Chapter Eleven

 

At first, they traveled in silence. Gracie looked everywhere but at Millard.

Finally, he sighed loudly. That got her attention.

“What's that all about?” Gracie asked, glancing at him sideways.

“I was just thinking about what a waste it is with you living in town alone and me out at my place alone. It would be so much better for both of us if you'd give in and marry me,” Millard said.

Gracie shrugged. “That's just your opinion.”

“Listening to the tone of your voice, I don't believe I want to hear your opinion,” Millard said dryly. “But think about this. If you lived out here with me, we could go by your farm all the time. Check on the cemetery and keep the weeds out of it. We'd be able to watch for anything else going on at the farm that shouldn't be.”

“There does seem to be more crooked people in the county now then honest ones,” Gracie contemplated. “As for keeping an eye on my place, the Sawyers are good at that. Sooner or later, Thad would have noticed the strange goings on in the timber and investigated. You might as well change the subject now. I've heard this one long enough.”

Millard ran his fingers up and down the lines. “Fine, but just so you know, I'm not giving up on you, Gracie. Not by a long shot.”

Gracie shrugged and looked off to the side of the road. Old gal, keep your eyes on that cornfield of Singleton's. Don't look at Millard's wistful, pup dog eyes, or you'll give in. “Fine, and just so you know my answer is always going to be the same.”

Millard parked by the Singleton house. “We better tell Junior what we're doing, wandering around his farm and all. He might try to take a shot at us for trespassing.”

“Good idea,” Gracie said.

They walked toward the house, hearing thump, thump, scarp, scrap coming from the barn. Millard looked past the house. “I'd say Junior is cleaning out his barn. His manure spreader and horses are parked by the side door.”

While they walked that direction, a big fork full of manure and straw bedding flew out of the door and plunked onto the half full spreader.

“Guess we're going to have to interrupt Junior,” Gracie surmised.

“Reckon so,” Millard agreed.

When they neared the barn, Junior stuck his head out with another big fork full of manure and aimed it at the spreader. He unloaded the fork. As he turned, he spotted he had company. Junior leaned the pitch fork against the barn door and stepped out into the sun light. The heavy set man ran his hand around to his overall back pocket and took out his blue hanky. He wiped his sweaty forehead.

“By golly, here comes a likely pair of mischief makers if I ever saw any,” Junior joked. “What are you two up to now?”

“Just stopped by to ask if it would be all right if Miss Gracie and I walk in your timber for a spell. We didn't want to do that without asking,” Millard said.

“Ah, it's all right with me, but what are you looking for? If it's mushrooms, you might be too late. I've seen several lookers out there already,” Junior said.

“We're looking for Black Eagle and his Indians,” Gracie said.

“What has that bunch been up to now? A fellow a few miles over said he's missing two pigs. He thinks those thieving Indians got them,” Junior said.

“I don't know about any stolen pigs,” Gracie said. “Those Indians have always been honest when they come to my farm. They just hunt and fish.”

Junior leaned his head over his shoulder and studied Gracie. “What you want to talk to them for then?”

“Have you seen the Indians in your timber lately?” Millard countered.

“Yeah, they have been. I should know. I make a point to keep my eyes on them just so I know what they're doing. Of course, at night I can't tell what's going on when I'm sleeping. They're good at slipping around all sneaky like,” Junior said. “Now you didn't answer me. What you want to talk to the Indians about?”

“I heard from Thad Sawyer Black Eagle's bunch was in the timber on my farm, but they disappeared,” Gracie said. “Just seemed strange to me they would do that. Black Eagle has always been straight with me. I thought I'd ask him if something was going on we didn't know about,” Gracie explained.

“Well, you're welcome to find the Indians in my timber on one condition. If you get a straight answer from that Indian, you stop back by and let me know if it's something the farmers around here should know about,” Junior said.

“I'll do that, but what I want to know only pertains to my farm,” Gracie said.

“Mind telling me what's going on?” Junior asked.

“I don't mind. Someone dug in my family cemetery recently. It looks to be a grave small enough to be a baby. You haven't heard of a baby or small child dying in this area have you?” Gracie asked.

Junior rubbed his chin, thinking. “No, I haven't, but you might stop by the house and ask Sara. She hears more of that kind of talk from the women at church. If a woman had such bad luck that we weren't close to, Sara might not think to tell me.”

“Well, we better let you get back to work,” Millard said with a grin. “If we keep you too long, you just might be putting a pitch fork in our hands.”

Junior cackled. Then he had a sudden thought. “Miss Gracie, you don't think that grave is an Indian baby do you?”

