The Playhouse

Anyone could tell exactly where I was. The choking cloud of dust rolled out of the open end of the lean-to beside my daddy's garage. He had given permission for me to use it for a play house and I'd been busy with it from right after breakfast, taking only enough time away from my labors to wipe off my face, wash my hands and wolf down my dinner. I drained the last drop of iced tea from the glass and headed back outside where I was busily deciding where all my furniture would be placed; the bed, here. I billowed out the large scrap of mill cloth from mother's rag bag, and placed it on the cement floor. The kitchen table - an up-ended rickety orange crate, over which I daintily spread a square of red printed gingham.
"Priscilla!"
I heard daddy's call from the back steps and I went flying!
"Get in the car, we're going for a ride."
I knew better than argue or ask any questions. Daddy was to be obeyed. The dark blue '34 Ford sped away from our Duke Power Company house toward town. We passed on without stopping; everything was closed. It was, after all, Sunday. Soon the pavement ended and I saw we were on a narrow, dusty road running straight through a South Georgia swamp.
With the speed my daddy drove, we soon came to a lone wooden house amidst ancient live oaks deeply strung with Spanish Moss. There were a few children playing hopscotch in the sandy yard, but I knew I'd not be allowed to play with them. Daddy parked at the far end of several other dark vehicles and we got out. I didn't see another grownup anywhere but I could hear singing and tambourines chinking as we mounted the creaking wooden steps.
With his hand on my shoulder, we stepped through the door into the front room of someone's house; into a room totally devoid of furniture except for several straight backed chairs aligned against the front wall. I was told to sit in the vacant one on this end.
I was seated next to a large lady with gray-streaked hair which was pulled back tightly into a knot at the back of her head. She nodded and smiled at me. I don't remember if I smiled back or not, but I saw sweat beaded in the fine hairs of her upper lip and was mesmerized by the jiggle of her double chin as she clapped her hands with the rhythm of the music.
Soon the music was over and a man in black pants and white shirt, holding the Holy Bible began to preach. He talked louder and faster as he paced back and forth at the other side of the room beneath a cardboard picture of Jesus thumb-tacked to the wall.
My daddy was among the dozen or so men and women who were standing along the two other walls. In the far corner from where I sat, there were two chicken-wire cages containing very large timber rattlers. Every time the preacher came near, they would coil and rattle.
Before I knew what happened, a lady opened on of the crates and brought out the longest, largest rattler I'd ever seen. It warpped itself in a writhing mass around her upheld arm. She swayed back and forth and then with eyes closed and head thrown back, she spoke in a high chattering voice. Others went forward and took out two more rattlers and began to pass them around to anyone who cared to reach out and take one.
I picked up my bare feet and clamped them on the rung when a rattler was dropped to the floor. It was quickly retrieved and the preacher swung the snake over his head and then piled it atop the Holy Bible.
After some time the shouting began to subside and the sweating preacher became more and more hoarse and finally called on his brother to close with prayer as the rattle snakes were returned to their cages.
Daddy motioned for me to come and I walked with him outside. Standing next to him as he handed the preacher a five dollar bill, I heard him say he never got a chance to put it in the coffee can inside. I saw the other children watching us and I was proud that Daddy could give that much money.
When we arrived home, I was anxious to return to work on my playhouse but mother made me take a bath and get dressed for bed while she fixed supper. After supper I was so disappointed to find she would not let me go back outside. I just wanted to check it one more time to make sure everything was as I had left it. But I had to pack my book satchel and lay out my clothes for school.
Later, in the dark, I fell asleep thinking of what I could find to use for a couple of chairs in my wonderful playhouse.

The Package

The small gift-wrapped package was laying conspicuously in the center of my bed when I got home from a hectic day at school.
Still too mad about the heart-breaking interlude that morning with Daddy, I had turned away, ignoring the small box, and began stripping down. As I had thrown my clothes into the chute and slammed it shut, the sound brought up a flood of grief over that latest, in an ever-lengthening queue, of our ‘misunderstandings’ – as Daddy had preferred to call them.
Mama had been gone from us for almost six years at that time. I had just turned ten when she was diagnosed with leukemia. Herbie had been fifteen, and I remember like it was yesterday, Mama telling my older brother to help Daddy see that I was in church every Sunday, especially when Daddy couldn’t be there.
My parents had owned a small furniture store in our town and they often went on buying trips to neighboring states to select items to be shipped to the store.
Since Mama died, Daddy still made the trips. In fact, he was committed to leave the day of our big fight. His assistant was to meet him around noon, as well as my memory serves. How quickly I’d thought about having the house all to myself for an entire week, especially since
Herbie was ensconced at Illinois State – light years from Georgia. This fact was the crux of my argument with Daddy that fateful morning.
Daddy had laid the law down about Eric coming over while he was gone, and I had retaliated with all the stupid reasons why our studying together wasn’t harming anyone. I suppose the reason it finally ended with Daddy slapping me across the mouth was because I’d called him an “old Satan”.
He was as shocked as I had been at his loss of temper. I recall seeing his face crumble as he reached for me. Taking the advantage, I had turned and fled to my room and locked the door. Silently, I’d listened as his footsteps brought him to the door, and he rattled the knob.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. Please, open the door and let me make this right. I’m pressed for time, and I’ve got to go back by the office before Jim and I have to leave,” he begged.
Remembering I had been the one in control, I stood steadfast, and gloated over my power to bring my father to such obvious grief. There was something heady about it all and I felt vindicated.
Soon, he spoke again, “I love you Paula. I’ll call as soon as we arrive.”
Oh, if only foresight had the strength of hindsight. You see, both my father and Jim were killed in an explosive crash on their return trip home just a week after our big fight.
After Daddy’s funeral, Herbie moved me out of the house and into the home of my Aunt Lydia and Uncle Clifford – mother’s younger sister and her husband.
It soon became evident to everyone that something was very wrong with me. I became deathly sick. We all thought it was a bad case of grief over the death of Daddy, and the fact that I was now an orphan.
Lydia took me in to see her family Doctor, who soon surmised that I needed a pelvic exam.
I was mortified when Dr. Young called Lydia in while I was still spread-eagle on the table, and informed her I was about six weeks pregnant.
I don’t have to tell you that all the warnings Daddy had spoken of came rushing back. While Daddy was away, Eric had come to the house every afternoon after school, and we ‘studied’ together.
I never saw Eric again after my Daddy’s funeral, even though he’d promised to try to come to see me in Robbins, which was nearly thirty miles away.
Lydia and Clifford saw that I didn’t miss a day of school, nor Sunday from church. They supported me in every way and with the sale of the furniture business, they paid off our house but kept it for us children.
Herbie married a settled in Illinois. I met Frank Miller in college and we married when my Mary was just five years old. Frank loved the house I grew up in and we spent nearly sixty years there, until his death last year.
Mary and her family own the place now and the house is filled with love and laughter. She has three children and one darling grandchild.
I had soon concluded that if I didn’t open the gift my father had placed on my bed that day so many years ago, it would somehow absolve my actions. If I didn’t accept his offer of love, then I could still hold onto my feelings of being the injured one.
Many years have passed and now I find myself facing my own mortality. I realize how right my father was and how selfish and immature I had been. He could foresee the danger of what actually did occur.
Raising my own daughter, I experienced the same fears with her rebellious years. I was blessed to have Frank with me to help me guide her through those times. Where as Daddy had lost Mama and was suffering under that absence while trying to deal with a young girl’s youthful passions, which neither of us understood.
But, all that’s now over and done. Here I find myself in theWoodlands Nursing Home at the age of 84. I was fine up until about three weeks ago, when I slipped and fell in the shower and broke my right hip. They hospitalized me and with inactivity I soon developed pneumonia. Even though my Doctors keep saying I’ll soon be right as rain, I know better.
My room here is lovely, the staff is gentle and caring, the food is passable, but the visits from my family and Pastor Thomas are the real bright spots in any day they can manage to get here.
Since today is Sunday, I know Mary, at least, will come. I called her early this morning and told her where the package was hidden so she could bring it to me. I’ve decided the time has come for me to open the gift from my father. I remember it well. I’ve remembered it every day since I first saw it on my bed. It’s covered with silver scrolled paper, tied with a silver-blue
ribbon. The white tag which was tied with silver cord fastened to the knot in the ribbon, simply said, “To my girl”.
“Hey, Mama. You’re awake. You’re looking so good. How’re you feelin’?” Mary spoke softly as she stroked my head and bent to kiss my cheek.
“I’m fine, honey. A little tired of this bed, but otherwise fine.” I replied.
“Here’s the box I found where you told me to look. Is this what you wanted?” she asked as she took it from her purse.
I reached with trembling hands and took it. Reading once more the last words my father ever wrote to me. I handed it back and said, “Open it for me and let’s see what it is.”
Mary slowly and deliberately undid the knot, slipped off the corded tag, and blue ribbon and laid them aside. She then unwrapped the fragile paper and slid out a blue velvet box. She laid it in my hands and we opened it together.
Inside was a beautiful yellow-gold heart-shaped locket, etched with pink gold roses, suspended on a delicate gold chain.
Mary clicked open the heart to reveal two tiny photo’s. Mama on the left and Daddy on the right.
With tears streaming down my face, I turned it over and read the inscription: “Forgive our failures”.
I looked up at Mary and asked her to fasten it on for me, which she did.
“Bury it with me honey,” I said.
“I will, Mama.”
Tonight, I am alone with the thoughts of my life. I know that my time is very near and I feel a peace beyond belief, as I stroke the locket with my withered and twisted fingers.

"Hey baby. We’ve been waiting for you."

