me.
“I’ve heard of him,” I said.
He started giggling. “He chop down cherry tree.”
“What are you laughing at?” I asked him.
“Cherry
tree.
Fun-ne-e-e.” He kept giggling.
“Why is it funny?”
“Cherry grow on
tree.
I no believe.”
“They do, though.”
“You see?”
“Oh, yes.”
“See
apple tree?”
“Loads of ’em.”
That really made him laugh. “How apple get on
tree?”
“They just grow there. Oranges, pears—they all grow on trees.”
He shook his head. It was hard for him to accept. “Potato?” he said mischievously.
“No, not potatoes.”
“Leddus?”
“No, lettuce grows right out of the ground. You know that.”
He laughed so much he had
me
giggling about it. When you saw it from his point of view, big pieces of fruit hanging from a spruce tree, or a birch, it did seem kind of funny.
Around noon, Mr. Strong stopped the pack train as we were making our way through a dense growth of cottonwood. The cowbells that had been clanking all the way down the line were quiet all of a sudden, and all I could hear were the merry waters of the meandering creek we’d been crossing and recrossing for a while.
“There it is, madam,” Mr. Strong said. “That is Chicken.”
I could barely make it out through the trees—a settlement about a mile away and a little below us. It was too far to really see what it was like.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Strong, I’d like to change my clothes.”
“What is the matter with what you have on?”
Miss Ivy had always told me that first impressions were important. “Always look your very best,” she said to me once. “No matter where you are you must try to be a lady.”
“I’d feel more comfortable if I were more properly dressed.”
Mr. Strong dismounted. “Will you want to wash up too?”
“I’d like to.”
He was nice about it, unpacked the suitcase I asked for and brought it to the edge of the creek.
“We camp here?” Chuck asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m going to change and wash up.” I took off the army coat, Chuck watching me, interested. I asked him to turn around before I took off my shirt and knickers. “And don’t look until I tell you to.”
“Why I do this, Tisha?” he asked with his back to me.
“It’s not important,” I said. “Just stay that way until I tell you it’s all right.” It would have been too muchtrouble to explain. When it came to modesty he didn’t have any, urinating and moving his bowels in full view without embarrassment.
After I finished I put the army coat back on and brought my suitcase back. I’d changed into a long black skirt, cotton stockings and white blouse. “You look quite nice, madam,” Mr. Strong said gallantly.
He put my suitcase back, then started moving down the line, checking the loads for the final time. “When we break out of these trees,” he said, “the animals are going to be in a hurry.”
There weren’t as many as we’d started out with, about ten left now. The rest had been left along the way.
I looked off at the settlement, my stomach doing flip-flops. This is it, I thought. I’m almost there. I’d come to a far place, just as my Grandmother Hobbs used to tell me I would. When I was a little girl back in Colorado I used to hate the places I lived in: Blazing Rag, Big Four, Laveta, Evansville. Mining towns full of company shacks, they were all ugly. I felt sure I’d be living in them forever, but Granny said no I wouldn’t and she’d been right.
“You be a teacher, Annie,” she used to tell me, “an’ you can go anywhere in the world you want.”
When I thought about her now I could see her as clearly as if she were right in front of me. As a little girl I used to wish that when I grew up I could be just like her. She wasn’t like anybody else in our whole family. The rest of us were light skinned and had blue eyes—or gray eyes like mine—and we were all very serious most of the time. But not Granny. She was a full-blooded
“I’ve heard of him,” I said.
He started giggling. “He chop down cherry tree.”
“What are you laughing at?” I asked him.
“Cherry
tree.
Fun-ne-e-e.” He kept giggling.
“Why is it funny?”
“Cherry grow on
tree.
I no believe.”
“They do, though.”
“You see?”
“Oh, yes.”
“See
apple tree?”
“Loads of ’em.”
That really made him laugh. “How apple get on
tree?”
“They just grow there. Oranges, pears—they all grow on trees.”
He shook his head. It was hard for him to accept. “Potato?” he said mischievously.
“No, not potatoes.”
“Leddus?”
“No, lettuce grows right out of the ground. You know that.”
He laughed so much he had
me
giggling about it. When you saw it from his point of view, big pieces of fruit hanging from a spruce tree, or a birch, it did seem kind of funny.
Around noon, Mr. Strong stopped the pack train as we were making our way through a dense growth of cottonwood. The cowbells that had been clanking all the way down the line were quiet all of a sudden, and all I could hear were the merry waters of the meandering creek we’d been crossing and recrossing for a while.
“There it is, madam,” Mr. Strong said. “That is Chicken.”
I could barely make it out through the trees—a settlement about a mile away and a little below us. It was too far to really see what it was like.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Strong, I’d like to change my clothes.”
“What is the matter with what you have on?”
Miss Ivy had always told me that first impressions were important. “Always look your very best,” she said to me once. “No matter where you are you must try to be a lady.”
“I’d feel more comfortable if I were more properly dressed.”
Mr. Strong dismounted. “Will you want to wash up too?”
“I’d like to.”
He was nice about it, unpacked the suitcase I asked for and brought it to the edge of the creek.
“We camp here?” Chuck asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m going to change and wash up.” I took off the army coat, Chuck watching me, interested. I asked him to turn around before I took off my shirt and knickers. “And don’t look until I tell you to.”
“Why I do this, Tisha?” he asked with his back to me.
“It’s not important,” I said. “Just stay that way until I tell you it’s all right.” It would have been too muchtrouble to explain. When it came to modesty he didn’t have any, urinating and moving his bowels in full view without embarrassment.
After I finished I put the army coat back on and brought my suitcase back. I’d changed into a long black skirt, cotton stockings and white blouse. “You look quite nice, madam,” Mr. Strong said gallantly.
He put my suitcase back, then started moving down the line, checking the loads for the final time. “When we break out of these trees,” he said, “the animals are going to be in a hurry.”
There weren’t as many as we’d started out with, about ten left now. The rest had been left along the way.
I looked off at the settlement, my stomach doing flip-flops. This is it, I thought. I’m almost there. I’d come to a far place, just as my Grandmother Hobbs used to tell me I would. When I was a little girl back in Colorado I used to hate the places I lived in: Blazing Rag, Big Four, Laveta, Evansville. Mining towns full of company shacks, they were all ugly. I felt sure I’d be living in them forever, but Granny said no I wouldn’t and she’d been right.
“You be a teacher, Annie,” she used to tell me, “an’ you can go anywhere in the world you want.”
When I thought about her now I could see her as clearly as if she were right in front of me. As a little girl I used to wish that when I grew up I could be just like her. She wasn’t like anybody else in our whole family. The rest of us were light skinned and had blue eyes—or gray eyes like mine—and we were all very serious most of the time. But not Granny. She was a full-blooded
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