The Saints of Swallow Hill(65)

Without a word Cornelia went to the back of the house, and out to the line, and right to the dress she’d sewn herself. She took it down. It was like she’d read Rae Lynn’s earlier thoughts.

“You can have it. You paid for it anyway.”

Rae Lynn held both hands up. “No! I can’t take this.”

Cornelia was busy holding it against Rae Lynn’s shoulders and talking to herself. “It might need a bit of a tuck here and there. You’re a mite smaller’n me.”

“Cornelia, did you happen to check the pockets of my overalls before you burned them?”

Cornelia was still busy checking on the fit and stopped at how strained Rae Lynn’s voice sounded.

“I didn’t. Why?”

Rae Lynn’s head dropped. There went the last of her paper money.

She said, “It’s nothing. I thought I might have left something in them, but I remember now, it’s probably back over to number forty-four. I reckon I got to figure out what I’m doing, go and see Peewee. I can’t be staying in the single men’s quarters, not now.”

Cornelia said, “Shoot, you can’t leave! I been thinking. You can help here, like you done today. I’d be awfully grateful for it. Least until you know what you might want to do.”

Had it only been Cornelia, she wouldn’t think twice, but what about Otis, and how he treated Cornelia. Could she ignore him, how he was? It would certainly solve her immediate problem. Cornelia looked disappointed at her lack of reaction, and Rae Lynn quickly explained her hesitancy.

“I ain’t so sure everyone would agree it’s such a good idea.”

“Oh. Otis.”

Rae Lynn gave her an apologetic look.

Cornelia said, “Let’s see what he says after he eats what you fixed here. One of the best ways to a man’s heart is good cooking. My own mama said so.”

Well, that right there was a problem. You had to have a heart to begin with, but Rae Lynn kept that thought to herself.





Chapter 23


Del


It had been ten days since he’d lifted her out of that hell, doubting she’d see another sunrise. After the first few days, she’d come around quick, and once he knew she’d be all right, his focus turned back to the work in the woods. Day by day he was getting used to the ways of his men, and they were becoming more used to him. After a while, they set about doing their jobs with more energy. He’d learned their given names, their wives’ names and wrote them in his tally book. Preacher: Beaufort Pindell; wife, Howardena. Big’Un: Harold Fuller; wife, Minnie. Sweet Thang: Horace Parks; wife, Lorna. Juke-n-Juice: Roger Robison; wife, Faith. They eyed him curiously when he asked. He liked knowing their Christian name, felt it was only proper, and right. When they weren’t working, that’s how he addressed them.

He’d shot several squirrels, a couple of possum and gave them out. After one long, hot day, he caught a mess of bream from out of one of the many ponds surrounding the camp. He couldn’t eat them all, so he went by Sweet Thang’s shack. The structure, from the tar-papered roof with sections that flapped about as soon as the wind came, to the wooded slats for the walls, all of it looked as if it was about to fall in. There were large cracks between the wood stuffed with paper and whatnot, and Del was certain it would be near about as cold inside as outside come winter. Sweet Thang sat on a stump under a pine, smoking a cigarette.

He called out to him. “Hey, Horace, got a mess a fish here. Y’all want’em?”

Horace stood up and said, “Lorna was just saying I ought to go catch us some fish.”

Lorna came out, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Hey, Mr. Del.”

Del held up the fish.

“I brung y’all some bream, here, fresh caught just now.”

She came down the steps and said, “Sho do ’preciate this now. Won’t you stay to eat? I got some dooby too.”

Del smiled and said, “Why, I ain’t had me none a that since I was a young’un. I believe I will.”

Del sat on another stump beside Horace and they started cleaning the fish. Nolan passed by, and without a word, he rolled a stump over from the woodpile, sat down, and joined them. All three men worked quietly, while Lorna tossed chunks of lard into a black kettle pot and built a fire underneath it. When they were done, she dredged the pieces in cornmeal and began frying them, all while dropping in cornmeal batter. While Del, Nolan, and Horace waited, they talked about the weather and the work under the pines. Lorna started serving fish, two at a time on tin plates, and the talking stopped as they went to eating as fast as she brought them. She’d also set out the dooby, which was meat, onions and cornbread, and some sweet pickles on the small wooden crate near them. For each bite of fish, Del took a bite of pickle and corn bread, and then a forkful of dooby.

After a while, Del put his plate down and said, “I think that’s some of the best eating I’ve done since I come here.”

Horace said, “Lorna knows how to cook now.”

Nolan said, “Sure was good.”

Lorna said to Del, “We ’preciate you thinking a us.”

Nolan reared his head back. “You caught them fish?”

Del said, “Yep.”

Nolan didn’t say anything more, and the conversation moved on to each telling a story about fishing. Lorna had the best one.