. She eyed the smiling girls. “Now both of you eat so I can get the dishes done.”

  At bedtime, Melinda looked in on the girls to see if they settled down for the night. She tucked the covers up around both of them. “Sleep tight, you two. Don't let the bed bugs bite, and if they do beat them with a shoe until they're black and blue.”

  The girls laughed.

  “It's more fun at this house than it is at my house,” May Jean said sadly.

  After Gracie and Melinda went to sleep, the girls heard the elderly women snore. Shana whispered, “You want to walk out in the timber and see if the will o wisp is still there tonight?”

  “That might not be a good idea. We best stay in our bed,” May Jean said.

  “It can't hurt a thing. Will o wisps always run away. They won't hurt us if we don't get too close,” Shana said.

  “How do you know?” May Jean asked.

  “There was always talk about them in Ireland roamin' here and there. Never heard of any that hurt live people,” Shana declared.

  “Maybe the will o wisps in Iowa won't like us watching them. They might be mean,” May Jean insisted.

  “They generally don't get mean. I've never heard of one that would do more than scare us a wee bit. Let's see what we can find in the timber. Aunt Gracie and I saw one a few days ago,” Shana whispered.

  May Jean came up on her elbow. “You did?”

  Shana boasted softly, “We sure did.”

  May Jean's interest was piqued. “What did it look like?”

  “To be sure, it was a white wispy form movin' fast. To tell the truth, the being was too far away to get a good luck at,” Shana said. “That's why I want another look.”

  May Jean relaxed. She paused a moment to consider. “All right, if you want to go, I guess I'm game. Won't your aunts give us a hard time if they find out we're up and outside in the dark? In the timber to boot.” May Jean asked,

  “Get dressed. They are never goin' to know we went outside.” Shana pointed out at the open window. “We're goin' out that very way quietly.”

  After they dressed, Shana climbed onto the sill and slid off. She lost her grip and fell to the ground. May Jean giggled as she looked over the sill at Shana, sitting below her. Shana said, “Watch that first step. It be a doosy.”

  May Jean stuck her feet out the window. When she bellied over the sill, Shana thought the girl seemed to be a pro.

  They made so much noise Spot woke up. He loped off the porch and sniffed their legs, whining for attention.

  “Hush up dog. Go lay down,” Shana scolded.

  Spot put his tail between his legs and backed away. As the girls went around to the front of the house, he followed.

  Shana slipped into the kitchen for some matches. When she came back, she lifted the barn lantern down from the nail on the porch.

  In the darkness of a moonless night, the girls walked down the lane with Spot behind them. Shana looked back. “Well, scolding that dog will do no good at all. He insists on comin' with us.” Shana lit the lantern and turned the flame down low. They walked into the timber as far as they dared.

  When they stopped, Shana said, “You want to become my blood sister in a ceremony like the Indians do.”

  May Jean shrugged. “I guess so, but ain't that where we have to cut ourselves and put our blood together. That sounds like it will hurt me.”

  “Tis true I agree. That doesn't sound like much fun. Miss Gracie says there's another way. We can light up a twig and put it out. Once the tip of the twig cools, we mark our wrists with the ashes. We rub our wrists together. How about that?”

  “That sound a heap easier,” May Jean said.

  Shana picked up a few twigs and pulled a match out of her pocket.

  “What are you going to do?” May Jean said.

  “Make a small fire and find a twig to burn to get the ashes off of,” Shana explained.

  “What if someone sees the fire? We'll get in trouble,” May Jean worried.

  “No one is going to worry about a small light in the timber that doesn't move. Aunt Gracie says the glows we have been seein' is called foxfire. If anyone sees this tiny fire or the lantern, they will think the same thing. It's the moving lights that worry them so much.”

  Shana lit the small pile of dried leaves covering sticks. They watched as the leaves smoked and caught on fire. As soon as the stick she held in the fire had a fiery glow on the end, Shana brought it out of the fire. She surveyed the timber around them as she waited for it to cool from red to black.

  After the end of the stick cooled to the touch, Shana rubbed the burnt end over May Jean's wrist and then her own. She put her arm against May Jean's. “Now we say the pledge. We will always be friends, and we will
always help each other when we need help. Now you say it.”

  May Jean repeated, “We will always be friends, and we will always help each other when we need help.”

  “Now we're honest to goodness blood sisters,” Shana pronounced.

  May Jean squealed. “Ouch.” The leg of her trousers was flaming at the hem, on it's way up her leg. “My pant leg is on fire.”

  Shana pushed the girl to the ground. “Lay down and rub that leg again the ground. Put out the fire.”

  After the fire was out, May Jean squeezed her burnt leg. “My leg hurts.”

  Suddenly it dawned on Shana that Spot had been barking forcefully for a while. She looked around for the dog. “Saints preserve us, the fire is gettin' away from us. We have to put it out before the timber goes up in smoke.”

  “What do we do?” May Jean said in a panic as she looked at the flaming circle they stood in.

  The girls spent the better part of an hour tromping on smoldering leaves while Spot barked. The smoke made it hard to breath. The girls coughed and waved one hand in front of their faces while they beat at the flames with leafy branches.

  Finally satisfied that they had the fire out, Shana said, “After all that, I'm tired enough to sleep on nails. We better go back to the house and get in bed.”

  “I'm for that. It will be morning soon,” May Jean agreed.

  Shana concentrated beyond the trees. “Doesn't look like we're goin' to have any luck tonight seein' a will o wisp anyway.”

  “I doubted you would have any luck seeing one of those things with all the noise we made,” May Jean declared.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure if I was you. We just scared them all off this very night but good with the fire and smoke. That don't mean they won't be back.

  We should get some rest. Aunt Gracie, gets us up early, and no tellin' what she will have planned for us to be doin' in the morn.”

  The girls left the bedroom window open that night to air themselves off. The smell of smoke in their hair and on their clothes was strong.