by Green, Jeri
Anna took the cake, hugging Hadley on her way out the front door. Hadley wandered back into the study.
Harry’s study glowed with the light from the screen. Hadley smiled. It almost felt as if her soul mate was sitting right beside her. Onus walked into the room, jumped up on a bookshelf, and stared down at her.
Did he mind her trespassing in Harry’s study, she wondered. She didn’t care. She had work to do.
She typed in her word and hit enter.
“Wait a cotton pickin’ minute!”
Several nice looking, but scantily clad, young men were smiling back at her from the screen. Naked.
She grabbed Anna’s notes and backed up and started all over again.
G-i-n-s-e-n-g, she typed slowly.
“Speed typing is definitely not my strong suit,” she muttered. “Not if I want accuracy, anyway.”
She hit enter.
“Today’s high demand and decreasing supply has resulted in a root that can bring hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars for the prized ‘Man Root’,” she read aloud. “Ginseng has many uses. It is found in energy drinks. It is used in treating erectile dysfunction, and the Asian market makes it a high demand product, even today.
“As a plant, it takes years to develop. It favors the north-facing slopes in hardwood forests. It is a shade-loving plant that can live for 60 years. Slow to mature. Several years to produce seeds.
“In nature, deer eat the seeds. Those seeds are spread in the animal’s waste. Three varieties: wild, wild-simulated, and farm-cultivated.
“Seeds can be harvested in the fall when they turn red. Farm-cultivated ginseng brings a lower price than wild roots. The most valuable is wild. Wild ginseng can be distinguished by its dark tan color and twisted appearance due to the hard life of surviving in the wild. Harvesting kills the entire plant because the whole root of the plant is removed.
“Seeds are harvested from wild plants. Grown on private land under a tree canopy amid the native plants of the forest, wild-simulated ginseng is the second most valuable. Farmed in rows with chemicals, farm-cultivated ginseng is least valued by Asian importers.”
Whoaa! In the same area a Christmas tree grows for eight years, three to four thousand dollars’ worth of ginseng can be grown. Incredible!
Hadley looked up at Onus who was preening on the top shelf of the bookcase.
“Big Kitty, you and I are in the wrong business.”
She looked back at the screen, reading aloud.
“Harvest could begin five to ten years at $500 per pound of root.”
“$500 a pound! Can you imagine how much I’d be worth at that price?”
Onus yawned.
“No comment from the goober gallery, Onus.
“What else does this thing say about ginseng?
“Let’s see. Locations of plants must be kept secret. Well, with those prices I guess I know why!
“If discovered, poachers will come in and clean out the area. The cultivator of wild-simulated ginseng must be on constant guard to protect his investment. Bingo!”
Onus suddenly jumped from the shelf and ambled to an easy chair. He nested in the cushion, needing it with his claws.
“Every tub has to sit on its own bottom, Onus. Kyle was poaching ginseng off Eustian’s land. It’s all there in the court papers. Eustian caught him, red-handed. Kyle was trespassing and stealing! For once, it looks like the old goat had a valid reason for pressing charges against Kyle Winthrop!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Welcome, bluegrass fans. I just want to take a minute to thank you all for tuning in today to WAMR 89.5. We’re broadcasting live from the porch of The Band-Aid. The Band-Aid is your one-stop shop for jewelry, pottery, and a host of other wonderfully hand-crafted items make by our talented pool of local artisans and craftsmen. A percentage of the proceeds from any sale will go to support The Wildlife Rescue. Ruth Elliott, local vet, runs the shelter. And let me tell you, folks, we’re lucky to have such a dedicated friend to the wildlife in this area. Her good work helps sick and injured animals through rehab and release back into their natural habitats where they belong.
“Come on out and support a good cause. The wildlife would surely appreciate it.
“And today, we’ve got a very special program lined up for all you listeners out there. I’m excited, and I know you are, too. We’ve got Hobarth Stricker. Live and in the flesh.
“Now, I’m sure you bluegrass fans know the name Hobie Stricker. He’s one of the best pickers in these here parts. Hobie’s brought along a couple of his handmade guitars for sale, too. And he’s generously donating all proceeds of any instrument that is sold today to The Wildlife Rescue.
