by Risner, Fay
Haunt Dawson
Later that same morning, Nannie paused, held her flour covered hands above the biscuit dough she was kneading, and listened intently. Who is doen all that hammeren in the barn? She wondered as she walked to the screen door.
She looked passed the wash stand and the corn broom turned upside down, leaning against the porch wall to where Dillard was playing dominoes with Alma and Lydia on the porch. Nannie smiled to herself as she listened to Lydia giggle when she won a game. The child’s health had improved somewhat. It was a relief to Nannie to see Lydia put on a few pounds, and her hair growing back.
Lillie and Veder were making mud pies in the sand pile under the mulberry tree. Nannie shook her head as she imagined what their dresses were going to look like when they were through. The slick haired, tan coonhound, Jasper, lay curled up at the base of the mulberry tree, sleeping the day away so he’d be rested for a night in the timber if the boys didn’t think to tie him up.
She’d sent Cass and Bess to the garden to pick green beans and greens for the meal, and Jacob and the older boys were in the cornfield, laying the corn by.
At the moment, she didn’t hear any more hammering, and Nannie knew if she was going to get the biscuits baked by noon she’d better get back to kneading the biscuit dough. The boys always called their mother’s biscuits slugs, because Nannie made her biscuits larger than anyone else. Thinking about that made Nannie smile as she punched and rolled the dough.
About an hour later, Nannie heard laughter and talking on the porch as the family lined up at the wash stand, cleaning up for lunch. Nannie stepped out on the porch, took the towel off its nail and offered it to Jacob. He shook his dripping hands above the chipped, white, granite wash pan with a red rim that had been on that wash stand since before he was born then took the towel from Nannie.
“Food's ready as if y'all didn't know,” quipped Nannie. With her hands on her hips, she watched her brood file in and sit down at the table. When they quieted down and joined hands, Nannie nodded at Jacob to say grace. Then they began to pass the bowls of food.
“By the way, what was all that hammeren about in the barn I heared in the middle of the mornen?” Asked Nannie.
The four older boys looked at each other blankly and shrugged their shoulders.
“We were all in the cornfield this mornen,” said Lue and looked at the other boys. “Wasn’t us?”
They nodded yes.
“Dillard, was it ya all?” Nannie asked.
“No, Mama, I was with Veder and Lydia on the porch all mornen. Member?”
“Maybe we better look around the barn afore we go back to the field this afternoon,” Jacob suggested then he returned to the business of eating.
That evening settled in with a chill that made the warmth of the fireplace inviting when the tired Bishop family gathered near it's flickering flames. Nannie lit their two kerosene lamps, glass chimneys atop blue metal bowls, that sat on the table. Between the fireplace and the lamps, the long room had a dim glow about it that was always in motion like a yellow and black prism, swaying back and forth on the ceiling where the light reached, but the glow couldn’t quite extend to the dark corners of the room.
Jacob placed his chair among the children. He opened a Zane Grey book called Spirit Of The Border to read to them until bedtime and slanted the book toward the fire light.
Nannie sat down at her spinning wheel near the table in the light of the lamps. It relaxed her to listen to Jacob read while she spun, too. She picked up her carders out of the sack of wool and combed out a piece of wool, removing weed seeds, until the wool turned to fluff. That was the easy step in the process of making articles of clothes with wool.
In the spring when the sheep no longer needed their winter coats, Jacob and his sons sheered the sheep with long shears. That was a backbreaking job, sitting the sheep upright on their backsides and cutting down next to the skin until the wool lay in a pile around the sheep. Then Nannie and the girls took the wool to the steam to wash much of the dirt out of it before dying it. The different colors of dyed wool were hung on the clothesline in gunny sacks to air dry. Then Nannie carded and spun the wool then she had to twist two strands together to make a strong yarn to knit.
It wasn’t any easier to turn the three acres of flax into linen for clothes. Jacob and the boys cut the plants with a hand cradle, bundled the flax into shocks and let the shocks stand on their heads until the heads decayed enough to fall off. Then the whole family helped to rub and break the stems until the wood fiber fell out. That left the outside which was called toe. That toe was run through a carding machine to make it fine enough to spin, then the strands were twisted together and woven on a loom to make linen material.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“What's that noise, Pap?” Inquired Dillard.
