Pine Ridge, Arkansas, 1925
A gunshot shattered the brisk autumn day, piercing the late-afternoon silence.
Phoebe Lillie’s head jerked up, and she raised a hand to shade her eyes, peering over the hills of Pine Ridge. She frowned. Surely that wasn’t Pa still hunting.
Grandma Edna paused in climbing the knoll and stooped to pluck something from the travel-worn path leading to the cabin. A cry of alarm escaped her.
She bustled forward and handed Phoebe a straight pin. “Evil’s a-coming. This had the point aimed right at me.”
“Then you should have left it lie.” Phoebe rolled her eyes at her grandmother’s superstition.
“No, no, can’t do that. That would bring worse luck. Where’s your sense, girl? Nineteen-years-old and you don’t know something simple like that?” She brushed past Phoebe into the dim recesses of the cabin. “Where’s the young’uns?”
“Chores.” Phoebe left the door open to allow the breeze to circulate and clutched her worn sweater closer. Her baby sister wailed from the front room. “Maggie’s waking now, Grandma.”
The sound of another gunshot ricocheted across the Hollow. Grandma put a hand to her bosom. “That noise is going to send me to an early grave. Where’s your pa? It can’t be him hunting. He most likely finished hours ago. It’s almost suppertime.”
“I’m getting worried. Pa told me he wanted to get started cutting the Timothy grass tomorrow. There’s no way he should still be hunting.” Phoebe bent and lifted one-year-old Maggie from a pallet on the floor. She wrinkled her nose against the strong odor wafting from the wet diaper.
“Talk around Dixon’s store is that the selling of moonshine is on the rise.” Grandma lowered herself into her rocking chair. “Anyways, he’s going to have someone deliver the sugar and batteries. Gave us a fair price for the eggs and butter too.”
Phoebe glanced upward. Thank you, Lord, but please curb Grandma’s spending. Christmas isn’t far away, and the little ones will be expecting a gift.
If something happened to Pa, the holidays would be leaner than usual. Another hardship thrust on Phoebe. They wouldn’t survive the holiday season with another parent gone. Losing Ma had been hard enough, leaving a hole in the family that Phoebe could never fill.
Maggie gurgled at her, reaching to twine her pudgy fingers in Phoebe’s hair. The baby’s smile wrenched Phoebe’s heart. She looked so much like their ma. Pa hadn’t held the baby once since Ma died birthing her. Never cuddled her soft skin or been on the receiving end of a gummy smile. Nothing. He missed so much.
Unease slithered along her back. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. Phoebe shivered, hugging the baby to her chest. She’d experienced the same feeling the night Maggie was born. Something had happened to Pa. She knew it as clear as if a newspaper printed the story on the front page.
Phoebe jolted as her other siblings burst through the door, clamoring for supper. After handing Maggie to her sixteen-year-old sister, Viola, Phoebe limped to the window. Pa had left before sunup. Now, the sun began its crimson descent over the mountain. For the first time, the familiar sound of gunshots sent tremors through her. She sighed and closed the door.
Viola tied Maggie into a straight-back chair with a dishtowel around the baby’s waist then started setting the table. Phoebe cut cornbread and poured glasses full of buttermilk. She cast anxious glances toward Pa’s chair at the head of the table. Ma’s chair remained as empty as the day she died. No one sat there or claimed the spot of woman of the house. It was time. Once she’d finished serving the seven others, she straightened her back and took Ma’s seat next to Pa’s.
The others stared for a moment then transferred their attentions to their plates. Grandma nodded and smiled. Phoebe relaxed. The time had come to take her mother’s place.
She glanced around the table. If her premonitions about Pa were correct, it’d be up to her and her seventy-two-year-old grandmother to make sure the children reached adulthood, a difficult task in the Ozark Mountains, even with two parents. Phoebe’s shoulders slumped.
The chunks of cornbread swam in the cold milk. Her stomach rebelled at the sight of the too common meal. Her family spooned the simple dinner into hungry mouths. She should’ve cooked beans to go with it or made one of her sisters cook.
She eyed her quilting frame hanging from the ceiling. On the floor under it sat a box of quilt squares waiting to be sewn. She couldn’t do everything. Not and finish the work that actually brought in money.
Footsteps sounded on the wood-planked front porch. Phoebe’s heart leaped. It could be Pa.
James rose and slid the beam holding the door closed. He turned with a grin. “It’s Eli Coffman with the sugar.”
Why Eli? Anyone but him.
Grandma’s toothless smile stretched her wrinkled face. “Chocolate gravy for breakfast.”
Cheers rose around the table. Phoebe sighed.
Eli entered with a ten pound bag of sugar in one hand and batteries in the other. His muddy-brown eyes fixed on Phoebe. Revulsion gnawed a hole in her stomach. “I got over here as quick as I could. Had to feed the little ones first.”
Phoebe forced a greeting on her lips. “We’ve corn bread and fresh buttermilk.” Please don’t stay. She couldn’t bear to look at him over her kitchen table.
He shook his head. “I thank you kindly, but I’d best be getting back.”
Relief flooded through her.
“Walk him out, Phoebe.” Grandma waved her fork.
Curse proper manners. Stifling a groan, Phoebe stood and sidestepped around Eli. The stench of sour corn mash rolled off him. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and stormed outside. The chilly night air slapped her flushed cheeks. She drew in deep, cleansing breaths.
Eli brushed past her, his hand trailing down her arm as he went to stand on the bottom step and peered up at her. “Have you done some more thinking on my proposal? My little ones need a ma.”
“So do my brothers and sisters.” She crossed her arms.
Eli’s eyes hardened. “Still holding out for love? Like there’s a flock of men willing to marry a woman with a gimpy leg, no matter how comely her features?”
She raised her chin and wished for the shotgun propped in the corner of the dining room. “You can leave now. Your little ones are home alone.” Phoebe moved inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the rough wood and closed her eyes.
A left leg only an inch shorter than the other didn’t cause any more problems than back-ache at the end of a busy day. If a man couldn’t love her despite her handicap, he could go to the devil. “JJ, light the lamp and put the batteries in the radio. The Hay’s weekly broadcast comes on in a few minutes.”
James’s face lit up. “You sure we can spare them?”
She nodded. “There’s little enough pleasure in the world.” Phoebe shuffled to the sink where Viola had already filled it with steaming water from a kettle. Her hands stung as the heat melted away the outdoor chill, sending biting ants through her fingers.
“You’re a fool for turning him down.” Grandma’s knitting needles clacked behind her. “You’re going to be an old maid. Can’t afford to be choosy at your age.”
Phoebe shrugged. If her pa didn’t show up soon, she’d have more responsibility than she could handle without a husband tying her down. And a drunkard of a husband at that.
She lifted a glass from the soapy water and set it in a basin of clear water. Besides, her quilt-making and taking care of her siblings kept her busy enough. There was no time in Phoebe’s life for a husband of her own.
- ASIN : B0CPVM56TS
- Publisher : Independently published
- Publication date : December 8, 2023
- Language : English
- Print length : 221 pages
- ISBN-13 : 979-8871256275