wall. Oz carefully unwrapped the parcel he had purchased in town and held the hairbrush
firmly. Amanda's face was peaceful, her eyes, as always, shut. To Lou, her mother was a
princess reclining in a deathlike state, and none of them possessed the necessary antidote.
Oz knelt on the bed and began brushing Amanda's hair and telling his mother of their
wonderfully fine day in town. Lou watched him struggle with the brushing for a few
moments and then went in to help. She held out her mother's hair and showed Oz how to
properly perform the strokes. Their mother's hair had grown out some, but it was still
short.
Later that night Lou went to her room, put away the socks she had bought, lay on the bed
fully dressed down to her boots, thinking about their trip to town, and never once closed
her eyes until it was time to milk the cows the next morning.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THEY ALL WERE SITTING DOWN TO DINNER A FEW nights later while the rain poured
down outside. Diamond had come for supper, wearing a tattered piece of worn canvas
with a hole cut out for his head, his homegrown mackintosh of sorts. Jeb had shaken
himself off and headed for the fire as though he owned the place. When Diamond freed
himself from the canvas coat, Lou saw something tied around his neck. And it wasn't
particularly sweet-smelling.
"What is that!" Lou asked, her fingers pinching her nose, for the stench was awful.
"Asafetida," Louisa answered for the boy. "A root. Ward off sickness. Diamond, honey, I
think if you warm yourself by the fire, you can give that to me. I thank you." While
Diamond wasn't looking, she carried the root out to the back porch and flung the foul
thing away into the darkness.
Louisa's frying pan held the dual aromas of popping lard and ribs cut thick with so much
fat they didn't dare curl. The meat had come from one of the hogs they had had to
slaughter. Usually a winter task, they had been compelled, by a variety of circumstances,
to perform the deed in spring. Actually, Eugene had done the killing while the children
were at school. But at Oz's insistence Eugene had agreed to let him help scrape down the
hog and get off the ribs, middle meat, bacon, and chitlins. However, when Oz saw the
dead animal strung up on a wooden tripod, a steel hook through its bloody mouth, and a
cauldron of boiling water nearby—just waiting, he no doubt believed, for the hide of a
little boy to give it the right spice, he had run off. His screams echoed back and forth
across the valley, as though from a careless giant who had stubbed his toe. Eugene had
admired both the boy's speed and lung capacity and then gone on to work the hog
himself.
They all ate heartily of the meat, and also of canned tomatoes and green beans that had
marinated for the better part of six months in brine and sugar, and the last of the pinto
beans.
Louisa kept all plates full, except her own. She nibbled on some of the tomato chunks and
beans, and dipped corn-bread into heated lard, but that was all. She sipped on a cup of
chicory coffee and looked around the table where all were enjoying themselves, laughing
hard at something silly Diamond had said. She listened to the rain on the roof. So far so
good, though rain now meant nothing; if none fell in July and August, the crop would still
be dust, blown off in a gentle breeze, and dust had never lined anyone's belly. Very soon
they would be laying in their food crops: corn, pole beans, tomatoes, squash, rutabaga,
late potatoes, cabbage, sweet potatoes, and string beans. Irish potatoes and onions were
already in the ground, and duly hilled over, frost not bothering them any. The land would
be good to them this year; it was their due this time around.
Louisa listened to the rain some more. Thank you, Lord, but be sure to send us some more
of your bounty come summer. Not too much so's the tomatoes burst and rot on the vines,
and not too little that the corn only grows waist high. I know it's asking a lot, but it'd be
much appreciated. She said a silent amen and then did her best to join in the festivities.
There came a rap on the door and Cotton walked in, his outer coat soaked through even
though the walk from car to porch was a quick one. He was not his usual self; the man
did not even smile. He accepted a cup of coffee, a bit of cornbread, and sat next to
Diamond. The boy stared up at him as though he knew what was coming.
"Sheriff came by to see me, Diamond."
Everyone looked at Cotton first and then they all stared at Diamond. Oz's eyes were open
so wide the boy looked like an owl without feathers.
"Is that right?" Diamond said, as he took a mouthful of beans and stewed onions.
"Seems a pile of horse manure got in the mine superintendent's brand-new Chrysler at the
Clinch Number Two. The man sat in it without knowing, it still being dark and all, and he