Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(99)

“These bugs gettin’ to me,” Pan whispered. All three of us scratched mercilessly at the chiggers that had embedded themselves under our skin. As the mosquitoes and biting flies bore down, Sukey withdrew the animal bladder filled with thick bear grease.

“Whew! This got some smell to it!” Pan whispered when she dipped the yellow grease out and silently showed him how to rub it on his face and exposed skin. At another time, the smell alone would have prevented me from using it, but when she offered some to me, I, too, used it liberally. When our faces and limbs shone from the thick ointment, Sukey grunted and rose heavily, motioning for us to follow her across the shallow stream.

Again we fought through dense underbrush that tore at our clothing and at our skin until we made our way through to an opening on the other side. There, lit by the night, lay open fields of corn. Sukey pointed into the distance, then firmly grasped my hand. “Swamp,” she scratched into my palm.

“What she say?” Pan asked.

“She said that up ahead is the swamp,” I said, squinting to better see the dark outline of tall trees.

“Are we almost home when we get to the swamp?” Pan asked.

“No,” I said, and that silenced him again.

There were some night hours remaining, ideal for traveling, but relieved to be this close to the swamp, and with the cover that the corn stalks would provide, I sank to the ground and declared that we would take a short rest. I had not slept since leaving the Spencer home, and I felt overcome from exhaustion. Sukey, though, shook her head, and motioned for us to continue on. I disregarded her and scraped together a bed of leaves for a pillow, and when I lay down, Pan followed suit. Finally, Sukey, sighing heavily, did the same. Minutes later, all three of us were sound asleep.

I awoke with the early-morning sun in my face. I leaped up, startling the other two out of a sound sleep. “We slept too long,” Pan noted, while Sukey and I stared at each other, disbelieving the hour. I longed for a drink from the stream, but that would have meant backtracking, so I promised myself we would have water as soon as we reached the swamp. By my estimation, we were under five miles away, a destination that could be reached easily before noon.

I looked out across the lonely cornfield. Seeing no humans about, I decided that we would take the same risk and travel during daylight. Again Sukey objected but followed when I scooped up my jacket and moved out.


WE HAD BEEN moving swiftly for a good long while and had almost reached the outskirts of the swamp when a gunshot burst through the still air. Startled crows cawed and flew up as Sukey and I flung ourselves to the ground, parallel to each other, between the rows of corn. Pan, confused, stayed standing until I yanked him down behind me. When a crashing noise came toward us, Sukey rose to her hands and knees, then lifted up her skirt and clamped it in her teeth as she began to crawl forward. I crawled, too, with Pan close behind, until the gun blasted again. We all hit the ground just as a huge black bear crashed by in front of us, trailing blood. Though still a distance away, the sound of men’s excited voices grew closer. We dared not move. Unexpectedly, the bear circled back toward the hunters. With whoops of surprise and a rifle report, their shouts receded, and we rose again to our hands and knees.

We scrambled until we reached the safety of the swamp and there had to push through tangles of thick vines and briars before we were in far enough to hunker down. The ground we sat on was damp and spongelike; the forest around us was so dense that it appeared black, but we had reached the great swamp. Gasping for air, we sat staring at one another, disbelieving that we had reached safety.

We had only just caught our breath when we heard shouts, followed by more shots from a rifle. Now came the barking of dogs. As one, we scrambled to our feet to push farther in.

With the sound of dogs sharp in the air, we tore our way through, deep into the tangled overgrowth and darkness, until the sound of men and dogs began to fade. We dared not rest. I hated the way the soft boggy land gave under my feet, but I hated even more stepping into the tea-colored water to weave our way, knee-deep, through the maze of jutting cedar roots that buckled up as twisted barriers. From above, thick, corded vines, netted with Spanish moss, draped down to ensnare us. With each vine I pushed away, I thought of the cottonmouth moccasins, the copperheads, and the rattlesnakes known to inhabit the place.

We struggled on, Pan surprisingly agile in water that was at times waist-deep. Sukey suddenly grunted and pointed ahead to what appeared to be a small green island. Exhausted, we slogged toward it and finally onto the dry piece of land where, in the midst of towering white oak and green pine, there lay a massive overturned oak.

The enormous root ball rose at least six feet into the air. After Sukey cautiously pulled back the thick overgrowth of moss and vines covering it, she waved us over to show us a cavelike hideaway. We were peering into the dark interior when, from behind, something massive came barreling through the water. As one, we dove into the shelter, letting the heavy vines swing down behind us.

The interior was dark, low, deep, and wide, and as the crashing sounds grew dim, I whispered in relief that it must have been the bear escaping the hunters. When Sukey nodded agreement, she tapped my arm and I gave her my palm. “Rest,” she scratched, and then encircled her abdomen with her hands.

“What she say?” Pan asked, tightly clutching my arm. “She say something ’bout her baby comin’?”

“No, she wants to rest,” I said.