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Authors: Jan Watson

[Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek (27 page)

BOOK: [Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek
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Copper nodded before taking her coat off a hook by the door. “I’m going to the barn. I want to hear the animals talk before I go to bed.”
“Next year you’ll have to tell Daniel and Willy the story about the animals,” Mam said.
“They really do talk, you know,” Copper said thoughtfully. “They tell of the night Jesus was born. You just have to know how to listen.”
CHAPTER 16
 
Copper leaned against the stubborn stable door and pushed it open. She lit the lantern and turned the wick until it cast the palest yellow glow, illuminating the animals safely tucked in their stalls.
Molly raised her sleepy head and stuck out her sandpaper tongue. She mooed softly and was answered by the
bleat, bleat, bleat
of the woolly sheep and the horse’s low neigh. Even Paw-paw, who had left his warm bed and shuffled along behind her, added a
woof
to the animal parley.
Copper settled down in the haystack. The rich smell of fodder dried in the hot sun of summer wafted around her. The barn cat, not to be ignored, meowed and stretched, then nested in Copper’s lap. She scratched the cat behind the ears, setting off such luxurious purring that the other animals quieted to listen, then slept, adding their own night sounds, sweet as music to Copper’s ears. She sighed and nearly slept herself until a soft pat on her shoulder caught her full attention.
“Remy! My goodness.” Copper put her hand to her heart. “You always catch me by surprise. I was just listening to the animals.”
Remy scooted around in the hay, a little ways behind. Copper turned her head. The lantern reflected only a pallid light, but she could see her little colorless friend and was no longer startled by her appearance. She reached out her hand, but Remy flinched and ducked, her tangle of white hair sticking out, wild as a thornbush.
“Remy, I won’t hurt you.”
“I know, Purty . . . but I don’t like things coming at me. See my mantle?” She pulled the sky blue shawl Copper had left for her around her shoulders. “I found it up the ladder in the hayloft. And these here sweets—” she rummaged in her pockets and pulled out several hard candies—“ain’t they purty? I’m saving them for my family.”
Remy turned her unusual eyes, rimmed pink—the same pink as the inside of a rabbit’s ear—on Copper. “And boots, I found me these here boots.” She kicked her skinny legs out from the hay, the boots laced tightly to her ankles. “I ain’t never been so warm.”
Copper smiled to see her own Sunday boots on Remy. She wasn’t sure how she’d explain their loss to Mam, or the shawl that had been her Christmas present last year. Copper loved the way Mam had knit cunning little gold stars all around its border, and it was ever so soft, but Remy needed it more than she did.
“I’m going away, Purty.” Remy’s gravelly voice was no louder than a sigh.
“Oh, Remy, where will you go?” Copper asked, suddenly frightened for her friend.
“Way on up yonder where the black shoemake vine grows in the ground. Home to my ma.”
Copper held her breath, afraid the slightest noise would send Remy scurrying away.
Remy turned thoughtful. “Pap, he got took off by the law. The sheriff say Pap was stealing, but really Pap just finds things we need. My brother Riser come to tell me and fetch me home, but I say I got to tell Purty first. Riser, he’s coming back tomorrow.”
“You could stay with us,” Copper pleaded. “We’ve got plenty of room.”
“Ain’t no Riddle ever took a handout! I ain’t a charity case.” She scooted away from Copper, nearly disappearing in the hay.
“Of course you’re not,” Copper soothed. “You could work and pay your way.”
Remy sighed. “It’s too soft here, too far down. ’Sides, my ma—she needs me.” She paused as if weighing her next words. “They was two babies this last time, like yore brothers, Purty. Made Ma weak as a sore-eyed cat. But one of them was puny. Little thing never drew air. Pap, he flung it over the cliff, but I found it. It’s buried in the cave where I keep my treasures.” Remy’s voice rose. “Pap say, ‘Get out! You think you can go against me. Get out!’”
As if sharing her heavy burden had cleansed her anger, Remy continued wistfully, “Pap be gone awhile. Sheriff say four years. He be over his stew by then.”
Copper sucked in her breath, sick at what she’d heard. There had to be a way to make this better. She took in the pitiful girl who was so slight she barely made a dent in the haystack. “Remy,” she begged, “please tell me how I can help you. My daddy will build you a cabin, and Mam would help your mother. I know she would. Please—” tears ran in rivulets down Copper’s face as she choked out her request—“let us help your family.”
Remy looked at Copper straight on for the very first time, her pale eyes a window to her need. “Funny thing, Purty,” she answered. “Folks like yourn always thinks ye got the only true way.” Remy shrugged as if she searched for words. “See, most times me and mine are as peaceable as you and yourn. We just hit on a low spot is all. Riddles cain’t be kept in a box like you cabin dwellers.”
Copper felt like she’d just learned a valuable lesson. She wiped her eyes on her dress tail. “I’ll miss you, Remy. I’ll pray for you.”
“What’s
pray
?”
Copper’s shoulders sagged. She was saddened far beyond anything she’d ever felt before. Her voice was gentle. “Prayer is talking to God.”
“Oh, I know of Him,” Remy replied quietly. “He lives in the sky with them purty things looks like butterflies.”
Butterflies?
Copper searched her mind.
Butterflies?
“Oh!” she exclaimed at last. “Angels—they’re called angels.”
“Angels
. . . I like the sound of that. I’ll name our new baby Angel, if it’s still breathing. Ma say she run out of names.” Remy hesitated. “Don’t cry, Purty.”
Copper couldn’t help it. Tears turned to sobs as a rough little hand took her own for a moment. Copper put her head on her knees and wept for the girl who had already stolen away as quick as a blown candle flame, leaving Copper only a glimpse of the red foxtail bobbing on the back of her skirt.
It was as if she’d never been, as if Copper had made her up, except for the gift she’d pressed into Copper’s hand. Copper turned it over and over before finally daring to look. Then she laughed out loud. “Oh, Remy, I will surely miss you.”
Slipping the gift into her pocket for safekeeping, she rose, dashed the tears from her face, dusted hay from her skirt, and headed for the door. The snow had stopped. Everything was covered with a clean blanket so white it sparkled in the moonlight like sun-dappled water. Through a break in the clouds she could see the bright star of the east. Midnight. Christmas Eve gave way to Christmas morn. Behind her the animals woke and murmured among themselves, giving voice in their own way to the story that started in a stable in Bethlehem so many years before.
 