THE VISITOR

There was a knock at the door, and at first Clara thought it was part of her dream. She had nodded off in one of the two identical wing-backed, chairs situated by the lamp table in front of the south window of her large kitchen.
As she stirred her aged, arthritic bones, she was flustered by what she perceived to be impatience on the part of her caller as the knocking increased in timing and sound.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called.
Hobbling toward the back door, she thought that it couldn’t be anyone from “Meals on Wheels” this early. They usually came around twelve-fifteen with the box of warm food. It was just after eleven by the large clock on the wall over her refrigerator.
As she neared the door, she could see through the glass that a man was standing right up against the door, actually leaning onto the door itself.
As she drew open the door, he fell into her kitchen and rolled over onto his back. He smelled awful and looked even worse. There were huge brown stains on his white shirt and pants. His wispy, pale hair was tousled and she saw he hadn’t shaved in quite a while.
Clara realized that this had to be someone kin to her since he’d come to her for help. She stayed frustrated with the fact that her memory was so unpredictable, but she wouldn’t allow that to stay her from anything she could do to help a kinsman.
Leaving him lying, she set about filling a shallow blue enameled wash basin with warm water and slipped in a well-used bar of soap. Grabbing a fresh dish towel from the sink drawer she sloshed it around in the foggy water, wrung it somewhat and began to wash his face.
He moaned and opened his eyes. Rolling them upward and around, he then locked into Clara’s eyes. He saw a kindred soul there and sat up. Clara straightened up and stepped back.
“Are you Mae’s boy?” she asked.
He smiled and nodded.
“You sure remind me of Mae. I’m your Aunt Clara. Remember me?” Clara returned the smile.
He got up and staggered to the table situated in the center of the kitchen and sat down heavily. He laid both arms out across the oil cloth and looked around expectantly.
“Lunch won’t come for another hour, but we can have a cup of tea. Do you want tea?” she asked.
He smiled, so she knew he did. She filled the little kettle with fresh water and set it on the eye. While it was beginning to heat she found the tin of tea bags and brought out two large china cups and set them on the table.
Maybe he’s hungry, she thought, and needs something before the meal gets here. Yes, they will only give me one box of food and that might not be enough.
Clara opened the bread box and brought out a half loaf of sourdough bread. Now who brought me this bread, she wondered. I know it wasn’t Joyce. She only brings a roll in the box. She checked it over for mold and saw that it was still good.
As she sliced off three or four pieces, the kettle began to emit a steady stream of vapor. She placed the bags into each cup and filled them with the bubbling water. He watched every move, never moving his body, just following everything with his eyes.
“How is Mae? I don’t think I’ve seen her in well over a year,” said Clara.
He smiled.
“No one ever comes to see me anymore. My daughter, Bessie... you remember Bessie don’t you... she’s the one who married... oh, you know what his name is, I can’t think of it right now. She has three children, I think. I wish she’d come more. I get so lonesome for company,” Clara said.
He smiled.
“Go ahead and fix your tea. The sugar is right there in the green dish. Just take the lid off and ... oh, I forgot the spoons. Let me get the spoons.”
She laid two spoons on the table and reached into the refrigerator for the squat dish of butter. Cutting off a hefty chunk she laid it in the middle of a thick slice of bread and handed it to him.
He grabbed the bread and before she could see what happened he’d stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed.
He smiled.
Not to be outdone, Clara repeated the process but before she could get the butter centered on another slice of bread, he took it from her hands and gulped it down.
“You can’t be Mae’s son. She raised you with better manners than that,” she said. Clara stood as staunchly as possible within the confines of her frail frame and clamped her hands on her hips.
He smiled.
“Well, I can overlook it since you must really be hungry, but you wait until I get this next piece laid down before you eat it, now you hear?”
As Clara was laying a chunk of butter onto the third slice of bread, she recognized that his hands were filthy. She remembered that she’d just gotten to wash his face and never did get the rest of him cleaned up.
Laying down the paring knife and bread, she slowly made her way from the table to the pan of water sitting in the floor near the door. She bent over and lifted it up to head to the sink with it when she saw he’d already eaten the last slice of bread and was smiling at her.
She wrung out the small towel and lifted his left hand and began to wash away the dirt. He suffered her ministrations in total silence all the while keeping his eyes on her face. It took several rounds of rinsing and wringing the towel before Clara was satisfied.
“My brother had hands like this; long fingers. They always said his hands were made for the piano. I can’t remember if I ever heard him play. I must have though. And now I can’t think of his name. You could be his son maybe, but I think he was killed in the war. I wish I knew,” she said.
As she sat down across the small square table from him, she saw that he’d never removed the tea bag, nor, in fact, had she. She reached over and removed the bag from his cup and then from hers. “Do you want sugar?”
He smiled.
“Okay, one or two spoonfuls?” she asked.
He smiled.
“Alright, I’ll put two. Whenever someone is too embarrassed to say they want more, they’ll not say anything. Isn’t that right?”
She stirred the sugar into his tea and then just a sprinkle into hers.
“Drink it before it gets cold, now.”
He didn’t move.
“Are you afraid you’ll spill it? Do you want me to help?”
He smiled.
Clara stood and moved to his side. She lifted his cup and held it to his lips. He accommodated her movements and she was satisfied immensely as he downed the warm liquid.
“I’m so proud of you. Just look at how you enjoyed that tea. Can you use another cup? Now, I don’t want to make you stay too long, though. Mae could be out looking for you by now. Although, I really don’t want you to have to leave so soon; it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you or Mae.”
He smiled and she turned the eye on under the kettle.
“Do you like television? I don’t care much for it myself, but sometimes when Joyce stays a little while when she brings my meal, she’ll turn it on to see “the Price is Right”. I can’t ever understand how they guess the prizes and get all that money, but I suppose Joyce does. Would you like me to turn it on?” she asked.
He smiled again so Clara moved over to the low cabinet nestled in the back corner of the room. She switched on the set and in a few seconds the two of them watched as a news alert was being broadcast.
“Come, sit over here in this chair where you’ll be more comfortable and be relaxed,” she said.
Clara knew he wouldn’t move until she took him by his hand and led him to where she told him to sit.
“I’ll fix your tea and bring it to you right away,” she said.
Clara removed the butter back to the refrigerator and wiped the crumbs from the oilcloth. She laid the paring knife in the sink and then poured the steaming water into the two cups. Once the bags had steeped enough, she removed them and stirred in the sugar; two for his cup and just a sprinkle for her.
Treading gingerly she carried the two cups and placed them on the lamp table between the chairs. She seated herself and picked up her cup. She noticed that he was sitting with his eyes closed and nodding gently to the drone of the voices on television.
Clara turned to look at the news and saw a group of people outside what looked like a hospital. There were police and doctors and nurses all discussing things. One nurse was crying and shaking her head. There was a very nicely dressed gentleman who was consoling her and soon the picture changed and one man was telling everyone to be on the lookout for an escaped inmate.
“My goodness, it appears someone has gone missing today. Folks will be all out looking for them. I hope everything will be okay and they’ll find the one that’s lost. It’s terrible to be lost, isn’t it?” she said
He smiled, even with his eyes closed and nodding.
She remembered, so she got up and lifted his cup as she touched his shoulder. He drank down every soothing drop and smiled again.
“You do love your tea, don’t you... now what’s your name again? I’m so forgetful. I know Mae told me what name she gave you. I think I remember when you were born. It was in July, wasn’t it?”
He smiled.
“I thought so,” she said. “July is a hot month. Your mother was born in May, of course. Mama didn’t have much of an imagination when it came to naming her children. She called me Clara because she said I was bright looking; or at least that’s what they told me. Mama died right after baby Arthur was born. Arthur. That’s my brother’s name. Are you Arthur’s boy?”
He smiled.
“Arthur was a good baby, but after Mama died, Papa hired a black lady whose child had died and she tried to feed Arthur but her milk had dried and it wouldn’t come back. I remember Papa buying a goat, but that didn’t work either. The cow had gone dry too and poor little Arthur died.
“I remember standing next to Mae and Papa at the cemetery. It was Christmas time and the ground was hard as a rock. The men had to dig nearly two days before they had it big enough for the box.”
Clara gazed out the window at the leafless trees. “It must be Christmas time about now, because it looked just like this when we buried baby Arthur.”
“Do y’all still put up a Christmas tree? I haven’t had a tree in a long time. I don’t know what I did with all the ornaments and decorations. I had a whole big box full. We used to pull it out of the attic and go through everything. John would always be the one to check the string of lights to make sure they were all burning.
“John and I married right out of high school. I wonder where he is? You’ll love him. He was always such fun with our daughter. After church every Sunday we’d go for a ride and end up at Meltons Ice Cream Parlor. Mr. Melton always opened on Sunday for three hours during the hot months. Now in cold weather he didn’t do that. But we’d get double chocolate malted shakes. I can almost taste them now.”
Clara wasn’t surprised when she heard the soft, deep ruffled breathing of the sleeping man. His head was laid sideways into the crevice of the winged chair and his mouth was slightly open. She watched as his lips pursed in and out with the rhythm of his chest.
She was content having the company of this young man and she felt sure Mae would call her soon to check on his whereabouts. She’d call Mae herself, if she could remember what her last name was.
Nodding off to sleep, she dreamed once more of knocking sounds and muffled voices. Pulling herself with great effort out of the nap, she was surprised to see Joyce with her box of hot food standing with her kitchen full of other people.
“Buster!!” cried Mae’s boy, as he moved toward another man. It was the same nicely dressed gentleman Clara had seen on her television set just a little while ago.
The gentleman reached out to hug Mae’s boy and said, “Man, we’ve been looking everywhere for you; I’ve been so worried for you, brother.”
A nice policeman stepped up to Clara and took her hand, looked into her eyes and asked, “Ma’am, I’m Officer Malone. Have you been harmed in any way? Are you alright?”
“Why, of course I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be? I can take care of myself, and entertain my nephew and anyone else who comes for a visit.”
Turning toward the stove and reaching for her kettle, Clara asked, “Do you want me to make you a cup of tea, Officer? I can, you know. They just bring me the one meal a day and I cook for myself the rest of the time.”

The Camping Trip

A factual account by Priscilla B. Shuler

Tuesday coming would be the first day of the new school year and I was surprised at how quickly the summer had passed. I’d not gotten to do anything special this year, that is, except Saturday stock car races. We went nearly every weekend. I liked the races, but they had become kinda boring.

My older brother, Forest, got to go hunting and fishing with his buddies, but none of my friends lived anywhere near where we did, and Daddy had forbade me spending the night away. I felt a little deprived, and looked forward to the beginning of school again, where I could at least see my friends.

I’d been down at the chicken yard gathering eggs, and as I headed back to the house, I was able to see the far side yard from the path. Daddy was pounding pegs into the ground around a large, tan, canvas tent.

I hurried into the kitchen with the big brown eggs and placed the basket on the counter. Mama was standing in front of the kerosene cook stove stirring grits. On a rear eye, a pan of ham was sizzling gently, and I knew there were crispy biscuits browning in the oven.

“Why’s Daddy puttin’ up a tent, Mama?” I asked, as I wrung out a soapy rag and began wiping the eggs.
“Checkin’ for leaks, and makin’ sure he’s got all the ropes and pegs,” she answered.
“What for?”
Turning and wiping her hands on her apron, she smiled and said, “We’re goin’ to the mountains for the weekend, honey.”
“Am I goin’ too?”
“Of course, ‘Cilla. We’re all going. Daddy thought we ought to go while we can before y’all have to get back to school. We’ll leave early in the morning and come home Sunday night. That’ll give us all day Monday to get lined up for school on Tuesday.”
“Where’re we goin’?” I asked.
“Probably around Burton and Rabun. Now after supper you need to get a few things ready for me to pack. And I only want you to bring old clothes. We’ll be outside the whole time except when we’re asleep in the tent.”

After I’d finished cleaning the eggs and stacking them in the bowl, I hurried outside to see Daddy entering the tent. I went inside with him. It smelled like dusty oil. I stood in the warm darkness and heard the fabric creaking as it stretched tightly in the warm sun.

“What’re you looking for Daddy?” I asked, searching the interior to see if I could find it before he could tell me.
“Checkin’ for weak spots and holes. We don’t want to get wet or have the tent tearing, now do we?”
“Nossir. Will it be raining in the mountains?”
“I don’t know, Sugar. But we want to be ready in case it does,” he answered.

Daddy’s tent was equipped with a canvas floor which snapped to the walls. He said this feature helped to keep out ground dampness and predators. I didn’t know what predators were, but I figured I’d learn when we were in our campsite.

At the supper table all the talk was of what we’d do and see while we were living in the woods. Forest had been camping lots of times. At least that’s what he told me and it must’ve been so, cause Mama and Daddy never corrected him. Of course, he was six years older than me, so that made him thirteen. I knew his pals had a tent because I’d seen it in their back yard. It was just a small one though. You couldn’t stand up in it, but I guessed you could sit up once you crawled inside.

After helping Mama clean the kitchen, she and I went to do the packing. Forest had already laid out the clothes he wanted to take, and Mama went though them. She packed some and some she put back in his room. She brought out another pair of his Keds and some socks.

