thirteen

RICH MOUNTAIN

Loyal woke to the smell of bacon frying. Mother only made bacon on Saturdays, but this was a Wednesday in August. He grinned. He guessed Father liked bacon as much as he did. He scrambled up from the pallet Father had made for him in the corner of the cabin’s bedroom. There were really just the two rooms—a main living area with a sofa, a table with two chairs, and the stove, and this room with Father’s bed and a chest of drawers. There was a privy out back, and a shed that he had yet to investigate.

Having slept in his shirt and underwear, all he had to do was shimmy into his britches and he was ready to face the day. He hurried into the main room just as Father was cracking eggs into bacon fat in a big black skillet.

“Show me how you say ‘good morning.’” Loyal smiled and showed Father the two-step sign. Father imitated it. “Like the sun rising,” he said to describe the second part of the motion. Loyal signed yes, and they just stood there grinning at each other, until Father whirled back to the stove and scooped eggs out of the pan. As they ate, Loyal could have sworn everything tasted better up here in the cabin without Mother watching and fussing over him.

Father got his attention before speaking. “Wish we could just fish and play today, but I need to get after that garden. You want to help me or would you rather explore?”

Loyal realized he’d let his mouth fall open. Was Father offering to let him go off on his own? He stuck his index finger in the air and circled it with a question in his eyes. Father tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “Hang on.” He went in his room and dug in the dresser, then came back with a pad of paper and a pencil. He handed them to Loyal, who wrote Go alone?

Father furrowed his brow, then nodded. “Guess your mother doesn’t much let you do that.” He rubbed a hand up the back of his neck, ruffling his short-cropped hair. “Still, you’re welcome to poke around so long as you don’t go too far or stay away too long.” He gave Loyal a lopsided smile. “Although I’d sure enjoy your company while I work.”

A feeling like getting exactly what he wanted for Christmas washed over Loyal. He made the sign for stay, and Father thumped him on the shoulder. “Good. Let’s get some tools and see how much we can get done.”

Creed was grateful Loyal hadn’t taken him up on the offer to go poking around the mountain on his own. When he’d suggested it, he hadn’t really thought the idea through. What if the boy got lost? He couldn’t holler to call him back to the cabin. And he wouldn’t be able to hear if an animal—or a person, for that matter—came up on him.

He’d never thought about it before, but there were quite a few clues he listened for in the course of a day on the mountain. It might be distant thunder or a rising wind alerting him to a change in weather. Or the sudden hush of birds telling him someone was coming. Loyal wouldn’t be able to hear the howl of a coyote or the warning huff of a black bear. Shoot, there were rattlers up on the mountain as well, and the boy wouldn’t have any notion of being warned off by a shimmying tail.

Creed felt sweat pop out on his brow, and it wasn’t because the sun had climbed above the trees. The weight of the responsibility he’d taken on when he brought Loyal to the cabin with him was sinking in. Was this what he’d left Delphy to live with every day? Wondering and worrying and imagining ways their silent boy could get into trouble?

He watched Loyal hoeing his few rows of corn. The boy was completely focused on his work, oblivious to anything around him. If he couldn’t see, smell, taste, or touch it, he wouldn’t know it was there. Creed felt a familiar fear rise in him. He struggled against it, not wanting to remember, not wanting to give in. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists.

It was the same fear he’d felt when he brought this boy home so very sick from a spring gobbler hunting trip. It had been Loyal’s fourth birthday, and Delphy insisted he was too young to tag along. But Creed was determined. If he was going to make something out of the boy, it wasn’t too soon to start shaping him. He’d pushed Loyal, even when he seemed sluggish and listless. By the time they got home, he was running a high fever and was clearly ill. Delphy didn’t fuss, just cared for the child, nursed him as only a mother could. The infection settled in his ears, and within the month Loyal had been stone deaf.

