All That Lives (25 page)

“The first thrust is the most difficult.” He had unpacked his Bible from his saddlebag and clasped it tightly to his chest
for comfort, watching Father begin the digging. According to the Being’s instructions he did not attempt to help with the
hard labor. He merely watched with sympathy, as Father, Dean, and Drewry grunted with the effort of shoveling wet earth.

For hours they dug around the perimeter while the Reverend and I watched, following the growing pile of dirt in a circle around
the great stone, listening whenever Father, Drewry and Dean attempted to analyze from which position they might most easily
lift the stone from the ground. They had discovered it was most firmly embedded as they had expected. The spring bubbled up
beside the rock, ensuring the red earth was wet and heavy, and the process slow and arduous. Dean was sent into the forest
with his trusted ax to fell two pole trees to use as levers.

“We ought to fix a prize for the first man to lift the stone from the ground,” the Reverend suggested, pacing helplessly by
the edge of the growing ditch. Standing to his knees in mud, Drewry set his shovel in and leaned on it.

“Endowing my dear sister with wealth for the rest of her days and providing solace for the Spirit of the immigrant is prize
enough for me!” He was trying to improve the atmosphere and I laughed with him, finding the thought of riches for the rest
of my days and the return of the disturbed Spirit back to where it had come from delightful.

“I would use such funds, unlike the poor soul who lost them, for the betterment of my relations,” I announced, skipping around
the circle to stand with sincerity before him.

“Dig, Drewry,” Father commanded, frowning at our attempts to lighten the task. I watched for a while longer, then around midday
I busied myself laying out the luncheon of cold meat and cornbread. The men took a break and the Reverend blessed the food
and our mission, and after they had finished eating I packed what was left away again in the saddlebags. I returned to the
edge of the stone to watch, but quickly grew restless with the monotonous heaving and piling up of earth, so I wandered to
the edge of the outcropping, following the spring in its path to the river.

I climbed down the hill a ways, and there I saw the stream progressed over a steep embankment, cascading in a long series
of waterfalls to meet the larger river. It was a dizzy and exciting view. I looked over my shoulder to wave to the Reverend
but I was too far down to see the men and the rock anymore. I made my way to the edge, pulling up my skirts so as not to wet
them. There was a comfortable rock just above the first fall, and carefully I made a place for myself there. The noise of
the bubbling water was peaceful and I was enjoying myself, feeling the strong sun on the top of my head. Leaning way out,
I braced my elbow on a dry stone and was able to take a long drink from the spring where the water ran fast and clear. There
is nothing so lovely as fresh spring water. When I’d drunk my fill, I turned to the carefree pleasure of slipping make-believe
boats into the rushing stream. Each twig I dropped was propelled over the edge and carried off down to the river with great
swiftness. It had been a long time since I sailed leaf and twig boats, and I began to daydream about the treasure.

What I wanted most was the Spirit’s swift return from whence it came, but if it should leave treasure in its wake, that could
be some compensation for the trials we had endured. I wished for a satin ribbon for my hair, and a pair of white silk stockings
to put away until the day I married. I thought I would purchase pounds of hard candy from Mr. Thorn for Richard and Joel,
and I would give a new velvet bonnet to Mother. Drewry should have an adventure storybook and John Jr. a beautiful new gun,
and for Father, I knew not what to purchase. I was not sure what he most would like. I gazed at two green maple leaves I had
dropped in the falls. They were caught in an eddy in a small pool beneath me, swirling in a perfect circle, chasing each other
madly before being swept down to the river. It came to me that Father might like a new riding crop, as I’d noticed the leather
on his current one had begun to fray.

I heard a rise of voices and excitement from the spring above and I jumped to my feet, practically tripping over myself in
my hurry to see what they had found. Through the combined efforts of Father, Dean and Drewry, and with the direction of Reverend
Johnston, I saw the men had managed to prize and tilt and raise the stone from its bedding, and it lay overturned beside the
mouth of the stream. Where it had been was a large circle of dark earth.

I reached the edge, and felt the air suddenly cold and dank, giving rise to tingles in the flesh along the back of my neck
and arms. I recognized the presence of the Spirit, but reasoned it was just the cold wind let out from under the rock.

“Look, there is nothing.” Father thrust his shovel into the damp red earth. Drewry dropped to his hands and knees, and began
digging with his fingers, mindful of any glittering or hard substance he might discover.

“The immigrant said it was beneath the rock, buried
beneath
it.” The Reverend stood close to the edge, leaning over the hole. “That’s it, Drewry boy. If you are tired, Jack, have Dean
continue the digging. It cannot be much deeper.” He had not given up. Father looked at him and then at Drewry, whose hands
and forearms were caked with red mud.

“Use the tools,” he said, thrusting the shovel into the earth close beside my brother. I felt a sinking in my chest as though
the great stone removed had fallen down inside me. If the treasure was under this rock which took three strong men near all
day to lift, how had the immigrant sunk it there? I watched the men dig deeper and deeper, and I watched the Reverend’s face
for some sign that God’s hand had worked alongside the immigrant, allowing the tale to be true, so I might buy my family presents
and be released from future torment, but soon the hole stood six feet wide and near as deep, and no treasure had been found.
The water which fed the stream had opened rivulets in the walls, and Father, Drewry and Dean were wet and exhausted from their
labor, full of mud and hungry, as it was near the end of the day.

“You have dug deeply here.” The Reverend shook his head in dismay, reluctant to be disappointed.

“There is nothing.” Father did not say he had known it would be so, but it was apparent he had finished with the task.

“It tricked us, evil thing, to satisfy its own malicious nature.” Drewry made a ball of mud and threw it down in anger.

