The next morning, after the minister’s prayers and blessing, the men carried the coffin on their shoulders, Luke among them. Luvella noticed his shoulders, broad and straight. His eyes caught and held hers for a moment, and completely unaware, she thought of what it must have been like for Aunt Hilda to fall in love with Uncle Isaac. She had to give up her family and her whole life as it had been.
As the crowd gathered around the burial site, the pastor finished his service by reading the Twenty-third Psalm. “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want…” When he finished, he blessed the grave and left. When he was gone and confirmed to be out of earshot, someone played a plaintive melody on a flute while a young man beat a steady, slow rhythm on a drum.
Luvella closed her eyes. The music, the soft pulse of the drum, the warmth of the sun, and the gentle kiss of the breeze lifted her heart, her spirits. At that moment, she was sure Aunt Hilda was safe at home with the Great Spirit, the same Great Spirit Luvella prayed to every Sunday with Mama and Daddy.
A gray-haired man, whom everyone treated with much respect, spoke about the powers of the north, south, east, and west, and also of earth and sky. I speak to my mountain every day. Am I feeling those powers? Deep down, do I believe as these people do?
After the men lowered the coffin into the deep hole and filled it with dirt, Uncle Isaac lifted his head toward the sun and said in his deepest orotund voice, “Oh Great Spirit, I thank you for the six powers of the universe.” Then he turned and led everyone back to his house.
Chapter Ten
The sun was still low in the east when Luvella hugged Uncle Isaac goodbye and mounted Daisy for her trip back home. She had said her farewell to Hannah last evening, and an awkward goodbye to Luke. Uncle Isaac detailed for her instructions on the best and shortest route to her home, and Luvella concentrated on those as she pressed Daisy to a canter. Once she reached the creek-side trail, she knew the rest of the way would be easy.
She insisted, against Uncle Isaac’s offers of help, on going back alone. Leaving so early in the morning assured her of an early afternoon arrival home. Now, as the woods closed around her and the narrow trail, she questioned her wisdom. She reached down and patted her saddlebag, feeling Daddy’s pistol and the voluminous lunch Uncle Isaac had urged her to pack, and was reassured. Nonetheless, she looked about her with a sharp eye and smoothed Daisy’s mane to give the horse some of the confidence that she, herself, did not feel.
The trail was level for the first hour, and Luvella began thinking about the previous day. She had to admit she enjoyed the after-funeral activities, although she felt some guilt about that now. Hannah stayed close to her, and Luke was never very far away. The people there alternately laughed and cried as they talked about their special times with Hilda.
Earlier yesterday afternoon, Luvella had felt Luke’s gaze follow her when she helped set the table with the food the women had brought or when she pretended to be examining baskets. She smiled now, reliving the sense of power that had given her. She walked from kitchen to table, to the sink, to the stove, and whenever she checked, she found him watching her. But maybe that’s not because he’s taken with me. The smile disappeared. Maybe he’s just trying to figure out why I’m so mean to him.
Oh glory! She hadn’t expected that confession. I don’t mean to be mean… I just can’t think right when he’s around me. She shook her head, as if to brush away a fly.
In the evening, everyone danced a slow, somber dance around a bonfire to flute and drum music. What was it Uncle Isaac had told her? Oh yes, the drums are the heartbeat of Mother Earth. I love how his people are so intertwined with all of nature.
That slow dance around the fire seemed to be a final goodbye to Aunt Hilda. Hannah pulled Luvella into the circle and motioned Luke to take her other hand, so that they both led her through the steps. Simple steps, moving to the right twice, one step at a time, then right, left, right, left in place. She concentrated on the steps and keeping the rhythm until the sound of the drum and the sound of all the feet stepping on the dry ground were one.
That sound reverberated up through her whole body, filling her with comfort, with peace, and with a kind of joy.
When the drummer increased the beat of the drum, the flute picked up the pace. The dancers formed two lines, like in a reel. In fact, the whole dance was very much like the reels Luvella had danced at home. Every time Luke’s hand had pulled her toward him and then past him in the circle, a queasiness had attacked her stomach. It sounds like I’m the one who’s taken. And I have a business and a festival to run. I do not have time for…for a dalliance.
