Chapter 6

 

After lunch, Gracie led the way down the lane to show them the soddy. “This is where we lived. That crumbled pile is the main mud house. Now it's covered with wild, white morning glories and honeysuckles. That soddy was warm in the winter and cool in the summer but awful small living quarters for three of us.”

“Did you have much trouble with varmints?” Shana asked.

“Once in a while, a snake crawled in under the door, but most snakes in this area are harmless. Matter of fact, they're good to keep around. They eat mice and rats so Papa didn't mind them. He caught the bull snakes when we saw one in the soddy and turned it loose in the barn.”

“The place doesn't look like much now,” Shana said.

“Nope, it doesn't atall,” Gracie said sadly as she thought about what once was. “After we moved into the house, I used this place for my play house. I spent a lot of time in it until I got big enough to do farm work with Papa. Once my folks got old, I did most of the farming. I didn't have time to come look about the shoddy very often. By the time I paid attention, the place had crumbled.”

“Come on, Gracie. We better keep moving before it gets to be chore time,” Melinda encouraged.

“Yip, reckon that's best. We can walk down to the end of the lane where the family cemetery is. I'll show you where my folks and baby brother are laid to rest,” Gracie said.

The wind moaned softly through the stand of aged evergreen trees behind the fenced in tombstones. Shana ran ahead to look over the fence. When Gracie and Melinda caught up to her, Gracie unlatched the metal gate. The rusty hinges made a grating squeak as Gracie opened the gate.

Gracie pointed. “Over in the corner is my mama and papa's grave. Beside them is my baby brother.”

Shana asked, “What happened to the babe?”

As Gracie walked between the other stones, she turned to answer, “He was dead when he came. Born too soon. Reckon Mama was a little old to be having a baby.” Gracie noticed Shana was walking on the graves. “Stop right there, girl,” she barked.

Shana stiffened at the sound of Gracie's voice. “What's wrong now?”

“You watch where you walk. Go around the graves like Melinda and I are doing.”

“Why?”

“First off, you might just fall into the grave by standing on it like you are now.” Gracie pointed to the soft earth under Shana's shoes.

Shana jumped back.

“That's better,” Gracie said.

“Why would I be after fallin' in?” Shana asked.

“The coffins are made of wood. Wood tends to rot over the years so the ground beneath is hollowed out. Any amount of weight on top will make the ground cave in,” Gracie explained.

“The other reason is these graves are Gracie's loved one. We need to respect them by not tromping on the graves,” Melinda said.

“Much obliged, Melinda,” Gracie said as she headed to her parents graves. “I hate it that the stones are so old they lean backward and tilt some. This is my father, Joseph Evans. Everybody called him Joe,” she said as she rubbed the stone. “Next to him is my mother, Mira, and the small stone is for my brother, Harry.”

Shana squatted down by the baby's stone. “For sure, I like what it says on the babe's stone. One of God's lambs.”

“It was my mother's idea to have those words inscribed on the stone.” Gracie's face wore a frown as she surveyed the area around the graves.

Melinda asked, “What's wrong, Gracie?”

“Look at the place next to my baby brother's grave. Someone has been digging there,” Gracie exclaimed.

Melinda put her hands to her chest with a horrified expression. She glanced around like she thought the person was still yet in sight. “You don't think someone was digging up your family, do you?”

“I don't know what to think, but look at how the dirt is mound up. It makes me think of a small grave,” Gracie said. “I know one thing. I intend to keep an eye on the cemetery. See if anyone messes around in here again.”

“Oh my, how could anyone do such a thing?” Melinda said.

“Sure and it's the creeps I be gettin' just thinkin' about such awful goings on,” Shana said, hugging herself.

“We best check around the neighborhood and see if anyone died.” Gracie looked toward the sun slowly dropping in the western sky. “Time to head back home now to do chores.”

When they reached the house, Gracie went into the pantry and found the egg bucket and milk bucket. She handed the egg bucket to Shana.

“What is this for?” The girl asked.

“You gather the eggs while I milk, and Melinda fixes supper. That way we all get done before dark,” Gracie explained.

“I have never gathered eggs before,” complained Shana.