I went through my stack of sunsuits and pulled out two of my favorites, but before I could get them to the suitcase, Mama was shaking her head.
“Why not?” I asked.
“It’ll be too cool. You’ll need a couple old dresses, and a sweater, and I’ve already got your windbreaker and underclothes packed,” she said.
“What about my pajamas?” I asked.
“No, you won’t be needin’ any pajamas. We’ll sleep in our clothes. Only thing we’ll take off are our shoes,” she replied.
“Wow. I never slept in my clothes before, except in the car when we go to Grandma’s,” I said.
“Well, you’ll get to sleep in ‘em tomorrow night. Now finish up and get ready for bed. We’ll be getting’ up real early in the morning.”

She leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of my head and patted my behind as she left the bedroom and headed back toward the kitchen.

Next thing I knew I was up and dressed in comfortable clothes and sitting at the breakfast table. It was still plenty dark outside, but I watched as Daddy and Forest loaded the car by the light shining through the open kitchen door.

Mama came back from opening the yard gate so the chickens could forage while we were gone. They’d be safe enough cause they’d be back in the fowl house well before dark, and we’d be back home come Sunday evening.

I put the dirty dishes into the sink and washed ‘em real fast, stacked them in the drainer, and just covered them with the drying cloth.

“Hurry up, ‘Cilla. We’re ready to go,” called Daddy. Forest was already in the back seat behind were Daddy would be driving. I ran and grabbed a handful of my “Little Books” and picked up the new Field and Stream for Forest. As I ran out the back door, Daddy was turning off all the lights. Mama waited until I was settled in before she laid her seat back and got in.

Piled between me and my brother was a bag of food, a box of cooking utensils, and four camp stools. We were sitting high, upon folded quilts and I delighted in the sounds and smells in the air around me. Mingled with the comforting sounds of crickets and cricket frogs, was the smell of the canvas tent, packed at the rear of the car, and the breakfast smell emanating from the paper bag.

In the coolness of the hour, I was snuggled deep within my sweater and did not know when I had returned to sleep. The sun was shining brightly in my face when I became aware of voices and activity going on in the car. I awoke to see Forest eating a ham biscuit and drinking water from a quart jar.

“Mama, can I have a biscuit, too?” I asked.She didn’t answer, but reached back with one of those delectable biscuits wrapped in wax paper. I believe that’s the
best taste on earth - cold biscuits wrapped around salty country ham.

After our hunger was satisfied, Forest and I stayed entertained with our books. Before long Daddy pulled in at a filling station on the other side of Macon. We all got out and used the dirty restrooms, while Daddy was paying for the car to be filled with gasoline from the Fire Chief pump.

We didn’t stop again until we were in Toccoa where we took another bathroom break and stretched our legs. From there we headed westward into the deep mountains toward
Turnerville. Just beyond there we found Bear Gap road. Oakey Mountain was up to our left. The dirt road was narrow and winding and Daddy had to drive real slow because the car would skid on the small rocks.

Sometime later we were at the crest of the gap and Daddy found a likely spot to set up camp. The area was shaded, flat, and with plenty of room off the road. We piled out, and all of us helped to get everything out of the car. It didn’t take long before Daddy had the tent up and Forest was given the task of cutting lots and lots of pine bows to spread down on the floor of the tent… down each side and across the rear. Over the bows, Mama and I spread quilts for our mattresses and then more quilts, for our covers.


Daddy had piled up a circle of rocks and used some of the small pine limbs to get a fire laid while Forest and I gathered dead wood from the nearby forest. Daddy didn’t light the fire yet, but everything was ready.

As the sun was beyond prime, Daddy and Mama decided now was as good a time as any to go on over the gap and head down toward Seed Lake and up toward Burton and go to Guy Rucker’s store.

They left us in charge of the site with Forest in charge of me. We waved them goodbye, hearing the words, “We’ll hurry back. Y’all stay outa trouble, now.”
Our site was right next to a babbling mountain stream which came from upward toward Oakey’s crest. I knew there had to be “little pitcher” plants along the banks of that stream, and I proposed to Forest that we climb upward and look for them.

That little plant is rare and not easy to find. It has a fleshy heart-shaped leaf set close to the dank earth. Once spied, if you lift the leaf, you’re rewarded with the tiny brown pitcher shaped flower nestled beneath. It has an ivy smell to it that makes one want to gather more. The hunting is most of the pleasure of finding the little gems.

Anyway, Forest agreed that he’d go with me on the search up the side of the mountain for a little ways. But I had to promise that when he said we’d gone far enough, I would turn and follow him back to camp. I readily agreed.

Just as I suspected, there were quite a few of the little plants up the steep incline. Forest was jumping from rock to rock, midstream of the brook, and had gotten somewhat wet. I was busy filling my skirt with tiny brown jugs when Forest said it was time to turn around and head back. I kept my head down and pretended not to hear. He repeated his demand. I feigned deafness. I suppose he became frustrated with my folly, so he tried a different tactic.

“Bear! Bear!” he cried.
My heart leapt into my throat and I forgot my cache of brown jugs as I fled back down the mountain. Forest was ahead of me by a few feet but I jumped at him, aiming for his back. I figured I’d ride him down like a horse. Needless to say, we both went down like a ton of bricks… tumbling, bumping, snagging across fallen limbs, in our descent. We landed back at the campsite with an earth-shaking jolt. I lifted myself off the ground and headed for the tent. Once inside, I turned to peep through the flap to see Forest rolling on the ground in gales of hearty laughter.

I went back outside and began laughing at him. He was a wet, dirty mess; leaves stuck hither and yon over his clothes and in his hair. I was pointing at him, and he was pointing at me. We were found thus, as Daddy and Mama drove back into the campsite.

It took some tall explaining to keep from getting whipped for getting so messed up. Forest was to stay in his wet clothes until time for bed. I barely got by. After all it was my fault since I wouldn’t come back when he told me to ~ twice!

Daddy soon worked up a nice hot fire and placed the metal grid on top of the rocks. We sat around the fire as Mama got the meal cooking. It was wonderful listening to them talking of the years they’d lived here in the North East Georgia Mountains.

Daddy had come into this area in 1925 to start up the new hydro-electric power plant on Lake Burton. He and Mama and my older sister, Victoria, lived in a tarpaper-covered, two-room, line shack for a while as their company house was being built. Mama gave birth to Forest just after they’d moved into one of the two company houses in ‘26.

They’d lived there until the depression hit and Daddy was laid off in 1930. At that time they moved to Union, South Carolina and went back into the cotton mill. In 1932, when I was born, my great aunt came and took my older sister back to Florida to live with her. I grew up hardly knowing I had a sister.

Listening to all the stories of their lives before I was on the scene, gave me a sense of completeness in their connection with the area we were now visiting.

All the while the storytelling’ was going on, Mama was busy preparing our supper meal. The scent was mouth-watering and whetted our appetites, and the pale blue smoke snaked downward, toward the valley.

Mama and Daddy were telling of how good it was to have seen Guy Rucker and his family again. They had brought back some candy and drinks for us, from their jaunt down to Rucker’s store. The store building itself was owned by my Uncle Frank Edmondson, who was married to Daddy’s youngest sister, Irene.

Our blue enamel plates had been heaped with the supper fare and Daddy had poured the dark coffee in two tin mugs for himself and Mama. Forest and I were downing Dr. Peppers. Without much concern I began slapping at the couple of mosquitoes who’d landed on my bare arms seeking their supper.

I notice Mama and Daddy were also beginning to become active in the swatting game. Forest finally stood and ran into the tent and came out with a jacket, which he donned and zipped up. This was a poor attempt to ward off the onslaught of the ravenous little devils.

Soon, it was evident that our meal was being forgotten in light of the vicious invasion. We all rose, as one body, and ran into the tent, where sadly, there was no relief. If anything it was worse. It seemed that the warmth which had built up from the sun heating the interior of the tent also encouraged masses of little blood-suckers inside.

Daddy spoke first. “Maude, you and the children put out the fire, pack up as quickly as you can. I’ll break down the tent. Let’s get outa’ here.”

It had taken us a couple of hours to pack at home to get ready to leave for this little trip, but it only took about twenty minutes to get everything piled back inside the car, where Forest and I were covered and so was Mama. Daddy could only manage to get the trunk strapped to the back of the car. The rest was stuffed in on top of us, including the tent.

About half way home, Mama began to snicker. At first I thought she was crying, then I realized at about the same time as Daddy and Forest did, that she was laughing. We all began guffawing and laughing so hard, my sides began hurting again. At least, the trip home was funny, if nothing else.

When we got back to the house, we left everything where it was, except the tent. Daddy had to take it off of us before we could get out of the car. Once inside, Mama checked me over for the mosquito bites and after my spit bath, she dabbed all the spots with Calamine. I put on my polka dotted pajamas and Daddy said I looked like I’d been the prime target of the dive-bombing mosquitoes.

Next morning, we unloaded the car and spent the day talking about our adventure and how we’d be sure to take plenty of mosquito repellant if we ever decided to go camping again.

We never did.

Spring Surprise

A Factual Account by Priscilla B Shuler

The hawk pair who'd fed on chicken parts and peices at their table on top of our clothesline rail made it through a very rough, cold winter. Before the sun began to warm the earth I spied them busily constructing their nest, high in an oak on the adjoining property. I watched through binoculars as the nest became larger and stronger even against the March winds.

As the weather tempered I ceased providing their meals and I saw very little of them, however, they did call to me whenever they saw me outdoors. They'd circle high, high up and scream their delight with the world. In turn I'd wave and call my "hello darlings" to them.

One afternoon several weeks later I was at the kitchen sink and saw "Maude" (I named the pair after my mother - Maude, and father, Vic) light on top of the clothesline rail and she looked directly at me through the window over the sink. She screamed and flew off. I quickly dried my hands and stepped out onto the back porch, watching as she flew off toward the nesting tree.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw her returning to our yard with her two young children in tow behind her. She circled low into our yard in front of me and took them out over the pond and came around once more. You can only imagine what I felt as I waved and called to them. One of the most beautiful sights I've ever been priviledged to see!

Only God can give such perfect gifts!

We continue to feed our beautiful feathered friends, and this winter is proving to be a particularly cold one. We keep our shopping list handy and always insert 'chicken parts'. We need to always have them on hand during this time to keep our hawks as healthy as possible.

Knocking at My Door

A factual account by Priscilla B Shuler

We had been feeding hawks for several winters when, late one October morning there came a scrambling knock at my front door.

Our home has an entrance foyer with the front door having side lights through which one can view the caller. On the wall opposite the front door is a large mirror which can give someone looking into the foyer the sensation that the world is just beyond our front door.

The den is just off the foyer to the right side. I was at home alone, reading, when I heard the first noise at the front door. It sounded as though a misguided bird had flown into the side light expecting to fly through. This has happened many times, but usually the unfortunate bird picks itself up and flys off in the direction from which it came. Consequently, I didn't think too much about the initial sound.
However, when the banging, scratching noise came again even louder, I figured this had to be someone who was unable to ring our door bell. My first thought was someone in a wheel chair, maybe, or worse yet, someone out and up to no good.

I tipped-toed over to the den-foyer door and leaned into the foyer far enough where I might spot the culprit and get back to the phone to call for help, if need be. To my shock and disbelief, there sitting on the black iron stair rail was an adult Red-shouldered hawk! She spied me spying her and she flew up over the house toward the back.

I was so thrilled and filled with joy at the intelligence displayed by my friend, I literally shouted with praise to God for such a gift as this. I ran to the freezer and pulled out a small package of chicken gizzards which I quickly broke apart and thawed in a pan of hot water.