“No, I don't. Black Eagle's people would take one of their own back to the settlement Indian burial grounds. This baby would be white if that's even what is in the spot. I want to find out who would do such a thing without asking

me first. That's a personal cemetery. Thanks for your time, Junior.” Gracie said.

When they were close to the house, Gracie said, “You stay with the buggy, Millard. Most women don't want to talk about such things as miscarriages or expecting women with men around.”

Gracie knocked on the house door. Sara answered, and Gracie talked to her a minute. Her face held a blank look when she climbed in the buggy.

“Well?” Millard asked.

“Sara wasn't any help atall. She didn't know of any woman in the area that was expecting.”

Millard drove the buggy in to the pasture that bordered the timber. “This is where I saw some Indians last week myself. They're living near the Iowa River that runs on the back side of the timber. You up for a walk? Or you want me to find Black Eagle, and bring him here to talk to you?”

“I'll go along with you. I know Black Eagle will come out of hiding to talk to me. I'm not so sure he trusts you enough to talk to you,” Gracie said bluntly.

Millard and Gracie tromped through the timber, watching for movement among the trees. Suddenly, a tall Indian stepped out in front of them. “You lost, Gracie?”

“Not yet, Black Eagle. I've been looking for you,” Gracie replied.

“Why?”

“Mr. Sokal said he saw you and members of the tribe living in this timber. Thad Sawyer said you were on my farm earlier. I hadn't seen you. I thought it was strange you left. It seemed sudden like. I just wondered why?”

“We was in your timber, but we left after spirits came,” Black Eagle said.

“What did the spirits look like?” Millard asked.

“The color of snow. This many of them.” He held up two fingers. “The tall squaw we saw from a distance. Her back always turned to us. Small one we saw other times. The others said they wouldn't live near there until the spirits left for the happy hunting grounds.”

“I see. Just so you know, we will see what we can do to drive the spirits out of my timber so you can come and go when you want,” Gracie told Black Eagle.

“Humm, that be good,” he said.

“How's your wife, Rainwater, and the little one, Eagle Claw?” Gracie asked.

“They good. Little one will have a brother or sister by next winter,” Black Eagle said proudly.

“Great news. Good luck to you,” Gracie said. “We found what we came to find out. We'll let you get back to hunting.”

Back at Three Oaks, Millard stopped by the house to let Gracie out. May Jean was sitting on the porch with Shana. Gracie climbed out of the buggy and went to them.

“May Jean where did you come from?”

“She walked out of the timber and saw me picking berries so she helped me get the bowl full,” Shana said. “We got the leaves off the berries. Now Aunt Melinda is working on them and bakin' a cake. We'll have strawberry short cake for supper.”

Gracie kept her eyes on May Jean. “Does your mother know you're over here, girl?”

“I told her that's where I was going,” the girl said.

“How long you staying?” Gracie asked abruptly.

“A day or two maybe,” May Jean said.

“ Come on, May Jean. We'll get the bucket and gather the eggs,” Shana said.

In a few minutes, the girls came running from the back side the chicken house and bumped into Millard, getting ready to leave.

“Whoa, girls. What's the hurry?”

“There's a snake stuck in the chicken coop with the sitting hen. His head is stickin' out a hole in back, but he can't get out. The rest of him is too fat,” Shana said.

“Show me where?” Millard said.

Gracie and Melinda came out on the porch when they heard the excited voices. Gracie followed after them to see what the problem was.

Millard came to meet them. “I wouldn't be looking for any baby chicks, Gracie. A black snake ate all the eggs or chicks as they were hatching. He's so full he can't get back out of the coop through the hole he crawled in.”

The hen was putting up a real cackling fuss.

“Open the door and let the hen out. Maybe we can jerk that snake out by his tail. We can knock him in the head when he's clear of the coop,” Gracie said.

Millard said, “Good idea. You let the hen out while I go get a hoe to hit the snake with.”

The frightened hen cackled when Gracie opened the door. She had to stand back and let the hen come out on her own. The hen flew out and landed a few feet away. She took off running into the flock, stirring up all the chickens, causing them to squawk loudly.

Gracie leaned down where she could see in the coop. The snake's back end twitched sideways as he tried to squeeze out the back of the coop.

Millard came back with the hoe. “You ready, Gracie?”

“Yip.” Gracie bent over the opening, looking in again.

“You sure you want to do this. I could pull the snake out, and you hit him,” Millard offered.

“Nope, this is fine with me. You probably have better aim than I do. The snake will be squirming around,” Gracie said.

She reached in the coop, took a good grip on the slick tail of the bullsnake and jerked. The snake's head came lose from the back of the coop. The whole body jerked out of the coop and landed at Millard's feet. He backed up, raised the hoe and socked the snake's head. That stunned the snake. With a few more blows, the snake was headless.