That reminded Luvella that she needed to be home to continue planning the festival and she also had to write to Pittsburgh’s Chamber of Commerce for more information on the conference. She chsk-chsked Daisy to a faster pace. And let’s not forget Mr. Bocke! I keep thinking the railroad won’t pay any attention to him. But am I wrong to…to dismiss him? Anna said he seemed so determined. I’d better find out about him when I see Mr. Johannson again—when I check on our festival.
Mrs. Raven had said to her yesterday, “Luvella, Isaac asked us to get busy with many, many baskets. He said your customers will pay us for the baskets, and that makes us all happy.” She smiled, her eyes a light lavender with intensity.
A group of women surrounded Mrs. Raven and her. “Do you want certain colors?” “What size do you think is best?” “Do you want flat or round bottoms?” Luvella sensed their eagerness, and probably their need, for added income.
She laughed at their enthusiasm. “I think you are the basket experts, so you decide the kinds you want to make. I’ll try to have the business people in Muncy Valley sell as many as possible. But I think these baskets will be very popular and will sell themselves.”
Her mind vaulted back to the conference. I wonder if I should mention our bonanza in my letter to the Pittsburgh Chamber? Would it make them more open to our participation in the conference? Oops! I told Mama I’d just go and listen, didn’t I?
Oh, Luvella. The bonanza, the conference, your caboose…what else will you start? She felt her face wreathed in a big smile now as Daisy cantered along. The sun sneaked through leafy openings in the trees, and she remembered again the prayers and the respect her Indian relative—Uncle Isaac—and his friends had for the earth and the sky. The warmth of the sun penetrated her, blending with the heat of the ride, the leather-squeak of the saddle, and she felt a bit sleepy.
Suddenly, Daisy’s shoulders and flank tensed. A whinny of danger came too late to alert Luvella; Daisy reared. Luvella clamped her knees to the horse’s flanks. She lunged forward, clutching her arms around Daisy’s neck. But Daisy stood tall as a sapling and pawed the air in front of her, as if climbing a wall to safety. Luvella, fear crawling over her body, sensed Daisy’s imbalance. The horse twisted slightly. Luvella felt her own hands and knees unwillingly release. She flailed the mountain air as she was hurtled toward the ground. It was as if she had come to a cliff and was falling to her death over the precipice. A glare of sun blinded her. She heard the rattle.
A scream sent birds flying from the treetops—her scream. One foot hit the ground first with a thud that sent shards of pain through her whole body. Then she landed on her side, her head continuing the spiral until it, too, slammed into the dirt. At the same time, a piercing burn stabbed her on the low side of her other leg. Just as she sensed her consciousness slipping away, Luvella felt the scales of a huge snake slither over her legs. Through the haze of pain and sinking into oblivion, she saw it crawl away.
****
The buzz of a locust and a glint of sun in one eye roused Luvella. She opened both eyes, squinting against the sun, and realized she was lying on the ground. She was on her back, her riding skirt flipped up to her knees. Her legs were at odd angles, and she began to straighten them. Pain shot up both legs, and she sucked in air noisily. Holding herself perfectly still, she grunted her breaths.
Snake bite! She remembered the hot st
ab into her leg. Oh! I’ve got to take care of it—fast! She sat up and groaned, holding the side of her head. She could feel a lump growing there. How long have I been lying here, I wonder? She looked up, still holding her head, which was beginning to throb. The sun was well east of high noon. Good! Not very long at all.
She looked at her legs. Her left ankle was pushing outward at the buttons of her shoe, so she unbuttoned the shoe and took it off. “Ohhh, unh! Unh!” she cried, clenching her teeth, wreathing her face in a grimace of pain. Immediately, the freed ankle began to swell to an angry-looking puffiness. Luvella touched it all around gently with a fingertip. When she touched the top of her foot, near the left anklebone, she hissed inward and groaned again.
“Well, Luvella,” she said for the forest to hear. “You’ve broken a bone there near your ankle. We’ll have to splint it.” Then she looked at her other leg. Just above the top of her high-button shoe, inside of the shinbone, were two fang punctures.
