A stunned Lou looked at Louisa. Yankee. And Indian.
"His name is Eugene," said Louisa. "And my daddy were part Apache, not Cherokee.
And the God I know punishes the wicked. Like men who beat their children." Louisa
took one more step forward. "You ever lay a hand on that child agin, best pray to
whatever god you counsel with I ain't find you."
Davis laughed nastily. "You scaring me, old woman."
"Then you smarter than I thought."
Davis's hand curled to a fist and he looked ready to swing until he saw big Eugene filling
the doorway, and his courage seemed to peter away.
Davis grabbed Billy. "Boy, you git on home. Git!" Billy raced out of the room. Davis
followed slowly, taking his time. He looked back at Louisa. "This ain't over. No sir." He
banged the door shut on his way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SCHOOL HAD ENDED FOR THE YEAR, AND THE HARD work of farming had begun. Each
day Louisa rose particularly early, before the night even seemed to have settled in, and
made Lou get up too. The girl did both her and Oz's chores as punishment for fighting
with Billy, and then they all spent the day working the fields. They ate simple lunches
and drank cold springwater under the shade of a cucumber magnolia, none of them
saying much, the sweat seeping through their clothes. During these breaks Oz threw
rocks so far the others would smile and clap their hands. He was growing taller, the
muscles in his arms and shoulders becoming more and more pronounced, the hard work
fashioning in him a lean, hard strength. As it did in his sister. As it seemed to in most
who struggled to survive here.
The days were warm enough now that Oz wore only his overalls and no shirt or shoes.
Lou had on overalls and was barefoot as well, but she wore an old cotton undershirt. The
sun was intense at this elevation and they were becoming blonder and darker every day.
Louisa kept teaching the children things: She explained how blue lake beans have no
strings, but pole beans, grown around the cornstalks, do, and they'll choke you if you
don't first string them. And that they could raise most of their crop seed, except for oats,
which required machinery to thresh them, machinery that simple mountain farmers would
never have. And how to wash the clothes using the washboard and just enough soap made
from lye and pig fat—but not too much—keeping the fire hot, rinsing the clothes
properly, and adding bluing on the third rinse to get everything good and white. And then
at night, by firelight, how to darn with needle and thread. Louisa even talked of when
would be a good time for Lou and Oz to learn the fine arts of mule shoeing and quilting
by frame.
Louisa also finally found time to teach Lou and Oz to ride Sue the mare. Eugene would
hoist them, by turns, up on the mare, bareback, without even a blanket.
"Where's the saddle?" Lou asked. "And the stirrups?"
"Your saddle's your rump. A pair of strong legs your stirrups," Louisa answered.
Lou sat up on Sue while Louisa stood beside the mare.
"Now, Lou, hold the reins in your right hand like I done showed you, like you mean it
now!" said Louisa. "Sue'll let you get by with some, but you got to let her know who's
boss."
Lou flicked the reins, prodded the horse's sides, generally kicked up a good row, and Sue
remained absolutely motionless, as though she were sound asleep.
"Dumb horse," Lou finally declared.
"Eugene," Louisa called out to the field. "Come give me a boost up, please, honey."
Eugene limped over and helped Louisa up on the horse, and she settled in behind Lou and
took the reins.
"Now, the problem ain't that Sue's dumb, it's that you ain't speaking her way yet. Now,
when you want Sue to go, you give her a nice punch in the middle and make a little chk-
chk noise. To her that means go. When you want her to turn, you don't jerk on the reins,
you just glide them like. To stop, a little quick tug back."
Lou did as Louisa had shown her, and Sue started moving. Lou glided the reins to the left
and the horse actually went that way. She fast-tugged back on the reins and Sue came to a
slow stop.
Lou broke into a big smile. "Hey, look at me. I'm riding."
From Amanda's bedroom window, Cotton leaned his head out and watched. Then he
looked to the beautiful sky, and then over at Amanda in the bed.
A few minutes later, the front door opened and Cotton carried Amanda outside and put
her in the rocking chair there, next to a screen of maypops that were in full bloom of
leathery purple.
Oz, who was now up on Sue with his sister, looked over, saw his mother, and almost fell
off the horse. "Hey, Mom, look at me. I'm a cowboy!" Louisa stood next to the horse,