November 3, 1945
Ben kept from riding down the mountain all week. He knew Francine had returned to the center, and he told himself that was enough. She had given him no reason to think she wanted him showing up on her porch every other day. What he was hoping, as he worked to get ready for the cold weather slamming down on them soon, was that she would show up on his porch. After all, the nurses had been keeping a close eye on Becca.
Trouble was, Nurse Dawson was there on Monday to examine Becca and make sure Woody’s wound continued to heal. She was capable, but looked like a smile might break her face. Not at all like Francine, with a smile that lit up her eyes. But Nurse Dawson’s visit meant the nurses wouldn’t likely be back up the hill until another week went by.
Friday, the weather turned toward winter with a cold rain. Sadie woke up with a cough and Woody was sniffling. Ben had laid in enough wood for the weekend and carried water from the spring. He’d taken care of the animals and Captain. The roof wasn’t leaking. There was absolutely nothing else for him to do, but he couldn’t seem to sit down and relax. He paced back and forth as restless as a raccoon in a wire-cage trap.
His mother frowned at him from where she sat at the table, shelling popcorn to store in jars to keep the mice out of it. Woody had talked her into raising it. He’d been proud of figuring out when to plant the popcorn so it wouldn’t be tasseled out with the bees pollinating it at the same time as the other corn. Woody said he had gathered plenty of gardening tips from wandering around the mountain. Besides seeing more than he needed to see and getting shot.
Maybe that was what Ben should do on this miserable weather day. Go confront Homer Caudill and get that squared away. Maybe he’d just take his gun and they could have a shoot-out. Ben looked at the gun on top of the cabinet. But that would do his family a lot of good. Getting killed. Or as the people here said, killed dead. He hadn’t thought twice about how crazy that was to say somebody got killed when they were merely wounded until he went to the army. Wonder if Francine would think that mountain talk was poetic.
“For mercy’s sake, Ben, settle somewhere. If you need something to do, sit down here and help us shell this corn.” His mother nodded toward the basket full of popcorn ears beside her.
Woody and Sadie were already helping. To avoid Woody’s cold, Becca sat all the way across the room, hemming a baby blanket. Not that a body could avoid anything in this small house. Not even Sadie’s pup that his mother let come inside. Woody’s Bruiser didn’t get the same treatment, so at least only one pup was underfoot. The pup went squeaking away when Ben almost stepped on it.
Sadie gave Ben an irritated look that so mirrored his mother’s, Ben had to smile. He picked up a bowl and a couple of popcorn ears and sat down across from his mother. “Sorry,” he said.
“No need,” Ma said. “Your pa was the same way, except he could settle down and study the Bible. Maybe you should try that.”
“Maybe so.” Ben pushed some of the kernels off the cob to clink into his bowl.
Sadie coughed. Ma’s brow furrowed at the hacking sound of the cough, but she kept shelling the corn.
“You think we should send for the nurse?” Ben looked at Sadie, then back at his mother.
“Not yet. Likely she just has a cold the same as Woody. The nurses can’t cure a cold. I’ll make up some ginger tea for her later. That always seems to help.”
“Oh, Ma.” Becca swished the baby blanket around in her lap and began stitching the hem on another side. “Ben’s just wanting to get the nurses up here. One of them anyhows. That pretty Nurse Howard.” Her voice went singsongy. “Froggie went a-courtin’, he did ride, Uh-huh.”
“Becca.” Ma’s voice was sharp. “Don’t be botherin’ your brother with that foolishness.”
“Love ain’t foolishness, but it can get you in some shapes.” Becca stood up and stretched her back. “I don’t see how you stood carrying five babies.”
“You stand what you have to stand.” Ma pitched a cob into a box to keep for fire starters. “Nary a one of you children would I give up, no matter how hard the task of bringing you into the world.”
Becca cradled her abdomen with her hands. “I do know what you mean there. I already love this little feller.”
“You’re apt to have a girl,” Ma warned her.
“I reckon you’re right, but Carl was so set on a boy that I’m hopin’ for him.” She stepped closer to the fire.
“Have you heard from Carl?” Ben looked over at her.
“Not for a spell.” Becca stared out the window almost as if she were watching for Carl to be stepping up on the porch. Then she sighed and shrugged. “Carl never was much for writing nothing. But he’s a fine talker. He told me he’d be back to get me. And he will. Come the right time.”
“When’s the right time?” Woody asked.
“Some things you don’t know till they happen.” Becca settled back in the chair and picked up her needle and thread again. “Other things you can sort of guess when they might happen. Like a baby coming.” She shot a look over at Ben. “Or when your brothers are going to get antsy over some girl.”
“Well, if you’re talking about me, don’t be comparing me to that frog a-courting.” Woody sneezed. “That frog and his mouse girlfriend came to some bad ends in that song.”
Sadie giggled. “But it was fun when Nurse Howard sang it with us. I wish she was here to sing with us now. I like her.”
“Me too,” Woody said. “You like her too, don’t you, Ben?”
“Nothing not to like.” Ben pushed the last kernels off the ear of popcorn and pushed back from the table. “I got some things to do outside.”
“But it’s raining,” Becca said. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“That’s more likely to happen in here with everybody sneezing and coughing.” Ben grabbed his jacket and hat.
When Becca opened her mouth to say more, Ma spoke up first. “Let him be, Becca. I don’t expect he’ll melt.”
His mother’s hands fell idle in her lap as she gave Ben a considering look. After a couple of seconds, she reached for another popcorn ear and began shelling again. Ben couldn’t tell if she was worried or disgusted as she muttered, “A man has to decide his own way.”