As soon as the meat was pliable I took it out the back door to find her sitting on the dinette roof, from where she flew over my head to the oak just beyond the patio.
I placed the first piece of chicken onto the clothesline rail and she flew in and snatched it up and flew back to the oak. I placed the rest of the pieces up for her and before I could get turned around, her mate was sitting on the rail. By the time I was back in the kitchen, they both were there side by side eating their breakfast.
I suppose they had decided that their natural food supply had gone underground and it was time for us to begin their winter feeding, to which I happily complied.

In the next installment of my hawk stories... I'll let you in on a most amazing gift from my feathered friends.

Three Karats

Three Karats
fiction by Priscilla B Shuler



Charlotte stood at the sink, rinsing the lunch dishes and stacking them in the dishwasher. She might be sixty years old, but she was yet her mother’s daughter and was still stinging from the recent harsh words. Estelle complained that the rice was sticky and the gravy watery, and she had said time and time again how she would love a big pot of squirrel stew with dumplings.

Estelle was ninety this past June and didn’t know one season from another anymore. Her memories served up days of her youth and how her papa brought meat to their big family from the hardwoods on their place. And she loved every Sunday when their preacher and his wife would come home with them for dinner. There was always her absolute favorite - fried chicken.

Charlotte had listened to these stories so much, she knew them by heart. How easily Charlotte now recalled the elderly minister and his wife had been regulars at her mother’s table when she was just a little girl. Mama had carried forth the tradition of having a fried chicken dinner each Sunday for the preacher and his wife to come eat with them.

Now, Charlotte had been ever assuring Estelle that Preacher Willie had called and asked after her. Mama could not understand that Willie and Rosalee had been dead over forty years. Finally Charlotte came up with the lie that seemed to placate Estelle. She told her mama that since the Turners had moved, it was just too far for them to travel. Lordy, she hoped God would forgive her for all the lies she told her mother.

She turned as Carl came into the kitchen. He smelled strong and his clothes were filthy. “Did you get the car fixed?” she asked.
“Yep, she’s running like a sewing machine. Just needed a little adjustment in the timing.” He sidled up behind her and fondled her rear.
“Carl, don’t do that. Every pair of jeans I own has grease stains on the seat.”
“Well, how is it that you can get ’em out of my uniforms and can’t get ’em outta of your jeans?”
“I cannot bleach my jeans, Carl.” Rolling her eyes at his dense point of view.
“O.K. I’ll try to be more careful, but you got the best lookin’ bunns in Jackson County, sugar.”

She knew he was really trying to placate her because she could read his ’look’. It didn’t surprise her in the least when he reached over without touching her with his body, and kissed her on the nape of her neck.

“I’m off to get a quick shower. How about come scrub my back in about ten minutes.”
“You’ll be out of the shower by then.” She said, looking at his grin and the twinkle in his eyes.
“Yeah, right. There’ll be just enough time for a little before I head to work.”
“I guess I can get the dishes loaded and get your lunch made in ten minutes. I’ll come if I finish here first.”

Carl was hurrying down the hall toward the back of the house and his bedroom when his best laid plans came to a shattering halt. Blingalingalingalinga, came the sound of the bell from Estelle’s room. He stopped and turned to see Charlotte, wiping her hands with a dish towel, as she opened the door to her mother’s room.

“What took you so long?” Snapped Estelle. “I been waitin’ and waitin’.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I was loading the dishwasher, and had to get it started.”
“You got it made, Charl’it. You ain’t got no idea what it is to really work. Got all them machines to do ever’thang for you. You’d never make it if you had to go through what I did when I was your age.”

“What’cha need, Mama?”
“Just wanted to know is Julie coming by this week. She always brings the nicest gifts and treats me like a baby. She is the most thoughtful person I know.” Estelle peered at her daughter and sniffed loudly. “What’s that smell on you?”
“Just car grease, Mama. Carl was just working on the car and got a little on my clothes.”
“He don’t treat you right. It’s all about Carl. Carl this and Carl that.”
“Mama, please don’t talk like that. He takes care of both ofus and works real hard.”

Charlotte stepped nearer to her mother and straightened the afghan over her legs. She then reached to empty the slop jar, sliding it from the bedside toilet. She drew a little sigh and said, “Julie promised she’d come real soon. When I spoke to her she said she had a real important meeting with somebody but that she was buying a very special present for you.”
“I knew she wouldn’t forget me. She always loves me and appreciates me. You never did mind me, Charlotte, and after all I’ve done for you.”
“Yes, Mama. You can tell Julie all about it as soon as she gets here.” Charlotte replaced the cleaned, enameled bucket back into the portable toilet and returned to the bathroom to scrub the commode and wipe out the lavatory. She finished up and as she came back into the bedroom she stooped to lay a gentle kiss on the soft cheek of her sleeping mother.

Gently closing the door she saw Carl coming from their room, dressed in his white uniform. She walked toward him and slipped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest.He pulled her closer and lifted her face to kiss her lips and wipe the trembling tears from her eyes with his thumbs. “It’s alright, sugar. I know it must be hard, and I sure don’t want to make it harder. There’ll be time for us later on.”

They walked, holding hands, back through the house to the kitchen. Charlotte reached into the refrigerator and retrieved his lunch bag and walked with him outside to the carport. They kissed and he hopped up into his truck and she handed the lunch to him through the open window. “See you tonight.” He said.
“Maybe I’ll even be awake for you.” smiled Charlotte.
“You just take care of yourself and Estelle. I’ll be alright.” He smiled and backed the vehicle out of the drive. She watched until he was out of sight as he turned the corner.

Heading back inside, she was greeted with the phone ringing. Picking it up, she was thankful to hear the voice of her longtime friend and confidant - Laurie. “Wha’cha doing?”
“I just got Carl off to work. Want to come over for a chat?”
“Can’t, Buddy’ll be back in any minute. He’s been with his brother all morning. They been cutting wood from that last storm.” She continued… “That’s really why I’m calling. Buddy told me for you to let Carl know to come get a load as soon as he can. It’ll come in good this winter.”
“I sure will, and we’ll appreciate every log, come November.”

“How’re you and Estelle doing?” asked Laurie.
“Oh, don’t ask. You know how she is. She remembers things that she wants to be true but never were. It’s sad really but I can’t help but feel hurt,” lamented Charlotte.
“I know, Charl, you’ve spent years taking care of her and it’s a shame it’s come to this. She used to be so vibrant and bright. I know she was always kinda harsh, but she loved you and you just have to remember that.” said Laurie.

“I understand all that, Laurie, but you won’t know how it feels until it happens to you personally.”
“I hope that time never comes. Buddy’s mama is all that’s left and he’s got things lined up for her to go to Parker Place when she gets where she can’t do for herself.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s the difference between the have’s and us have-not’s. Y’all got all that money from the settlement from his daddy’s death and can afford to pay the cost for Margaret.”
“You‘re right, hon. I wish I could make it easier for you. But we all know life isn’t fair.”
“I know, I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I don’t mean to take my frustration out on you. You’re the only one I can talk to who cares to listen. I love you for being there for me, Laurie.” Charlotte spoke quietly into the phone, then she took a deep breath and said… “I gotta go… Mama’s ringing that blasted bell again. I’ll be sure and tell Carl about the wood. So long.” She hung up the phone and thought of the clothes that needed folding from the dryer. She’d heard the buzzer when she was outside with Carl.

Opening the door she asked, “You alright Mama?”
“What do we have to eat? I’m getting hungry. I haven’t seen a speck of food all day. You don’t never cook anything I can eat,” complained Estelle. The fact was that she simply had forgotten she’d already eaten her lunch, less than an hour ago.
“I’ll bring you a dish of ice cream, Mama, to hold you until we have supper. Will that be alright? You always love chocolate ice cream.”

Charlotte saw Estelle smile slightly just before she frowned and snapped, “Well, what’re you waitin’ for? I got my mouth set for it now.”
“O.K. I’m going. Be right back.” Charlotte hurried to the freezer in the large utility room which also housed the water heater, washer and dryer. Glancing at the dryer she knew that she’d need to toss in a wet towel and run the dryer again to dampen the wrinkles out, that by now had set into the load of clothes.

Settling the plastic tray over her mother’s lap, she laid a dish towel over it and tucked the long end into the neck of her gown. Charlotte centered the small dish of ice cream on the tray and put the plastic spoon into the gnarled fingers of Estelle’s right hand and closed them gently around the handle. She stepped back and watched as her mother took a too-large chunk and it fell onto the cloth before she could get it into her mouth. Charlotte picked it up and placed it back into the bowl and slipped the spoon from her mother’s hand. She then fed her small bites until she’d eaten it all. Even the melted cream was spooned into the open mouth.
“You happy now, Mama?” she said, patting her hand.
Barely nodding, her mother said, “That was good, Julie. You’re so good to me. Don’t tell Charlotte, but I’m giving the ring to you. She thinks she’s gonna get it, but she hates me and hurts me. See all these bruises where she’s beat me?” Estelle pulled up the sleeve of her gown and looked down at the blue marks. Tears trembled in her rheumy eyes.

“Oh, Mama.” cried Charlotte. “Mama, those marks are from where they took blood.”
“No, Julie. She did it. Can’t you see?”
“Alright, Mama. I believe you. It’s gonna be cleared up soon though and you won’t feel so bad. I’ll be sure and keep it to myself. I won’t tell Charlotte a thing.” She despised these pretenses and despised it even more that Julie never seemed to feel she could spare the time to come visit Mama more often. She did send a check for twenty dollars every few weeks which must salve her conscience enough to waylay any guilt.

That night she was lying in bed, awake, thinking over her problems and trying to come up with the best way to ask Julie to spend more time with Estelle. She heard Carl’s footsteps coming down the hall, and not being in the mood, she turned over and feigned sleep.

Just before she felt him slip into bed she heard the distant sounds of thunder. She would get up and close their windows, but then Carl would know that she was awake and want to make love. He slid gently over to her and kissed her forehead. “You asleep, Sugar?” he whispered. He slid back to his side and let out a large sigh. Charlotte let a single tear slide to the pillow and mentally kicked herself for not being there for the man who was always there for her as well as for her mother. She vowed to do better tomorrow.

Charlotte was standing apart from her father and mother and watched as Estelle lifted her hand. She saw the diamond sparkle brightly just before it was gone. There was a heavy dread in her breast as she felt herself struggling to hear them calling to her.

Carl shook his sleeping wife and said, “Wake up, Honey, you better check on your Mama. I hear her moving around in there.”
She roused and said “What an awful dream; Oh, Carl, is it Mama? What’s she doing awake now? What time is it?”
“Just after five.” he answered.
“I hope she’s alright.”
“If you need me call me, Sugar.”
“Count on it.” And she plodded off to see about her mama, stumbling down the dark hallway.

Opening the door, she was shocked to see her mother standing in the dim light of the early morning by her chest of drawers. Every drawer was open and all the contents were thrown and scattered about her bare feet.
“Mama, what are you doing? What’s the matter?”
“Where is it? What’ve you done with it?” Estelle cried.
“What, Mama? What’re you looking for?”
“My ring! You have it, I know you do. It was here yesterday and ain’t nobody been in here but you. Now you bring it back!”

Estelle was crying in earnest now as Charlotte helped her mother back toward her recliner. “Mama, I haven’t seen it sinceyou stopped wearing it five or six years ago.”
“You’re lying to me. It was here in this drawer yesterday and ain’t nobody been in here but you. Now you better bring it back or I’m calling the police.”
“Calm down Mama. I’ll turn on the light and go through these clothes. If it was here yesterday, then it’s still here this morning.” She helped Estelle to her chair and covered her legs with the afghan. “Now don’t you worry, I’ll find it.”