Gracie let out a long breath. “I'm sure glad that's over.”

Millard smiled at her. “We make a pretty good team, Gracie.”

Gracie studied him a moment. “Yip, if you're talking about killing snakes. I cain't think of any other reason we would be compatible.”

After Millard left, Shana and May Jean gathered the eggs while Gracie walked to the pasture after the cows. Shana carried the egg bucket into the pantry while Melinda was busy in the kitchen. She whispered, “I hate to see the mother hen without babes. Maybe we can hatch her out some more chicks.”

“How?” May Jean asked. “That hen won't go back to the coop now. She's too scared.”

“We can hatch them for her. Take three eggs, and I'll carry three. Come with me,” Shana said.

They slipped past Melinda and went to the bedroom. Shana opened the closet door and threw back part of a stack of quilts. She gently laid her eggs down in the middle of a quilt. “Now lay yer eggs by mine.” As soon as May Jean had her eggs in place, Shana covered the eggs with the rest of the quilts. “Now we wait.”

“That all you going to do and wait for them eggs to hatch?” May Jean asked.

“For certain, wait is all the hen does. The eggs are in a warm place in the dark just like under the hen. Is that not so?”

May Jean looked doubtful. “Yes, but I'm not sure this will work.”

Gracie tried calling the cow so she wouldn't have to go after her, but Clara turned a deaf ear. On the way back to the barn, Gracie was busy chewing out the cow when she should have been watching where she walked. She felt her right foot sink out from under her. Next thing she knew, she was flat on her face.

A flash of pain ran up her leg from her ankle. She rolled over and managed to sit up. She raised her skirt and looked at her knees. They were raw from loss of skin and bruised. Her right ankle was a worse problem. It was swollen to twice its size. Gracie tried to stand and found it was too painful to put weight on her foot. She sank back down and stared at Clara, calmly chewing her cud and wondering what the hold up with Gracie was.

When Shana and May Jean went to the barn to look for eggs, Shana thought she'd find Gracie milking. It wasn't right to see an empty barn. “May Jean, Aunt Gracie should be milking by now. Wonder if she had trouble with the cow? We better look in the pasture.”

It didn't take long to spot the cow in the open, looking around. Shana and May Jean ran toward her. When they got close, they saw Gracie sitting on the ground, holding her leg and groaning.

“What happened?” Shana said, kneeling beside her.

“My foot got stuck in a fox hole I didn't see.” Gracie pointed to the caved in dirt beside her. “I twisted my ankle, and it's swelling up. Now I can't stand on it.”

“Oh, no! We got to get you back to the house so Miss Melinda can help you,” May Jean said. “How are we going to do it? Miss Gracie is too heavy for us to hold up.”

“What if we bring the flat wooden wheel barrow out here and put Aunt Gracie on that? We might need Aunt Melinda to help us. Between us all we can give her a ride back to the house,” Shana said. “Stay right here, Aunt Gracie. We will be back in a minute.”

As the girls took off running, Gracie croaked, “Where else do you think I'd go?”

The girls came back with Melinda. Shana pushed the wheel barrow up beside Gracie. “Now we have to get Aunt Gracie to sit on the wheelbarrow without putting weight on that ankle.”

Melinda positioned herself on the back side the wheelbarrow while the girls lifted Gracie under the arms. She groaned when the pain worsened. “Now Aunt Melinda, get her around the waist and guide her down on the wheelbarrow platform,” Shana ordered.

Once they had Gracie seated, Shana said, “May Jean, you and Aunt Melinda grab hold of the wheelbarrow sides while I lift Aunt Gracie's legs and turn her around.”

Working together, they twisted Gracie around so her legs were supported by the wheelbarrow platform.

Shana said, “Now the two of you walk along beside Aunt Gracie and balance the wheelbarrow while I push. Try to keep her from tippin' over.”

They took it slow. In a few minutes, they were to the porch steps. Next was the problem of getting her up the steps and into the house.

“Let's sit her on a step and lift her up one step at a time,” Shana said.

It sounded like a good idea, but Gracie cried out with the uplift under her arm. She hollered again when her ankle plopped against the ground on the first step. Melinda picked up Gracie's right leg and holding the ankle up until they reached the top step.

“Now how are we going to get her in the house, girls?” Melinda asked.

“Maybe we can put a quilt down for her to sit on and drag her in,” May Jean said. “We did that to Papa one time when he passed out on the porch. He was too heavy to lift.”

“That work?” Shana asked.

“It was enough to get him on the inside the door. We left him there until he sobered up. I think that was the next afternoon,” May Jean said, trying to recall.