“You stinker!” she yelled, wishing the snake would hear her and tremble. And she was glad Mama couldn’t hear her. Stinker was not a lady-like word. She looked around for Daisy. “Daisy!” she called. Everything she needed was with Daisy: a knife, the gun, her food, matches for a fire. She had to take care of that snakebite immediately.
“Daisy!” she called again. She heard the familiar snort, telling her Daisy was grazing nearby. “Come on, Daisy,” she purred, pursing her lips to make the tsch that Daisy loved. Her head pounded, her left ankle throbbed and was almost twice its normal size, and she knew she had to bleed the snakebite now or the venom would go through her whole body.
“Daisy! Come on, Girl. I need you!” She clapped her hands together softly, and tsched as Daisy ambled closer and closer. “All right, Daisy, steady, Girl,” Luvella said to the horse, by her side now. She pulled on the stirrup to help her stand on her bitten leg and patted Daisy’s mane to keep the horse calm. She pulled off the saddlebags, holding them across her left arm as she probed them for the knife. She tied Daisy to the tree next to her, set down the saddlebags, and sat on the ground.
“Now comes the hard part, Luvella. You’ve got to cut that snakebite and suck the blood out.” She slid the knife out of its sheath and poised it above the fang marks. She started to press the knife into her skin and groaned. “How can I do this? I can’t cut my own leg!” She looked around the forest, half expecting someone to be there and come to help her. She looked back at her leg and noticed a tiny streak of color beginning to trail from one fang mark.
“Oh, no!” The venom was starting to spread already.
She clenched her teeth, grunted loudly to cover her fear, and pushed the tip of the knife into her leg, drawing it across the fang punctures. Blood oozed out. She pulled the tip of the knife up and made a similar cut crosswise to the first one. She dropped the knife on one saddlebag and let her head drop, sobbing for just a few seconds.
“Luvella, stop! You have to be strong,” she said, sniveling, but trying desperately to be firm. She bent forward, grateful for once that she had short legs, wiped away the blood with her hand, and started sucking at the wound. The warm blood that rushed into her mouth made her feel sick, and she spit it out fast, gagging. She repeated the steps, sucking, spitting, gagging, until no more blood came forth. She leaned back against the tree, breathing deeply and trying to quiet her stomach.
Pain nagged her, from each leg and from her head. The arm she had fallen on hurt, too, but she thought it was all right. Nothing broken.
“Oh, why didn’t I let Uncle Isaac ride back with me?” she said aloud, realizing she was talking a lot to herself in these woods. Uncle Isaac! That’s right. He told me what to do for snakebite on our trip to his house.
She put the knife between her teeth and turned onto her knees, crawling. “Come on, Daisy. Come with me.” She reached up to untie Daisy from the tree. “I’m going to go down to the creek. That’s where that snakeroot was growing before. Let’s hope it grows all along the creek side.”
Even crawling on her hands and knees sent stabs of pain through her left foot if she jarred it at all. I’ll splint it after I wrap my bite. She squinted her eyes to focus; the sun was glaring off every leaf, every stone, off the water of the creek just ahead, piercing her very brain.
“Luvella, keep moving ahead. You cannot rest until you take care of your wounds.” She had to fight the growing desire to close her eyes and let the sleep of pain and snake venom take over.
Straggling clusters of pale purple flowers, which Uncle Isaac had called snakeroot, came into view, and Luvella crawled with renewed resolve. She found a clump of them right next to the stream and sat on a mound of dirt. As she bent her right knee so she could reach the snakebite, her left foot lay outstretched, and she rested it in the cold creek. The instant relief told her that cold water would be one of her ankle treatments.
She chewed the leaves of some snakeroot. “Swallow some of the snakeroot juice, Luvella,” Uncle Isaac had advised. “It wards off the stomach sickness.” Grimacing, Luvella took one swallow of the juice and spit out the rest of the mixture into her hand. She wadded the paste into a poultice and placed it on her leg over the bite. “How am I going to keep it there now?” she asked herself, and looked around her. Finally, she had to settle on using her knife to tear off a strip from the bottom of her shirtwaist. She would need more strips for her ankle.
