The Run for the Elbertas (10 page)

Plumey's cheeks burnt. The mole on her cheek seemed to inch a grain.

Gid went on, “Why a girl o' mine would choose a man so puny is beyond reckoning. I'd vow he's not got the strength to raise a proper living.”

Mrs. Buckheart spoke up, taking Plumey's part. “An old hornbeam's muscles show through the bark, but ne'er a growing oak's. And I say you'll ne'er meet a feller with your head allus turned.”

The squire flushed merrily. “Gideon, thar's few longing to
shake your hand. You'd put a man to his knees or break bones. Recollect I've yet to clap your paw? Oh, you're the fistiest old man running free.”

The shag of Gid's brows raised, uncovering eyes blue as mill-pond water. “One thing I do recollect,” Gid said, “a thing going years past when we were young scrappers.” He cocked his head. “I recall we battled like rams once. We wore the ground out, tuggety-pull. But it was a draw.”

The squire caught the Buckheart boys' hard gaze. He sobered, shifting uneasily, ready to leave the table. Law papers rustled in his pockets. “Gid,” he insisted, rising, “you're of an older set. We never ran together, never wrestled as I remember. I'd swear before a Grand Jury.”

“I hain't so old I whistle when I talk,” Gid crowed. “Hain't so old but what I'd crack skulls with anybody. Jist any sweet time I kin grab a churn dasher and make butter o' airy one o' my sons.” A grin twisted his mouth as he got up. “Now, Square, we shore fit. We did.” And Squire Letcher and Gid went off arguing into the midst of the house.

“Who invited that walking courthouse?” Cirius blurted.

“Old jury hawk,” U Z said.

“He might have come for a good purpose.” Mrs. Buckheart chided. “Eat your victuals.”

Before we left the table Gid came back. “I've voted the square into going bird-hunting,” he said. “Atter his dinner settles one o' you boys hustle him o'er the hills and bring him back so dogtired he'll start home afore dark.”

“I'll go,” Bailus volunteered, puffing his jaws, mocking the squire. “I'll wade thorns and walk cliff faces. I'll wear his soles off.”

“Travel the starch out o' him,” Gid said. “I've a notion he oughten to stay on.”

“Who asked that magistrate here anyhow?” John asked, his face sour as whey. “They's more warrants in his pockets than a buzzard's got feathers.”

Leander said, “He'll plague the stir-off. Fellers will think
he's come a-summonsing. And I've heard a mighty crowd's coming across the ridge tonight.”

“We've only invited neighbors and a couple o' fiddlers,” Gid spoke fractiously, “but a rambling widower is apt to come unbid any place. Yet I'm more concerned about a tender sprig of a feller who's shore to be here, one I'd ruther see going than coming, ruther to see the span o' his back than his face.”

Plumey paled whiter than a hen-and-biddy dish. The boys grunted.

Old Gid began to lay down the law. “Girls!” he said, “you're not to throw necks tonight staring at the boys. Sons! We're going to mark the sorghum hole. We're making puore molasses, and no candy jacks. Keep a watch on the kettle.”

“I choose pull-candy to sirup,” Jimp said.

I thought in my head, “I bet candy jacks would be good.”

U Z groaned, “Pap's bounden to dry up the party.”

Old Gid's face softened. He chuckled at me and Jimp gobbling pie. “You tad whackers better save a big little spot for the molassy foam.”

“Pappy,” Jimp asked, “did you and the square sheep-fight once, a-butting heads?”

Old Gid raised his brows and grinned. He stepped to the door and called Peep Eye to dinner.

“I aim to see your ferret,” I reminded Jimp. “I want to ride the fly-jinny.”

We crept into the smokehouse where the ferret was kept hidden. “A feller can't take a step withouten Peep Eye's watching,” Jimp complained, latching the door. In that darksome place I saw giant pumpkins squatting on hard earth, and fat squashes crooking yellow necks. I saw a bin of Amburgey apples, a mort of victuals in kegs and jars; I set eyes on three barrels of molasses. I said, “Them many sirups will turn strong as bull beef ere they can be et.”

Jimp whistled a sketch. A furry head lifted above a sack of capping corn. I jumped in fright, and the varmint started,
jerking its head down, burrowing into the sack. The ferret wouldn't come out then for all our begging and poking cobs. I didn't get to see the whole of him.

“He's scared,” I said.

