They finally stopped at a campsite between the trail and the creek. A huge boulder, almost flat on the top, nestled in the sun at the side of the creek and Luvella headed toward it.
“Luvella.” Isaac said in a loud, sharp whisper. She turned to him. He nodded toward the boulder, and she looked at it again. A rattlesnake, more than three feet long and as big around as Daddy’s arm, curled around the small crevices of the rock, sunning itself. Its yellowish-brown color blended in with the shades of tan and brown of the boulder, but Luvella could see it distinctly now. She had disturbed it, and it lifted its head, coiled its body into a layered circle with amazing speed, and flicked its tongue out and in, out and in. It lifted its tail and shook it, sounding the tell-tale rattle that gave the snake its name.
Luvella thought of Daddy’s parting words, “Don’t go into the woods without protection.” She backed slowly toward Daisy, not taking her eyes off the snake. She hoped to reach her saddlebag and Daddy’s pistol. Can I outrace the rattler? Or will it spook Daisy away first, taking the gun away from me?
Uncle Isaac whispered, but his voice was desperate. “Don’t move, Luvella. Stand still.”
Luvella stopped.
The snake uncurled from its resting nook on the rock and slithered into the brush. Uncle Isaac walked over to her. “You are a brave young maiden.”
Luvella stood straight. “Yes, as long as I don’t see a snake.” They chuckled together.
Uncle Isaac said, “My people believe that what we do to anything on Mother Earth, we do to ourselves, for we are all one.” His eyes, peering through the canopy of trees, scanned the sky. “A rattler won’t attack you unless it feels cornered. But you should always be alert in the forest for critters. This is their home.
“I think it’s cooler and safer to rest right in the campsite area,” Uncle Isaac said. “Let’s tie the horses firmly in case something else comes along. I will tell you about rattlesnakes while we eat.”
Luvella tugged at Daisy’s reins, all the while darting looks here and there, and led the horse to a tree with thick, low branches. Isaac walked slowly, leaving his horse tethered at a nearby tree, and inspected the area. He shuffled and scuffed to announce to any nearby animals that people were here.
They sat on a section of large log that lay on the ground in front of a cold fire pit. Luvella had pulled out their lunch and untied the corners of the cloth. Thick slices of Mama’s bread were on top. Underneath the bread were slabs of the beef roast left over from last night’s dinner. A small jar of Mama’s apple butter sat next to the meat on the two pie tins holding the food. Luvella gave one pie tin to Uncle Isaac and kept the other one.
She opened the jar of apple butter and sniffed. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and applesauce filled her nostrils.
Isaac laughed. “Your Aunt Hilda used to make apple butter, too. Nothin’ like it, is there?”
Luvella grinned, passing a knife to him. “Mama told me it was her mama’s recipe, so this should taste just like Aunt Hilda’s.”
Isaac tasted the apple butter and smiled. “It is the same recipe.” They shared the food and ate hungrily.
“Rattlesnakes are interesting creatures,” Isaac began. “My grandfather told me a rattler can stare at an animal’s or person’s eyes and put them in a trance. Then the rattler can attack with no resistance from the animal.” He bit a healthy piece of beef from his slice and followed that with some bread. “I think that’s more myth than truth. But a rattlesnake won’t waste its precious venom on you unless you’re making it feel in danger. Usually, it will crawl away, just like you saw here.” He nodded toward the rock.
Luvella smiled weakly. “I’ll try to remember all that the next time one scares me to death.”
When they finished eating, they walked to the creek and used the pie tins to scoop water for drinking. Uncle Isaac pointed to some purple-flowered plants growing near the water’s edge.
“That’s snakeroot,” he said. “If you ever get bit by a rattler, I’m sure you already know how to cut a cross through the fang marks and bleed the wound. Then pick one of these flowers and chew its leaves. Swallow the juice and make a poultice with the chewed leaves.” He shook his pie tin free of water. “Hold the poultice to the bite with some cloth, and it will draw the poison out. You can chew the roots of the flower, too, and you can also make a tea with the leaves. This plant is good for all kinds of wounds.” He nodded at her, smiled, and walked back to the horses.