Charlotte took each garment, one by one, examined them, folded each one and replaced them in the drawers. Everything was back in place and not a sign of the ring.
“I’ll be back in a minute, Mama. I need to get Carl’s flashlight to look under the furniture.”
“I know, you’re a'gonna bring it back from where you hid it.”

As Charlotte left the room she ran into Carl bringing the flashlight. “I heard. You were gone so long I was scared something bad had happened.” He said.
“You go on back to bed. I’ll search till I find it. It can’t have rolled far.”
“Just don’t let her get you upset, okay?” Turning he headed back to their room.

Twenty minutes later, under the fierce scrutiny of her mother’s eyes, Charlotte rose from her knees and declared, “It’s not on this floor, Mama. Are you sure you didn’t move it from the drawer to another place?”
“No, I never moved it. You took it and I’m telling Julie. I want you to call her now so I can talk to her.”
“I’m not calling Julie at this hour of the morning. It’s not even six o’clock and she won’t be up for another hour.”
“You better bring my ring back. That’s all I got to say.” And she continued, “You’ll be sorry when they come and take you to jail for what you done.”
As softly as her nerves would allow, she asked, “Do you want to stay up and watch television or get back in the bed?”
“Turn the T.V. on and then help me to the toilet.”

The three karat ring was the single item that Estelle had promised Charlotte would be hers when she was forced by ill health to move in with her and Carl nine years ago. Estelle was in excellent mental condition then but never felt it of any importance to mention the ring in her will. The ring was worth almost as much as the house she and Carl were living in. Her daddy had bought the ring back in the late twenties from some man who needed money. He’d gotten it for a song and it was a perfect stone weighing a tad over three karats. Estelle had worn it with great pride for all the ensuing years until it had begun to fall off her shrunken and bony fingers. She then “put it up” with the spoken promise that it would be given to Charlotte in payment for her caring for her until her death.

If Estelle did give that ring to Julie, after all the promises that were made, it would be an awful blow to Charlotte’s heart. She had already decided to pass it on to Libby as soon as it was in her possession. Julie’ll probably hock it to buy something for that moocher who’s shacking up with her, Charlotte thought, angrily. She wondered if Mama had said anything to Julie about the ring when she had called last month. She also wondered now, how she was going to find out.

Back in bed next to Carl’s warm body, she cried silently for the loss of her mother. He held her close and made comforting murmurs and ached in his own heart that there was nothing he could really do for his wife.

Julie pressed the doorbell and stepped back away from the front door to inspect the dirt daubers nests high on the brick wall. “Boy,” she thought, “Carl sure needs to get that mess cleaned off. Looks worse’n hell.”
The door swung open and Charlotte took her younger sister in her arms in a big hug. “It’s good of you to come on such short notice, Sis. Hope you’ve got enough time for me to run into town for a few groceries.”
“Oh sure, it shouldn’t take you more’n’hour should it? I have to get back by twelve. Lunch with Mr. Dillard and some client. I’m supposed to be taping their conversation.”
“I promise to hurry as fast as possible. Mama will be so tickled you’re here.” Charlotte gave her sister another quick hug and grabbed her purse from the hall table and left for the back door and carport.

“Is’at’chu baby? Oh, it’s my Julie.” cried Estelle.
Julie rushed to her mother’s side and bent down to squeeze her thin shoulders and stroke her hair, smiling widely into her upturned face. “I brought you something, Mama.”
“What is it? I know it’s beautiful. You are so good to me Julie. You treat me like a baby.”
“Why, I love you Mama. It gives me joy just to make you happy. Look here,” and reaching into her purse, she brought out a small box tied with a tiny red bow. She placed it in the aged hands and then had to help untie the bow and remove the lid.

Estelle began crying before she saw it. She had no idea that it was an inexpensive rhinestone pin from a discount store. “Oh, honey, it’s beautiful,” Looking up she continued, “just like you. Here, put it on me.”
Julie pinned the jewelry onto the collar of Estelle’s flannel gown and said, “Why don’t Charlotte let you wear some of your pretty dresses, Mama? I gave you that pretty red one last Christmas. It‘d look so good on you.”
“She keeps me trapped in this room and treats me like a prisoner. She has total control and takes advantage ever chance she gets.”
“I’ll ask her about dressing you up more as soon as she gets back. We’ll see if we can’t make you more presentable. Alright, Mama? What’ca think?”
Estelle smiled with a far away look on her face and nodded gently. "That’ll be nice.”

Within a few minutes of sitting with her mother, Julie became bored and Estelle had dropped off the sleep. She’d thumbed through several magazines and it appeared as though Estelle was going to sleep throughout her visit. She left the room and was in the kitchen making a cup of instant coffee when she heard ’the bell’. Running back over to the room, Julie found Estelle struggling to get to the bedside toilet and was on the verge of falling. Julie grabbed her arm and steadied her as her mother cried out “You’re hurting my arm, Charlotte. You hurting me.”
Flabbergasted, Julie let go and Estelle began to reel backward. As Estelle sank, Julie tripped over the toilet and knocked the whole thing over, falling on top of Estelle.

Thankfully, the toilet was clean and dry, but her mother was groaning and crying pitifully. Julie was able to get herself up without hurting her mother any worse than she already had. She righted the port-a-john and then tried to lift Estelle. Every time she got her hands under her mother’s arms Estelle screamed that she was killing her.

Before long, Julie realized she was not going to be able to get Estelle up off the floor. Bringing the pillow off the bed, she slipped it beneath her head and covered her with the afghan.
“Stay still Mama. I’ll be right back.”
“Where’ya goin? Don‘t leave me!”
“I’m calling EMS, Mama.”
“Who’s that?”
“Mama, just lie still, please.”

Leaving the room, she fled to the kitchen and the phone. At that moment Carl came in the back door, smelling of wood and chain saw gasoline. “What’s up, Julie? Everything Okay?”
“Oh Carl, am I glad to see you. Mama fell and I was about to call EMS. Charlotte’s out shopping. D’you think you can lift her up?”
“I think so. Let’s go see.” As they entered the bedroom, he noticed the portable toilet had been moved and Estelle was sprawled with her legs half under the bed. “Hey, Stella. What’cha doing playin’ on the floor. Don’t you know I gave all my marbles away?”

His mother-in-law smiled up and said, “I knew you’d come for me, Fred. You gonna take care of me?”
“Yeah, we’ll play hide-n-seek as soon as you’re able.” Straddling her torso, he bent low over her and told Julie to help get her mother’s arms around his neck. He lifted her gently with his big arms around her chest and back and slid her backward from beneath the bed so her legs could drop beneath her body. He steadied her for a few seconds then lifted her back into her recliner. He turned to Julie and said, “You’d better check her over and get her cleaned up. I don’t think she’s really broken anything, but she’ll be black and blue later on.”

Julie blanched at the thought and didn’t know which way to turn. “Wait, Carl, where is the stuff I’ll need? Will you help me?”
“No way. She won’t feel comfortable with a man in the room,” and smiling he continued, “especially since she thinks I’m her brother.”

“I’ll be glad when Charlotte gets back.” And she began opening drawers to try to find the diapers and gowns. Julie located the deep plastic wash pan from beneath the bathroom lavatory and was filling it with warm water when the sound of her sister’s voice came from the hall. Turning off the water, she ran into the room and embraced her sister. “You’re an answer to my prayer. I didn’t know what to do. Did Carl tell you Mama fell?”
“Yes, is she alright?”
“I guess so. I’ve just now begun to get the water ready to wash her and I laid out her fresh gown and pants on the bed. Now that you’re here, though, I can go on and get to my appointment with time to spare. You don’t mind, do you?”
With a smile, Charlotte assured Julie that she’d take over and get their mama all cleaned up and set for lunch. It’d only take her a few minutes. “Don’t you worry, I’ve done this a million times and it’s all easy as pie once you know how.” she laughed.

“Charlotte, I don’t know what we’d all do without you.”
“Well, thanks for babysitting. Carl was busy getting some fire wood or he could have stayed.”
“Tell Mama I’ll be back as soon as I can, but you know how busy I stay.”
“I know, Julie. It’s alright. Drive carefully and give Roger our regards.” She went back into her mother’s room, helped her to lie down on her bed and slipped on the plastic apron and disposable gloves and opened a fresh trash bag. Within a few minutes she had Estelle cleaned and changed. There were several dark bruises along one side and down her arms. She’d need to watch for blood in her bowel movements. She could be hurt inside.

“How’d you like the pretty pin my baby brought me?” asked Estelle. “She’s so good to me and treats me like a baby.”
Charlotte nodded and said, “I think it’s beautiful, Mama. I know you’ll enjoy it. We can pin it on your bed jacket Sunday when Reverend Kenneth comes after church.

Back in the kitchen, Charlotte got the salad greens washed and dried and while the tea was steeping she went into the utility room and stuffed the soiled clothes in the washer, poured the bleach into the outlet and sprinkled in a cup of detergent along with a hefty sprinkle of laundry borax.

Returning to the kitchen, she whipped the salad dressing and made the potted meat sandwiches. She cut her mother’s sandwich in four small pieces, without crust, and tore the lettuce into very small pieces. She then poured on a smidgen of dressing, making sure to mix it well. She then took the dropper and put one dose of Prozac into her tea.

Dr. Philpots had given the prescription to help Estelle’s mental stability. Charlotte had not noticed any abatement of her mother’s hateful attitude. But there was no telling how bad it might have been without the medication.

She took the lunch to her mother’s room and set it on the foot of the bed while she wiped off her mother’s face and hands. Once she’d gotten Estelle settled, she headed back to the kitchen to get the meal on the table for Carl.

Charlotte looked forward to this evening. She’d called Loretta to come stay with Mama while she and Carl took in dinner and a movie downtown. Carl didn’t get too many Friday’s off and when he did they always tried to do something special.

That evening she dressed in her new skirt and sweater set she’d bought from Penney’s last month. She felt more rested than she should, but wasn’t about to question her mood. She and Carl had actually had an entire hour alone taking their bath’s and
making love on the freshly laundered sheets. She kept waiting for the bell but it never rang.

As soon as she was finished dressing she went directly to Estelle’s room and quietly slipped open the door. She was so still. Her eyes were open. Charlotte walked over to her mother and spoke. “Mama, are you alright?” She knew the answer. There was no response. Charlotte backed out the door and called for Carl. “Come quick, honey. I want you to take a look at Mama.”

He ran down the hall and entered the room. He lifted her thin arm and felt for a pulse. Laying her arm back down. He closed her eyes and turned to his sobbing wife. “I’ll call the coroner and then you call Julie and then the Preacher.”

Two months later, a couple days before Thanksgiving, Charlotte was packing all Estelle’s good clothes for them to be given to the Benevolent Closet at church. Julie had turned down Charlotte’s offer of her mother’s nice black wool winter coat. It was in excellent condition but too small for Charlotte. Since she couldn’t use anything and Julie didn’t want them, they were all going to be distributed to the needy.

After she’d gotten everything done she called her pastor. Two hours later Reverend Kenneth was at the door. “This’ll sure help us out a lot. Our Youth Group has asked for the responsibility of giving the items out.” He reached out to take her hand. Charlotte smiled and said, “Mama would like that.”

Charlotte cleaned the room from top to bottom, removing all drawers and having Carl take the mattress to the town dump. She pulled down all the curtains for the laundry and washed all the windows, inside and out. She cried the whole time and felt the
cocoon of her soul beginning to split open. Her head was throbbing and she felt so guilty for even thinking of the ring at a time like this.