“Just stick your hand in the nests and pick the eggs up. Put them gently in the bucket and bring it back here to Melinda. Try not to break any of the eggs. The ones you break are your breakfast,” Gracie warned. When Shana headed for the door, Gracie added, “Oh, and look in the nests before you stick your hand in. There might be a snake or critter in a nest eating an egg. While you're at it, look in the bushes around the hen house and come to the barn and look in the manger. Hens have a habit of stealing out their nests so they can sit on the eggs and hatch chicks. We need to find every egg we can while the eggs are fresh.”

“What's wrong with the hen startin' a family?” Shana asked.

“Nothing if the Sawyers were here to take care of the setting hens and their chicks. They aren't here, and we don't need the extra chore,” Gracie said. “Already got one coop by the hen house with a hen in it. Thad said she will hatch in a few days. We'll be giving her water and feed. Which reminds me, girl, peek in that coop to see if the hen is all ruffled out. Listen for peeping sounds. That's a sure sign the eggs hatched. Now go on.”

Shana raced to the hen house to get the egg gathering job over with. She burst into the building and scared the hens. They fluttered all around her, flying against the window and out the door. Some landed on top of the roost and the nests. Dust rose and clogged the air, making it hard to see in the dark building. Shana placed her arm over her head and waited for the dust moats to settle.

Once she could see, she stuck her hand in the nest bedding and gathered eggs. She gently placed them into her bucket. After she'd checked all the nests, she walked back outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. Chicken houses were a terrible smelling building she decided.

Shana headed toward the barn. She heard a rustle behind her and looked back. A large, white rooster, with his feathers all bristled out and head down low, was running after her. She didn't like the threatening way he looked. She turned tail and took off on the run. She glanced back over her shoulder. The rooster was chasing her and gaining fast.

While Shana looked over her shoulder, she wasn't watching where she was going. She tripped over a rock in the path. As she went down, the rooster slammed into the back of her legs. The egg bucket went flying and rolled on its side into the lilac bush.

Shana turned over. The rooster jumped on top of her, scratching and pecking her. She screamed as loud as she could, “Help me. Help me.” Her arms flailed back and forth, trying to ward off the mean rooster.

Gracie was in the feed room getting the feed for the milk cow. She set the can down, grabbed an old shovel handle off a ledge by the door and ran for the yard.

Melinda had a good view from the kitchen window when the rooster attacked Shana. She grabbed the broom on the porch and ran to help. She screamed at the rooster, waving the broom in the air.

When she was close enough, Melinda swung the broom and made contact with the rooster. He fell off Shana, got to his feet and bristled, running at Melinda. She squealed. By then Gracie was there with the shovel handle. She hit the rooster in the tail feathers. The strike landed him several feet away. When the rooster got back on his feet, he realized he was outnumbered. He hustled back to the hen house, giving a cackling protest all the way to his flock.

Shana sit up and rubbed the smarting areas on her face. She had blood coming from several scratches on her cheeks and hands.

“Shana, are you all right?” Melinda asked, grabbing her by the shoulders to help her to her feet.

“I – I think so,” Shana said hesitantly.

Gracie pulled the bucket out from under the bush. She set it upright by Melinda's feet. “She broke a few eggs. They will be a mess to wash off.”

“I'm not worried about dirty eggs right now. What would Miss Molly say if she saw the shape her girl is in,” Melinda demanded.

“She will get over it. Just take her in the house. Wash her off and tend to her,” Gracie said calmly.

“Washing her off is a good idea. Look how dirty the poor girl is,” Melinda said.

“There's no shame in getting dirty. The shame is in staying that way for everyone else to see,” Gracie declared.

Melinda turned red faced and wavered her finger at Shana. “How could you send this girl to the hen house to be attacked by a mean rooster?”

“I didn't know Thad had a mean rooster,” Gracie defended.

“Don't be upset, Aunt Melinda. It tis all right, Aunt Gracie. I'll be prepared next time for the mean bugger,” Shana said.

“There shouldn't be a next time,” Melinda said, taking Shana's chin in her hand and turning the girl's head one way and the other.

Gracie corrected Melinda. “Make up your mind right now that there will be a next time. What happened is part of gathering eggs when a mean rooster lives with the hens. We will find you a big stick to carry, Shana. You whack that rooster when you see him before he gets the drop on you.”

Back in the barn, Gracie dumped the feed in the manger. She brought the milk stool close by and opened the door with the intention of calling the cow. She didn't have to bother. In fact, she just barely got out of the way in time. The cow stampeded through the door and stuck her head in the stanchion.

Gracie said, “Nice to meet you, Clara.”

