[Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek (23 page)

Read [Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek Online

Authors: Jan Watson

BOOK: [Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek
2.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Bubbles rolled and popped in the kettle, catching Copper’s attention. Turning her focus back to her work, Copper took the hen off the line and dunked it in the roiling water. Up and down, then up and down some more. The black-and-white feathers loosened, and she easily plucked the chicken bald, except for a few tenacious pinfeathers.
Copper had done this task a hundred times. As she worked, she wondered why Mam’s friend never came to visit. Millicent ought to know after all her times of asking that Mam wasn’t going there, Copper mused as she hung the pitiful-looking bird back on the line. She rolled an old piece of newsprint into a tight cone and stuck the end of it into the fire.
As expected, Willy came running. He liked anything to do with fire. “Can I do it, Sissy? Can I fire the bird?”
“It’s called
singeing,
Willy.” She guided the burning paper around the hen. “We want to scorch off all the little pinfeathers.”
Willy held his nose. “Boy howdy, that stinks.”
“Yes it does,” Copper agreed, ruffling Willy’s hair. “Let’s keep our minds on how good the dumplings will taste.”
 
Supper was especially good tonight. Mam made fine dumplings, and the chicken was fork tender.
“Do you think it was a possum that made off with the other two hens, Daddy?” Copper asked.
“Seems like something bigger,” he replied between mouthfuls, forking up another helping of dumplings. “A possum or a coon would likely get just one. Something rode one side of the fence around the henhouse down to the ground. I shored it back up.”
“Maybe it was a bear,” Willy added.
Mam looked startled. “Will, surely not.”
“Don’t fret,” Daddy replied. “Bears don’t much like chicken.”
“Shucks,” Willy said. “I wish chickens had four legs. Are you going to eat your drumstick, Daniel?”
Mam stood and put the kettle on the stove. “Willy, leave your brother’s food alone. Daniel, eat your supper or you’re going straight to bed.”
“I can’t eat all this, Mam,” he said and turned his head away as if his plate held a shovelful of food.
Daddy pushed back his chair and went to the tall cupboard in the corner of the room. He took down his slingshot—Copper’s favorite weapon—and headed for the door. “You kids finish up and we’ll have a little target practice.”
Copper quickly started scraping the plates. Mam turned her back, and Daniel slid his drumstick onto Willy’s plate. Lickety-split, Daniel was finished with his supper.
“May we be excused, Mam?” Willy asked.
“Yes, go on,” Mam said. “And you too, Laura Grace. I’ll do the dishes tonight.”
Something strange has happened to Mam,
Copper thought. But she didn’t give Mam time to change her mind. She was out the door on the heels of the twins. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on that sling.
Whir, whir, whir,
round and round over her head, then release. The little pebble she slung hit the barn door with a rewarding
thunk
.
“That’s good, Daughter.” Her father’s voice was proud. “Now loosen your grip just a little and aim higher.”
Copper did as Daddy instructed and hit the bull’s-eye midcenter. “I could do this all night,” she exclaimed. She loved the feel of the smooth leather in her hand and the power released from the sling’s pouch.
After taking their own turns, Willy and Daniel drifted away to do other things. Daddy retreated to the porch with his pipe. It was getting dark. Mam lit the coal-oil lamp in the kitchen window. But Copper stayed out, flinging stone after stone until she could hit the bull’s-eye every time.
 
