Great Jehoshaphat and Gully Dirt! Part 35

He'd get Belle and Puddin' Foot unhitched and backed away from our oak tree and headed toward the main road; then he'd give the mules a light slap with the reins and say, "Belle! Puddin'

Foot! Quit moving like mola.s.ses! There's such a thing as getting home 'fore dark!" Then he'd look around at Mama and say, "Nannie, looks like on preaching days you invite everybody and his dog to go home with us for dinner!"

And every single time, Mama would smile up at Papa and say, "Well, ain't you glad the dogs don't come!"

Then they would laugh, and we'd ride on home. Mama would start putting all the Sunday good things on the dinner table, and Papa would leave the wide gate open so the company folks could drive their wagons and buggies into the well lot, where a long time ago Grandpa Thad had wedged hitching rings deep into the trunks of the black walnut trees. And before the company men could unharness their teams, Papa would have his feed trough filled with fodder and corn.

But the first Sunday after Christmas, I knew Papa wouldn't tell Mama a thing about inviting dogs to come eat dinner. Our wagon was the last one leaving the church grounds, and n.o.body was going home with us, not even Mierd and Wiley. Jenny Goode had begged Mama to let Mierd go to her house to eat dinner and spend the evening, and Mama had said she could. Wiley had gone home with the Hansen boys, and Wallace Goode went there too.

Papa climbed into the wagon, gave Belle and Puddin' Foot a light slap with the reins, and told them about how slow cold mola.s.ses moves in wintertime. As usual, they paid no attention.

"You didn't ask anybody to take dinner with us today, Nannie?"

"I asked several, Jodie. But Miss Maime had already invited Vic and the schoolteacher to go with her and Doctor Elton. And January is always their turn to take the preacher, you remember."

"Yeah, I bet Doctor Elton's looking forward to that! It'll half kill the man to sit all evening and talk to Brother Milligan!"

When we got home, I climbed down from the wagon and skipped on toward the front porch. Mierd's old Nero came around the corner of the house and met me at the yard gate. When I stopped to pet him, he purred and rubbed his back up against my legs.

Mama called to me from the kitchen and told me to run and tell Grandpa and Grandma that we were home from church. "Tell them I'll have Grandma's tray ready in just a little bit-soon as I can warm up the chicken and dumplings."

In a few minutes I was back, and I found Mama in the kitchen already setting things on Grandma's dinner tray.

"Mama, you know what Grandma Ming said?"

"No, there's no telling 'bout your grandma. What'd she tell you this time?"

"She said if I stand 'hind the door and eat a chicken foot, it'll make me pretty!"

"Goodness me! I'd forgotten that old saying."

"Can I do it, Mama?"

"You can try it, if you want to. That is, if the old rooster's feet haven't boiled all to pieces."

I followed Mama over to the cook stove and watched her lift the cover off the stew pot. White steam whoofed up, but she jerked her head back before it could get on her face. With a big spoon, she started stirring through the hot simmering dumplings.

"Here's one foot. Well, here's the other one. You may as well have both of them. But now, Bandershanks, don't be expecting too much."

Mama put the chicken feet on a saucer and handed it to me.

"Careful now. They're hot."

"Which door, Mama?"

"It won't matter. Try that one."

She pointed to the door between the kitchen and the fireplace room. I slid myself in behind it and squatted down to wait for all the steam to float away from the saucer. Then I happened to remember that Grandma Ming had said if I wanted to get pretty to stand behind the door and eat a chicken foot, so I stood back up again.

As I got up, one piece of my chicken slid off the saucer and fell to the floor. That was all right. I just wiped it off good with the tail of my underskirt.

When I had finished chewing up every last piece of skin and soft gristle sticking to the bones, I set my saucer on the floor and darted over to the bureau by Mama's bed. But its looking gla.s.s had wavy streaks, so I ran across the hall to the big dresser in the front room. After a few minutes I decided I'd have to go back in the kitchen to Mama.

"Mama, them chicken bones ain't no good! I got to the looking gla.s.s, and it was- It was- It-"

"It was what, hon?"

"My same face!"

"Well, don't cry! You look fine. Sometimes it takes a long time for a girl to get extra pretty. Some need lots of chicken feet."

"I wish every chicken had a hundred feet!"

Papa called me to come over to the kitchen bench where he was sitting.

"Come on, sugar." He took out his pocket handkerchief to wipe my sticky fingers. Then he lifted me up in his arms. "You look real beautiful to me."

While we were eating Sunday dinner, Mama said, "Jodie, I know it'll make you mad when I tell you what I've got to do this evening. But I can't help it."

"What're you talking about? We've been married nearly twenty-seven years, and I ain't got real mad at you yet, have I?"

"Well, it's this- Our Missionary Society voted to take turns carrying foodstuff over to Ophelia and her young'uns. Today's my turn!"

"You're aiming to take groceries to Ward Lawson's house? Good Lord, Nannie!"

"It's our Christian duty!"

"Christian duty?" Papa had to grab his gla.s.s of water and take a gulp to keep from choking on the biscuit he was eating.

"We can't let old Miss d.i.n.k and Ophelia and them nine young'uns suffer! Vic took vittles to them Wednesday, and she said they're on starvation-not a crumb in the kitchen! No bread, no meat, just nothing."

Papa put down his knife and fork. "Nannie, it ain't my Christian duty to feed the family of a sorry, no-'count sot who nearly beat me to death, then burned down my store and kidnapped my baby! And he ain't through yet! He'll poison our livestock or-"

"But, Jodie! The poor little young'uns! They can't help it!

They-"

"All right! All right! I'll hitch up the buggy and take you-this one time. I declare, womenfolks don't look at things like men do. You see Christian duty where all I see is plain, hard facts!"

It was rather late when we got to Miss Ophelia's place. We didn't see anybody on the porch, in the hall, or anywhere. But there was a little streak of smoke rising from one chimney. Papa hitched Dale close to the yard gate, and we sat in the buggy to wait while Mama went inside with her box of eggs and b.u.t.ter and stuff.

We'd been there a few minutes when Papa noticed two people coming up the trail from Ned's house.

"Looks like two women, Bandershanks."

"It's Shoogie! And Doanie! Papa, lem'me run to meet them!"

"All right."