“My beastie's got nerve spite o' playing timid,” Jimp defended. “He'll tackle critters double his size, jist like fisty people. Cagey ones don't show their nerve till they come to a pinch.” And Jimp made a wry face, laughing suddenly. He popped his hands together. “I'd give my ferret to see Pap and the square lock horns.”

“I'd ruther to see your father shake hands with Rant Branders,” I said, knowing by looks that Squire Letcher was snail-weak. “Rant might be tough as whang leather.”

“My pap could make Rant eat straw.”

“A man's backbone don't print through his clothes.”

We listened a bit, our ears against the door; we stole outside, looking sharp. “Yonder's Bailus coming,” Jimp whispered, and began to run. I ran after him, though it wasn't Bailus I'd seen. I had glimpsed a girl-child staring around a corner, and she was a Buckheart, for she bore their presence. She had jerked her head away quicker than any ferret.

We ran till the wind burnt out of us; we stopped to rest in a weed patch where noggin sticks grew tall and brittle. “I saw a girl yon side the smokehouse,” I said when I could speak. “I bet she heard a plenty.”

“Peep Eye,” Jimp said. “You can't say 'gizzard' withouten her hearing.”

“Reckon she's larnt about Plumey and Rant?”

“Now, no. Hit's the first time ever I did know a thing afore her.” Jimp thought a moment. “Was it Peep Eye growed up and marrying off, I'd be tickled. Me, I hain't ne'er going to marry.”

“I'm not aiming to be a widow-man,” I said, anxious to go to the flying-jinny. I gathered a dozen noggin sticks, snapping them at the root. Their woody knots were like small fists. Jimp picked a bunch too, saying, “Let's crack each other's skulls and see who hollers first.”

I winced, dreading the pain, but I wouldn't be out-done. “You hit first,” I said.

“No, you.”

“I hain't mad. I can't hit cold.”

“I'll rile you,” Jimp said. He furrowed his brows and spoke a lie-tale. “Yore pappy steals money off dead men's eyeballs, and yore folks feeds on carr'n crows.”

I struck, breaking the weed. Jimp cracked one across my noggin. We broke five sticks apiece, and felt for goose eggs on our heads. Then we went on to the flying-jinny at the pasture gap, and there stood Bailus, waiting.

Bailus's face was grave. You could tell he had come begging. “Big Ears,” he began, “you ought to lend a hand gitting rid o' the magistrate, else the stir-off will be a reg'lar funeral.”

Jimp poked his lips. “Jist a trick to borrow my ferret. You got no use for him bird-hunting.”

“The square wants to hole a rabbit or two.”

“Hain't fair to skin varmints alive. I'm not loaning, and that's the God's truth.”

I studied the flying-jinny, noting its pattern in my head. I felt bound to have Father make one. A long hickory pole it was, pegged in the middle to a sourwood stump. I straddled the limber end of the pole, hungry to ride.

Bailus's eyes narrowed. “I've heard a bee-swarm o' folks are coming tonight, a drove o' people we've not invited. They's something fotching 'em here. Now, loan yore ferret and I'll tell what.” He sniffled, but I saw it was make-like. “Creek water hain't dull as a stir-off with a magistrate keeping tab.”

Jimp scoffed. He turned toward me. “I'll give you the first ride.”

“Fellers!” Bailus spoke quickly, “both o' you hop on and I'll push.”

Though Jimp's face grew long with doubt he straddled the jinny. We latched our legs about the hickory pole. Bailus began to push, slowly at first, digging his toes into the ground. As the pole swung clear he pushed faster, faster,
around and around. We sped. We traveled swifter than a live jinny. A wind caught in my shirt, jerking the tails. I hunkered against the log; I held on for bare life. The earth whirled, trees went walking, and tiptops of the mountains swayed and rail fences climbed straight into the sky. My hands numbed, and my chest seemed near to bursting. My fingers loosened, and I was tossed into the air.

I lay on the ground, stupid with dizziness, and Jimp wove drunkenly, trying to stand. Bailus was nowhere in sight. Then I saw three bright faces, three girl-chaps melting together. My lids went blinkety-blink-blink. When my head cleared I saw it was Peep Eye, alone. She was the spit image of Plumey, though she had no mole on her cheek; she was the prettiest human being ever I did see.

“Air you been dranking john corn?” Peep Eye teased.

“I been ding-donged enough,” Jimp blurted. “I'd swap them knucks I'm promised to even up with Bailus.”

“He's hasted to steal your ferret,” Peep Eye said. “He'll have it and gone ere you kin catch him.”

Jimp kicked the ground in anger. “I wish that critter was dead and dust. I do.”