Everyone strained to listen.
“I don't know, Dillard.” Jacob walked to the open window to look out. All he saw was the tiny, yellow beacons on the tails of the millions of lightening bugs glowing in the dark. “Sounds like the same noise I heard this mornen,” Commented Nannie.
“Maybe I better go check the barn again,” Jacob said. “Light me the coal oil lantern Nannie.”
“I'll go with ya, Pap,” offered Sid.
Wordlessly, the family listened to the night sounds coming through the screen door while they waited for Jacob and Sid to return. The cicadas droned their tunes high in the trees. Scratchy splatters sounded on the door screen when moths drawn to the light met their death. Very close to the log cabin, an owl, roosting in a pine tree, hooted intensely three times.
An eerie, uneasy feeling crept over the Bishops at that ominous sign as the owl's hoots resounded around them. The ridge people believed that an owl hooting close to the house meant there could be a death in family soon. Bess couldn't help stealing a look at her sister, Lydia, to see if she looked all right. She sighed in relief as she watched the pale faced, little girl smile down at her rag doll then hug it.
In the distance, the perky calls of whippoorwills came close together as they crept about in the ridge underbrush. At the same time a multitude of tree frogs screeched their tunes, trying to drown out the irritating creaks of crickets from inside the house as well as outside.
Stepping up on the porch out of the darkness, Jacob opened the screen door and entered with Sid right behind him. “We didn't find anything,” he said as he sat down again. “Now, younguns, gather around. I'll read another chapter of this here book afore ya hit the hay.”
A couple of weeks later on a Sunday afternoon, Jacob leaned back against a porch post to relax. “Doak Woods, ya know how long it's been since Otillie and ya have been here fer a meal?”
“It's been a spell, I reckon.” The elderly, heavyset man paused to light his corn cob pipe. “Now that the weather is warm, we'll feel more like visiten some, I expect.”
“Right glad to hear that.” Jacob's face turned serious. “Doak, yer family has lived on this ridge a right long spell, ain't they?”
“Longer than I know about, but so has yers.” Doak puffed on his pipe as he slapped at a fly, trying to light on his bald head.
Jacob nodded in agreement as he gazed passed the family cemetery on up the hill to where his cattle grazed. The herd sauntered across the pasture, their heads down nipping grass and white clover blossoms that from the porch looked like popcorn strewn about in the grass.
Suddenly a fluffy cloud covered the sun, sending an extensive shadow creeping up the hill and over the cattle. The dark shadow slipped through the grass, scaring the cows. They scattered, twisting their backends high in the air and waving their tails like flags. Jacob wondered if other Bishops before him had been lucky enough to take the time to sit in that spot on Sunday afternoons and enjoyed the same peaceful scene.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“What ya got goen on out in the barn, Jake?”
“Nothen, that I know of. We've gave up looken fer the cause of that hammeren noise. It happens mighty
often lately, but we cain't figure out what's doen it.”
“Sounds like hammeren all right, don't it? Are ya sure one of yer boys ain't up to somethen in there?” Doak suggested.
Sid spoke up from among the boys sitting on the other end of the porch. “Doak, we're all right here with ya.”
“Sure enough. Looks like all of ya are here. Sometimes I kinda of loose count of how many Bishop younguns there is,” said Doak, chuckling. “When did this hammeren noise start, Jake?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
“I see,” Doak said thoughtfully. He removed his pipe as if to say more, paused and placed the pipe back between his taunt lips. The old man puffed in quick successions while the others watched the small smoke clouds float away from him.
“What's on yer mind, Doak? Yer thinken somethin,” Jacob surmised.
“Oh, nothen much.”
“Now, Doak, ya got an idea so let me know what it is.” Jacob demanded.
“Well -- well, maybe it's jest ya cain't see whose doen the hammeren. That's all.”
Jacob looked at Doak sideways. “And why not?”
“Ever hear tell of Haunt Dawson?” Doak asked reluctantly.
“Nope, cain't say I have. Who's he?”
“Brother Dawson fell offen a barn he was hepen build. He died. That was years and years back so I forget when exactly,” Doak said.