On the rest of the trip, Luvella noticed Uncle Isaac was pushing the horses—and her—a little harder, faster. He was eager to get home before dark, but she was sure he wanted even more to be with Aunt Hilda. By nightfall, the snakes may be tucked in for the night, but the bobcats and bear would be out looking for food.
Luvella’s thoughts wandered, from the Basket Bonanza, to the convention, to Mr. Bocke, and finally back to Aunt Hilda. What will she be like. How will I know what to do for her?
Then she remembered the typhoid, how she had taken care of Reeder, who was crazy with the fever, and Mama, who looked like death had already come to take her away. And she was two years younger when her whole family had the typhoid. She could certainly take care of Aunt Hilda. But I’ve never nursed a dying person before, she argued with herself.
Uncle Isaac slowed a little and stopped at a clearing, interrupting her silent argument. “Let’s just walk around a little. The horses are thirsty, too, I reckon.”
When Isaac helped her down from Daisy, Luvella could feel her knees wanting to continue to bend, but she stood straight and strong. Daddy would be proud of me. “Feels good to walk, Uncle Isaac.” She led Daisy down the incline to the creek. The sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees on the other side of the creek. Our stops for rests and food have taken longer than I thought. Both she and Uncle Isaac leaned over, scooped water into their hands, and slurped noisily.
Isaac stood then, pointing due north. “There’s the road to Forksville just yonder. My house is this side of the town, so we don’t have much farther to go. And the ride will be easier now.”
Luvella smiled, saying nothing. That’s a relief. A nice hot supper and a clean bed will feel really good. And my knees don’t feel as strong as Daddy told me they were.
The thoughts of food and bed clung to Luvella’s mind like moss to a tree. But every time she saw a curl of gray smoke above the timberline, she worried about what lay ahead of her. What can I possibly do for Aunt Hilda?
Finally, Uncle Isaac left the road and led her through a very narrow trail into a wide yard. Yellow light glowed through one front window of a log house. The trail led around the house to a barn in back, very similar to Luvella’s own barn.
The front door of the house opened briskly, and a young man loped to the horses. “Uncle Isaac! Welcome.” He took Kitschi’s reins and reached for Daisy’s. He wasn’t much older than she, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, dark brown hair and eyes, just a hint of Indian blood. And very good looking! She looked away quickly when his eyes looked up to meet hers.
“Luke, this is my niece on Hilda’s side, Luvella. She’s going to help Hilda. Her mama is sickly and couldn’t come.” Isaac waved his arm from one to the other. “Luvella, Luke is my sister’s grandson, as I already told you. He helps me a lot around here.”
Luke let go of Daisy’s reins and reached up to help Luvella off her horse. She couldn’t avoid letting him lift her down without being very rude; neither could she prevent the rush of blood to her face. Fortunately, she figured he couldn’t see the blush in the fading sunlight. But what triggered her most upsetting embarrassment was that her knees buckled when her feet hit the ground. Luke’s hands, one under each of her arms, held her up with absolutely no sign of effort. She mustered every ounce of energy to straighten her legs.
Luvella’s mind raced. What is behind those lighted windows for me? And why is this Luke boy here? Oh, Mama! What have you done to me? She released one loud sob, as if she were in pain.
Luke held her more firmly.
“Are you hurt?”
Luvella shook her head, pushed away from him, and swallowed hard. “I’m fine,” she said softly, and turned to unbuckle her saddlebag.
Uncle Isaac came over to Daisy. “Luke, would you take care of the horses? Luvella and I could use a good meal!”
Chapter Eight
The coolness of the long room raised goosebumps on her arms as she entered from the porch, and she realized how warm she had been, riding the trail to Forksville. The smells coming from the kitchen made her stomach growl as Uncle Isaac excused himself to go to Aunt Hilda.
A young woman emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She smiled as she waddled toward Luvella and reached to carry the saddlebag. Luvella couldn’t help but notice the large bulge underneath her apron.
“I’m Luvella, come to help Aunt Hilda,” she said simply.
The woman’s smile broadened. “I’ve been waiting dinner on you and Uncle Isaac. I’m Hannah. Welcome!”
“Thank you, Hannah. The dinner smells…mmm…so good. It’s making my empty stomach rumble.”