Peep Eye stood pretty as a bunty bird. Jimp and I leaned giddily against the jinny pole. Peep Eye said, “I know something you fellers don't. Plumey's marrying Rant Branders tonight.”

“Be-doggies,” Jimp swore. “Rant promised I was the only one to know. Secrets nor varmints nobody can keep.”

“One secret I've kept,” Peep Eye bragged. “I've larnt why the square's here. A scanty few knows that.”

We pleaded with her to tell, but she wouldn't. She would only talk of the wedding. “When I grow as tall and fair as Plumey,” she said, “I'm going to pick me a man who can jounce air one o' my brothers, one strong as Pappy, and able to take his part.”

“By doomsday you won't be fair as Plumey,” Jimp said contrarily.

Peep Eye frowned. Her mouth puckered.

“You're the born image of Plumey,” I said, “except for a beauty spot. Now, I choose a mole on a woman's cheek.”

“I kin make me one out o' a soot pill,” Peep Eye said.

“Be-doggies,” Jimp grumbled. “I hain't ever aiming to marry.”

I sat on the pole and swung my legs. “I'll not be a bachelor or a widow-man,” I spoke.

Peep Eye looked strangely at me. She raised her arms and pushed me backward, and fled. I stood on my head yon side the jinny.

Jimp said, “Girls allus let a feller know when they like him a mite.”

Under the sirup kettle fire blazed so lively the darkness was eaten away, and pale glimmers of lanterns swallowed, and far tops of the gilly trees lit. I sat on a heap of milled sorghum stalks, my molassy spoon ready, anxious to taste the foam. Jimp crouched beside me, grinding his teeth in anger. He'd heard his ferret was dead, and he stared auger holes at Bailus and Squire Letcher. Oh, Bailus hadn't got rid of the squire. The squire rested on an empty keg, sighing wearily and clapping a hand to his mouth.

I had Jimp point Rant Branders out. Rant appeared barebones, yet in height he stood taller than the Buckhearts. He was long armed and long legged, and a grain awkward. I said, “I bet he's a cagey one. He's a green grasshopper of a man.” And I began counting the people who had come to the stir-off. I named my fingers five times and over. I saw Plumey whispering to a bunch of girls, and Old Gid moseying around wondering at the crowd, and Peep Eye flitting here and yon like a silk butterfly. I kept gazing at Peep Eye.

“My beastie's stone dead,” Jimp glummed. “That law-square and Bailus's to blame. Had I a chip o' money I'd hire fellers to trick them into the sorghum hole. Be-dogs, I would.”

“Fellers'd be scared of a magistrate,” I said. “Anyhow, your ferret wasn't shot a-purpose. Hit was mistook for a rabbit.”

“My pap hain't afeared o' the Law. He could scare that square in without tipping him.”

I caught Peep Eye watching me, and I wanted to leave the sorghum heap. I saw her face was pouty and cold. I thought inside my head, “Hit's not like what Jimp said. I bet she hates my gizzard,” but I said aloud to Jimp, “I'm bound to eat molassy foam when it's first done. Hain't but one thing better, and that's pull-candy.”

Jimp harped his troubles. “Rant's broke his swear-word. He promised me knucks to fit, and then made 'um shooting big. They'd fit UZ.” He fetched them from a pocket and the finger places were the size of quarter-dollars. “I've struck an idee I don't want that fence rail for a brother-in-law. Oh, my pap could jounce him with one arm tied.”

“Rant hain't grown yit,” I said. “He might grow thick. Already he's a high tall feller.”

We went to stand by the sirup kettle, breathing the mellow steam hungrily, watching the golden foam rise. Leander chunked the fire and U Z ladled green skimmings into the sorghum hole. The hole was waist-deep and marked by a butterweed stalk. U Z joked us, “Dive in, boys, and you kin stand yore breeches in a corner tonight.” We stepped warily.

Old Gid came with Mrs. Buckheart to test the sirup, spinning drops off of chips, tasting. Gid said, “Stir till it 'gins making sheep's eyes, and mind not to over-bile.” He stared unbelievingly at the crowd. “Only a funeral occasion or a marrying would draw such a swarm, and I've heard o' nobody dying. Yet, for a host o' folks, they're terrible quiet.”

“Bury some'un in the sorghum hole,” U Z laughed, “and they'll liven up.”

“I long to see the Law eat a few skims,” Leander said, and Peep Eye was hiding behind him, hearing every word.

U Z said, “I'm for giving the oninvited something to recollect this stir-off by.”