Read Online The World Ends In Hickory Hollow by Ardath Mayhar - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ardath Mayhar
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tedious and frustrating job was never dreamed of, but when it was leavened with firelight and lamplight and stories of their grandmother's youth, it went almost effortlessly.
I had a lapful of socks, and Mom Allie and Suzi were mending knees in the children's outdoor clothes. Zack was oiling harness, rubbing the rich-smelling stuff into the dark old leather until it ran supple and living between his hands. No word passed between us of the discoveries the day had brought. The children knew what was necessary to make them cautious. We had no intention of making them afraid.
The bag of cracked nuts (Zack had shattered the tough hickories with his hammer on an iron block before turning them over to the children) went down at a slow but steady rate. Candy struggled with her fat fingers, being entirely too young to be trusted with a sharp nutpick. Eyes grew heavy. By the time the bag was empty, all four young ones were ready for bed.
When they had been bundled into their flannels and shooed upstairs, we turned to Nellie.
"Tomorrow we're going back to check on the other folks down your way," Zack said to her. "We'll take your car, if you don't mind, so we won't have to go through the woods.
"We need to know who is down there, if you'll tell us."
She sighed, and her good eye closed for a moment. Then she hitched herself up and said, "All right. I hate to think what might be going on down there tonight. So."
She thought a minute. "By the road, you'll have a time knowing where to turn off to find the next house downriver from ours. There's what looks like a logging road, all arched over with trees. Thick brush on either hand. But you can tell, because there's a great big hickory tree just beside it. I mean a giant tree. Just past it, on the right, there's the track. The Fanchers live down there. Black folks, fairly young couple. They've got a bunch of children--seven or eight, maybe. The oldest might be eleven or so. Bill and Annie are good folks; just be careful how you approach them. They've had some bad experiences with white people. They came out of Tulsa ... bought the old Barron place through a real estate agent.
"When Claude Barron found out his old family place went to black people, he nearly went crazy. Bad streak in that family – always was. He has sneaked down there and shot at them ... yes sirree ," she insisted, when we looked incredulous. "He tried to set fire to the house in the middle of the night. Just God's mercy that their dog woke them up so they could put it out before it did more than scorch their back stoop. Claude got them so nervous and suspicious that they hardly go anyplace or have anybody visit them.
"If they're there now, and I'd say they are, being sensible people, they're going to be antsy. Go easy. Blow the horn twice before you get to the house. They know the Plymouth's horn. When you get up to their back fence, stop and get out, all of you, so they can see you're not hiding anything. They shoot pretty quick, and I don't blame them."
She stopped for a moment, resting and thinking. Then she said, "About a mile down the road from their turnoff is a cattle guard between two old chinquapin trees. You can't see the house from the road, for the Jessups built their house way down as close to the river as they could find high ground. Just follow their road. It's on a dump through the low places, so it doesn't get under water when the river rises. It may be that just Horace and Carrie will be there, or their kids may have come home, after the blowup. If they could. Two girls in college and a son in the insurance business in Shreveport.
"Next one is a big deal–brick pillars with a wrought-iron archway over the top. Greenwillow , they call the place. I doubt the Greens will be there, though. It was just their vacation home, even if it is the size of a small hotel. Anyway, I heard that they were spending the winter in Europe. If that's so, I doubt they'll ever get back, if they're still alive at
I had a lapful of socks, and Mom Allie and Suzi were mending knees in the children's outdoor clothes. Zack was oiling harness, rubbing the rich-smelling stuff into the dark old leather until it ran supple and living between his hands. No word passed between us of the discoveries the day had brought. The children knew what was necessary to make them cautious. We had no intention of making them afraid.
The bag of cracked nuts (Zack had shattered the tough hickories with his hammer on an iron block before turning them over to the children) went down at a slow but steady rate. Candy struggled with her fat fingers, being entirely too young to be trusted with a sharp nutpick. Eyes grew heavy. By the time the bag was empty, all four young ones were ready for bed.
When they had been bundled into their flannels and shooed upstairs, we turned to Nellie.
"Tomorrow we're going back to check on the other folks down your way," Zack said to her. "We'll take your car, if you don't mind, so we won't have to go through the woods.
"We need to know who is down there, if you'll tell us."
She sighed, and her good eye closed for a moment. Then she hitched herself up and said, "All right. I hate to think what might be going on down there tonight. So."
She thought a minute. "By the road, you'll have a time knowing where to turn off to find the next house downriver from ours. There's what looks like a logging road, all arched over with trees. Thick brush on either hand. But you can tell, because there's a great big hickory tree just beside it. I mean a giant tree. Just past it, on the right, there's the track. The Fanchers live down there. Black folks, fairly young couple. They've got a bunch of children--seven or eight, maybe. The oldest might be eleven or so. Bill and Annie are good folks; just be careful how you approach them. They've had some bad experiences with white people. They came out of Tulsa ... bought the old Barron place through a real estate agent.
"When Claude Barron found out his old family place went to black people, he nearly went crazy. Bad streak in that family – always was. He has sneaked down there and shot at them ... yes sirree ," she insisted, when we looked incredulous. "He tried to set fire to the house in the middle of the night. Just God's mercy that their dog woke them up so they could put it out before it did more than scorch their back stoop. Claude got them so nervous and suspicious that they hardly go anyplace or have anybody visit them.
"If they're there now, and I'd say they are, being sensible people, they're going to be antsy. Go easy. Blow the horn twice before you get to the house. They know the Plymouth's horn. When you get up to their back fence, stop and get out, all of you, so they can see you're not hiding anything. They shoot pretty quick, and I don't blame them."
She stopped for a moment, resting and thinking. Then she said, "About a mile down the road from their turnoff is a cattle guard between two old chinquapin trees. You can't see the house from the road, for the Jessups built their house way down as close to the river as they could find high ground. Just follow their road. It's on a dump through the low places, so it doesn't get under water when the river rises. It may be that just Horace and Carrie will be there, or their kids may have come home, after the blowup. If they could. Two girls in college and a son in the insurance business in Shreveport.
"Next one is a big deal–brick pillars with a wrought-iron archway over the top. Greenwillow , they call the place. I doubt the Greens will be there, though. It was just their vacation home, even if it is the size of a small hotel. Anyway, I heard that they were spending the winter in Europe. If that's so, I doubt they'll ever get back, if they're still alive at
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