My Children Are More Precious Than Gold Page 4

  Lue grabbed the top of a window and felt a blast of cold air push against him. As he shoved the window down, he noticed a movement by the boy's outhouse. “Mr. Steincross, Dillard is still at the outhouse! The wind jest pulled the door out of his hands and knocked him down. He cain't walk in this wind by himself. I'm goen after him.”

  Crack! Kaboom!

  “You will do no such thing. That lightning is wicked. I'll go get Dillard. You get under your desk. Now!” Mr. Steincross ordered when Lue hesitated.

  The teacher ran for the door and turned the knob. He pushed with all his might, struggling to shut the door behind him. Don and Lue rushed to help him. Despite the teacher’s orders once the door was shut, they eased along the wall to the windows to look out.

  Leaves and small twigs filled the air as the gale force winds carried to the school cries of help from the small, frightened boy, laying face down in the grass with his arms folded over his head. The teacher tried to walk straight toward Dillard. He staggered sideways against the storm's intensity.

  Crack! Kaboom! A vivid lightning bolt forked across the dark sky. The teacher blinked from the brightness that lit up the yard for an instance then steeled himself to the deafening boom. He felt the earth shuttered beneath his feet. The lightning's target, a large oak tree at the edge of the school yard, toppled to the ground in a crash of limbs and leaves.

  Finally, the man reached the little boy as the rain hammered down on them. “Dillard, get up. We have to get back to the schoolhouse quick,” he shouted.

  “Mr. Steincross, I can't -- sob -- sob. I'm scared,” Dillard cried.

  “Nonsense. This is just a little rain storm.” The teacher knelt down by Dillard. “Come on, boy. It's just like being on a pirate ship in the middle of a choppy sea. Get up and take my hand. Let's sail this stormy sea back to the schoolhouse, me mate.”

  “All right,” Dillard said, staggering to his feet. Holding the boy close, the teacher bent forward to shield the child from the flying timber debris while they struggled to walk in the down burst and gusts of wind.

  “Let's hep them, Don,” said Lue. He watched the two wet forms, one big and one small, blurred by the pelting rain, struggle to get back to the schoolhouse. “They'll never make it alone.”

  “Ole Crosspuss will be mad as a hornet if we don't mind him,” warned Don.

  “I don't care. That's our little brother out there in that storm.” Lue ran out the door with Don right behind him.

  Large drops of rain and pea size hail stung their faces as the brothers joined hands and moved slowly across the yard to meet the teacher and Dillard.

  “Here take Dillard's hand,” Mr. Steincross shouted. “I'll get back on my own. You boys go on.”

  “No sir! Give me yer hand, teacher. We came to get both of y'all,” Lue ordered. “Don, take Dillard's hand. We're goen back together.”

  With an effort the four of them, bent almost double, fought against the storm to get back to the schoolhouse. Once they were through the door, they all pushed it shut. Exhausted, the four of them leaned against the entry hall walls, dripping water on the floor which was already soaked from the boys leaving the door open.

  “Thanks for the help, boys,” said Mr. Steincross. He reached around Lue for a towel on the nail above the wash basin, wiped his face, then Dillard's and handed the towel to Don.

  “Ya ain’t mad cause we didn't stay put under our desks?” Asked Don, sounding surprised and relieved.

  “No, I'm not mad.” Then Mr. Steincross did something the boys thought they would never see happen. He smiled at them.

  Dillard smiled back, hugging the teacher’s legs. “Thanks, Mr. Steincross. I'm glad our pirate ship made it back to the school. I don't mind sayen I was mighty scared.”

  “What pirate ship? Dillard, are ya feelen all right?” Don reached over to feel the little boy’s forehead.

  “Never mind, boys. He's just fine. Listen! Sounds like the storm has let up. Children, you can come out from under your desks now. When the rain stops, how would you all like to go home early?” announced Mr. Steincross.

  “Yes! Yes!” The children cried in unison, gleefully thinking about what they could do with the remainder of the day.

  That afternoon, the Bishop children rushed home to tell their parents about their exciting day. The last one in the house was Dillard. He let the screen door bang shut behind him.

