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 Chapter
two
Bathing was done in the kitchen in a big round galvanized tub. Who
bathed first was determined by who was the cleanest: Aunt Ellie
first, Annie, me and Uncle Ned. If the order had been determined by
who smelled worse, Annie would’ve had to go last. She liked playing
with the pig and goat.
And as Uncle Ned pitched the grimy bath water on the nearest flower
bed, he’d yell, “Waste not, and want not.”
Thus the days passed. Annie was having the time of her life. I
would’ve started my bug collection except Uncle Ned kept me busy
dawn to dusk, which made sleeping a blessing. (Back home I had come
to think being told to go to bed was a form of punishment.) My hands
began to feel like my catcher’s mitt, which had been my father’s
when he was a kid. Helping ease a serious case of homesickness, I
got to listen to an occasional Cubs’ game when the wind was blowing.
I should explain: Aunt Ellie’s console radio was broken, but I’d
noticed a car radio in the shop, so I asked Uncle Ned if I could
hook it up to the truck battery. He didn’t care for that idea. He
then told me if I could figure out how to wire it, there was a
generator on the windmill. In little less than an hour I was
listening to WLS. I got a little down when my team lost, but that’s
part of being a Cub’s fan.
Finally!! The last day of our visit. But when a
neighbor came by to lend Uncle Ned a hand what was about to end, I
soon wished had just begun. I’d never met a real
American Indian, so when Harrison Yellow Cloud extended his large
hand for a shake I nearly tripped over my own feet; I was that
excited. “Most folk call me Yellow Cloud,” he said.
He was taller than my father and stood straight as a fence post. His
hair was white as fleece on a new born lamb and was braided―one
braid hung over each shoulder and rested on a barrel chest. He was
wearing a plaid work shirt, tired dungarees, cowboy boots, and a
wide brimmed hat with a long feather trapped in a band made of some
sort of reptile. Uncle Ned told us Yellow Cloud was
eighty-something, meaning he had a lot of miles on him. And from his
strong appearance, he looked to have a lot of miles left in him. The
deep craters on his weathered face resembled a road map. The pulsing
veins on his forearms snaked there way down to the backs of his
hands, and across the knuckles of his right hand were letters that
read “Don’t Tread On Me.” When he looked at you through those craggy
eyes, they twinkled, reminding me of stars on a clear winter’s
night.
When the old Indian offered his hand to Annie she shied away and
stepped behind Uncle Ned. Yellow Cloud paid no mind. When Uncle Ned,
Yellow Cloud, and I headed to the creek Annie asked to go with us,
which she’d never done before.
At the creek we discovered Annie hadn’t come to help, but rather to
get in Yellow Cloud’s way. After bumping into him a couple times,
Yellow Cloud let her know he didn’t care for her being underfoot,
“Hanta yo, wiyanna!” I swear Annie about jumped out of her skin. I
laughed. Uncle Ned shot me a disapproving look.
Then Uncle Ned said, “Annie, if you’re not gonna’
help, go fetch one of the buckets in the back of the truck.” Then
pointing the way, he said, “Follow the creek and right before you
get to that weeping willow over yonder you’ll find a wild blackberry
patch. There may not be many, but I reckon there’ll be enough for a
batch of ice cream. Now skedaddle. We got work to do.”
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I said, “Yellow Cloud, what did you say to Annie?”
“I told the child to clear the way.”
A couple of minutes later Uncle Ned, half smiling, said, “Joey, I
know you got your heart set on helping Yellow Cloud and me, but you
best go look after your little sister. You know how she has a knack
for attracting critters and trouble.”
When I found her, she was cramming blackberries in her mouth as fast
as she could pick them. “Hey! Save some for the ice cream,” I
yelled.
“Okay. You pick,” she replied smartly, and after grabbing a handful,
she ran
towards the willow and disappeared.
A short time later she yelled, “Joey, come over here quick.”
Disgusted with her antics, I yelled back, “What is it now
Short-stuff!”
“Don’t call me that, just get over here.”
“Alright! Hold your horses!”
When I got there she said, “Looky. I found a grave. I gotta go tell
Uncle Ned. I’ll race you.” While giving her a head start, I took a
quick glance at the headstone. Time had nearly erased the epitaph.
When I caught up I found her soaking wet and wiping her eyes with
berry-stained hands. With muddy clothes and waterlogged hair
dangling in front of her now purple face, she looked like the wife
of Frankenstein. When I asked her what had happened, she snapped, “I
don’t have time to tell you.” Then at full speed she sped away once
again. Me, I just trotted. I got back to the truck in time to hear
Uncle Ned say, “Annie? is that you?” She nodded. “What in heaven’s
name have you been up to? I told Joey to watch after you.” He then
looked at me. I shrugged. While pointing at the willow with one hand
and pulling muddy brambles from her golden locks with the other, she
said, “Uncle Ned. Uncle Ned. I-I-I found a really old grave over by
that big tree. Who’s buried there?”
Uncle Ned said, “A little girl. Now would you care to tell me young
lady how you got yourself to lookin’ like you been consorting with
Lucifer?”
With a hurt look, she said, “Well, I-I-I got so
excited about finding the grave, I started running to tell you and
slipped on a rock and fell in the creek. Uncle Ned, do you know
about her? Why is she buried out there all alone?”
“Slow down child,” Uncle Ned calmly said. “Most folks around these
parts know the story, but Yellow Cloud here knew the little girl
personally. If you can talk him into stayin’ for supper maybe he’ll
be kind enough to tell you about her.”
While twirling her hair, Annie politely said, “M-M-Mr. Yellow Cloud,
can you stay for supper?”
Bending over to speak directly to her, Yellow Cloud replied,
“Wiyanna, I have plans, but I could come by tomorrow and tell you
the story.” Annie, with the look of an abandoned puppy, said, “We’re
leaving tomorrow.”
Pulling himself to his full height and looking at Uncle Ned, Yellow
Cloud, said,
“Ned, got any idea what Ellie’ll be fixin’ for supper?”
[By Henry Dewes] |