“Come on up here, Hobie and say ‘hi’ to the good people listening out there.”
“Hey, y’all,” Hobie said.
“You and the boys look like you are rarin’ to go. What you gonna play for us, this afternoon, Hobie?”
“Well, me ’n’ the band are gonna warm up with a coupla tunes I wrote a little while back: ‘My Sweet Laurel’ and ‘Pretty as She Does.’”
“All right, folks. Turn up the volume. Find your favorite easy chair. Sit back and prepare to hear some of the best music comin’ outta these mountains. You’re listening to WAMR 89.5. Here they are Hobie Stricker and the Speckled Pups. Take it away, Hobie.”
Hobie and his boys lit into those songs like heat on a cayenne pepper. Every foot was tapping. Little kids bobbed up and down like fishing corks on a stormy sea. Several folks started dancing. Every face was smiling. Hobie picked those strings for all he was worth.
Hadley and Maury were watching, drinking in every note with pure joy.
“I never seen a man who could make a guitar sound so good,” said Maury.
“He’d gifted,” Hadley said. “That’s for sure. And Skip’s picking ain’t too shabby, either.”
“Hobie’s took Skippy under his wing. I was so happy when he asked for a banjo several years ago. Now, Skips picking a mandolin and guitar, too. All thanks to Hobie.”
“It’s the code, Maury,” Hadley said. “Hobie is just passing on what someone was kind enough to show him. If the music isn’t passed on to the younger folks, it dies. Hobie knows that. He’s doing everything he can to keep those traditions alive and well.”
“We’re lucky Hobie lives in our neck of the woods,” Maury said.
“You said it,” Hadley said.
“Candy!” Hadley said, “It’s so good to see you. Where are the kids?”
“Virgie’s watching them for me,” Candy said. “I just had to get some air.”
“How are you doing?” Hadley asked.
“It’s hard,” Candy said, “but me ’n’ the kids are makin’ it.”
“Well, I’m so glad to hear that,” Hadley said. “I know it’s hard, but you’re looking mighty pretty. I love your blouse. Candy, where did you get those sandals! They are the cutest things I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“I ordered them off the Internet,” Candy said. “I’ve tried to find something trendy around here, but it’s impossible. It’s like we’re stuck back in time or something. Only thing they sell around here is boots and brogans.”
Hadley laughed.
“You’re right about that,” said Hadley. “It was so good to see you. Please tell Virgie I said ‘hello.’ How’s she doing?”
“I will,” Candy said. “Virgie’s real sad. She tries not to show it to me or the kids, but I can tell. She’s quiet ’n’ got a far away look. But you know Virgie. No matter what, she keeps keepin’ on. Well, I’d better be gettin’ home. By now, the kids have probably skated all over Virgie’s last nerve.”
“Take care, Candy,” Hadley said.
“I will,” said Candy. “You, too.”
The music was lively, and the afternoon passed quickly. Hobie took the microphone.
“What we have around here is very special,” Hobie said. “There’s no prettier place on earth than right here in these mountains. I like
to think we live in a little slice of heaven, right here in this valley.
“And we got good people all around us, too. The extraordinary folks, like Ruth Elliott and her volunteers, are working hard to keep our little corner of heaven what it is. I’d like to send out a request to all you good folks to come on down next Sunday afternoon, rain or shine, for a little hillbilly hoedown. Come on down and make a donation. No amount is too small. Every cent is appreciated, and all of it goes to help the animals who have been orphaned or are sick or injured. The wildlife in our area need us, folks. Just as we need them. So, come on down.
“Now, me ’n’ the Speckled Pups are gonna be joined by some of my students. Y’all come on up here. Bring your guitars. This stage is big enough for all of us. That’s right. Settle in close. Our last song will be ‘Gone to the Dawgs.’ One. Two. Three.”
Hadley and the kids around her lit into the song. Standing on that old porch, Hadley was as happy as if she was playing Carnegie Hall. She only hit a couple of wrong chords, but it didn’t matter. She was playing with Hobie Stricker.
For Hadley, it didn’t get any better than this.
Chapter Sixteen
“You know, girl,” Lou Edna said, “I’d give my eye teeth to add a few highlights in that gray mop of yours.”