  “Sh! Younguns, Lydia is taken a nap,” Nannie scolded. “Hey, what are y'all doen home this time of day anyways?”

  “Mr. Steincross said we could go home cause of the storm,” explained Lue.

  “What storm?” Asked Jacob.

  In a hushed voice, the children took turns telling their story about how the teacher rescued Dillard with Lue and Don’s help.

  “Mercy sakes, sounds like y'all had quite a day, and we never saw a drop of rain here,” declared Nannie.

  Dillard turned to survey his napping sister. “Mama, when is Lydia gonen to get better so we don't have to be so quiet all the time?”

  “Soon, youngun,” Nannie said.

  “Mama, it does seem like a long time, she's been sickly,” reflected Bess.

  “Why ain't she getten better faster?” Veder asked, coming directly to the point.

  “Jacob, Doc said the younguns should know the truth. This looks like the time to tell em,” Nannie surmised. “Y'all gather around the table and sit down. Pap and me have somethin to tell ya. Jacob, ya do need to sit down, too. Ya've been on that leg long enough.

  Good news, younguns. Did y'all notice Doc took the splint offen Pap's leg today? Pap’s almost as good as new now if he takes it easy on that leg fer a while.

  Don, will ya go hollar at Sid and Tom. I think they’re in the barn wateren the horses, and Cass went to gather eggs. Ask em to come to the house. Pap and me want to talk to ya all about somethin.”

  After the children sat down at the table, Nannie glanced in Lydia's direction to see if the child was still asleep. She began in a quiet voice, “I know y'all have been wonderen why Lydia's been sick so long. Doc says we should tell ya all what's wrong with Lydia so ya can hep take care of her. He says she has a bad heart so she needs a lot of rest. She won't be able to play with ya as much as she did afore she got sick, but ya can play with her jest like ya always have. It's jest that she'll get tired easy and needs more time to rest.”

  “Mama, is Lydia goen to die?” Squeaked Bess.

  All the children turned instantly to look at the tiny, slumbering figure by the fireplace to see if she was breathing.

  With tears in her eyes and unable to speak, Nannie looked at Jacob for help. “Now, now, younguns.” Jacob cleared his throat, hoping he’d be able to say the right thing. “We don't know that. Doc says jest keep her happy and comfortable while she's with us so that's what we have to do. Right?”

  “Yep, Pap,” Sid said with a look of concern. “We’ll do jest that, won’t we?” He looked from one to the other of his brothers and sisters.

  The other children nodded their heads in agreement.

  Nannie studied the sad, young faces looking at Jacob. “Now the first thing ya can do is get rid of those long faces afore Lydia wakes up. She doesn't know she might not get better so smile and hep make her feel better. All right?”

  “Yep, Mama,” The children agreed together.

  “Now this meeten is over,” Jacob announced with a sigh of relief that Nannie and he had finally managed to tell the children the truth.

  Chapter 4

  Pecker

  The blue haze that gave the mountains their name, the sparkle of dew in the grass, and the gentle warmth of the sun made for a delightful morning on the ridge. The sheep flock, big bundles of wool in their winter coats, laid on the shaded side of the barn, chewing their cud. The meat hogs grunted while they rooted up their pen, looking for the last morsel of their morning mash. The chickens, scattered all over, busied themselves clucking and scratching for something to eat.

  Pap and the boy
s left early for the field to plant corn. Bess and Lillie helped Nannie in the house. Cass carried a hoe down to the garden. She planned to lay off rows to plant turnips and potato eyes. Dillard played dominoes Lydia on the porch.

  Squatted in the grass in the shade of the mulberry tree, Veder carefully poured spring water from a rust speckled, tin cup onto the fine, red clay Lillie mounded and shaped between her hands. As the stream of cold water trickled over the clay and through Lillie’s fingers, she molded it into the shape of a mud pie. Suddenly, Lillie dropped the clay pie, jumped to her feet, and sprinted across the yard.

  “Where ya think yer goen in such a hurry?” Veder shouted after her.

  “The outhouse! After feelen that water run through my fingers, I cain’t wait any longer,” Lillie yelled over her shoulder. In her hurry, her pigtails bounced off her back as she trotted away.