Though he was curious to know more of the story, Jacob had an uneasy feeling about what Doak's answer would be. He turned to peer intently at the older man. “Whose barn did he fall off of, Doak?”
“Yer's, Jake,” said Doak softly. He puffed on his pipe and studied the barn, thinking of the tale from the past.
“I was afeared that's what ya was goen to say. Yer pullen my leg,” scoffed Jacob.
“Nope, Jake. Afeared not. Yer pappy used to hear hammeren in that barn quite regular after Haunt Dawson died. Seems it always stopped after a while.”
“Funny that my Pap didn't tell me about that. I am glad to know the hammeren will stop sometime no matter whatever or whoever it is,” Jacob answered dryly.
“What did this Haunt Dawson look like, Doak?” Asked Lue.
The boys listened intently from their end of the porch. They had leaned forward, straining to hear what sounded like an interesting conversation.
“Don't know fer sure. It was afore my time that this all happened. I did hear tell he died a slow, painful death. Those who seen him afterwards when his spirit came back to the barn said that first they seed a small glow, then the light got bigger. Then there was a shadow of a man holdin' a hammer appeared in the glow. He dragged one leg when he walked like it got broke in the fall.” Doak squinted his twinkling eyes as if to keep the pipe smoke from getting in them.
“Imagine, someone seen a haunt in our barn!” Gasped Don.
“What did the haunt do when they seen him?” Dillard asked. His eyes widen at the thought of seeing a haunt.
“Now, younguns, that's enough of this here yarn of Doak's. Cain't ya tell when he's jest funnen ya all? Now let us men be for a spell and go find somethin to do,” commanded Jacob.
“But, Pap ---- ,” Don started to say.
“Go! Now!” Barked Jacob.
“All right, Pap,” Lue agreed, nodding his head at the other boys to follow him. “We'll get our cane poles and go fishen. Dillard, ya better go back in the house and see what Veder and Lydia are doen.”
“I wanna go fishen, too,” whined Dillard.
“Nope, ya can’t keep up so go on now,” ordered Sid. To ease Dillard’s hurt feelings he put his hand down in Dillard’s mass of blond curls and rubbed his head. “We’ll take ya with us one of these days.”
Dillard hated to be treated like a baby. He especially hated to have his head rubbed so he darted out from under Sid’s hand to open the screen door.
When the boys had gotten out of ear shot, Jacob turned to look at Doak. “How much of that tale is straight? Ya sure had my boys goen.” Jacob chuckled at how much interest his sons had taken in Doak's ghost story.
“Never did seed anything myself, but when I was a young man it were yer pappy told me he saw the haunt. He sounded like he was tellen the tale straight enough. That might have been why he didn't mention the haunt around you. He didn't like to talk about what he seed.”
“Was that afore or after Pappy sampled a fresh batch of corn mash in that crock he kept out behind the smokehouse?”
“Ya might have an idea there, Jake. After I expect.” The elderly man grinned, remembering his old friend's fondness for corn liquor.
Cane poles propped across their shoulders, the boys set off in the direction of Little River.
“What do ya know! A haunt in our barn!” Lue whistled at the thought.
“Shuck! Doak could have been funnen us like Pap said. Ya know how he is,” said Sid, doubtfully.
“He sounded serious enough to me,” declared Don.
“Me, too,” agreed Tom.
“Well, want to see ifen he's right?” Asked Lue, stopping to face the other boys.
“How would we do that?” Inquired Don.
“We'd hide out in the barn in the night and see ifen the haunt appears. That's how,” Lue said.
“Lue, why would we want to do that? I don't want to see a haunt face to face,” Sid stated adamantly.
“Maybe there's some way we could keep Haunt Dawson from comen back to haunt our barn ifen we knew how to get rid of him,” mused Lue.
“We don't know what to do unless ya do,” argued Sid.
“Not me. Genon Mitts, the old medicine woman, would know how to get rid of a haunt. Let's go ask her,” suggested Lue.
“I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Genon’s spooky enough herself,” warned Sid.
“Well, I think it's a good idea. Let's go see her now.” Lue glared from Don to Tom as if he wasn't taking no for an answer. They nodded agreement.
“All right, I'm outnumbered, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Sid threw his hands up in the air and followed the others.