Delphy had taken it in stride and immediately started in on learning to talk with her hands and teaching Loyal to do the same. She found out about the West Virginia School for the Deaf and the Blind and made plans to send Loyal there as soon as he was old enough. Creed never felt like Delphy blamed him exactly—and yet he knew it was his fault. He’d pushed his son to please his own father, who wasn’t even alive anymore. And so he let Delphy take over the raising of their boy lest he make a worse mistake.

That was when the fear began creeping in. Fear that he would damage Loyal even worse. That if they had another child, he’d make more mistakes. Creed had left his role as sheriff behind and spent more and more time up on the mountain. It was the only place he’d been able to escape the tide of terror that washed over him every time he tried to imagine what kind of life a boy who couldn’t hear would have. Every time he thought about how thoughtlessly he had condemned his own son to such a life.

It had been years since he thought about the fear that made his ears buzz and the tips of his fingers tingle. But he was sure as shootin’ feeling it now. He gulped a breath and opened his eyes when he felt a hand on his arm. It was Loyal, looking a question at him. He made a shape like the O for his name, then another like a pair of open scissors.

Creed swallowed past the dryness in his throat and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “I’m okay,” he said.

Light dawned in his son’s face. It was like watching the sun touch the tip of a mountain and then slowly spread its life-giving warmth down into the valley. His son had known he was suffering. Without words, without a sound he’d known. And Creed had understood the boy’s question in turn.

He felt the fear ebb. It didn’t leave him completely, but he thought he could manage it now. He thought maybe it was worth the managing.

After working in the garden all morning, Father gave Loyal cold corn cakes and jam for his midday meal, then handed him a walking stick that was as tall as he was. “We’ll check some of my ginseng patches this afternoon. It’s cooler in the woods.”

Loyal grinned. He’d seen the dried roots Father brought into town to sell, though he’d never actually seen one of the plants. Maybe he could learn to “hunt sang” as well as his father. Of course, Mother thought he should grow up to be a teacher, but Loyal wasn’t so sure about that. He sure liked it better out here on the mountain than he did in a classroom, or even their house in town. Maybe he was cut out to be a woodsman like Father.

Loyal soon learned that the walking stick wasn’t just for fun. They headed into the deep woods, where trees towered over their heads and there was less undergrowth. It was also where the hills were impossibly steep. He needed the stick to save himself from sliding down the side of Rich Mountain where the leaf litter was deep and rocks jutted out as though the mountain were trying to keep them from passing. He also needed it to pull himself back up the mountain and to push through tangled laurel thickets. But there were gentler places too, where green ferns feathered against his legs and scarlet newts darted.

Father knelt beside a rotting log and waved Loyal over. He crouched beside his father and examined the plant growing there. At first he didn’t think there was anything really special about it, but then he saw the crown of reddening berries growing where three stems supporting leaves met. It was kind of pretty, and yet he didn’t see what the big deal was. Father tapped his shoulder and began to explain what they were looking at.

“This one is big enough to harvest since it has three prongs. They can have more, but they ought to be at least this big. While it’s a little early yet, we’ll go ahead and dig this one so you can see.” He had a short stick with a pointed end stuck in his belt. He pulled it out and began working it into the soil in a big circle around the plant. He loosened the soil until he could work it with his fingers, pushing his hand in along the stem of the plant until he’d worked a fat, gnarled root loose. He brushed off the dirt and showed Loyal how it almost looked like a man with tapering arms and legs. “Over there in China, they think this will treat all kinds of troubles.” Father shrugged. “Maybe it will.”

Loyal reached for the root and held it in his hand. He looked at Father with a furrowed brow. He pointed at him, then the root.

“Are you asking if I’ve tried it?” Loyal nodded. “No, can’t say as I have. Too valuable to waste, and I don’t guess I put all that much stock in it being good for anything.” Loyal nodded his head more slowly and handed the root back. He used to think there might be a cure for being deaf, but he guessed ginseng wouldn’t be it. If it were, his parents would surely have tried it on him by now.

Father elbowed him and showed him how to crush the little red berries to free their seeds. Then he planted them back where he’d dug the root out. “It’s important to plant the seeds so there’ll be more plants in a few years.” Loyal nodded to show he understood. “Think you can find one?”

