Chapter 4

“See anything down there?” Kage asked Willy who stood over the sunken well behind Swirly’s looking for more than his reflection.

“I knows it’s down there. It’s gotta be. I’s looked everywhere. Dug nearly ‘til my hands bled.” Willy lifted his dirt-creviced palms to Kage as if still scabbed and blistered.

Kage humored him. “Wish we could find a way to get it out.”

“How you think we’d do it?”

“I’m not smart enough to figure that one out.” Kage stepped toward the ice cream shop, leaving Willy standing over the well with his arms across his podgy frame, lips puckered, and eyes squinted in concentration.

Kage opened Swirly’s front door as Thomas asked Gene, “One or two scoops?”

Gene held up two fingers and nudged his elbow toward Kage. “You gettin’ any?”

“No,” Kage answered.

“No ice cream!” A lady decorated in flashy colors that matched the Sherbet Swirl reacted as if he’d turned down something as essential as oxygen.

“No, ma’am.” Kage stepped back from the counter glancing toward the backroom. No sign of the dark-haired girl working today.

“Gene, did you see I Dream of Jeannie this week?” The flamboyant woman went on about the episode and her plans to buy a color television. Gene ignored her. He didn’t have a television.

“Someday I’ll find it,” Willy declared, Swirly’s door slammed behind him as he stepped inside. “Erma,” Willy acknowledged, getting out of the way as the lady finished raving about the possibilities of a color television and waved “tootles” to everyone.

Gene cut his eyes toward Willy and pronounced, “Ain’t no treasure. Should be more concerned about protecting the land around here than diggin’ for treasure.” Gene stepped closer to Willy. “And if I see you diggin’ on this here land for that treasure, you gonna clean the stable yourself next time, you understand?”

Willy slapped his hand down on the counter. “They’s have to come through me before they get our land!”

Gene scoffed, “I say those politicians is the devil. Some is as crazy about it as the gold painted rocks. I ain’t sellin’ my land to none of ‘em. Ain’t no need for some kind of big roads goin’ through here and across the whole county.”

“Guess if they build those roads, all kinds of people will be traveling this way to buy the gold painted rocks,” Kage interjected. He glanced at Willy curious to see if he believed it.

The crease in Gene’s forehead relaxed and a chuckle, kin to a hiccup, escaped.

* * *

Laughter carried in the crisp fall breeze as Gracie walked past the school yard headed to Swirly’s to help her grandfather. Two snickering boys pushed one another as they toppled off the end of the slide. When they ran around to climb the ladder again, they bumped into another friend, frozen, mid-step on the ladder. They followed his eyes to Gracie.

The stares didn’t pierce Gracie’s heart today. Instead she was inspired by the strong pin oaks bursting deep scarlet, vivid gold and then brown. She watched a gold leaf float from the biggest oak. It glided lazily and settled in front of her path. She stepped over it as another breeze grabbed it into a whirl. Gracie loved autumn leaves. She remembered burying herself up to her neck in her backyard along with her sister Sarah and then rolling all over the yard until she itched from head to toe.

Gracie smiled at the boy who’d first spotted her as he edged up to the top step. The other two boys were lined up like dominoes at his heels. One said, “Ain’t you ever seen that girl with no hand? Ain’t you seen her at Swirly’s?”

The other domino responded, “That’s Gracie. She always lets me taste as many flavors as I want!”

Then the last domino pushed the two boys ahead of him still staring. “Go, would you … or are you two in love with the girl without a hand. Bobby, do you looove her?”

From the top rung, Bobby kicked his foot backward to their surprise. The taunter on the lowest rung fell to the ground, landing on his bottom, while the little guy in the middle managed to keep his balance. Bobby took off down the slide. Gracie’s lips curled into a smirk. The boys’ laughter became distant.

Gracie heard Erma Franklin call to her as she passed Franklin’s Grocery, “The apple pies Thomas loves are fresh this morning.” Erma extended her arm flamboyantly waving its entire length.

