“I’M SCARED, FLOYD,” I said.
My brother looked up from his carving. He was making a baby cradle. Wood shavings were all around his feet. On the shelf in front of a big window sat little horses, bows and arrows, some corn guns, and a wooden dancing bear. The place smelled of wood and wood shavings. I watched his strong hands caress the wood, testing it for smoothness. He often made cradles for people. Was this one for Ro? Did he know about her baby? Might be he did. She came to talk to him, too, here in his little cabin when the notion took her. But if it was for Ro, he’d never say. And I wouldn’t ask.
“I heard a mourning dove last night,” I told him. “Ma says they only call when there’s somebody to mourn. I’m a-goin’ to see Ro today. And I’m scared of what I’ll find.”
He eyed me from beneath long lashes. Women went crazy over Floyd when he went to dances and such. “Seen any turtle doves of late?” he asked.
“Saw one this morning.”
“Know what that means, don’t you? That somebody loves you and sent the turtle dove to tell you. Likely he was bringing a message to Ro from Johnse.”
“Why’d he come here? And not go to Aunt Betty’s?”
“Likely nobody told him she wasn’t here anymore.” Floyd wasn’t spoiling for a fight with the Hatfields, like most other McCoys. He liked to live peaceable with everybody. Besides, both McCoys and Hatfields bought his toys.
“Bill’s pebble is on the damned side of Ma’s rock,” I said. I could talk to Floyd about such things, being as he held himself a bit away from the family. He loved them and would never let me bad-mouth them, but he wouldn’t let them hold sway over him, either.
“That’s ’cause he went hunting last Sunday and never came for Meeting.”
“Do you think he’s damned?”
“No.”
“Do you think the Devil is wagering for Ro’s soul, like Pa says?”
“No more than he’s wagering for everybody else’s.”
I felt everything inside me settling. “After today, it’s likely my pebble will be with Bill’s.”
He raised one eyebrow. “They don’t know you’re going to see her?”
“No. Which is why I couldn’t bring her anything from the house. I wish I had something to bring her.”
He reached around and fumbled behind him for a moment. He took something from a shelf and handed it to me. It was small, round, and smooth.
“A stone,” I said.
“Not just a stone. A madstone. Taken from the stomach of a deer. It can draw poison from a snakebite.”
The stone lay warm in my hand. I rubbed my fingers over it. “Thank you, Floyd.”
“I’ll be sending her something else soon,” he said.
I nodded. “You won’t be telling where I went today if they ask?”
“’Course not. Go on with you. And be careful in the woods.”
VERDY, VIOLA, AND Maelene, Aunt Betty’s three girls, weren’t home, thank heaven. I’d never liked them. They were a bit younger than Ro, not married yet, and smitten with men. All they did was fuss over themselves and make new dresses. I know they didn’t like Ro because she was purtier than all three of them put together.
Aunt Betty hugged me and gave me a glass of buttermilk and some fresh cookies to take outside where Ro was sitting under the mimosa tree, sewing. “Glad somebody’s come to see her,” she whispered. “She’s pining away for home.” I could tell she was worried about Ro because Aunt Betty baked when she worried. Now wisps of gray-white hair framed her round pleasant face. The kitchen was hot and full of cakes and pies. She must have been baking all morning.
“Is she still working on that Coffin quilt, Aunt Betty?”
“She’s right now sewing a coffin on the edge for her baby,” she said. “I know that some people in these parts use such quilts as family records. But it’s downright tempting fate to put a baby coffin on one. Go on and talk to her. Your sunny little face will do her good, honey.”
I knew my face wasn’t sunny. Neither was I. But I went out to find Ro, setting the milk and cookies down on a wooden bench. “How you feeling, Ro?”
She stopped stitching and looked past me, dreamily. “Do you know that there’s a little creek down there name of Devil’s Jump? It’s all full of boulders and rocks and such. They say the Devil passed by here with his apron full of rocks. He proposed to burden the land with them, but his apron string busted and he dropped the rocks right there in the creek.”
It wasn’t like Ro to set store in tales about the Devil like most people in these mountains did. She was brooding. “How you coming with the quilt?” I asked.
“It’ll be done soon.”
“That’s a mighty little coffin there. Who’s it for?”
She smiled. “My baby.”
“Afore it’s born? You know Pa said he didn’t want any McCoy names on the quilt.”
“He’s not here, is he? Anyways, it’s not for the baby. When it comes, I’ll put its name there and date of birth. It’s a record of sorts. See here? Here’s a little coffin for the little ’un Johnse’s mother is expecting.”
A chill went through me. “Got a present for you from Floyd.” I gave her the madstone.
She took it up, smiled, and held it in her hand. “It’s still warm from his touch. It holds the warmth of the person who takes it from the stomach of the deer, you know. That’s right nice of Floyd. Thank him for me. How’s things to home?”
I shrugged. “The same.”
“They know you’re here today?”
“No. But you know I’m always allowed to wander free on Saturday as I please.”
“I’d rather you visit me than anybody,” she said. “And since you’ve come, there’s a promise I want from you, Fanny.”
I felt a sense of doom, like the sun just left the heavens. “What?”
“I know you don’t like this quilt, but that’s just because you don’t understand it. Promise me that if anything ever happens to me or my baby, you’ll move our coffins to the center and make sure my baby’s name and date of birth and death get put on right.”
I stared at my beautiful sister. I’d heard people talk of how women who were expecting a baby got all kinds of strange notions and had to be humored. Was this one of them? Or was Ro suddenly getting strange in the head?
“Why should anything happen to you or your baby?” I asked.
“Just promise me you’ll do as I ask, Fanny. And then keep the quilt forever.”
A chilly breeze stirred the branches of the mimosa tree. From the kitchen came Aunt Betty’s singing. “Queen Jane” was the song. I knew of it. Calvin explained how it told how Henry the Eighth, who had his wives’ heads cut off, followed Jane Seymour, one of them, to the grave. And how lots of our songs are handed down from the Old World, from England. He said that’s why we say things like “afeared.” Because Shakespeare did, too.
Ro was waiting for me to answer. But I recollected what Tolbert had told me once, “Don’t ever be pushed into a promise. Say you’ll study on it.”
“I’ll study on it,” I told her.
Did she hear me? Of a sudden someone whistled, clear and sharp on the fall air, from the direction of Devil’s Jump. Ro stood. The quilt tumbled from her lap. “Oh, it’s Johnse! I knew he’d come. I knew he couldn’t stay away.”
I watched her fly across the grass down to the creek. I sat there munching Aunt Betty’s sugar cookies. The Coffin quilt had landed on my lap.