Since she never found it she was convinced that her mother really had given it to Julie and she cried for broken promises and for minds that drifted away from reality. She was also very sad that she’d ever told Libby that the ring would one day be hers. Now she’d need to explain about how Mama had lost her way and given it to her Aunt Julie. Or else had done God-knows-what with the ring.

Carl walked into the room and took Charlotte out and closed the door. “I told you to wait until I could get Loretta and we’d help you get this done. You’re killing yourself for nothing.” He took her into the kitchen and sat her in a chair while he put on a half pot of coffee. “It’ll be alright, sugar. I’m here and if you’ll let me, we can get through it together.”
“I know, honey. I’m sorry. I just thought I might come across the ring while I was cleaning and then I got to thinking about her and just started crying again.” She continued, “I think she gave the ring to Julie, Carl.”
“Well, if she did, there’s not much you can do about it now. You’ll just have to forget it and move on. Look at it this way… it’s only a material item and will not do your soul one bit of good.”
“But I wanted it for Libby. She’s always admired it and Mama had promised it, Carl.”
“Charlotte, let it go! It’ll drive you crazy if you don’t.”
“You‘re right, I’ll really try. From now on, there is no ring and never was and I’ll just have to tell that to Libby.” she smiled with tears still trembling in her eyes.


They had buried Estelle the middle of September and here it was the week before Christmas. Libby had hinted several times that she was hoping to get grandmother Estelle’s heirloom for Christmas.

“Carl, Julie just called. She and Roger are coming over for a little while. She wants to talk with me and since Roger’ll be here too, will you mind if he watches the game with you?”
“Nah, he’ll be good company, since you never care to sit with me during the games.” He went on, “Do you care if we have a beer before supper?”
“No, honey, that’ll be fine. Just as long as it doesn’t steal your appetite. We’re having steak and the trimmings.”
“Bet they’ll want to stay for supper. You got enough steak?” Carl asked.
“Thanks for the reminder, I’ll get another couple outa the freezer now.”

December eighteenth was cold and rainy and Carl had a glowing fire in the Buck Stove. The tree was decorated and the place smelled of cinnamon and peppermint. Julie was struck by the warmth and love she felt and suddenly realized she wanted this for Roger and herself.

Seated at the kitchen table with mugs of hot chocolate and a hunk of fresh gingerbread-still warm from the oven, Julie decided to get right to the point. “Libby is looking to get Mama’s ring for a present this Christmas. Have you decided to let her have it this soon?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” cried Charlotte. “I don’t have it.”
Disbelief showed blatantly clear upon Julie’s face. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Why don’t you have it. Where is it?”
“I thought you had it.” spoke Charlotte softly; realization flooding her brain with wonder.
“No. You knew Mama’d always said - she told all of us you were to have the ring, Charlotte. What’s the matter with you. Don’t you have it, really?”
“I don’t have it, really. She got mad at me a while before she died and I couldn’t do anything to please her and she told me she was giving the ring to you.”

Julie frowned and was shaking her head as her sister related these facts. “As God is my judge, sis, she never gave it to me. Why in the world would I be here talking to you about it if she’d done that?”
“Oh Lord, Julie, what am I to do then. Carl and I’ve searched her room up and down and always been on the lookout for it throughout the whole house. We even searched the car, thinking she could have put it in there when I was taking her out for her appointments.”

“Well, now let us think.” she said. “You don’t suppose it was hidden on herself somewhere, do you.”
“You mean like maybe she swallowed it?”

Carl and Roger had come into the kitchen and were popping beer cans over the sink in preparation of returning to the den and the game on T.V. when Carl, overhearing the last of their conversation began to laugh.

“What’re y'all laughing at?” the sisters inquired simultaneously.
“You two are crazy. Crazier than Estelle. She would never swallow that ring. She was somewhat demented, but she was using it against Charlotte to keep her in line. She’d have done the same to you, Julie, if she’d wanted to.” He went on, “You both know she was using each of you against the other to get whatever she wanted out of y’all.”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” said Charlotte. “She almost drove a wedge between us, Sis. I actually thought she’d gone and given it to you and I was upset about it until Carl made me realize it really didn’t matter.”
“I’m thankful you didn’t allow your belief that I had it to put a break in our love.”
“Yeah, blood’s thicker than water, eh?” smiled Charlotte.

A deep silence filled the kitchen as the men returned to the den. Soon the sisters began speaking at the same time and stopped and laughed. Then became serious again. Charlotte said, “Let’s put on our thinking caps and try to figure out where it’s hidden.”
Julie said, “When was the last time you saw it or knew anything about where it was.”
“Oh, Lord, let me think. Let’s see, it was about a week before Mama died, she had thought it was in the top drawer of her chest of drawers ‘cause she had gotten up early that morning and was digging in there to get it. She accused me of taking it and she said she was going to give it to you as soon as I returned it. Why, she even threatened to call the police on me.” she laughed.

“Well, she never gave it to me, so help me, Charl.”
“I believe you, but I’ve thought of it a hundred times. Mama must have moved it from the drawer and put it in another hiding place. Only she’d forgotten where and I never found it. That’s why I came to the conclusion that she had given it to you.”

“So the last place was the top drawer.”
“Carl and I can both tell you it was not there, nor anywhere else in that room, nor anywhere in this house, or car.”
“Back to square one.”
Silently sipping the cooling cocoa and nibbling the gingerbread, they sat thinking.
Shortly, Julie said, ”Wonder if she hid it in any of her clothes in her closet. She had hidden it before in her clothes in the top drawer, why not in the hanging clothes.”
Charlotte said, “Oh my God. That’s got to be where it was. But we’ll never be able to trace it now. I gave all her clothes to the church closet, and they‘re all sure to be gone by now.”
“Good grief, Charl, can’t you talk to the people at church to see if any of them saw it?”
“I can, but I fear it’s too late by now. And Mama never had the thing insured. At least we didn’t find any kinda papers of insurance that had the ring mentioned in it.”
“Well at least call Preacher Kenneth just in case someone saw it or heard about it.”
“I think I’d better do that,” agreed Charlotte. Continuing, she went on “How about you and Roger staying for supper. What’cha think. Reckon Roger would mind?”
“No, he thinks the world of you and Carl, and you know I’d love to have one of your great meals.”
“Good, you work on these,” she laid a bunch of potatoes and carrots out on the sink, “while I run over to Pastor’s house. I won’t be gone but about ten minutes. Okay?”
“Sure, Sis, go on now, but be careful; there may be ice on the roads. It was drizzling some when we came in.”

Charlotte drove to the parsonage, taking a tin of gingerbread with her. She pulled around back to the covered walk and ran up the steps, she opened the screen stepped across the porch to the glass-topped door. Rapping on the glass with her knuckles, she peered into the well-lit kitchen. Martha came from the hall into the kitchen and smiled as she opened the door.

“Come in darling. What’re you doing out by yourself this evening?”
“I’ve come on a mission and wanted to share some fresh gingerbread with y’all. I sure hope you and Pastor will be able to help me.” Charlotte said.

After some time the couple nodded their understanding of the situation. Kenneth said, “ If the ring was in some of Estelle’s clothes, our chances of locating it are practically nil, but I’ll put it in Sunday’s bulletin and ask everyone to give us names and addresses of any person they remember who took some of the clothing. We’ll then try to contact as many as possible and pray someone does have it.

“I cannot ask for more than that.” And standing up, Charlotte said, “I’ve got to get home and help finish up the supper. Julie and Roger are staying ’cause the men are watching the game. Julie was scraping carrots when I left.”
“Do you think she and Roger will ever tie the knot?” Kenneth asked.
“I’m hoping so. She knows that him living with her isn’t good for either of them, but I believe she’s scared because of her awful experience with Todd. That nearly killed her. I thought she never would get over it.”
“Charlotte, if you think you could talk them into it, tell ’em to give me a call. I’d love the opportunity to counsel those two and try to get ’em steered in the right direction.”

Both Kenneth and Martha gave her warm hugs thanked her for the gingerbread and warned her to drive carefully. She headed to her car. The rain had ceased but it was very cold and the wind had picked up. Silently, she prayed, Lord, I’m putting this whole mess into your hands. You know how much this ring means to Libby. If it’s Your will that she get it back, then that’s what I’m asking. In Jesus’ name, I thank You. Amen

Sure enough the explanation of the lost ring was on the back of the Sunday Bulletin, but the congregation was sorta thin, what with the freezing weather and blasting wind. Many of the body of Whitmond Hills Baptist Church were older folk and took every opportunity to stay home where it was warm rather than face the cold and then shivver in the old high-ceilinged sanctuary.

The youth, who had sorted and distributed Estelle’s clothes visited as many places and people as they could remember but none turned up any clue as to where the missing ring could be. The congregation commiserated with Charlotte about the loss, but soon was no longer a matter of concern for them.

With the advent of the Christmas Holidays, the choir made plans to go caroling in the neighborhood on Christmas eve, especially visiting the sick and shut-ins of the congregation. The group (under the leadership of choir director, James Barnes, and accompanied by Pastor Ken and ‘Miss’ Martha, and seven of the hardier choir members) had been singing for nigh on to two hours. Everyone was becoming hoarse and tired and beginning to complain of frozen toes and noses.

James suggested maybe they ought to take a break for half an hour and then visit the last two places before they called it a night. The houses he had left on the list belonged to the Widow Gregory and the elderly bachelor, Tillman Murphy. When James made the suggestion, the group took a vote as to whether to go straight on and finish up or take a break and then complete the caroling. The vote was unanimous to continue and then call it a night.

Standing in the front yard of the Widow Gregory, they’d sung three carols and she’d made no appearance. James called for one last verse of Silent Night, then they’d head back to the Church, where the Social Committee had warm refreshments waiting.

Just as the final “Christ the Savior is born” was belted out, Mrs. Gregory turned on the light and stepped out onto her porch, wrapped tightly in a long black wool coat. Immediately Charlotte recognized it. She broke from the group and ran up onto the porch and began talking to Mrs. Gregory.

The choir stood in stunned silence, as the two women began digging into every pocket of the coat. “Halleluja!” shouted Charlotte. “God answered my prayer!”
And she held up her gloved hand for everyone to see the brilliant sparkle of the ring, as it struck fire from the overhead porch light. To the sound of applause and joyful exchanges, Charlotte bent to kiss the cheek of Mrs. Gregory, noting that it felt just like Estelle’s.

“What can I do to repay you?” asked Charlotte.
“Oh, I don’t need anything, dear, really.” But she looked up into Charlottes eyes with unshed tears and said, “Come and visit me every now and then. I get so lonely.”
Laying a hand on Mrs. Gregory‘s shoulder, Charlotte said, “I give you my promise. Beginning right now. Would you like to have Christmas dinner with us tomorrow?”
The little lady hesitated slightly then smiled broadly, “Oh, yes, dear, that would be lovely.”
Charlotte kissed her cheek once more and whispered, “Carl’ll pick you up at twelve noon.”

As she turned to leave the porch the first soft flakes of snow floated downward. Looks like there’ll be a white Christmas this year,she thought. Then whispered,
"Thank you Father God for all your marvelous blessings, and tell Mama I found the ring."

Dawn, the Australian Border Collie

“DAWN, CLAW, TALON, AND THE ROBBER BARONS”
By Priscilla B Shuler
Why my masters moved away and left me, I’ll never know. But that’s what they did. One day here, and the next day gone! The keen instincts that I have as an Australian Border Collie had prepared me for such a possibility. You see, I’d already made good friends with the old couple next door. They had often called me over when they had extra people food to give to me. I love the beef bones with chunks of meat clinging on. And the country ham and redeye gravy, that’s the best. But, I also have a preference for chicken fixed any way.

