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Authors: Beth Gutcheon
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and was sym-
pathetic. “Terribly sad. Kept to herself almost completely after the
trials, though she kept up with her Osgood cousins, and there were a
lot of them.”
“Haskell cousins didn’t truck with her though,” said Grandfather.
“No. They wouldn’t,” said Granny. “We used to see her out
walking on the Kingdom Road in the evenings. She was always pleas-
ant, always greeted you.”
5 9
B E T H
G U T C H E O N
“Not much for chatting.” Grandfather would find this a good
quality.
“No. She had a little dog for a while, didn’t she, Ed?”
“Yes, some kind of terrier. Awful fond of it.”
“And what happened . . . something sad . . .”
“I think it bit people and someone shot it . . .”
“No, that was Ella Staples’s dog. I think Sallie’s was killed by
some animal. A raccoon. She was done up over it, and wouldn’t have
another. You know who Hannah should talk to, Ed? Cousin Amy Bell.
Amy Friend Bell, she’d enjoy a visit,” she said to me. “She always
spoke of Cousin Sallie.”
“ Cousin Sallie? Was she our cousin?”
“Well, now . . .” Granny got a crease between her eyebrows
when she pondered, and suddenly I could see in her old face the girl
she’d been, with a beautiful smile and a sense of fun, a girl you’d
want to be friends with.
“I used to be able to keep all this straight. Now . . . my father
was Thomas Friend, and he had two brothers. The oldest one, Jona-
than, married Aunt Mary, who was an Osgood—I think she was Sallie
Haskell’s aunt. So my Friend cousins on Jonathan’s side were Sallie’s
first cousins, but we’re just cousins by marriage. Cousin Amy will
know. We’ll go as soon as I’m back on my feet.”
I’m still sorry that visit never happened.
“It’s a good thing I came from away,” said Grandfather, “or
you’d have too many cousins in town to keep track of.”
I could see my grandmother tired easily. She was mending, but
she needed to take a rest in the afternoons. Grandfather offered to
drive me home, but Jewel Eaton went home right after lunch, and I
knew he didn’t want to leave Granny alone in the house. I kissed them
each good-bye and said I would enjoy the exercise.
I was walking west on the gravel shoulder of the tar road when
6 0
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
I heard a car bearing down on me from behind. I stepped off the
shoulder to let it pass. But it didn’t pass, and it wasn’t a car. It was
the strangest rattletrap truck—I learned later that it was a Model T,
one of the very first ones, with the backseat taken out. It was kept on
the road with ingenuity and spit, and it had one really distinguishing
characteristic: there was no fuel pump, so in order to get gas to the
engine when you went uphill, you had to go up backwards. On this
afternoon it had a half dozen lobster pots in the back. The driver was
a dark-haired boy with deep-set very pale eyes. He needed a shave.
In fact, he needed a bath. He pulled the truck off the road and came
to a stop so close to me that I thought at first there was something
menacing in him. He sat at the wheel looking at me.
“You could stand there staring,” he said, “or you could get in.”
I hesitated.
“They both got their points, but one’ll get you to town faster.”
I had to smile at that. He leaned over to open the door for me,
and I climbed in. He pulled the truck back onto the road.
“You the ones living in Fannie Hamor’s house?”
“How did you know that?”
“Saw you walking the other day. You aren’t any of the piano
tuner’s kids, ’cause I met all them, and those are the only other new
people up that road. Anyway, Jewel Eaton’s my grandmother.”
At that I looked at him again. “Are you Conary?”
“Are you guessing?”
“Not really,” I said. I had heard all about him, both from Mrs.
Eaton and at the library. I gathered he was an all-around wild seed. I
had the impression that Mrs. Pease and Mrs.
pathetic. “Terribly sad. Kept to herself almost completely after the
trials, though she kept up with her Osgood cousins, and there were a
lot of them.”
“Haskell cousins didn’t truck with her though,” said Grandfather.
“No. They wouldn’t,” said Granny. “We used to see her out
walking on the Kingdom Road in the evenings. She was always pleas-
ant, always greeted you.”
5 9
B E T H
G U T C H E O N
“Not much for chatting.” Grandfather would find this a good
quality.
“No. She had a little dog for a while, didn’t she, Ed?”
“Yes, some kind of terrier. Awful fond of it.”
“And what happened . . . something sad . . .”
“I think it bit people and someone shot it . . .”
“No, that was Ella Staples’s dog. I think Sallie’s was killed by
some animal. A raccoon. She was done up over it, and wouldn’t have
another. You know who Hannah should talk to, Ed? Cousin Amy Bell.
Amy Friend Bell, she’d enjoy a visit,” she said to me. “She always
spoke of Cousin Sallie.”
“ Cousin Sallie? Was she our cousin?”
“Well, now . . .” Granny got a crease between her eyebrows
when she pondered, and suddenly I could see in her old face the girl
she’d been, with a beautiful smile and a sense of fun, a girl you’d
want to be friends with.
“I used to be able to keep all this straight. Now . . . my father
was Thomas Friend, and he had two brothers. The oldest one, Jona-
than, married Aunt Mary, who was an Osgood—I think she was Sallie
Haskell’s aunt. So my Friend cousins on Jonathan’s side were Sallie’s
first cousins, but we’re just cousins by marriage. Cousin Amy will
know. We’ll go as soon as I’m back on my feet.”
I’m still sorry that visit never happened.
“It’s a good thing I came from away,” said Grandfather, “or
you’d have too many cousins in town to keep track of.”
I could see my grandmother tired easily. She was mending, but
she needed to take a rest in the afternoons. Grandfather offered to
drive me home, but Jewel Eaton went home right after lunch, and I
knew he didn’t want to leave Granny alone in the house. I kissed them
each good-bye and said I would enjoy the exercise.
I was walking west on the gravel shoulder of the tar road when
6 0
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
I heard a car bearing down on me from behind. I stepped off the
shoulder to let it pass. But it didn’t pass, and it wasn’t a car. It was
the strangest rattletrap truck—I learned later that it was a Model T,
one of the very first ones, with the backseat taken out. It was kept on
the road with ingenuity and spit, and it had one really distinguishing
characteristic: there was no fuel pump, so in order to get gas to the
engine when you went uphill, you had to go up backwards. On this
afternoon it had a half dozen lobster pots in the back. The driver was
a dark-haired boy with deep-set very pale eyes. He needed a shave.
In fact, he needed a bath. He pulled the truck off the road and came
to a stop so close to me that I thought at first there was something
menacing in him. He sat at the wheel looking at me.
“You could stand there staring,” he said, “or you could get in.”
I hesitated.
“They both got their points, but one’ll get you to town faster.”
I had to smile at that. He leaned over to open the door for me,
and I climbed in. He pulled the truck back onto the road.
“You the ones living in Fannie Hamor’s house?”
“How did you know that?”
“Saw you walking the other day. You aren’t any of the piano
tuner’s kids, ’cause I met all them, and those are the only other new
people up that road. Anyway, Jewel Eaton’s my grandmother.”
At that I looked at him again. “Are you Conary?”
“Are you guessing?”
“Not really,” I said. I had heard all about him, both from Mrs.
Eaton and at the library. I gathered he was an all-around wild seed. I
had the impression that Mrs. Pease and Mrs.
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