Lou Edna’s was full today. As usual. It was bumper to bumper, butt to butt, wall to wall women waiting for a wash and set or a cut and perm. Lou was the absolute, single-most popular beautician in Hope Rock County. The fact that she was the only one within 25 miles was a minor fact no one remembered to mention.
“Leave this snow on the mountain alone, Lou Edna. I thought I never would live down that last fiasco. It took forever for that green to grow out. I thought Harry would divorce me before it did!
“No dyes. No highlights. No color for me. All it needs is a good scrubbing, Lou,” Hadley said. “When I leave Eustian’s, I feel like I’ve been rooting in a hog lot with a thousand hogs and three inches of lot. I wash and rub, but I wonder if I need to burn my sheets and pillow cases the next morning. I’ve never seen such a cluttered mess!”
“I say, Hadley, what did it feel like up there with Hobie and the Pups?” Increase Clifford asked from under her pink dryer. “You looked as proud as a peacock up there on that porch.”
“Increase,” Hadley said, “it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven!”
“I bet,” Increase said. “Eucle swears ain’t never been a picker like Hobie. I don’t tend to agree with Eucle on most thangs, but as far as Hobie is concerned, me ’n’ Eucle don’t dither one bit. That Hobe Stricker is the best.”
“Them Pups ain’t slackers, neither,” Lou Edna said, scrubbing Hadley’s scalp.
“I declare, Lou,” Dulcie Beaumont said, “if they ain’t the cutest thangs. They sang mighty good, too. I pert near dropped my teeth when I seed you up thair with Hobe ’n’ ’em kids.”
“Hobie’s been kind enough to let me sit in on the lessons he’s giving the kids on Sunday afternoon. I am really learning a lot,” said Hadley. “But I was a ball of nerves up there with Hobie.”
“I’ll say,” said Lou Edna, “so was I. I was askeert you was gonna bust out sangin’.”
“Well,” Hadley said, “blame my daddy for my poor singing talents. I come by it honest. Daddy loved to sing, but his voice sounded like fingernails across a washboard.”
“I remember I heard him sang oncet,” Increase said. “You’re right. He sounded like blinked milk.”
Hadley laughed. “Yep, “sour milk in a dirty glass.”
“Y’all ain’t hittin’ a lick at whettin’ my appetite,” Lou Edna said.
“What you cook good lately, Hadley?” Dulcie asked.
“I got me a hankering for a dried apple stack cake,” said Hadley. “I baked one the other day. Drop by later, Dulcie. I’ll give you a big hunk.”
“My favorite cake, Hadley,” Dulcie said. “Now, I know a little sum’thin’ ’bout you, Hadley Pell. You always have to dicker with the receipt. What did you add this time?”
“I threw in a few pecans,” said Hadley. “Some grated carrots and some raisins.”
“Sounds sinful,” said Dulcie.
“It is,” said Hadley.
“I’ll swing by later and get a chunk,” said Dulcie.
“You goin’ to the funeral this afternoon?” said Lou Edna.
“Yeah. I thought I might,” said Hadley.
“I’m surprised,” said Increase. “I know you and Kyle gotta a history.”
“Yeah, we did,” Hadley said. “Kyle was a punk. But I thought I’d go for Virgie’s sake, you know.”
“Yeah,” said Dulcie. “I was thinkin’ ’long them same lines.”
“I feel so sorry for her,” said Increase. “Eucle says he ain’t wastin’ the gas to drive to the church for Kyle. Kyle wasn’t worth two cents, and Eucle says he ain’t wastin’ his two cents on ‘im, neither. I want to go, but I don’t want to rankle Eucle.”
“Would your husband object if you went with me, Increase?” Hadley asked.
“Well, no,” said Increase. “I don’t see how he could. I’d be ridin’ on your dime, Hadley. Not Eucle’s. He’s planning on cuttin’ down a tree ’n’ getting’ it ready fer millin.’ He won’t be ’round the house all day.”
“Then it’s settled,” Hadley said. “I’ll pick you up about one-thirty.”
