Old Wounds

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Book: Old Wounds by Vicki Lane Read Free Book Online
Authors: Vicki Lane
hair around her finger. Hit’ll make a beauty, if hit lives.
    Rosemary noted her parents’ startled expressions but the old woman went on. Now, I lost five: three never drew a breath, the innocent angels, and the other two was puny; couldn’t do no good at all—went home to Jesus afore they could walk. Cletus is my onliest living one—and a comfort to my soul, I tell you what’s the truth.
    Laurel was looking curiously at Cletus now. Suddenly she crawled down from Miss Birdie’s knees and stumped over to the young man. She gazed up at him and was rewarded with the fleeting, shy smile. Charmed, she clambered up onto his lap and leaned back against his chest, gripping the strap of his dark blue overalls in a proprietary little hand.
    Miss Birdie continued on, scarcely pausing to take breath. Now, Dessie done told me all about you uns. Said you was naming to farm, soon as you got your house built. I see you already put you in a little bit of a garden. Course, hit’s late, but you keep it hoed good and hit’ll make you many a mess of beans.
    Rosemary sat at the picnic table, eating raspberries one at a time, crushing each with her tongue against the roof of her mouth to savor the sharp sweetness. She liked listening to the grown-ups talk. Uncle Wade tried to ask Cletus how he’d made the berry basket, but Cletus just ducked his head again and said nothing. Miss Birdie did most of the talking; Mum barely had time to answer a question before the plump little woman was off again.
    Now, I wonder, do you uns know the folks over the ridge? Bought the old Ridder place a few years back of this? They’re from away too. They come to this country and laid out the money like one thing. I heared as how they tore down the old home place and built them a mansion-house. We was namin’ to go visit them back of this and me and Luther and the boy set out one Sunday evening with a fresh turn of cornmeal in a poke for them. But when we got there, come to find they had put up a big old brick wall at the foot of their road and great high iron gates acrost it. And those old ugly yeller POSTED signs all along the line fence. Luther said he didn’t reckon they was wantin no company and we ain’t never seen them, ceptin when they go down the road. And they go back and forth like one thing! Hardly a day don’t pass but first the woman and the little one goes out, then there’s two men, brothers, I don’t doubt, they’re bad to go all the time. And I believe they must have six vehicles up there for the family—I never heard of such! Me and Luther ain’t never needed but the one truck and hit’s done us these thirty-four years.
    Miss Birdie paused to sip at her water and Elizabeth pounced on the opportunity to say, No, we haven’t met the Mullins. Except for Maythorn. She comes over here to play with Rosie a lot. They

    Now, Maythorn’s the dark-complected child, ain’t that so? Looks like an Indian and roams the woods like a wild Indian too. But my Cletus is just the same. Miss Birdie looked fondly at her son.
    I seen her in the woods lots of times. Cletus’s soft voice was hesitant. She done found all my trails and hidey-holes. She’s right smart for a little girl. And she’s pretty—kindly like a baby deer.
             

    That Miss Birdie’s quite a character—nice little lady. And what about the way Laurie took to Cletus?
    Rosemary could hear her father’s voice, kept low in the darkness of the barn. They had all gone to bed when it got dark, Uncle Wade to his tent in the other barn, the rest of them to their mattresses and sleeping bags on the upper floor of the main barn. As usual her parents were talking over the events of the day. She liked hearing what they said when they thought she was asleep. Not that it was ever very interesting. Except sometimes Pa had bad dreams and he said a lot of funny words. But then Mum would wake him and they would whisper. Once it had sounded almost like Pa was crying. That had

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