Copper yawned and stretched as she set the table Christmas morning. Willy and Daniel tumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, clamoring for candy and their stockings. Mam would have none of it until hair was combed, beds made, and breakfast eaten.
“Candy will make you sick on an empty stomach,” she admonished sternly. “Your stockings aren’t going to disappear while you eat. Willy, Daniel, sit down. Don’t try my patience this morning.”
“Sorry, Mam.” Willy sighed. “It’s just too hard to wait. Boy, I wish we’d stayed awake to see the reindeer. Next year we’ll sleep in the barn. . . .”
A few minutes later, Willy scooted his empty plate across the table and said, “I’m finished, Mam. Now can we please, please open our stockings?”
“Wait, wait!” Daniel cried. “First I want to give you your presents—Mam’s and Daddy’s. Don’t you want to do that first, Willy?”
“I guess so, but hurry up. Time’s a-wastin’.”
Both boys ran to get their gifts from the hiding place under their bed. Willy danced in place as Daniel handed out the presents.
“They’re thumb cards, Daddy,” Daniel explained, “to mark the place in your Bible, and for yours too, Mam.” He helped Mam unwrap a piece of crinkly tissue paper and take out a rectangular piece of decorated cardboard. “Sissy helped, but we picked the Scripture ourselves. See, the one from me says, ‘As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.’”
Willy leaned over Daddy’s shoulder. “Mine says, ‘Jesus wept.’ Them long verses kept running off the end of my card.”
“This is a fine gift, boys. Now I won’t lose my place. Why, this makes me want to read a few chapters right now,” Daddy teased. “Fetch me my Bible, Willy.”
Willy’s red face and wide eyes gave away his alarm as he wheeled toward Mam.
“Will Brown, don’t make light of the Scriptures,” Mam scolded. “Thank you for the lovely bookmarks, Daniel, Willy. Now let’s see what Santy left.”
Minutes later, candy, harmonicas, yo-yos, and picture books were strewn about the sitting area. Copper gathered the few pieces of gift wrap and ribbon and carefully folded them. She’d press them with a cool iron and use them again next year. It came to her that for the first time she had enjoyed the giving of gifts more than their receipt.
I think I’m growing up
.
Maybe being an adult won’t be so bad after all.
“Who’s ready for a ride down Turner’s Hill? Let’s go before all the bountiful snow melts,” Daddy said as he banked the fire.
Everyone pulled on coats, scarves, mittens, and boots.
“Boys, why don’t you get that piece of tin from the barn?” Daddy suggested once they were outside. “We’ll wait right here.”
Squeals of delight drifted from the barn before Willy emerged, pulling Daniel on a bright red sled, its polished wooden runners gliding over the packed snow.
“You won’t believe what Santy did!” Willy yelled. “You just won’t believe it. He left this for Daniel and me, right there in the barn where Daddy keeps the burlap bags. We must have been awful good this year.” He grabbed Copper around the waist. “Thanks, Sissy! Thanks for making me go to bed last night. This here sled is better than any old reindeer.”
Daniel ran his mittens over the sled’s smooth surface. “This is the best Christmas ever,” he said with a smile. “The very best Christmas ever.”
 