At the sound of the strange voice, Clara peered sideways to see who spoke to her. Not sensing a problem, she went back to lapping down her grain.

Gracie pulled the milk stool close and patted the cow on the side before she sat down. When Clara didn't flinch, Gracie eased down on the stool and milked.

She was almost done when Shana came in the barn. She looked clean and not any worse for wear after her run in with the rooster. She stood back, watching the milking process. When Gracie stood up and brought the pail of foaming milk from under Clara, Shana said, “I have half a bucket of eggs so far. I only had two broken completely and a couple cracked ones.”

“Well, that ain't bad atall. I saw a nest in the corner when I brought the milk stool over. Crooked Beak flew out of it. Maybe more nests in that hay. It's a perfect spot for them. You stand back now while I let Clara out of the barn,” Gracie instructed.

Shana stretched to reach the eggs in the manger as she asked, “Clara? That be the cow's name?”

“Yip,” Gracie said, stepping out of the way as the cow headed for the open door. “Here, Shana, take the milk pail with you to the house. Melinda will show you what crock to pour the milk in. She needs to wash the bucket for the morning milking. Make sure you put the lid on the crock to keep the mice out of it. That's important.”

While they ate supper that evening, Shana asked, “Aunt Gracie, the chickens have names?”

“Some of them do. Crooked Beak has one part of her beak crossed over the other,” Gracie said. “There's a dark red hen that I call Two Feathers. That's all she has in her tail.”

“Sounds like an Indian name,” Melinda mused.

Shana asked, “What will we do tomorrow?”

“I'm thinking it would be fun to go fishing,” Gracie said. “I have a nice pond just over the hill in the pasture.”

“Sure it tis, I've never fished,” Shana said.

“Neither have I,” Melinda added.

“You're in for some fun. If we're lucky, we'll have fresh fish for supper tomorrow night,” Gracie said enthusiastically. “First thing we need to do is pick up our fish bait tonight.”

“What is bait?” Melinda asked.

“Nightcrawlers. The barn yard should have some in it. Right after supper while you two do dishes, I'll pour a few buckets of water over the barn yard fence. Nightcrawlers come up best after a rain, but we might be able to fake them into thinking it rained if the ground is wet,” Gracie said.

“What's a nightcrawler?” Shana asked.

“A large worm,” Gracie answered.

“Oh dear!” Melinda said under her breath.

Gracie chose to ignore that declaration. “We need a can to keep the worms in. Wonder if there's an empty one around here somewhere?”

“I saw one beside the outhouse,” Shana said. “I can get it for you.”

“That will be helpful, dear,” Melinda said.

When Melinda started stacking the dishes, Shana edged toward the back door. “I'll go get the can for the worms.”

“Not yet. You find a dish towel and help, Melinda. We have to wait until it's good and dark after I wet a patch down so the worms come to the surface,” Gracie explained. When Shana groaned, Gracie added, “No need to complain, youngun. We all have our chores to do and helping do dishes is one of yours.”

Shana slanted her head sideways. “Tis other chores, besides gatherin' eggs and doing dishes?”

“There is, but I'll let you know what as we go along,” Gracie said, walking around Shana to the screen door.

After dark, Gracie led the way to the barn yard. They went through the barn and out the side door. “I watered down a spot by the fence. Head that way.”

The moon was large and bright, casting a glow over the area.

“That moon sure helps see the worms,” Gracie said softly. “We cain't use a lantern. If we did, the worms see us and go down too quick to catch.”

Shana squatted down. She made a grab for a nightcrawler. The worm sucked itself back in the hole. “Sure and tis, that one is a quick bugger. I didn't get him.”

“You have to be quick, or they get away. Grab for the worm's back end near the hole. You got a better chance of holding onto the worm that way,” Gracie said. “Now keep at it.”

A owl hooted in the large oak tree at the edge of the pasture. Melinda said, “Isn't that a nice sound?”

“Tis spooky to me,” Shana said. “Tis the sign that someone close is going to die when the owl hoots three times close to the house.”

“Really?” Melinda said, looking worried.

Melinda was taking Shana seriously. Gracie nodded her head toward Melinda and said to Shana, “Girl, there's an old saying that works as good for an owl as it would you. It goes, The wise old owl seldom spoke, the less he said the more he heard, wasn't that a wise old owl? Now you think on that while you pick up these worms. Get busy.”