“I ain't laying in front of the door for you to step over until this ankle gets to feeling better. I just will not do it,” Gracie said as close to tears as Melinda and Shana had ever seen her.

The creak of buggy wheels had them looking down the lane. Melinda cried in glad surprise. “Thank goodness, it's Millard.”

“Oh no, just what I need is him in the way,” Gracie groaned.

“Hush up, Gracie. He is just what we need. A strong man to help us get you inside and on the couch. You need that ankle up on a pillow for the night. That's the best place for you while you're in for all kinds of hurt,” Melinda scolded.

Millard bailed out of the buggy and rushed toward them. “What happened? Gracie, you hurt?”

“She is,” Melinda said. “She has a swollen ankle from stepping in a fox hole. We sure could use some help getting her to the sofa. We got her this far, and we're worn out. She is in an awful lot of pain.”

“Open the door,” Millard ordered. He scooped Gracie up in his arms and tried to ignore her groaning protests as he carried her to the parlor. He eased her down on the sofa. “There now. Let's see that ankle.”

Melinda took the high top shoe and sock off. “Oh my, it does look bad. Look at how discolored and swollen it is.”

“You think it might be broken?” Millard asked. “I can go get the doctor if you need me to.”

“What do you think, Gracie?” Melinda asked.

“It hurts like blazes, but it's hard to tell if my ankle is broken. I know I can't put any weight on it. Put some cold water compresses on the ankle, and some pillows under it to get my leg up in the air. If the ankle doesn't look better in the morning, you can go for the doctor.”

Shana remembered Clara had been left by the barn door. She grabbed the milk pail and told May Jean where she was going. Shana opened the back half barn door while May Jean stood behind her. Clara was in a big hurry to come in. She bumped into Shana. When Shana went down, she took May Jean down with her.

By the time, they got on their feet, Clara had her head in the stanchion. She crooked her neck around to look out at the girls, waiting for her feed.

Shana locked the stanchion in place and went for the feed. She emptied one of the cans, Gracie made up, in the trough and got the milk stool off the nail. Once she had the stool about where she thought Gracie put it, she placed the bucket under the cow and edged down on the seat.

“What do you want me to do?” May Jean asked.

Shana stared at the cow's full bag. “Tis sure I am I need to figure out how Aunt Gracie milked this cow. Do you know how to milk a cow, May Jean?”

“Sure, I do. I haven't had to do it too often, but I know how.”

“Let me give it a try. If I can't figure this out, you can take over. For right now, you gather eggs. Don't forget to carry the stick in the bush to hit the mean rooster with.” Shana put her hands on two of the teats and squeezed down. A small amount of milk dripped from the end of the teats and fell in the bucket. That was encouraging. Shana squeezed again, and the drips turned into a squirt.

Bluebell heard the whoosh when the milk hit the tin bucket. She knew what that meant and came out of the manger to watch. When she meowed, Shana aimed a teat at her and squirted the milk all over the cat's face. Satisfied, Bluebell licked her face.

Clara must have been contented for the moment. She swished her tail back and forth. Each time the tail came near Shana she felt the breeze from it. Then the tail came at her and hit her up side the head. Shana got over balanced and fell off the stool backward. Clara didn't seem to notice.

Shana got up and dusted herself off. “That very tail is dangerous. If you want something to do, May Jean, see if you can keep Clara's tail from hitting me until I get done.”

May Jean came over and grabbed the tail. By holding on to it, she could keep the tail from coming at Shana. She kept that up until the teats ran dry, but Shana still had two more to go. Her hands hurt bad enough that her fingers lost their grip.

“Me hands are gettin' tired, they are. More's the pity, I'm only half done. May Jean, you spell me while I watch Clara's tail,” Shana said.

So they switched jobs. Clara ran out of feed. Shana had to give her another can to keep her from getting restless.

After they let Clara out of the barn, the girls took the milk bucket back to the house. Melinda was cooking supper, and Millard was trying to entertain Gracie to keep her from thinking about the pain in her ankle.

Shana and May Jean went in to see how she was doing.

Gracie said, “I wondered where you girls got off to. That cow needs milking. I sure ain't in no shape to do it.”

Millard said, “I can milk that cow for you, Gracie. Why didn't you say something?” He stood up.

Shana said, “No need to worry, sir. We just milked the cow and brought the milk to Aunt Melinda.”

“You did?” Gracie said in surprise. “Much obliged, girls. That's really nice of you to do that for me without me having to tell you.”

Millard stayed for supper that night. He promised to come back the next morning to help with chores. He told Shana he'd milk the cow for her after he checked Gracie's ankle.

The next morning, Gracie's ankle didn't seem so puffed up. It was tender to the touch. In a couple of days, she could put enough weight on the foot to limp to the table.