She handed Danny a wooden puzzle that he had seen Huley whittle at Harmon's store. In his mind, Danny could see Huley clearly. It felt like Huley was actually there.
It was many years before Danny used the knife to whittle. Each time he picked up a piece of cedar, he thought of the trail of shavings his dead friend had left that stormy night to save his life.
Burning Tobacco Beds
When we were young, as the time to burn the tobacco beds drew near, we recall hearing warnings to take care to keep the fire from spreading and for everyone to keep away from the flames so our clothes would not catch fire. The Cravens family, the Foley family, and Mr. Bray and his two sons were the ones who usually helped Roberta's dad. One of them told this story one night, but she can't say exactly which one because one story usually followed another, and she was so eager to listen that she did not always notice the transition.
Burning tobacco beds was an event most families enjoyed on the farm, but few people now would remember taking part in it, as it is now part of Kentucky history. Some farmers probably burned tobacco beds well into the 1970s. Up until that time, Kentucky had a lot of burly tobacco growers. Before modern methods took over, farmers grew their tobacco plants in a bed that was 8 feet by 50 feet or 8 by 100. To prepare the beds, they were first burned for weed control.
Long winters often left storm-damaged limbs and brush lying around everywhere. These were gathered, placed in piles, and burned like a huge bonfire over the area where the beds would be. This burning could be a family event or a neighborhood gathering. All help was welcome to carry the limbs and then to watch the fire and keep it from spreading.
The flames from the burning beds always looked spectacular against the early spring night skies. When the flames died out, the farmers raked and spread the ashes and let them cool overnight. Then they mixed the tobacco seeds in the ashes and sowed them in the beds. A cotton cloth was used to cover the beds, and the seeds were left alone to grow. When the seedlings reached a height of eight or ten inches, the farmers transplanted them in the fields. The introduction of methyl bromide and the ability to gas the beds pretty much eliminated the need to burn them. Before that happened, burning tobacco beds occurred every year.
The Grayson family looked forward to tobacco-bed burning each year so they could turn the process into a family bonfire. Faye and her younger sister, four-year-old Ruby Jean, always roasted marshmallows on long sticks as the fire died down. Ruby Jean was fascinated by the flames and loved to stand close and feel the heat on the chilly spring nights. The family constantly had to warn her to stay at a safe distance, but her parents or sister often had to pull Ruby Jean back from the flames.
One night, as the Graysons were burning their tobacco beds, an unexpected wind whipped up the flames. Ruby Jean was standing near the fire when the flames shot out and caught the dress she was wearing. The little girl did the one thing she should never have done. She ran, frightened and screaming, through the field with the wind fanning the flames.
“Drop down and roll,” screamed Faye, running after her little sister. “Stop running!”
Mr. and Mrs. Grayson ran after both girls, but by the time Ruby Jean stumbled and fell to the ground, her burns were severe. There were no modern burn units back then, so Ruby Jean died that night.
People in the neighborhood say that the spirit of the little girl lives on, though. They declare that she returns on the anniversary of her death. Some swear that they have heard her scream and that they have looked out the windows to see a fiery light streaking through the field where she was burned. Most people refrained from burning their tobacco beds until that anniversary night had come and gone.
The Graysons never used that field for tobacco beds again. Neighbors said that each year, on the anniversary of that dreadful night, the family would go inside, close the doors and windows, and never look out. It was said that they spent that time praying for the tragic little girl.
Weather Forecaster
There were several teachers in our family and circle of friends. We loved the stories they all told, but Miss Sullivan was a favorite. She had a practice of ending each school day with a story. Storm stories were especially interesting because we had to deal with storms all during the school year. We could relate to these true tales.
In the days of one-room schoolhouses, there were no phones, no radios, and no TV sets in schools to give severe weather alerts. The teacher had to be her own weather forecaster. If a threatening storm approached in the morning, the teacher would keep the students at school and continue with the lessons. She knew that a morning storm was likely to blow itself out by the end of the school day. The little one-room schools were as sturdy as most of the students' homes, so it was safe for them to stay at school until the storm passed. However, if a bad storm approached in the afternoon, the teacher had to consider a different plan of action so her students would not be caught out in the storm.