I began studying the matter of rich and poor, seeing as how most folks thought having money was the be-all to end-all and would make for a happy life. I weren’t against having money by a long stretch. There’d been plenty of times when I’d like to have heard the jingle of silver in my pocket. But I weren’t convinced being rich brings satisfaction to a person. And I didn’t think it would bring satisfaction to Caroline, neither.
Most folks in Indian Creek was poor, and even the rich ones would probably only be medium if they moved somewheres like Charlotte or Winston-Salem. But I never heard of no one starving to death, and most parents managed to get a new pair of shoes for their children once a year or so.
Us Coes stood on the poorer side of the line, but we made do right well. We had us a fine house that my Granddaddy Caleb built years and years ago, and although the weather sometimes got inside, it was still a place to be proud of. The kitchen was big enough for all of us to gather comfortably without stepping on each other’s toes, and there was nothing I liked better on a winter’s day than to warm myself against the woodstove that stood in the corner. Mama was all the time warning me that I was going to burst into flames one day the way I leaned so close to the fire, but I didn’t pay her no mind.
Our house had three bedrooms, and there were them about these parts who thought having three bedrooms was right extravagant. A lot of them at school had to share a room with three or four of their brothers and sisters, and a few slept in the same room as their mama and daddy. But Granddaddy Caleb was a man who liked his privacy, so he built a house where people could spread out some. Mama and Daddy’s bedroom was off the kitchen, and the rooms that Amos, Caroline, and me had were off the parlor room. I shared a room with Caroline, which weren’t so bad, except that Caroline was a neat one and got mad about the messes I made. Amos, being the only boy, got his own room, but he liked being at the center of things when he was in the house, so usually you’d find him in the kitchen.
The kitchen was always stocked with plenty of food. Every spring we planted a garden with peas, beans, tomatoes, corn, and potatoes, plus a few other things I’m probably forgetting, and Mama put me and Caroline to canning when the garden come to fruition. We had a root cellar, where we kept the potatoes, and a pantry off the kitchen with shelves to hold all our canned goods.
We kept chickens and two milk cows, Annie and Bess, so we had all the eggs and milk and butter we needed, and ice cream in the summer for special occasions, the Fourth of July and such. We also kept pigs, but that was a matter of some debate. I was the main debater, which would come as no surprise to them who known me well.
The problem started up when I become friendly with the pigs, giving them the names of Henrietta, Scarlett, King Edward, and Ralph. Anyone raising livestock to butcher will tell you that was a grave mistake on my part. Don’t name anything you or someone else, say, your daddy, aims to kill. You can get right attached to an animal, especially if it’s a pig.
Pigs are right smart, smarter than dogs, some will say. They come when you call them and will learn to do tricks easy. King Edward was especially gifted in this regard. I am also of the belief that pigs can understand most everything you say once you talk to them a while and they get a chance to learn your language.
I got the idea in my head that I would have me a pig circus and charge folks a dime to see it. I figured I’d keep half the money I made for myself and give the other half to Mama for her to buy material for a new dress, which she’d been badly in need of for some time. I even come up with a plan to ask Mama for her old sewing scraps so I could make some pig costumes with little sparklies all over them.
One night at dinner, I decided to tell Mama and Daddy of my idea, thinking they’d be real taken by it. Well, the first thing Daddy done once he stopped laughing was say, “When you aim to put this circus on? You best do it before first frost, ’cause them pigs will be gone to slaughter once it turns cold.”
Now, I guess I known them pigs would be butchered sooner or later, but I reckon I kept that bit of knowledge way in the back of my head, where I wouldn’t come across it. I started to thinking on the fact that King Edward, Scarlett, and all the rest would be on the breakfast table before too long, and the thought was like to tear me apart. I could see their little eyes, which weren’t at all beady like some folks will tell you, and the way they ran on their little pig feet to greet me when I come to the barn of a morning.
“Daddy,” I said to him, “I reckon we ought not to kill them pigs. I been working them so hard, their meat’s bound to be all tough on the inside. I don’t believe they’s good eating pigs anymore.”
Daddy leaned back in his chair, his eyes lit up by merriment. “What you reckon we ought to do with them pigs, then, Sister? I can’t afford to feed any stock that ain’t producing for us.”
“I’m telling you, Daddy, that circus will make us a lot of money.”
Daddy nodded his head, giving the matter some thought. “How many times you figure folks will spend a dime to see a pig jump through a hoop? I suspect a man sees that once, he’ll be satisfied the rest of his days that he’s seen it enough.”
Daddy had a point there, but I weren’t ready to give up easy. “We could train them to hunt fancy mushrooms. I hear folks up north will pay a lot of money for such things.”
“Sister, you do take all.” Daddy laughed. “No, I suspect them pigs will be bacon come fall.”
That ended the matter for the time being, but I went on to argue for the pigs whenever I took a mind to. Of course, it was too late for Henrietta, Scarlett, King Edward, and Ralph. All I can say is that I ain’t eaten bacon since, though I do find it difficult to pass up a piece of ham.
I never got too upset about Mama killing the chickens, I admit. It’s hard to build up a head of steam for a chicken.
Our money come from here and there. Daddy most always had a fix-it-up job, so he brought in money pretty steady, though not a whole lot of it, on account that a lot of folks didn’t have much money to pay him. Daddy didn’t go to church, but Mama said he done his Christian duty by taking on jobs he known he wouldn’t never get paid for doing.