Fools!

We had not heard a word from the Spirit all day, but I was not surprised when its wicked laughter rose from the pit the men
had dug.

What else will you do for the promise of riches?

No one responded. Instead, we made haste to load the tools and mount the horses, all of us despondent and much chagrined.

What fun we will have this evening!

The Spirit shouted, filling the forest with its nasty laughter before growing quiet.

We rode home in silence wishing the whispering leaves and the chattering of birds preparing for the night could stifle our
ugly thoughts.

“Why is it so mean?” Drewry slapped the reins gently on the horse’s back, speaking softly. I could not answer him, and only
shook my head before laying my cheek against his dirty sweat-filled shirt. I berated myself for having been foolish enough
to believe the Spirit, and I closed my eyes when we passed the stand of dogwood, for it glowed silver and recalled to me the
many coins lost to us. Even the farm hounds that ran ahead kept their noses to the ground and gave no bark.

Twilight was well settled when we rode into the yard, but a bright half-moon hung above the stables and we were surprised
to see no fewer than ten carts and buggies parked there.

“What’s this?” I heard Father grumble at the discovery. Zeke was waiting by the stable and he quickly took Father’s reins
in his big hands.

“While you was riding on the lands, suh, these folks done pulled up and pitched their tents, assured you were hospitable.
Miz Lucy had me see to all their horses.”

“From where have they come? I do not recognize the carts.” Father dismounted and assessed the numbers, gravely calculating
the extra feed and water he must dispense.

“They hail from far away, from the mountains of Kentucky, and the folk who own that wooden cart over near the hog pen say
they are Shakers, from the north.”

“Good gracious, Shakers!” The Reverend also dismounted and conferred quickly with my father. “No doubt now that the weather
is sublime you will be inundated with visitors who are curious regarding the phenomenon.” The Reverend took a deep breath,
causing his chest to barrel up, as if he must prepare to give a sermon. He brushed the dust of riding from his coat in anticipation
of addressing a crowd.

“What am I to do? Host the entire state of Tennessee and beyond, on my small farm?” Father stood annoyed and muddy, in his
working clothes, in no mood to be hospitable to strangers.

“You appear to have little choice in the matter, Jack.” The Reverend sighed and turned to his horse, unpacking his Bible from
the saddlebag. “Take the boy and clean up, and when you enter the house, strike as fine a form as only a man like you, John
Bell, can cut. I will entertain them for you until then.”

“Listen,” I interrupted. Drifting from the open windows of our home we heard many voices raised in song, led by the strong
timbre we recognized as the Spirit’s voice.

“Clearly,” Father’s tired eyes looked directly into my own before he spoke to the Reverend, “they are already entertained.”
He and Drewry went to the bath to wash, and I was sent to fetch new clothes for them. The Reverend took the path up to the
front door, but I strode up the hill from the stables and cut across the orchard so I might enter through the garden into
the kitchen. I did not wish to report the failure of our mission to anyone until Father and Drewry were by my side. In the
kitchen, two lamps burned and Chloe raced from the pantry to the stove, sweat pouring from the edges of her kerchief. A steaming
iron pot shook with heat on the wood-stove, and Chloe took no notice of me, busy as she was. I kept my head down, surprised
as I entered the dining room, for it seemed a hundred people occupied our house, and I recognized not one of them.

In truth, the number of persons present was less than half that, but still, I had to force my way through the crowd parting
for me without knowing who I was. I slipped behind a line of visitors perched along the banister, all the way up the stairs,
and glancing back I saw every chair in the parlor was taken, though I could not spot Joel or Richard, John Jr. or my mother.
The crowd occupying our house was involved in singing a song, led by the Spirit.

We walk by faith

And not by sight

And when our faith is done,

In realms of clearer light …

I managed to fetch the clothes and slip back down the stairs, holding close to the wall, bearing a new suit for Drewry from
his wardrobe, and an old suit of John Jr.’s for Father, since I did not wish to cross through the crowd in the parlor to get
one of Father’s own. I kept my eyes down but I felt no one looking at me, and as I walked through the dining room unnoticed,
I had the sense every stranger there was hypnotized and under a spell, so completely were they oblivious to me.

“It must be an angel, for it knows what only myself and my dead mother are aware of!” A small man with dark hair shouted this
revelation to the crowd as I stole out through the kitchen into the warm night. I glanced at Chloe but she turned her back,
withdrawing into the pantry.

I glided down the dark path to the necessary house, stepping lightly, stone to stone. Father had lit a candle by the hip bath
and I could see him and Drewry waiting. They had cleaned their bodies and faces in piggins, and stood in their underwear on
the flat platform. Father hastily reached for the linen trousers, cotton shirt and woven coat I’d brought, while I explained
there were too many people in the parlor for me to fetch his own.

“ ’Tis no matter. Who is present?”

“I saw no one known to me,” I told him, and stared up at the moon and stars, for they looked suddenly closer than normal,
and I felt dizzy, as if I were falling into the sky.

“What of your mother?” Father caught my arm and roughly drew his opposite arm into John Jr.’s jacket. “I did not expect to
see the day when an invisible demon would host a party of strangers in our home.”

“They are singing hymns, Father. ‘We Walk by Faith.’”

The three of us looked up the hill across the garden to the house, pulsing with light and the noise of many voices. We heard
talking and laughing, and a song of unintelligible syllables drifting down to us, and without speaking Drewry and Father each
took up one of my hands in their own.

“Undoubtedly, it means to mock us with an audience.” Drewry shook his hair and lingering drops of water from his wash were
thrown onto my cheeks.