Free When I Crossed No-Bob by Margaret McMullan

Now,
there
was a man proud of his work."
    "'Cept he wasn't a man."
    "Sometimes it helps to think of him as a man. To think of him as the grandpappy of us all."
    I think on this some. I think until my brain starts itching again. What I don't understand is, where was the Lord Grandpappy that night the schoolhouse burned? What was he doing?

    When we all finally do go back to school, Mrs. Davenport, she volunteers to teach us for the time when Mr. Frank goes away to New Orleans for supplies. When me and Miss Irene wave goodbye to Mr. Frank, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Pappy left and so did Momma. What makes me think Mr. Frank will come back?

    A few mornings later, I go to the hen house like I always do, except this time I get this feeling something or someone is watching me. I hear a rustle, something slipping away. Is it a weasel? A possum? I hope not a fox.
    In the coming light of the sun, I see a hand around a chicken's neck. I catch my breath and my eyes follow that hand up to an arm, and up further to the face of my pappy.
    "Pappy?"
    "Shhhh,"he says.
    It is Pappy, who didn't go to Texas after all, or is he back?
    I walk over to him, not sure what I can or can't do. I put my hands on his arms, like the beginning of a hug he won't let me finish.

    "Heh," he says, smiling. "That Frank Russell. He's gone, idn't he." Pappy lets go of the chicken's neck and I let go of him, glad to see the chicken clucking away again, going back to pecking around the hay for insects or corn.
    "Pappy? You the one been stealin' them eggs and the chicken too?"
    "I'm no chicken thief," he says, smiling, like he thinks it's funny. I cannot tell if he's joking. Is this another one of Pappy's pranks? "And I know you will not tell on me being here, because I am your pappy."
    And he leaves. He just up and leaves, just like that, and I can't help but think and wonder,
Did this happen or was I dreaming?

    At noon I see Pappy coming down the road, heading straight our way. All these years of not seeing him. All the years I thought I forgot his face, and now he is becoming an everyday sight for me.
    He tips his hat to Miss Irene. He looks to have cleaned himself up since this morning.
    Miss Irene, she goes back into the house and I wonder what all she's doing. Getting a gun? I hear the china shake in the china cabinet as she hurries across the floor.

    She comes out with some bills, goes to the edge of the porch, and bends down to hand them to Pappy, like she's petting a dog. Pappy looks at the bills and laughs until he coughs a bad-sounding cough.
    "I don't want money, ma'am. I'm no beggar man. I come for my girl. You can't buy a person. Not nowadays, anyhow. Besides, this here is no legal tender. This here is Confederate monies." But he pockets it just the same because he and I both know you can get maybe ten cents for a ten-dollar Confederate bill.
    I am sorry for Miss Irene then. She knows no better. She is alone, without her husband, and here in front of her is my mischievous pappy, a man people say has killed. She is thinking he is here because he wants money or food, here because he wants something from her. But I know he is here because of me. I have brought danger to poor Miss Irene's doorstep.
    "Word is you and your husband plan on startin' a general store. With such dreadful men around, it behooves me to tell your husband to protect himself when he's going after supplies. And you being all alone here. You need to protect yourself too."

    "Is that a threat, Mr. O'Donnell?"
    "No threat at all. Just a fact. Dangerous times we live in." He spits tobacco juice off to the side, takes his hat off, and looks around some. "I come for Addy, Miss Russell. I'll finish the raising now, if you please."
    Even from where I stand, I catch an oily smell on account of the grease he put in his hair to keep it back. He stands in the yard I swept clean and smooth, and he talks and holds his hat over the center of his chest. Miss Irene listens. Her