But here I am, getting ahead of myself. When I realized my masters were not coming back, I began sleeping on the porch of the old couple next door. I figured they needed someone to guard
their property and alert them when someone drove into their yard. It didn’t take much effort for them to accept my presence. They already knew my name and even made a nice bed for me in the corner of the garage, in front of the big white monster. Speaking of that… I don’t like the monster. At my first home, their monster was outside and away from where I slept, so I didn’t notice it as much. But this one makes a growling noise every time these new master’s get inside and it whisks them off to who knows where. I worry every time they are taken away, because my previous masters were never brought back.

I remember right after I came to guard this new territory, the master’s grabbed me and shoved me into the white monster and it took us to an awful place. There, a stranger with white hands groped me all over and then let stinging insects bite me. I don’t know what happened next, but I felt myself floating up over a building somewhere. Then, I heard the joyful sounds of brothers and sisters as they came into view. I actually saw the Rainbow Bridge and saw all kinds of animals romping and playing and having a wonderful time.

Every animal knows about the Rainbow Bridge. It’s the forever land where the Great Master takes care of every one of us. There is food aplenty and never any stinging or biting insects or mean masters to hurt us. I was just beginning to trot toward the bridge, to cross over, when suddenly I heard my name being called. Who is that calling me? I very much wanted to continue toward the happy land with the lush green hills and beautiful woods and flowers, where I could meet old friends and make new ones.

There it is again… calling me. I felt myself lose sight of that beautiful land, and heard the creaking of a door opening somewhere. I ventured to open one eye and saw my new master’s faces peering at me through bars and wire. I huffed a mild snort and closed my eye. Then I felt myself being lifted gently into the arms of Lady Master as she wrapped me within the warm folds of my blue blanket. I nestled close and breathed in her smell. She always smells like good food and it makes me feel safe. Anyway, I hardly remember the ride in the white monster, but I knew when we arrived home by the sounds of the birds. There are always birds
around my property.

Lady Master laid me on my soft bed in front of the silent, white monster and I fell back into a deep sleep again. The night seemed to pass quickly and before long I heard the Masters
stirring around in the house and could smell the mouth-watering odor of bacon. I knew it wouldn’t be long before a nice plateful of breakfast would be brought out for me, so I tried to stand up. I was still weak and hurting inside, but was soon able to move gingerly out of the garage and make my way across the large back yard toward the pond.

I checked out all my territorial marks and freshened each place where I was able. As I came back toward the house I saw Lady Master bringing morsels of chicken to place on the high shelf. She pitched one small piece to me and I caught it mid-air. As soon as she’d placed the food onto the shelf, I looked up as Claw and Talon swooped in to clutch the offerings and fly off. They lit high up in an old leafless oak tree to have their breakfast.

Ever since I’ve been knowing them, these new masters have fed Claw and Talon during the frigid weather, when their food is scarce. Understand now, these large birds are Red-Shouldered Hawks and are very shy of humans. But the gentleness of my master’s voices and the noninvasive way they provide food has won them over.

Claw and Talon sit on limbs of the beech tree just a few yards off the patio and call - in their high scream - to alert Lady Master of their hunger. They know that within a few minutes she’ll bring their breakfast out and place it on the high shelf.

I’ve seen them swoop down to grasp a gizzard with Lady still standing there. She doesn’t move. Just stands still as they come and go, flying off to the tall oak beyond the pond, at the edge of the deep woods.

The raucous crows are called Robber Barons by my masters, and seem to be always near by. They send out the feeding calls to each other every time the Lady Master brings out the morsels. They fly in by groups, taking turns to zoom in on the tasty chunks. Within a few seconds it’s all devoured. By the time Claw and Talon show up again, all their food has been eaten. I’ve seen Lady Master running out and trying to shoo away the Robber Barons, but it’s a losing battle for her.
I’m now thinking that this may also be part of my job here, keeping the food safe for the pair of hawks. I reckon I’ll spend the time it takes for me to guard the high shelf whenever there’s food up there. I guess I’d better be on the lookout as much as possible to help my master.

I scout the property constantly to warn away anything I catch venturing into my territory. The other day a family of turkeys was down by the pond for a drink of the cool water. I lay hidden in the tall grass and watched them. I don’t usually bother the animals when they come to the pond, only if they begin coming toward the patio. That’s when I stand up. Usually, that’s all it takes for them to head for the woods.

At night it’s difficult for me to get my beauty sleep. I’m awakened several times most every night to chase the woodland creatures who come onto my territory to forage for the tender greens in Lady Master’s flower garden or Gentleman Master’s vegetable patch. Of course, while the weather is very cold, there isn’t much there for them to get, and this does make my job a little easier.

But now that the winds blow cold and the rain stings with fingers of ice, I find it even more difficult to sense when an intruder comes searching during the dark hours. I try to nestle
deep within the folds of the thick, blue blanket and nap while I can. When the wind whistles around the big white monster, I like to think it’s there protecting me too. It never moves or makes a sound. Now that I think of it, the white monster only growls when Masters come outside and touch it. That’s when I run and vacate the garage as quickly as I can.

Whenever the monster takes my masters away, I always watch to see which way they go. That way I can guess which way they’ll return from. I stay on the alert for the sound of the monster and always run to greet them. Strictly for their benefit, I race before the white monster, then off to circle the fringes of my territory to assure them that I’m on duty for their protection.
Sometimes they bring a nice container of wonderful food. Lady Master always touches my head and makes nice sounds as she places the container down in front of me. If I’m feeling particularly happy, I’ll dance a small jig and yip two or three times. This antic seems to please her greatly and she smiles and laughs and says more of the nice sounds.

When I awoke this morning to the sound of the slamming screen door at the kitchen, I knew Lady Master was headed out to the high shelf with food for Claw and Talon. I ran as fast as I
could to get there before she could get back in the house. I wanted her to see that I was taking my new job seriously. She leaned down and clapped her hands at me and laughed and touched the top of my head.

She had placed six chicken gizzards on the shelf, so I stood still and heard the high scream of the hawks as they thanked her for their breakfast, and then to watch as Claw and Talon swooped in to each grab a chunk and head back out to their favorite tree.

Lady Master left me in charge and she went back into the house and closed the door. I stood very still and listened. Very soon I heard the Robber Barons talking to each other and they began to mock the high scream of the hawks. But, they didn’t fool me. I could see Claw and Talon from where I stood, so I knew they were not making those sounds.

Before I knew what was happening though, a blur of black wings swept down and grabbed a gizzard. Just as another was diving toward the shelf, I began jumping and barking. I thwarted the thievery with very little effort. I was able to keep the robbers at bay until the hawks came and finished their breakfast. I pranced around the yard, just beyond the patio, where I knew Lady Master would see that I was attentive to my new job. Claw and Talon were very happy with my efforts, too. They screamed their thanks from the tall oak beyond the pond.

I really love having a lot to do all year long. In my line of breeding, we shepherds have the need to guard and tend to territory. We know where our borders are and as long as we are healthy, we are diligent and capable of maintaining order within those confines.

Sometimes I feel I am needed back up at the place where my previous masters lived. A new young couple have moved in there and they have two tiny people who play out in the back yard that I used to keep. I stand at my new border and watch. I bark loudly when I see one of the tiny ones toddling toward me. I’m begging them to call me to come protect them, but the young lady comes and calls the tiny people inside. She shoo’s at me. I wag my tail and prance so she can see how healthy and ready I am to help guard them. But she never calls me. Patience is one of my best virtues, so I’ll be prepared when they do need me.

The winter is nearly past now, and Claw and Talon come less often lately. Their natural food supply has become more available since the sun has begun to melt away the cold from the ground. I’ll miss scattering the Robber Barons from the high shelf, but the temperate weather of Spring brings greater responsibility as far as they are concerned. You see, they actually follow Gentleman Master as he plants the corn seeds in neatly furrowed earth.

Whenever my masters are working in their gardens, I am constantly marching the area. My sense of smell keeps me on the alert for all predators who desire to partake of the succulent plants.The rabbit families seem to prefer the tender shoots of lettuce, but they’ll devour anything from the gardens that’s green. At night the deer and raccoons come to drink from the pond and I catch them sniffing the air and glancing toward the verdant gardens. They can detect my presence easily, and they don’t venture toward that area. Of course, if they are very young, they don’t know about me yet, and those are the ones I have the most trouble with. Each year there’s a new crop of babies that are led to the pond. They try to come to the gardens, even against their mother’s warnings. I lower my head and tip steadily toward them, growling as I go. They stand still, as if they are statues. But when I get too close, they turn and fly back to the safety of the deep woods. This little game makes me happy and keeps me on my toes.

My greatest joy lies in doing my job well. My masters seem to appreciate my efforts too. They provide me with a clean, comfortable place to rest at night. The food couldn’t be better. And when the summer storms come with frightening lightning and booming thunder, they’ll open the door and allow me inside. I lay on the thick rug in the cozy room where my master’s rattle papers and watch a large black box with very little people running through it.

All told, my life here could hardly be better, but sometimes I recall the Rainbow Bridge and the joyous sound of my brothers and sisters running happily through that wonderful place. I do hope that the Great Master will have a spot picked out for me to guard for Him. I don’t think I could enjoy life without work. After all, work is what keeps us young. Don’t you think?

The Hunter

A fictional story written by Priscilla B. Shuler

Me and my older brother, Duke, who was twelve, and Eddie, who was soon to turn twelve, had been together all day. (Eddie is Uncle Norton’s and Aunt Julia’s son.) We’d been out scouting the neighborhood, seeing how much benign devilment we could accomplish in the remaining hours before we’d all have to pack to leave, and get back to our respective homes in Alexandria.

Coming to the family home in South Carolina for the Thanksgiving reunion was the highlight of any year that we could actually make it. For the three previous years we’d been in France and besides, I’d have been too young to be included in Uncle Norton’s plans before now.

“Vince, Oh Vince! Come on out here, boy!” Hearing my favorite uncle hollering for me was like a well of joy flooding my soul. I’d heard ‘em all - Uncle Norton, Uncle Theodore and Daddy - talking at breakfast this morning about the possibility of a ’coon hunt this evening, and I’d been praying they’d include me.

He was calling me from the porch of The Little House out behind Memom’s big house. The Little House was built for overflow when all of her children came home at the same time. Uncle Theodore, whose wife had been dead many years, was staying out there during this visit, while our family and Uncle Norton’s family were in the large upstairs bedrooms of the big house. I went bounding out of the bathroom, while stuffing my shirt down in my pants, ran through the kitchen, and banged out the back door, and across the lawn toward the gathering. Duke and Eddie were standing with the men near an old truck.

‘Uncle’ Henry Kelly was up in the bed of the truck with three hound dogs, that appeared almost as excited as I was.

I stopped, close up next to Daddy. He laid his hand on my shoulder and asked, “Do you think you’re up to a little ’coon hunting this evening, son?”

My heart was pounding wildly, and all I could do was nod my head and try to look serious. I glanced at Duke and Eddie, and they were grinning like ‘possums. We boys had been talking of just this possibility while we were out playing earlier.

“Go tell your mama to get some huntin’ clothes on you. We’ll be leaving as soon as you’re ready,” said Daddy.

Mama had some old clothes (most of which were too large) laid out in an upstairs bedroom, and it didn’t take two minutes for me to get changed. Some old knee-high rubber boots were held onto my feet by about four pair of heavy socks. Without questioning I put on everything that was there, and bounded back down the stairs and through the house at break-neck speed. Mama called, “You stick close to your daddy, now!”