Loyal nodded and began scanning the area. He was afraid he was going to fail, then spotted another plant—even bigger than the first—with that crown of berries. He pointed, and Father beamed at him.

“The Cherokee say these plants have minds of their own. Claim they only show themselves to people they favor. Guess you’re favored.” Loyal had to grin at that.

Father let him dig a second plant nearby and then said they’d check on a few more patches before heading home for supper. Dusk was settling by the time they returned to the cabin. Loyal noticed a light ahead, high in the trees as they walked along. He’d heard stories about a light on the mountain at night. Some said it was the spirit of an Indian maiden looking for her true love who had been murdered. Others said it was swamp gas or crazier things. He drew closer to Father, who didn’t seem to notice the light. He hoped it was just moonlight, but whatever it was, it sent shivers down his spine.

At the house, Father sliced a loaf of bread Mother sent with them and laid slices of ham and big red tomatoes on top. Loyal thought he’d never tasted anything so delicious, even though he was as tired as he’d ever been. As soon as he’d eaten, he flopped down on his pallet and gazed out the window, grateful that he didn’t see any strange lights in the trees. He guessed Father would send him to wash his face and brush his teeth, but maybe he’d close his eyes for just a minute first . . .

The boy fell onto his bedding and was asleep instantly. Creed guessed he wasn’t used to working like this. Not that he’d shirked in the least. Loyal had toiled in the garden, hauled water, followed Creed across steep mountain trails, and had never given any indication that he’d rather be somewhere else. As a matter of fact, he’d done everything with such eagerness and passion that Creed found himself enjoying each task more than he ever had before. And the boy was a natural when it came to handling ginseng. Plus, it hadn’t been too awful hot. There had always been a little bit of cloud cover just ahead of them wherever they went.

Creed whistled to himself as he filled a pipe and went out to sit on the porch as the moon climbed over Rich Mountain. He was beginning to seriously question if he’d done the right thing in spending so much time away from his family. He’d been so certain it was for the best—for him to provide for their needs from afar. Delphy inherited the house in town from her parents when she was a teenager. A descendant of one of the founding families of Randolph County, Creed had known she was too good for him, but his father approved, and he soon realized the dark-haired beauty was everything a man could want in a wife—in a friend.

And he’d provided for her well enough as sheriff. But Loyal’s deafness took the wind out of his sails. He’d announced that he wouldn’t run for reelection and began spending more and more time in the hunting cabin on Rich Mountain. Digging ginseng to sell had been the only smart decision he made. He had a knack for finding the valuable plant, and even with the economy taking a downturn there was still plenty of demand for the mysterious root. At least this way he was close if Delphy needed him.

But when was the last time she needed him?

Creed drew on his pipe, filling the air with a scent that always reminded him of autumn. He heard a whippoorwill call from the edge of the clearing. It was a lonesome sound, and he realized that he’d been lonesome for a long time. He guessed he hadn’t noticed it until Loyal came along to show him how his life here could be different. He stood and took a step toward the edge of the porch. He suddenly wanted Delphy here, too. He wanted her here the way a husband wants his wife near when the joy of contentment needs to be expressed. Physically.

He felt like a fool. Had he thrown away his family? Was it too late to reclaim what he’d so readily given up? He remembered the day Loyal had been born. He’d held his son, who blinked up at him with the clearest blue eyes he’d ever seen. And then he’d looked at Delphy, and it was as though they were a single cord, woven together in love.

Turning, Creed went inside. He looked in on Loyal and drew the door between the two rooms mostly shut. He lit an oil lamp and pulled out the Bible his mother had left him when she died. He brushed through the pages until he found Ecclesiastes. There. He’d underlined it when Loyal was born.

“And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.”

Once upon a time, that verse in chapter four seemed like it had been written just for the three of them. How had he forgotten that? His eyes drifted to the verse preceding it, and he swallowed hard. “Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?”

He was tired of being alone, and while having Loyal here was a mighty fine start, he realized he would not be satisfied until he’d redeemed himself in the eyes of his wife.