They turned into a squirrel path that went through the timber to a secluded hollow. Genon's small log cabin was at the end of the path. The cabin's chimney puffed a gray trail of smoke across the sky year around. That was a sign Genon's potions brewed on her wood cookstove.
Since the fire kept the cabin hot in the summer, Genon usually sat on the porch in her rocker, waiting for customers unless she was out scouring the ridges for roots, herbs, and other mysterious ingredients to put in her medicines and potions.
That afternoon, she was leaning back in her rocker, resting. Her worn, dust covered, slouch hat with a darkened sweat stain around the band drooped down over her dark, brown eyes. The boys knew from under that brim, Genon watched their approach with piercing eyes. She never missed anything going on around her, and talk was she knew most things before they happened.
The large man's faded, blue shirt she wore billowed out at her middle. It was cinched down by a wide black belt. The shirt tail draped over her broad, brown skirted hips. The long, brown skirt stopped in folds at the toes of her scuffed, high top, men's work shoes.
“Afternoon, boys. What can I do fer ya?” Genon pushed her hat back from her forehead, exposing a long, wisp of wiry, brown, tinged with gray, hair that fell along her cheek.
The boys laid their fishing poles down in the yard and approached the porch.
“Jest passen by and thought we'd say howdy,” Lue replied nervously. He sat down on the far edge of the porch, letting his legs dangle off the porch. He wanted to keep some distance between Genon and himself. The other boys followed his lead. They looked off down the hollow to avoid looking at the spooky, medicine woman.
“Unhuh.” Genon tapped her right shoe against the porch floor, producing a rhythmic sound to go along with the motion of rocking slowly back and forth.
Miss Mitts, ya ever tried to get rid of a haunt? Clearing his throat, Lue began as casually as he could, pretending to concentrate on a squirr
el running from branch to branch in the ancient oak tree shading the porch.
“Ya got a haunt ya want rid of?” Genon looked piercingly down her nose at Lue.
“We might have,” said Lue, guardedly.
“Who might this haunt be, pray tell?” Genon asked, looking intently down her nose at them.
“Doak Woods thinks it’s Haunt Dawson,” admitted Tom, gulping down a lump in his throat.
“He's in yer barn again, I take it?” The midwife studied each of the boys for a reaction.
Startled, Lou asked, “How did you know that?” All of them twisted around on the porch to stare at the old medicine woman.
“I got my ways.” Genon cackled, showing her tobacco stained teeth which slanted inward from years of holding a corncob pipe. “Haunt Dawson is harmless enough as haunts go. He'll go away sooner or later. He always does.”
“Yep, but he always comes back the way we hear it. The noise is maken us all right skittish. Cain't we get rid him so we don't have to listen to that hammeren ever again?” Lue wanted to know.
“Ya can try I reckon, but y'all would have to mind jest what I say or it won't work.”
“All right, what do we have to do?” Asked Lue, eagerly.
“First ya have to hide in the barn in the dead of the night, so to speak.” Genon put her hand over her mouth. “ hee, hee” She sobered up and said, “Afore Brother Dawson shows up, of course. I'll give ya some of my haunt scaren off potion. Ya have to do and say what I tell ya to and jest hope he leaves. Hee, hee.”
“Jest hope he leaves? What happens if he don't?” Sid exclaimed.
“Then ya better skedaddle if ya can. Hee, hee,” cackled Genon before she went through the cabin door.
In a couple minutes, she was back, carrying a small, black bag closed with a draw string and a brown, paper bundle. “Here ya go. This bundle is bones. Place em on the window sills and in the barn doorway.”
“What kind of bones are these?” Sid asked, slowly holding his hand out for the package.
“Ya don't want to know that, Sonny. Jest take em.” The old woman chuckled coarsely, thrusting the bundle in Sid's wavering hand. She reaching into her shirt pocket. She pulled out four gray, fuzzy objects. “Here. Each of ya take one of these fer luck. Theys hind feet offen rabbits I caught in cemeteries,” she explained, handing one to each of the boys. “Fer luck, carry em feet in yer pocket at all times. Now this here black bag is the haunt potion. When Haunt Dawson appears, ya open the bag and throw the powder on him and say exactly what I tell you. Hear?”