Jostling in the back of the truck with ’Uncle’ Henry, and fighting off the dog’s wet noses and tongues, kept us all in gales of laughter. It was so wonderful to be included on such an adventure. I hoped we wouldn’t get home ‘til Christmas.

As I looked up, all of a sudden I realized that there was no more open sky. In fact, the trees were so thick around us, that their limbs were brushing the sides of the truck, as we plowed onward, deeper into the Wateree River Swamp. The darkness felt almost liquid as it enveloped us. We finally came to a stop in a large clearing.

The dogs went crazy, jumping over the sides, circling and barking excitedly, and then running off into the darkness. ‘Uncle’ Henry was getting all the stuff out of the truck and while he was busy, Daddy and Uncle Norton told me and Duke and Eddie to.. “..always stay in sight.- no playing games - keep close.”

A few minutes after we’d each been given what we were supposed to tote (I had the box of bullets, which I slid into my right front pocket, Duke had the axe, Eddie carried extra batteries), we heard the dogs barking off in the distance.

With us boys walking behind Uncle Theodore, who had the lantern held high, and Daddy, Uncle Norton, and Henry bringing up the rear, we trekked toward the sound of the dogs. We walked for what must have been twenty minutes through thick undergrowth, crossing shallow creeks and stepping over fallen logs. Then the barking stopped. That’s when we stopped.

I stood silently, listening to Duke and Eddie whispering of needing to pee. The men were talking of whether or not to settle in where we were, when the dogs began barking pretty close by. Uncle Norton picked up the rifle, Uncle Theodore took the lantern, and Daddy had the flashlight. Henry had the tow sacks slung over his arm and said, “Fall in, boys.”

By the time the dogs sounded like they were just “right over there”, we came upon what looked like a wide, deep stream. Since Uncle Norton had the rifle, and I was carrying the bullets, he put me on his shoulders to ford the stream. We all waded into the icy black water together. I saw Duke and Eddie being held up by Daddy and Henry in neck-deep water. Uncle Theodore had already made it across, and was waiting for us.

From my vantage point, I could see we were quickly getting deeper than Daddy and Henry. Uncle Norton said, “Vince, hold the rifle up over your head with both hands. Looks like the water is a tad deeper here.”

As I took the gun from his upraised hands, he grabbed both my legs with his arms and held them tight to his chest. I was in disbelief when his head actually went under the water for about three or four seconds and then, thankfully, I could see the top of it emerging as we ascended the far bank.

Once we were all up on the bank, Uncle Theodore said, “Looks like we’re gonna hafta build a fire right now! You boys find some dry wood. Henry, you clear the area. We’re gonna go check out the dogs.”

I could hear the baying sound of dogs who’d treed a ‘coon. The men left us with Henry to get the fire built. Soon, their voices were out of earshot, and it sounded like the dogs were on the run again. I wondered if the rifle had any bullets in it, as I still had the box he’d given me, in my pocket.

With lotsa’ shaking, and teeth clinchin‘, we got the ground cleared away enough to where it was safe to build a fire, but I was wondering if the matches had gotten wet. Henry was jabbing long sticks upright in the dirt around the rocks where the firewood was laid. He then took his hat off his head and reached inside the band and took out a book of matches. He soon had a nice fire going and he told us to take off our wet clothes.

I thought I’d freeze to death for sure doing that. My teeth wouldn’t even keep shut they were chattering so hard. But I followed Duke’s and Eddie’s example, and stripped down to my shorts. We poured the water out of our boots and upended them on the sticks. We wrung as much water out of the clothes as we could, and slung them over the cross sticks that Henry had laid upon the upright ones.

Henry also stripped down, then laid on the tow sacks, and was asleep in five minutes. Time passed as we huddled as close in to the fire as possible without scorching ourselves. The smell was bad, but was even worse when Edward decided to pee into the edge of the blaze. Soon as he’d done it, Duke and I decided we had to. We were laughing so hard we actually forgot that we were on the far side of freezing.

Then Eddie - he was always up to doing something real bad - found a long thin straw and stuck it into the glowing ashes. He then slipped quietly over to the other side of the fire and slid that straw in between two toes on ‘Uncle’ Henry’s foot.

Duke and I had a conniption fit and began wrestling with Eddie to get over to take the straw out before it burned down. ‘Uncle’ Henry must have been woken up by our tussling and saw what was going on. He threw the straw into the fire and grabbed Eddie by the seat of his shorts, and tore up his behind. (Not really hard, but enough to embarrass him in front of us.) “I forgive you, young Eddie, but jus’ think of how bad I’d’a suffered wid a big ol’ blistah ‘twix ma toes,” Henry said.

Eddie actually began dropping big tears down his cheeks without making any sound, and then he slid both arms around Henry’s neck. “I love you ‘Uncle’ Henry. I’m sorry. I never thought about it hurting you.”

Henry sat back down, snuffled and wiped his nose on the back of his big black hand, and looked at us boys. “Allus think about what you want to be a-doin’ a’fore you does it. Now, turn dem clothes an’ try to git a’lilla shet’eye whil’s de gittin’s good.”

I dozed off and on, laying curled up on a thin bed of dry leaves. Turning over and over, I felt like a spitted hog. It seemed like many hours passed before we heard the men coming back. I could see Uncle Theodore behind the lantern with Daddy and Uncle Norton behind him. They had been all the way back to the truck and gotten a tarp.

They proceeded to set up a kinda wall to capture the heat from the fire. Then they stripped down too, while we piled on more wood. I listened in awe as the men talked of other times, like when they were taken out with Big Daddy, as boys, into this self same swamp. How the boar ‘coon had attacked ‘Old Capp‘ and how Henry’s wife had made some foul-smelling ointment to slather on the cuts, but it had done the trick. ‘Old Capp’ lived long enough to die of old age back in ‘56.

Off in the distance, I could hear the hounds yapping and barking and heading in our direction. The men grabbed their semidry clothes and pulled them on. Uncle Norton looked at me, and grinned, “Where’s ‘at box of bullets, son? I think we’re gonna need ‘em this time.”

I went to my pants, hanging by the fire, got the damp box and handed it to him. “Good boy! Don’t ever forget your bullets when you go a-huntin’, Vinny.” He reached over to scruffle the top of my head.

Henry roused and began to put on his clothes. “Git dressed, boys, while I outen the fire. We’re gonna go git us a ‘coon,” he said.

Within a very few minutes we were walking single file behind Henry, who was now carrying the lantern. The men had taken the large flashlight with them. We headed toward the ever increasing sounds of the hounds and the voices of the men.

“There he is, there! See his eyes!” cried Uncle Theodore, shining the light straight up in a huge hardwood. The ‘coon was walking along a limb, trying to make it over to another tree. “Shoot him b’fore he gets to that oak! It’s got a big hole and we might never git him out.”

“I need to get better sight of ‘im, Theo,” complained Uncle Norton.

“Here, give the damn gun to me, I’ll shoot ‘im,” Theodore answered.

“Okay, you’re so smart, you get the rascal, but don’t you mess up his fur. We can get a good price for that pelt.” said Uncle Norton, as he held out the rifle.

Theodore took the gun just as the ‘coon slid out of sight into the gaping black hole high up in the leafless oak.

“Henry, bring that axe! Now you chop away right here.” Uncle Theodore indicated the place on the tree trunk with the barrel of the rifle. Then looking to daddy, he said, “Arthur, hold the light on that hole. I’ll be ready when he comes out.”

Henry chopped at that tree for about fifteen minutes, and still no sign of that ‘coon . Pretty soon, the flashlight was aimed at the chopping; since they figured that the entire tree would have to come down before the ‘coon would come out. No one noticed that the dogs were barking again at a nearby tree. That is, until we heard Uncle Norton’s frantic voice. “Bring the light over here, quick! That ‘coon is wadded up here in the crotch of this ole’ saplin’!”.

Quitting the chopping, we ran the few yards, wavering the flashlight, to the new site. With one crack of the 22, Theodore got the ‘coon. I saw it fall like a rock. It hit the ground and was set upon immediately by the dogs. They mouthed it, sniffed it, picked it up and dropped it a few times, until the men pulled them away.

My insides were churning over the sight of such a wild and beautiful animal being taken down. I also knew that ‘men’ didn’t feel such sorrow. I steeled my feelings to accept this as part of my growing experience; taking my mind into a manly environment for safety.

Henry dropped the ‘coon into a tow sack, tied a small rope around the top and slung it over his shoulder, smiling to himself.

“You’ll get a good price for this ‘un, Henry,” said Uncle Norton, reading Henry’s mind. “Well, boys, it’s pretty late, and the dogs are tuckered, and so am I. We need to get home and outa these wet clothes. How ’bout us headin’ outa here?” said Daddy. “We don’t want our mamas frettin’ about us, now do we?”

Our return trip back to the truck took a little longer. We veered upland to cross that deep creek at a narrower point. The men had gone this way back to the truck earlier to get the tarp. We made it across in just knee deep water. I hardly noticed the cold, but I could feel my innards beginning to grind from hunger.

When we got back to the site where we’d had the fire, the dogs were asleep together in a pile. We went on toward the truck, still yet a good piece away. I could see some lightening of the darkness through the heavy woods toward the east. I’d had no idea we’d been out all night until then.

At the truck, Daddy got the horn and blew it several times. Before long I heard the dogs yapping toward us through the darkness. They jumped up into the truck bed and lay down.

Henry loaded up everything, and once we boys were settled down, he covered us with the tarp. I woke up when we pulled up to Henry’s house. We waved goodbye to him and his wife, who’d come out onto the porch. My stomach did a jig, smelling the ham she was cooking.

Some while later, we pulled into my grandmother’s backyard and went into The Little House to strip down in front of the oil heater and take our showers. All three of us boys showered together. I don’t think we got very clean, with all the elbows and knees, but we did the best we could.

Daddy and my two uncles were allowed in the big house to get cleaned up. Our fresh clothes had been laid out on the bunks and by the time I got dressed, Duke and Eddie were already out the door, headed across the backyard toward the big house. I stopped midway to watch, as the sun began to peek over the horizon, and to see the frost sparkling beneath my feet. I took a deep breath and blew smoke into the air and the intake of my second breath brought the unmistakable odor of sausage and ham. I was drooling by the time I slipped through the back door and entered the warm, comforting kitchen.

The long table was laden with food. There was a saucer of pressed butter, crusty biscuits, a quart jar of home-canned fig preserves, a big blue bowl of grits, a platter of sausages and ham slabs, a shallow pitcher full of red-eye gravy, and a large, low bowl of eggs, all fluffy and yellow.

Memom had poured milk for us boys, but I wanted a cup of that dark coffee. It smelled so good. But Daddy had told me before that I could have coffee, once I became sixteen, and not until then. This was another event to look forward to, now that ’coon hunting was ‘under my belt’.

Daddy said grace as soon as I was seated. I listened, in heaven, as talk around the table began about our hunting trip. Hearing the embellishments, roaring with laughter, reliving the crossing of the deep creek - all of it was almost better than the experience.

I had one of the best times of my life that night, but I found out some things which have made a difference in my life, too. Like how to treat other people, expecting no more of others than I do of myself. And especially not complaining of things which cannot be changed at the moment, but rather, finding the joy, even in discomfort.

I also found something else very important about myself. I am not cut out to be a hunter. I’m too soft-hearted. I’ve got too much empathy, too much caring about the wild things to desire to take away their lives. I guess maybe I was born a hundred years too late for the necessity of hunting for sustenance. And for that, I’m grateful to God.