The rain did have a bite to it as he stepped off the porch. No sleet. But the promise of it. Ben pulled his collar up and headed toward the barn. Bruiser followed him, but Rufus gave Ben the same kind of look as his mother and then dropped his head back down on his paws.
Ben looked back at the old dog. “You’d be warmer in the barn.” The old dog didn’t bother raising his head. He was where he wanted to be, satisfied with his lot in life. A front-porch dog guarding his people inside. Not that Rufus did more than stand up, bark once, and wag his tail when anybody rode up to the house. But that was enough.
Bruiser was another matter. He was a trial, the way he chased the hens and nipped at the cow’s legs. He chewed on anything he could get his teeth around, even the porch posts. Rufus growled any time the pup got close, and Sadie’s pup ran away with a whimper. Ben couldn’t help but admire the pup’s spirit as the rascal grabbed onto the bottom of Ben’s jeans and tugged. He just never quit. He wanted attention and he found a way to get it. Not at all content to just lie down and hope somebody would notice him.
Ben leaned over and picked the pup up. It had grown a lot since he brought it home. “Why can’t you be a good dog like Sarge?”
The pup climbed up Ben to lick his face while his tail beat against Ben’s arm. He’d gotten what he wanted. Ben’s attention.
Which dog was Ben like? The old dog on the porch, satisfied to hang around and get a pat on the head now and then, or the pup demanding to be noticed.
“Thinking about that nurse has made me addlebrained,” he muttered as he put the pup down. Bruiser jumped back up on his legs. But when Ben pushed him off, he chased after a scent in the corner of the barn, digging down through a layer of old hay. Persistence in motion.
Nurse. It wasn’t the nurse on his mind. It was Francine. Maybe he should chase after her. If she didn’t favor that, she could tell him to get lost. At least then he’d know. She’d seemed friendly enough when they walked to the creek together.
Ben blew out a breath. No weather for creek walking this day. More the weather for hunting up Homer Caudill. A man couldn’t completely ignore somebody shooting his little brother. He’d never read anything in the Bible about turning his brother’s other cheek. Better to think about that than Francine.
The rain got colder and came down harder as he started out on Captain. A few snowflakes mixed in with the rain. As best he remembered, the Caudill house was some distance high in the hills on the other side of Beech Fork up from Possum Bend. He passed up his truck. Who knew what kind of roads there were around Possum Bend? Best depend on Captain’s sure steps on the muddy trail.
He turned a bend in the trail and up ahead was a nurse. Even swallowed up by a dark cloak, he knew it was Francine just by the way she sat the horse.
She was turning up a side trail and didn’t know Ben was there. That was the trouble with wrapping up against the rain. The rain hitting the rain slickers covered up other noises a person might need to hear. But Sarge stopped in front of her horse and barked.
She reined in her horse and shifted in the saddle to look around. She waited until he rode closer before she said, “Mr. Locke.”
“I’d count it a favor if you’d call me Ben.” He locked his eyes on her face and finished. “Francine.”
She blinked and looked down at her hands on the reins. Then a smile eased up the corners of her lips as she raised her eyes back to his. “All right. Ben.”
An answering smile worked its way across Ben’s face. He thought about reaching across to touch her hand, but maybe the names were enough for a start. They sat there on their horses without speaking anything more for a long moment until her horse grew restless.
“Were you looking for me?” she asked.
“Yes.” He might as well be honest. He hadn’t been going for her, but he was looking for her. All the time.
“Is something wrong at your house?” Her smile disappeared to be replaced by worry. Rain dripped down her cloak. “Nurse Dawson said I wouldn’t need to visit Becca until next week. That she was doing fine.”
“I shouldn’t have said yes. I wasn’t coming after you, even though Sadie does have a bad cough and Woody’s catching cold. Ma says no need to trouble you about them yet.”
“I can stop by after I call on Granny Em.”
“Is that where you’re headed on such a day?” A few more snowflakes mixed with the rain. “She send for you?”
“Granny Em would never send for one of us nurses.” Francine stroked her horse’s neck to steady her. “Jasmine doesn’t like standing still.” She took a firmer hold on the reins. “But I haven’t seen Granny Em since I got back from the city. So I decided to ride up here. I thought I’d be more apt to find her at home on a day like this. Otherwise, she’d be who knows where on the mountain. I’m taking her something.” She pointed to a gunnysack hanging down from her saddle horn. The sack moved.
“A dog?”
Francine laughed. A sound that felt like sunshine in the midst of the cold rain. She touched the sack. “No, a hen. The fox got her best hen.”
“It might get this one too.”
“True, but perhaps this one will be harder to catch. I best be on my way before we both get soaked.” She turned her horse away.
“Have you ever been up to Granny Em’s cabin?” Ben asked.
“Not yet. I generally see her at the center or at your house. Why?” She looked back at him.
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“Are you sure? I studied the map.” She looked so crestfallen that Ben had to laugh.
“I’ll ride up with you. Ma’s been after me to go see if the old woman needs anything before winter sets in.”
Ben led the way up the steep narrow trail to Granny Em’s. In the years he’d been gone, the trees had almost taken over the small clearing around the old woman’s cabin. The whole place was smaller than he remembered. A barn past repair tumbled down to the side of the house, with a corral fashioned out of poles around it.
“Are you sure she lives here?” Francine moved her horse up beside his. “The chinking is gone between some of the logs.”
“I’m sure. There’s smoke coming out of her chimney.”
“I suppose that means she’s here.” Francine slid off her horse and untied the gunnysack from her saddle horn. Then she grabbed her saddlebag.
Ben dismounted and took the gunnysack from her. The hen let out a muffled squawk. “Guess we better go see if she’ll be glad to see us or chase us off. You never know with Granny Em.”