“I’ll be waitin’ at the hard surface for you,” Increase said. “No sense you scratchin’ up yer sedan tryin’ to drive up to the house. I keep tellin’ Eucle to trim them bushes at the second curve. But he pays me no never-mind. That old truck ‘a ourn ain’t got much paint left. More rust than anythin’ else. It’s a poor ride, but it beats a proud walk. I guess Eucle thinks there cain’t be no paint rubbed off our rust-bucket truck, so he just keeps let’em them bushes grow wilder ’n’ wilder.”
“I hear ya. Dulcie,” Hadley said. “You going to Kyle’s funeral?”
“Yes. I’m like you. I had no use for Kyle a’tall. But Virgie’s another story. Ain’t no kinder soul this side ‘a the creek. I thought I’d go fer her sake.”
“Good,” said Hadley. “I’ll pack your big old piece of cake and give it to you this afternoon.”
“That’s real thoughtful of you,” said Dulcie. “Save me a trip back into town. ‘Course, as good as I know that cake is, I’da walked over to your house to fetch it. Wouldn’ minded a’tall.”
“You know,” said Lou Edna, “I heard Kyle ’n’ Cleve were on the outs. I wonder if Cleve will show up this afternoon? He forade Virgie to have anything to do with Kyle after Kyle cleaned his clock. Wouldn’t let Virgie have her grandson’s body lay a’corpse in his house or nothing. Cleve says he’s glad Kyle’s gone. Cleve is goin’ ’round sayin’ he never cared diddly squat for Kyle. Ain’t no skin off his teeth now that Kyle’s gone.”
“Dudn’t that tear you for a duster?” said Increase. “You’d think Cleve would have more feelin’ ’an ’at fer one ‘a his clan. Even if he didn’t like the boy, he mighta’ kept his jaw shut to save Virgie’s feelings. Some folks ain’t got no sympathy fer nobody. Not even their wives!”
The door to Lou Edna’s opened. In walked Bev Beaumont.
“Hey, Bev,” Lou Edna said. “Just gimme a sec. Hadley, you sure I can’t convince you to try a few highlights, hon?”
“Not today, Lou,” Hadley said. “And thanks for working me in.”
“Not a prob,” Lou Edna said. “Anytime, girlfriend.”
Chapter Seventeen
Hadley changed into her black funeral dress. She hated the old thing, but it was appropriate, she guessed. Black was the one color that washed her out. She stood looking in the mirror.
“Pale Hadley,” she said, shaking her head.
It was no use. Nothing short of ostrich feathers and a three-foot-high headpiece of hot pink plastic flamingos would dress up this drab dress.
“Oh well, Onus,” Hadley said. “It’s a funeral not a fashion show.”
Onus ambled into the bedroom and jumped on top of the bed.
“I bet you do that all the time when I’m away,” Hadley said.
Onus made a beeline for the pillows at the head of the bed. Diving head first between the two, Onus disappeared. It was his favorite game. Hadley knew what would happen next. In a couple of seconds, Hadley saw one paw shoot out from under one of the pillows. It moved left, then right, then, disappeared again. The pillows jiggled and vibrated as the Onus earthquake rattled their foundations. The space between the pillows parted, and Hadley saw half a fuzzy face and one eye.
“Meow,” Onus said.
“That’s right,” Hadley said, “play hard to get. See if I care.”
Onus disappeared from sight.
Hadley laughed. She looked at her watch.
“Much as I’d like to play hide-and-seek with you, old thing,” Hadley said, “I’ve really got to get a move on. I’m going to be late.”
Hadley scrambled for her shoes and pocketbook.
“And don’t forget that cake,” she reminded herself.
She flew out the door and into the car.
“This road is si-gogglin,’” she said, winding down the curvy back road to Increase Clifford’s.
It had been some time since Hadley had been this far back in the sticks. She could see why Eucle Clifford would not want to waste his gasoline running Increase to Kyle’s funeral. Eucle and Increase belonged to another time. It was rumored that Eucle ran a small still somewhere near a clear-running creek in some long-forgotten hollow on his place. Hadley couldn’t help but wonder if this was not the real reason Increase didn’t want her driving down the long dirt road to their cabin.
“Howdy, Increase!” Hadley said. “I was running a few minutes late. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting very long.”
“Nonsense, child,” Increase said. “As fer as I’m concerned, I could stand right here in this shady spot till doomsday. Heared me a bobolink, Hadley! It’s beautiful out here, ain’t it?”