Caroline helped out by doing some sewing and other little chores for Bridie Nidiffer, who was old and bent over and whose own children and grandchildren had moved off the mountain to find work in the city. Working for Bridie weren’t the highest paying job in town, but it brought in a little extra change every week, and a little extra always helped.
Mama, Amos, and me did our part to bring in money by collecting roots and herbs to sell to doctors down in Wilkesboro and Hickory. There was all sorts of things growing in these parts: chamomile, foxglove, crampbark, dandelion, and, the best of all, goldenseal. Goldenseal would make you right wealthy, but it was hard to come by, and when you did find some, you had to be careful not to overpick, so there’d be some next time around. Mama said the problem was that most folks was greedy and they’d wipe off all the goldenseal from the side of a mountain if they come upon it.
Of the three of us, Amos was the best at finding roots and such. Once Mama taught him what to look for, he started spending his afternoons on the mountain searching things out. Amos was big and strong for his age, and it weren’t nothing to him to climb and ramble through the hills for hours on end. Lots of times, he’d spend all day up there, which was why Daddy got Tom and Huck for him. They’d warn him if anything dangerous were about.
From what I could tell, Tom and Huck and Amos worked themselves out a kind of code. If Tom or Huck ever seen a thing they wanted Amos to take notice of, they put their nose in his hand and sort of nodded their heads toward whatever it was that got their interest.
Amos, on his part, made a collection of signals he used to talk to Tom and Huck with. I remember one afternoon, me and Amos was up on Katie’s Knob looking for crampbark, which is good for soothing aches and whatnot. Amos clapped his hands three times, and Tom and Huck took off running.
“You trying to scare them dogs away?” I asked Amos. “That’s too bad, because I don’t reckon Daddy’ll get you any more if you chase these ones off.”
Amos grinned and rolled his eyes, to let me know what he thought of my jokes. A couple of moments later, Tom and Huck was back at our feet, and then just as quick they was off again. Amos nodded in the direction they’d run off to, and we followed them fifty yards through the woods, catching up with them at a bend in the creek where all sorts of weeds and flowers was growing. Though we didn’t find any crampbark there, we did find a right nice patch of foxglove good for picking.
The way I seen things, us Coes had everything we needed in this world. Some might see us as poor, but that was their problem. We had saved up the money to send Caroline to college, which is more than many a richer family in town had done for their children. Parnell Caraway, for one, would not be packing his bags to go off to an institution of higher learning anytime soon. And if he had his way, nor would Caroline.
To my way of thinking, Parnell was a prime example of riches not necessarily making a man satisfied with his life. He had just about everything he could want, plus a little extra. He had silk shirts and ten pair of shoes, a genuine cowboy hat from San Antonio, Texas, and an automobile his daddy bought him secondhand. But for all them things he had crowding up his life, he still walked around looking for new, shiny things to add to his collections, and Caroline was one of the items on his list.
For a while there, in those first days of August, it felt to me like all them I known were under a spell—except for me and Amos, of course. And Caroline, well, she floated through her days as though she might take to the air at any minute. The main picture I have of her from that time is her long hair whipping out the window of Parnell’s automobile as they drove down the road and off to Asheville. She was living the grand life of her dreams, and Mama and Daddy was letting her do it. Oh, I’d see Mama worrying her hands when Caroline drove off in that car, but she was staying true to herself and keeping out of Caroline’s business. Myself, I thought this foolishness ought to be stopped, but I’d said my piece once, back in July, and no one seemed to heed it.
Parnell took Caroline’s change of feeling toward him as a victory. I could hardly stand to look at him, but he took every chance he could to get me by myself and give me a hard time, now that he thought he had won this particular war. One afternoon, when Caroline was helping Mama put supper on the table, Parnell turned to where I was sitting across the porch from him. I was deep involved in Robinson Crusoe, which is a right good story by Mr. Daniel Defoe.
“Why you read all them books for, Dovey?” he asked me, running a hand through his silky dark hair and trying to catch his reflection in the front window. “Why ain’t you inside learning how to make supper so you can get yourself a man someday?”
“Maybe I don’t want to get myself a man someday,” I told him, not bothering to look up from my book.
“Well, I reckon that might be a good thing, come to think of it. I imagine a feller would have a hard time warming up to you. It’s a shame you didn’t get none of Caroline’s good looks.”
“What’s it to you, Parnell?” I asked, giving him the evil eye.
“It ain’t a thing to me. I just been wondering if there’s a reason you don’t ever take a comb to your hair or put on a dress from time to time.”
“Maybe it’s ’cause I’m afraid if I start making myself look all pretty, you might lose your fool head and fall to worship at my feet,” I said. “Fact is, you’re going to need somebody new to be in love with once Caroline comes to her senses.”
I seen I struck a nerve.
“You’re crazy, Dovey, if you think for a minute I’d ever give you a second look. And Caroline ain’t going to change her mind about me, I’ll tell you that much. She knows a good thing when she sees it, I’d say.”
I turned back to my book, saying, “Now that’s a matter of opinion, ain’t it, Parnell?”
Parnell stood to go into the house. “Don’t you get smart with me, Dovey Coe,” he said, his voice low and even. “I ain’t got the patience for it.” The door slammed loud behind him.
I put down my book and stretched out my legs, mulling things over. When it come to rich and poor, Parnell and his kind stood on the other side of the line from us Coes, that was for sure. And as far as I was concerned, he ought to have stayed right where he belonged.