Everyone in the family was fast asleep, exhausted from an afternoon of sledding, bellies full from a quick supper of corn bread crumbled into glasses of cold buttermilk. Everyone save Copper, who tossed and turned in her bed and scrubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand. She was so angry.
That John Pelfrey. What right did he have to steal a kiss? He didn’t even ask me
.
He’d jumped on the back of the sled with her and sent it careening down the hill. She’d laughed and laughed until they hit a rock and overturned. “Are you all right?” he’d asked as she sat up, dazed.
“Sure,” she’d answered. “Just help me up.”
And so he had, but when he took her hand, he pulled her to himself and kissed her right on the cheek.
Good thing Mam couldn’t see. I’d never get out of the house again.
And she’d already given him his Christmas gift—gloves she’d knit herself for his poor hands, all cracked and sore from hauling rock for Mr. Smithers in freezing weather.
If I’d known he was going to take advantage, I’d have kept them for myself, except John has such big hands they’d never fit me.
Despite the buttermilk supper she’d eaten earlier, her belly rumbled.
I wonder if there’s any more jam cake
. . . .
Seating herself in Mam’s rocker, the last piece of cake on a saucer in her lap, she took her favorite Christmas gift from the table beside her. She’d been thrilled to receive her very own dictionary and vowed to read it every day. Actually, she was already into the
Al
’s.
“
Alb
,”
she read silently,
“a white linen vestment.
Albacore:
a large pelagic . . .”
She quickly flipped to the
P
’s.
“
Pelagic:
relating to, living or occurring in the open sea.”
Now back to the
Al
’s. . . .
“
Albacore:
a large pelagic tuna with large pectoral fins.
Albeit
: even though, all though it be.
Albino
: a human being or lower animal that is congenitally . . .”
Um
. . . She thumbed through
B
to
C
.
Here it is. “
Congenital:
being such by nature . . .
Albino
: a human being or lower animal that is congenitally deficient in pigment and usually has a milky or translucent skin, white or colorless hair, and eyes with pink or blue irises.”
Remy—that’s what’s wrong with Remy!
In her mind’s eye Copper saw the peaked face surrounded by clouds of tangled white hair and the pink-rimmed eyes. She took a bite of cake and licked the back of the fork.
The poor little thing.
She fingered the little basket dangling from a thin leather cord around her neck and smiled to remember the night before when Remy placed the “gift” in her hand. Another of Remy’s found treasures . . . found on Copper’s very own bedside table.
BOOK: [Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek
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