Chapter 1
Jane Purdy was one of two children born to Louisa Warrix
Purdy and LaSalle Johnson Purdy. Her mommah did most of the raisin’ as her pap
did most of the hell raisin’. It seemed to Jane and her sister Mary that Louisa
never got over LaSalle beddin’ down with the neighbor woman that lived on the
other side of the holler. Not that she should have, but it was common knowledge
that around these parts you had better watch who you spark because they just
might end up being some kind of kin to you.
That kind of behavior was another thing that always bore on Janes’ mind.
Did her pap ever love her mommah enough? She knew from growin up that her
mommah did all she could do and then some to keep him happy. She went even as
far as selling two hens that the family needed for eggs to get him his very own
watch fob for his birthday.
Jane was not what you would have called a beauty queen in
her early days, but she had not been mudcat ugly either. She stood five feet
two inches, blue-eyed high Cherokee cheekbones and long dark brown hair. She
always thought her nose was big, but she guessed actually that it was not as
big as most, but when you had a sister that called you hawk nose it would get
to you after a while as well, she thought.
She had done all right with having two beaux to court her in her
lifetime, never settling on either one of them and shunning the rest just
because of their notions on what was what in this world; and how they thought
it should be. She did not take kindly, no sir, to that way of thinking by
anybody let alone a man. Her mommah had raised her to think for herself, as she
would say “Jane Purdygirl you listen to me. This old world here we got? Well,
we are in it for now and then we are gone to the hereafter or the hereafter
that. Live the way you want to, not how some man is going to tell you to. Don’t
get caught up in their lies and ways, because they will say anything to get
you, then leave you with a house full of young’uns for you to raise on your
own. Hit ain’t worth the heartache, hit ain’t worth the emptiness.”
She never forgot her mommahs words, and was much happier
than her sister Mary Sue who married that Calb Helton down in the valley. It
was a right nice wedding with frills and fancies and all, but it wasn’t
anything that Jane would ever want. She wished her young sister well and prayed
that she would be happy. Happiness came to roost for a while, until Calbs
drinking got the best of what love Mary had for him. It seemed that it was
true. The devil lived inside the bottle and the men around these parts
worshipped him on a daily basis.
Mary ended up with two dead children, buried out back of the
homeplace that Jane now lived in. It was a sad sight to see, two small caskets
lowered into the cold ground while their mommah stood and stared blankly
holding their only baby quilt in her hands. Calb was drunk, trying to line out
the words to Amazing Grace but forgetting half of what he was trying to say.
She never forgave him, and with good reason. He’d taken the children on a buggy
ride against Marys’ wishes. He had been drinking, and didn’t notice that he’d
veered in the way of another larger buggy. The children were flung out and
runned over.
Jane stopped rocking for a second and wondered why all of
that came back to her. She shook her head at the blind thoughts she sometime
had. Memories. T’ain’t good for nothing sometimes other than to start tearing
up. She looked down at her empty coffee
cup and went inside to get another drink of the warm brew.
She loved sitting out on her front porch in the mornings. It
was a peaceful time for her, always had been. This was all hers and nobody
else’s. She would watch the fog roll up from the valley below as the dew from
the trees would fall like raindrops on the ground. She would close her eyes and listen as the
birds awoke, going off to feed their young’uns for the morning. When the clouds
rolled in and the thunder shot off like a cannon on Lookout Mountain she would
sit back far enough not to get pelted by the rain that would slide in sideways
onto the rickety old porch.
This particular morning though she was anxious. She had
already started the fire in the iron cook stove, burning her hand on the paper
she used to light the straw. She put the water on for her coffee only to spill
it on her blue work dress. It was not the end of the world by no means, but she
knew that starting out like this, it could only get better or worse, and
usually it got worse. All she could do
at this point is pray that the biscuits did not burn or the possum gravy came
out nice and thick instead of thin and runny.
Johnson didn’t like runny gravy and irregardless of the fact wouldn’t
eat it if you hand fed him from a golden dipper. She laughed at the thought of feeding her
hound dog from a dipper. Now that would be a sight for the neighbors to talk
about there now, she thought to herself.