A pine bough, thick with offshoots, was lying on the ground near her, and she used it as a tray to hold many more snakeroot leaves that she could prepare into poultice later. Uncle Isaac said to use the root of the flower, too. She dug with her knife around three of the flowers and pulled up the roots, swished the dirt off them in the creek water, and laid them on the pine bough with the leaves. I think I should dry out some of the leaves for tea—he said that would help me fight the nausea.
She sat still a moment, resisting the urge to sleep, and looked around her. I need some sticks for a splint, something to hold my foot straight. Branches of varying sizes and pieces of wood lay helter-skelter on the forest floor. And firewood. I’d better get everything together now. I think I’ll feel pretty awful as the day wears on.
Although it seemed like hours had passed, Luvella saw that it wasn’t quite noon; the sun was not yet at its high spot. She gathered tinder and some larger pieces of wood, enough for a fire for the whole night. She was leaning on her saddle against a tree, a pile of soft pine boughs underneath it and her. She had scattered leaves over the boughs for added softness. The creek was just a few feet away so she could cool her ankle in it often and wash the sweat from her face. She had filled her tin cup with water to make some snakeroot tea later. Daisy was tied securely just steps away from her, and she had the gun resting in her lap.
Now I can sleep for a little while. She rested her ankle up on a log, which relieved the throbbing somewhat. Her other leg, with the snakebite, was aching and turning red. I think I got most of the venom out, thank goodness. The poultice seemed to have taken the sharp stinging pain away. But now, Luvella could feel her heart racing, a typical snakebite reaction, and she knew a very bumpy trail lay ahead of her. Although she believed the snakeroot would help ward off the severe reactions to snakebite and possible death, she would still suffer fever and nausea and maybe even the tremors.
The sun was setting when Luvella stirred, pain knifing her to wakefulness. She sat upright slowly, the forest spinning around her. Her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but nausea curled around it. I have to think. I must take care of myself. And Daisy.
She selected a match from her pile of supplies at her side and lit the tinder. A campfire began to grow, timidly at first. Luvella untied and brought Daisy with her as she crawled to the creek. Both drank the water; Luvella splashed some on her face to cool herself. Her skin felt very hot to the touch. She had pulled her other pair of drawers from her saddlebag and let them soak in the creek. Then she wrung them and, when she was back at her little campsite again, wrapped the
cool material around her swollen ankle.
While her tin cup of water was heating on the fire, she chewed some of the snakeroot roots, swallowed a few drops of the juice, scrunching up her face against the bitterness, and placed a fresh poultice on the bitten leg. Then she made a cup of tea with the partially dried leaves, and drank it as she nibbled on a piece of Hannah’s bread. The poultice seemed to draw the worst of the pain from the snakebite, and her stomach settled a little after having the tea and bread. She stoked the fire, put one log on it, and settled back, exhausted, against the saddle and tree again.
When she awoke, the woods were black. A soft glow from the fire outlined her ankle, still elevated on the log. An owl hooted nearby. “Whoo-oo. Whoo-oo.” Luvella put her hand on the gun and looked all around her. The crickets were singing at a crescendo, so she couldn’t hear a bear if there were one. The fire snapped, and she thought her heart would stop.
She rolled some more of the wood she had gathered earlier onto the fire. Flames flared with new exuberance. Even with the fever raging inside her, she welcomed the warmth of the fire and pulled the saddle blanket over her. She started to shiver and heard herself talking nonsense. Maybe Daddy or Uncle Isaac is coming to rescue me. That’s who I hear talking.
But even in her demented state, she knew it was her own voice. She remembered Reeder ranting with his fever from the typhoid. I hope the animals stay away. The bears and bobcats and…and rattlesnakes. “Bears and bobcats and rattlesnakes!” she yelled. “Stay away from me! You just stay away from me!” She leaned back and pulled the blanket closer around her. The fire crackled; the owl continued to ask, “Whoo?” and the crickets sang and sang. Luvella’s head spun, her heart galloped, and her body shook as she sank into a world of dark forests and dangerous animals and strange noises.
Chapter Eleven
The Heartbeat of the Mountain Page 8