Gracie nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let him know,” she called back loudly enough for Erma, standing on the grocery porch, to hear her.

“Tell him to stop by today. They go fast!” Erma pressed.

Erma Franklin, owner of the town’s grocery store, was a single lady who had, without question, never met a stranger in her life. Erma, though already blessed with a full head of hair, teased it from all angles and then attempted to tame it with a clasp in back. Her effort to mimic Jaqueline Kennedy’s popular hairstyle failed miserably.

Erma, now perched on the edge of the porch bench, pumped her makeshift folded paper fan, though it wasn’t a hot day. When one of the town’s men passed and exchanged a wave, she flicked her hair off her shoulder with her free hand and exposed the gaudy baubles dangling from her ears. She particularly perked up when Pastor Ted appeared outside the church to work on the grounds, as he did this morning. She stood and steadied herself against the porch bench which was painted bright red with a Pall Mall cigarette promotion.

“How are you this morning, Pastor Ted?” Gracie called out as she passed Mt. Pleasant Church. He was a simple looking man, and his graying hair suited him. He wore thin, round wire-rimmed glasses. Although a preacher, he had the look of a doctor.

Pastor Ted was bent over pulling weeds around the welcome sign. He rose, resting his forearms on his knees in a crunched stance. “All is well, all is well …” he sang out like the familiar hymn. He waved and leaned forward again pulling the weeds and pitching them out into the street. As he bent over, his pants rose well above his ankles showing not only his dingy white socks but also his bare legs.

“Gracie, need a ride?” Aaron, Erma Franklin’s nephew, called from the driver’s seat of the family’s newly-purchased, 1965, smoke-gray Ford Mustang, which perfectly matched the thick rims of his eyeglasses. Gracie, less than a few yards from Swirly’s, pointed ahead indicating her destination.

Chippy Martin, owner of the wood mill, chugged by so slowly the sawdust on the hood of his truck barely moved. He lifted his chin when he passed, and Gracie did the same. Gracie’s father had worked at the wood mill. She thought of how she and Sarah used to call him Mr. Wood Chippy, giggling until their heads felt dizzy or they got the hiccups—sometimes both.

Gene Carter backed his truck from Swirly’s. Passing Gracie, he smiled, no teeth today. Cone in hand, he made a clicking noise and pointed his finger in Gracie’s direction.

* * *

“Want in?” Barney called out to Kage.

“Are you talking treasure again?” Kage quipped, not interested until he noticed the cards spread on the table.

“Naw, cards!” Willy held his hand of playing cards fanned nearly touching his nose.

“Okay. What’s the game?” Kage took a seat at the table.

“Seven Card Stud, Five Card Draw or Texas Hold ‘em … you call it. Willy’s getting the hang of ‘em all.” Barney nodded toward Willy who grinned as if the five-dollar bills at his elbow equaled the pile of cash stacked in front of Barney.

“Let’s go with Five Card Draw. Deal me in.” Kage swatted the table ready for the challenge.

“Alright then, your deal, Willy.” Barney slid the cards toward Willy.

“Deuces wild. Those are twos,” Willy announced, proud to think he might teach Kage something. “One … for you. One … for you. One … for me.” He dealt in no hurry.

“Where’s Gene?” Kage wondered aloud.

“Ah, he doesn’t like cards. Says it’s the devil’s game,” Willy scoffed. “Cards and moonshine.”

“Didn’t know the devil played,” Kage jested, rearranging the cards in his hand. He had learned poker the hard way, with no introductory lesson. The construction men he had worked with were always pleased to take him for everything in his pockets.

“I just won the last three hands. Barney says I’m showin’ him hows’ta play now!” Willy blurted out.

“Well, I’m just getting warmed up,” Kage teased, though planning to bail if he didn’t win the first few hands.

“I’ll take a card,” Willy piped, tossing a seven of hearts down to exchange.

“Dealer goes last,” Barney scolded, and Willy picked up his card and lifted the bottle in front of him for a drink. Barney motioned for Willy to share it, and he handed it over to Barney who took more than a sip.