She had no worries though, as the gravy came out scorching
hot and thick just like the old dog loved it, and her biscuits were as light
and fluffy as angels wings. She wrapped them carefully in the parchment paper
and stored them in the upper part of the stove for later on. She wasn’t much on
breakfast but Johnson had gotten used to it some years back, and she just hated
breaking with tradition. She brushed her
gray hair back from her face and made a mental note to purchase some store
bought hair bobs the next time she went down to the IGA.
She went back out and carefully put her cup down next to the
ancient rocker that had been her grandmothers long before she’d been a twinkle
in anybodys sky. It was roughhewn out of an oak tree that had fell right in the
back of the house where she lived. The rungs were hand carved with her initials
in them, and then of her babies names on the very last one. There was many a
rockin done with it, and eventually it just became another member of the
family, just as a dog or cat would. Her mommah had even given it the name of
“Old Betsy” when she was using it to rock Jane and her sister to sleep.
Louisa would say “Now honeychile, let’s see if Ol Betsy
feels up to rocking you to sleep tonight, cause mommah shore don’t think she
can all by herself.”
Jane took a sip of her black coffee feeling the hot elixir
go down smoothly into her throat. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that
something was wrong. She thought about going down to see Mary Sue, but knew
that it would strain her nerves by Jane being there. They never were close
growing up because she was the baby and was treated as such. Pap spoiled her
rotten, telling anyone who would listen that she was his Godsend. He would get
drunk on moonshine and tell everyone at the saloon how Louisey refused to have
another baby by him and lo and behold, Mary Sue came to pass. Jane was always
supposed to have been a boy. “First borned first boy” her pap would say. And she was treated as such.
But that not withstanding with Jane and Mary, Marys’ nerves
wouldn’t handle another breakdown after the buggy wreck, and what Jane thought
was her sisterly duty to go do. Although she regretted Marys total and complete
spiral into madness, she held no responsibility for any of it, placing the
blame squarely on that bastard Calbs shoulders.
After Marys’ babies died, Jane lit in on Calb and beat him
senseless one evening. She’d left him lying in a pool of his own piss and blood
right outside the same ShinDig Hotel that her pap used to frequent. Whores and
bystanders alike stood in shock as the tiny woman took a two by four and
slammed it repeatedly against the drunkards’ head and chest. She hadn’t cared
that he tripped and fell in the muddy street, she was bound and determined by
almighty God she was going to kill him that day.
Had it not been for Ben Rice, she probably would have
succeeded in her endeavors. Ben, a tall rakish type feller heard the commotion
and came running. Of course, he stood there a tad bit longer than maybe he
should have, but he knew that if he’d pulled Jane off any sooner than he did,
she would have turned on him like a wild panther, and he wanted no part of
that. As soon as he saw Calbs broke arm and shattered ankle bone, he took the
piece of wood, threw it out of Janes reach and bear hugged her to where he
could walk her down the street and out of public viewing. He didn’t care that
Calb was lying there half dead and moaning. Hell, had she killed him everyone
there would have sworn it was self-defense and there wouldn’t have been a jury
picked that would have convicted her otherwise.
Yeah, Jane thought, it may be best that I stay put, and whatever
is going to happen let it happen. She looked over the tops of the trees and
wondered how her life would have been different had she left from there. She’d
had her chance to leave once, but she couldn’t bring herself to go with a man
she didn’t love.
Truth be known, she probably could have learned to love him,
but then what kind of relationship would that have been? Mary Sue loved Calb
and look at what that got her. Her mommah loved her pap and look at what that
got her as well. She sighed. There was just no good ever come of lovin any man,
and she sure didn’t want to have to almost beat to death another for messin her
over.
No, she decided that better alone better off gone. Her pap
had passed away a couple of years before Mary had her twin boys. Her mommah
just after Mary lost’em. It got lonely
up here at times, but Jane thought to herself that she’d rather be lonely than
have someone around and be miserable. Mountain life wasn’t so bad after you got
used to it. And this was all she ever knowed.