  “Wait for me.” Hurrying to catch up, Veder followed her sister toward the small, weathered building that stood near the pig pen.

  They had just passed the barn yard when a small black and white blur, running close to the ground, came toward the little girls.

  “Run faster, Veder! Pecker’s seen us!” Lillie turned the latch and held the door open until Veder got there. Both girls stepped in, slamming the door behind them. They climbed up on the two hole seat, leaning forward to look out the half moon opening in the door to see where the rooster was at.

  Pecker, a black and white speckled, bantam rooster, halted at the door. He cocked his head to one side, watching the outhouse while he tried to figure out how he was going to get to the girls inside. Angrily, he shook his ruffled feathers, stomped one foot and stiffly drooped one wing to touch the ground while he strutted around in a circle, warning the girls he was going to guard the outhouse until they came out.

  Suddenly, a large, brown grasshopper rattled to a stop in front of Pecker, distracting him. The rooster stretched his neck to strike at the insect just as the grasshopper fluttered off. Not wanting to let a tasty meal get away, Pecker chased after the low flying bug.

  The girls saw the rooster take off and thought he had forgotten about them. That seemed like a good time to sneak back to the yard, but the door's rusty hinges squeaked loudly when Veder opened it. Pecker heard the noise behind him, and looked back. Then he looked in the direction of the grasshopper and saw that the insect had picked up speed and disappeared. Not wanting to let the girls escape too, he raced back toward the outhouse.

  Screaming, the girls retreated back inside just as Pecker got there. They yelled for help, hoping that someone would hear them.

  “Who's doen all that hollerin'?” Don yelled, coming out of the barn.

  “We are. Here in the outhouse. Pecker has us trapped, and he won't let us out,” Lillie called back.

  “Come hep us, Don,” Veder cried. “We don't want to stay in here forever.”

  “Ya two afeared of a little rooster?” Don taunted as he walked toward them.

  “He hurts when he pecks us,” defended Lillie.

  “Shoo!,” Don said, walking up to Pecker. The rooster, guarding the outhouse door, ruffled up at Don to defend his position. “Shoo, Pecker! Get back to yer hens! Go on now!” Don clapped his hands. Wisely, Pecker decided he had met his match, turned and retreated back to the barn yard. “Y'lla can come out now, scaredy cats.”

  “Will ya walk with us back to the yard so Pecker won't get us?” asked Lillie.

  “I reckon, but hurry up. I'm supposed to be hepen plant corn now that I’ve finished the chores,” Don said as he escorted the girls past Pecker.

  The rooster was busy clucking for his hens to gather them to help him catch the bugs he'd scratched out from under a cow pile. Pecker stopped long enough to wistfully watch Don and the girls walk by him. He’d keep on guard, and sometime there would be another chase. That was for certain.

  Leaving the girls inside the yard fence, Don turned in the direction of the cornfield.

  “Don, Don!” Lillie called after him.

  “Now what do y'all want?” Don growled as he stopped to look back at them.

  “Can ya come back and walk with us to the outhouse again?”

  “Lillie, ya jest came from there,” Don snapped.

  “I know, but we got so scared when Pecker chased us, we forgot why we was in there,” explained Veder.

  “Sisters!” Don expelled under his breath, rolling his eyes skyward as he turned back toward the girls.

  Veder and Lillie had just picked up where they left off with the mud pie when Nannie came to the screen door. “Girls, will ya please go to the cellar and get me a mess of turnips to cook for dinner. Anyway I think there was a mess left the last time I looked.”

  “Yes, Mama,” agreed Veder. Standing up, she rubbed her hands together to brush off the wet red clay. “Come on, Lillie. You heard Mama.”

  “All right,” said Lillie, reluctantly putting down the tin cup.

  The girls walking out of the fenced in yard and stayed close to the waddle fence until they reached the back of the cabin. A few yards away, the ground sloped up to start the ridge. The cellar, a hole dug in the ground, had been hollowed out in the slope to store food. In those days, the temperature in the winter in Virginia never went down enough to freeze hard so a cellar was like having a refrigerator.