Hannah laughed. She was taller than Luvella, but Luvella thought she wasn’t much older than she, maybe nineteen or twenty. Her long black hair shone like a pond in moonlight, and her face was slender, smooth, and fine-cut. “Luke caught a ’coon yesterday morning, so it’s been on the stove most of today. I cooked it with fresh tomatoes and garlic and onions, so it ought to be good.”
“Ooohhh,” Luvella said. “I haven’t had raccoon in a long time. My brothers have been too busy at the sawmill to hunt much, I guess.”
Hannah pointed toward a doorway off the other side of the dining-sitting room they were in. “Let’s get you settled.” She carried the saddlebag to the bedroom. “I didn’t get the pitcher on the commode filled with water yet.”
Luvella took back her saddlebag from Hannah. “I’ll carry this. And I can wash in the kitchen for now. Don’t worry about me.
“How is Aunt Hilda?” Luvella searched Hannah’s face, which immediately turned serious.
Hannah shook her head. “She sleeps, a very deep sleep. She never moves or makes a sound, day or night.”
Isaac came into the dining room just as Luke entered the house. A look of warmth and respect passed between the man and boy, and Luke was, indeed, almost as tall as Isaac. Although his shoulders were broad, Luke had the lean look of a spring buck.
Uncle Isaac said, “Luvella, let’s have dinner before I take you in to Hilda. You deserve a little rest after our long ride.”
Luvella nodded, and when Luke glanced her way, she quickly headed toward the kitchen. She washed her face and hands at the sink. “Hannah what can I do to help you?”
Hannah smiled and sighed. “Oh, thank you.” She handed the masher over. “You can mash the potatoes. Doing that is a real botheration to my back.” She put her right hand on the small of her back and leaned back a little, making the baby-bulge stick out even more. A few moments later, Luvella felt truly welcome, at home, as she carried the platters and bowls of food to the table.
The raccoon was very tender, immersed with garden-fresh carrots in the thick and spicy tomato sauce. Luvella even put some of the sauce on her mashed potatoes. The dinner and biscuits, hot from the oven, brought happiness once more to her stomach.
Isaac chatted during dinner, telling Hannah and Luke about Luvella’s family. “Will and Margaret made me feel just like family. And Luvella here, she’s a bobcat in business. Wait till I tell you about her plans for Muncy Valley.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “She is the village princess.”
Luvella blushed, feeling chastised. Does he think I’m pampered?
Luke spoke up. “You understand that’s a compliment, don’t you? A princess of an Indian village is very responsible and highly respected.”
She looked at him and realized she should respond. “Uhhh, yes. Thank you, Uncle Isaac.” Why can’t I think right when that boy looks at me?
When Luvella noticed that there would be no dessert—Mama almost always had something for dessert—she took another biscuit and buttered it generously. Then, as she and Hannah carried some of the dinner dishes to the kitchen, Luvella whispered to Hannah, “Would you come with me to see Aunt Hilda?”
“Sure,” Hannah said softly. “Let’s do it now. We can wash the dishes afterward. Uncle Isaac, shall we take Luvella in to meet Aunt Hilda now?”
Uncle Isaac had settled into a large overstuffed chair in the sitting area. He looked up and studied Luvella. “I think it is time.” He stood and led the way to his wife’s bedroom.
Luvella’s dinner rolled inside her. She swallowed a huge lump that suddenly lodged in her throat, and her heart pounded at her chest. Hannah’s hand, placed lightly on the back of her shoulder, brought her courage, and she smiled a thanks to her new friend.
The bedroom was softly lit by one window, which let the orange afterglow of the sunset cast a golden radiance on everything, even the wasted figure in the bed. A small, gray face, whose skin hung loosely over cheeks and jaw, lay death-like on an embroidered pillowcase. White-gold hair cascaded around it. A quilt, sewn in the wedding ring pattern with fabric in different shades of blue, pink, and tiny flowers, covered the barely discernable form.
Luvella walked to the side of the bed, near her aunt’s head. She swallowed again. I will be strong.
“Hello, Aunt Hilda. I’m Luvella, Margaret’s youngest daughter.” Did I see something move under the covers? No, I’m just spooked. “I’m here to take care of you in Mama’s place. She’s been sick with pneumonia and could not come.” She is moving! Her hand, I think.