“Two for me,” Kage sneezed the words out.

“You allergic to this place?” Barney asked, as Willy passed Kage his cards.

“Allergic to this whole town, I think.”

Willy interrupted, “So which ace did you say always beats my hand, no matter what I got?”

“The trump card,” Barney said and winked at Kage.

“Now which black ‘un is that?”

Barney flipped through the deck and pulled out a spade. “This’s a spade,” Barney snarked.

“Ah, thought you said before it was the other one. So, it ain’t the one that looks like doggie tracks?”

“Those are clubs.” Barney held up a club.

“Yeah, doggie tracks,” Willy said with a nod, then tossed down his seven of hearts once more and picked up a new card from the top of the deck. He took another pull from the liquor bottle. “Want some ‘shine?” Willy offered the bottle to Kage.

Kage glanced at Barney and then Willy, confused. He shook his head passing on the offer. “We’re playing Five Card Draw, right?”

Barney nodded his head, and Willy muttered, “So spades is the card, huh?” Willy nudged Kage. “If you can’t remember they’s called spades, you can call ‘em shovels. That’s what I call ‘em.”

“What ‘cha got?” Barney asked.

“A’right,” Willy proudly placed his cards on the table.

Barney elbowed Kage, before displaying his cards.

“Ah, how’d you do that? You got that winning card again,” Willy whined, taking another sip of moonshine.

“I’m out! You two have fun …” Kage pushed his chair from the table, leaving Willy to be Barney’s prey.

* * *

Gracie pulled the sheet over her head to muffle her sobbing. How many more nights could she bear these nightmares? She relived it all over again, just as it had happened.

Sarah’s scream and the stench of thick smoke awakened Gracie. Eyes wide with fear, she ran from her room into the hallway almost straight into the hurling flames. She screamed for Sarah, “Where are you?” She heard her sister cry, first for their mother and then for their father. Gracie alternated between screaming her sister’s name at the top of her lungs and screaming out to God.

The flames shot several feet taller than her head and traveled down the hallway, blocking her sister’s bedroom door. Gracie called for Sarah and grabbed her Cinderella blanket. She remembered her father once throwing an old tarp over a small fire in the horse barn.

She took only a moment to look over her shoulder down the banister to see if the stairs were still intact. Edging closer to the flames, she felt the heat from the blaze sting her face and squinted. With all her strength, holding the corners of the blanket, she whipped it high into the air. The lavender blanket landed flat on top of the flames, smothering them for mere, critical seconds. The air that the whip of the blanket generated blew the flames toward Sarah, and Gracie saw her jump backwards, almost losing her balance. Then she saw her sister’s face, fearful beyond description, darkly stained by ashes but for two clean trails from her eyes to her chin. She held her stuffed rabbit tucked against her chest with both arms.

Gracie reached across through the broken flames for her hand, stepping so close she could smell the singed threads. She screamed for Sarah to take her hand. Sarah edged forward, dropped one arm’s grasp from the rabbit so that it dangled to her side. She reached toward Gracie’s hand and their fingers touched. Gracie grabbed her wrist and pulled her with all her might, encouraging her sister to jump over the flames that seconds later had consumed the blanket.

Sarah fought her sister, tugging with all her will in the opposite direction. Gracie nearly lost her footing and stumbled forward into the flames which rose, encompassing their arms. Sarah’s cry was now so loud that her words were inaudible.

Gracie, desperate to find help, released her sister. Grabbing the sheet off her bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders, and it instantly stuck to the skin of her right arm. Squalling as loudly as Sarah, she ran down the stairs. Her feet tangled in the sheet and she fell to her knees. Scrambling back to her feet, she ran out the front door yelling, “HELP!”

Firefighters scurried like a colony of ants under attack. Fountains of fire leapt into the heavens. Bright flames and Gracie’s screams pierced the darkness. A sobbing fireman sat her under the oak tree by the horse barn, away from the house. She screamed, “Daddy!” She whispered, “Mama …” Then, she choked on her sister’s name through her tears.