  Lillie pulled up on the medal ring in the cellar’s heavy, wooden door to open it. A cool musky odor rushed out of the dark hole. The girls stepped into the hole then had to let their eyes adjust to the dimness. Emptied baskets and pails were scattered about on the floor.

  One basket held the last of the potatoes, shriveled and laying tangled in long, white sprouts. Thinking about planting a crop of potatoes, Nannie saved the sprouts when she peeled potatoes by cutting a piece of the peel around the indented areas called eyes where the sprouts were attached. The sprouts were laid aside and dried to plant.

  Another basket held the last of the white and purple turnips, now shrunk to half their size. Spongy to the touch after a winter of storage, the turnips were hard to peel. Nannie and the girls managed to boil a mess after soaking them in cold water for a brief time. Though the taste of these vegetables were never the same as when they were fresh out of the garden, the family had no choice but to survive on what food they could raise.

  Lillie held her apron tail up for Veder to fill with the turnips, then she walked outside. She waited for Veder to let the door back down. On their way back to the house, the girls heard a horse approaching, coming from the direction of the cornfield. Jacob was leading Major, the work horse. Favoring one front hoof, Major moved along slowly.

  The girls hurried up their pace to get to the kitchen. They rushed through the screen door and tried to talk at the same time.

  “For lands sake, hold on a minute. One at a time,” Nannie said and laughed at the excited girls.

  “Mama, Pap’s comen. He’s leading Major. Looks like he’s limpen,” said Lillie.

  “Mercy sakes, yer Pap is limpen?” Nannie gasped.

  “No, Mama,” Veder explained. “The horse is limpen.”

  “Oh,” Nannie said with relief in her eyes. She didn’t want to think about what life on their farm would be like if Pap were to get hurt again with all the spring work needed to be done.

  In the past, Nannie went to the field with the rest of the family to help plant corn, but the boys, older now, could help Pap. Following Jacob who guided the horse across the field laying off the rows, Nannie used to drop two or three kernels of corn in a spot in the row. The children came along behind Nannie, covering the grain with hoes. Frankly, that spring Nannie just didn't feel up to planting corn.

  Following her children across the yard, Nannie waited for Jacob to get closer before she spoke. “What’s the matter with Major?”

  “He threw a shoe in the corn field. I left the boys to work with the other horse while I brought this one in to put a new shoe on him. Bess, ya want to run the billows fer me?” Pap asked. He headed for his blacksmith shop under t
he shade of a grove of oak trees. The shop was actually a shed which was a few poles covered on three sides with corrugated tin.

  Bess followed along, dreading the hot job ahead but knowing she had no choice. Being a blacksmith was part of farming, and she had helped Pap before. Jacob started a fire in a small open bowl on three legs called a forge. Beside the forge sat an iron anvil, weighing about fifty pounds. It was attached to an oak block to make the anvil tall enough to keep Jacob from having to bend over. A small quenching tub sat close so that he could dunk the hot metal in water to cool it.

  As soon as the red coals in the forge needed air to revive them, Bess counted slowly with each turn of the crank on the blower attached to the forge. The blacksmith shed had a unique blend of smells: scorching of hot coals and metal mixed with the scents of leather harness, and sweaty horses.

  Pap would hold onto the iron with a tong, wait until it was glowing red then bring it around to an anvil and beat it into the shape he wanted with a hammer. The hammer striking against the medal rang in Bess’s ears long after Pap finished. In her memory forever would be the sight of her father’s sweat glowing skin, his wet shirt plastered to his back, and the bulge of his upper arm muscles when he put out the effort it took to shape the hot horseshoe.

  While she cranked, Bess looked around the shed at the tools Pap had made hanging on nails, and some he had repaired, leaning against the walls. Hoe blades, plow shares, axes, and a mattocks, which had a blade with one end wide and the other end a pick. For the tool handles, Pap used hickory wood as well as for the wagon spokes and sled runners to put on the wagons and sleds he’d made for farming.

  In between cranking, Bess would run to the spring and bring back Jacob a cup of cold water. While she was at it, she'd get herself a drink as well. In Bess opinion, it wasn't a fun job helping Jacob in the blacksmith shop, but she'd already learned that work wasn't supposed to be fun.

  Chapter 5