Copper and the boys were all alone when the varmint came back to raid the henhouse once again.
A “hello to the house” woke them near midnight when John Pelfrey came to fetch Mam to help with the birthing of his mother’s latest baby. Daddy and Mam left with John, leaving Copper in charge.
While they were gone, Copper tossed and turned in her bed, twisting the bedclothes in a knot. She dreamed a large blackbird was pecking and cawing on the roof, trying to get into the house.
Sometime in the night, Willy climbed into her bed and placed his cold feet against the small of her back. “Sissy, wake up! Wake up! I’ve done something really bad.” Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto Copper’s face.
“Whatever is the matter?” She scrubbed her face, trying to wake up, and looked at Willy through scrunched-up eyes.
“Sissy, promise you won’t tell Daddy. Swear on a stack of Bibles.” He leaned into his sister and sniffled against her chest.
“I promise,” she answered. “Now what is it?”
“Swear, Sissy. Swear on a stack of Bibles!”
Copper yawned mightily, wishing to sink back under the bedclothes. “Oh, Willy, we don’t have a stack of Bibles. Besides, it’s a sin to swear. Just tell me.”
“I’ve done the biggest sin. . . .” He ducked his head, twisting the front of his nightshirt into a wad. “Well, okay, here it is . . . I left the henhouse door open, and something is eating all Mam’s chickens!”
Suddenly the squawking she was hearing made sense.
“Be very quiet so we don’t wake Daniel, and I’ll go and see what’s wrong.” She stepped out of bed and forced her feet into her shoes. That aggravating possum—she’d finally put an end to him.
“Good idea,” Willy said, his tears forgotten. “Daniel never could keep a secret.” He crept behind her as close as a shadow.
“It would behoove you to worry about the chickens rather than yourself,” she fussed as she cracked the kitchen door, admitting a bar of moonlight.
“I can do that. I can sure do that. I’m worried if some old rat-tailed possum eats them hens Daddy’s gonna behoove me good. Yes, siree, I’m real worried about them hens.” He placed a hand on his rear end as if he could already feel the sting of the paddle.
“I’ll take care of it, Willy. Here, stay on the porch and hold the lantern.” Taking pity on her brother, she paused to squeeze his shoulder.
Copper had nearly reached the rollicking chicken coop, a three-quarter moon lighting her way, when a frightening scene stopped her in her tracks. Between her and the henhouse stood a bobcat. A fine specimen—she judged him to be forty pounds at least. His back to her, his ears pricked, he stalked the boys’ pet rooster. Cock-a-Doodle was trapped against the fence, jumping about in an odd pirouette and flapping his wings.
Copper backtracked quickly, never taking her eyes from the varmint. Backing all the way into the kitchen, she pulled Willy and the lantern along with her. She dragged a straight-backed chair to the corner cupboard and stood on it to retrieve the leather sling. Placing the lantern on the washstand, she directed the dumbstruck Willy to stay in the house and shut the door behind her.
Searching the moonlit path, Copper chose a smooth, round stone, about the size of a marble, and seated it snugly into the leather pouch. Poor Cock-a-Doodle had exhausted himself in his futile attempt to escape and now lay flopping on the ground as his predator closed in. Copper took aim at the back of the bobcat’s head.
Wham!
The rock missed its mark and slammed instead against the wildcat’s rump. He turned on her, a warning growl releasing from deep in his throat.
This wasn’t as easy as the bull’s-eye on the barn door. Her mouth went dry, but she stood her ground. She wouldn’t let the hateful thing eat Cock-a-Doodle.
“Please, Jesus, help me finish this!” she prayed as she seated another stone. Her eyes and hands steady, she whirled the sling round and round, faster and faster, and let fly the missile that found its mark with lethal accuracy. The wildcat dropped without a sound, dead as four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon.
Just then, Willy flung open the cabin door and burst out with the lantern. Cock-a-Doodle perked right up and made a beeline for the light on the porch. Willy stood, mouth agape, the lamp dangling at his feet, as a dozen squawking, feather-ruffled hens, following the rooster’s lead, rushed into the house, through the open bedroom door, and straight under Mam’s bed.
“Now you’ve done it, Sissy,” he chided as Copper came in. “How will we explain feathers and chicken pats under Mam’s bed?”
“Well, Willy, what a fair-weather friend you’ve turned out to be.” Copper stood with her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Here I’ve saved your hide, and you have the audacity to blame me for letting the chickens into the house! Didn’t I tell you to keep the door closed?”
Tears returned to his sad little face. “I can’t be a fine-feathered friend, ’cause I ain’t got no feathers. And I don’t know what
aubacity
means, and you’re supposed to help me ’cause you’re my sister.”
“Fair-weather, Willy,” Copper corrected sharply. “It means . . . oh, never mind. Stop crying and I’ll let you see the wildcat.”
Once outside, Willy let out a long whistle and touched the dead cat’s body with one bare toe. He begged the sling from her and lobbed a couple of rock chips toward the barn door. “Know what this reminds me of, Sissy?” he asked finally. “David and the giant.”
She smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “Let’s see if the chickens have calmed down. We’ve got to get them out of the house somehow.”
They were calm all right. Copper couldn’t help but laugh when she pulled up the corner of the bedspread. In the light from the lamp she saw a mass of feathers under the bed. All the chickens, heads tucked under their wings, nested, fast asleep. The only one missing was Cock-a-Doodle. She sat back on her heels and held the lantern high. Finally she spotted him perched on the headboard of Mam and Daddy’s bed, proud as a peacock. Copper laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks.
Willy tapped Copper’s shoulder with one balled fist. “This ain’t one bit funny. I’m going to get a whipping if you don’t move them chickens before Mam comes home.”
Laughing all the way, Copper took Willy to the chicken house and positioned him at the door. He held the lantern high while she returned to the house and swept the feckless birds out from under the bed and through the kitchen with a broom. Once the chickens were safe and Cock-a-Doodle preening as if he alone had saved their lives, sister and brother climbed into bed with the softly snoring Daniel.
When they awoke the next morning, Mam and Daddy were back to tell of Aunt Emilee’s latest baby, a single after two sets of twins, and best of all a girl, after twelve boys. Copper was as proud as Cock-a-Doodle to hear about the baby girl named Julie Grace. She couldn’t wait to visit.
And even though Mam made Willy scrub the floor with lye soap, he still strutted like the rooster each time he told the story of his sister and the cat as big as Goliath.
CHAPTER 14
 
The first time Copper went back to the cave, she carried the sling she’d used to kill the wildcat and her basket on her arm. A passel of smooth, round stones jostled in the pocket of the borrowed overalls she’d finally shortened, bumping against her leg as she walked. She climbed steadily up the mountain alone. The twins were off playing with some of the Pelfrey boys, and she’d shut Paw-paw up in a stall in the stable. She didn’t want to lose him again. Besides, the cold weather made his old bones ache.
The days were turning cold and the nights colder still, and she knew animals would be seeking shelter in the caves. Bears were a special danger as they sought dens in which to sleep away the winter. The tunnel to her cave was too small to give passage to a bear, but there were many other caves branching off the mouth of the one she was headed for.
She was glad to be out for the day, away from the cabin that suddenly seemed too small to contain both her and Mam. Although Mam had stopped watching her every move, she still fussed about boarding school. Seemed like every meal now centered on conversation about Mam’s friend Millicent and Copper’s need for an education.
Millicent had even sent a letter to Copper, the first mail Copper had ever received. Millicent had tried to charm her with descriptions of dances and parties where she could meet other young people. And, she’d written, Copper could live with her and be a day student; she wouldn’t have to be a boarder.

Other books

Once Upon a Misty Bluegrass Hill by Rebecca Bernadette Mance
La dalia negra by James Ellroy
The Crooked Letter by Sean Williams
The Youngest Hero by Jerry B. Jenkins
Savage Scheme by J. Woods
Lizard World by Terry Richard Bazes