“Mama sends her love, and I am very happy to help you, Aunt Hilda.” Luvella rested her hands on the bed, peered at the quilt, and then at her face.
Aunt Hilda turned her head and shoulders toward Luvella, pulled her arms out from under the quilt, and reached out to her. Luvella stood like stone, but her head moved to glance quickly at Hannah.
Hannah’s brows furrowed, and she looked ready to cry.
One of Aunt Hilda’s hands was holding something, which she pressed into Luvella’s hand and covered it with her own. She spoke unintelligible words, babbling actually. “Duh, buh duh buh…” But the tone of those sounds, the way she moved her head, and the intensity of her expression told Luvella of her great-aunt’s love and gratitude.
Uncle Isaac and Hannah, who had been standing at the foot of the bed, rushed to Luvella’s side as Aunt Hilda sank back to her pillow.
“Hilda!” Uncle Isaac said, his voice desperate.
Hannah looked at Luvella, her mouth agape, and whispered, “She hasn’t made a single sound or moved even one finger in at least a week.”
Aunt Hilda remained motionless, eyes closed, face in silent repose. The quilt rose and fell, just barely, with the old woman’s slow, shallow breaths. Uncle Isaac took her hands and gently placed them under the covers again. He looked down at Luvella. “She has spoken to you from the Spirit World. You have pleased her, Luvella, and the Great Spirit as well, I think. I will sit with her for a while now.”
Luvella looked at her hand, still gripping what Aunt Hilda had given her. Isaac and Hannah focused there also. As she opened her fingers, a little clothespin doll rolled to its side. Ugly. Obviously hand made by a child.
“That’s what she’s had in her hand all week. I couldn’t pry it open,” Hannah said. “She must have been waiting to give it to you.”
Isaac said, “That’s the doll she’s saved all these years, the one your mama made for her, Luvella, when your mama was only about five or six. Hilda loved that little doll.”
Both Hannah and Luvella were quiet throughout redding the table and rinsing the dishes. It was a hallowed, hushed quiet, like in the mountain just before a rainstorm. Unwilling to break the spell, Luvella barely whispered, “I will wash and dry the dishes. You go home while there is still a little light.”
“Yes, I’ll go home.” She hugged Luvella. “I will stop for a visit with you tomo
rrow. I want to know this special niece of Aunt Hilda’s better.” She smiled.
Hannah set off on foot. With dusk approaching, Luke accompanied her home, saying he’d return later. Uncle Isaac’s soft chanting floated into the kitchen from Aunt Hilda’s bedside. “Hiy-yuh, huh-yuh…” The rest of the song faded into whispers.
Luvella washed and dried the dishes. Afterward, she ran out to the privy before the blackness of night descended, then went into her assigned bedroom and took a change of clothes from the saddlebag. She shook out the wrinkles and hung the dress and shawl on the hooks in the clothes press, noting the river, wheat, and sun carvings on its door. She placed her clean chemise, drawers, and stockings in the drawer of the commode and laid her nightgown on the bed. Then she took the pitcher to the kitchen, primed the pump, and filled the pitcher with water. She couldn’t help but grunt a little as she carried the filled pitcher back to the bedroom and placed it in the bowl on top of the commode. She was glad Luke wasn’t there to hear her grunt. She noticed a clean towel on the side rack of the commode and thought how nice Hannah had been to her this evening.
When she heard Uncle Isaac’s continued soft chants—or were they Indian prayers?—she wandered through the dining room and out onto the porch. The crickets were singing their pulsating harmonies, the bullfrogs were croaking from a pond or creek that must be nearby, and one lonely cicada was still buzzing its way out of its shell. How strange. The world is so alive out here and in the house…hmmm, what is in the house?
I don’t want to say death is there because Hannah, the new baby inside her, and Uncle Isaac are very alive. Even Aunt Hilda proved she’s still alive. But I feel a different kind of life when I’m in there, like when I talk to my mountain.
An image came to mind of her standing on the side of the mountain amidst trees fifty feet tall, their tops, silhouetted against a brilliant blue sky, rustling softly in a gentle breeze. She feels their life, their energy when she’s there. And their response when she talks to them. She shook her head. Maybe I’m feeling the presence of the baby, Hannah’s baby.
The Heartbeat of the Mountain Page 6