TRAGEDY OF BLOOD

a novel by Gary Canup

Chapter 5

One day the Nicis had visitors. Mr. Bass and his sixteen-year-old son Greg hitched their mules to the porch rail, and Andrew came to the door to welcome them. He held the door open while his two guests took off their hats and entered the main room. Andrew invited them to sit in comfortable chairs by the open window. "Lavinia, would yeh bring our two guests some apple cider?"

Andrew and Mr. Bass exchanged the usual light pleasantries regarding the weather and the relative health of each other's families. The Basses lived two valleys down the river and their journey had been a long one. Mr. Bass offered Andrew his condolences on the recent loss of two more sons, but congratulated him on the end of the feud. Andrew nodded solemnly. "It was a long time in comin," he admitted.

Lavinia came over with a jug of apple cider and three wooden mugs which she filled and handed in turn to Mr. Bass, his son, and her pa.

"Why, thanky, young lady," Mr. Bass said.

"Yes, thanks, Lavinia," Greg said. He smiled appreciatively and Lavinia responded with a blushing smile and shyly averted her eyes. She left their company but made it a point to stay within sight of Greg Bass as she did her chores around the hearth.

Mr. Bass got down to the purpose of their visit.

"Yeh mighta heerd we done had us some right poor growins last year," he said. "We ain't got but a few sacks a corn left to our name."

"I'm plumb sorry to hear that," Andrew replied. "What happened?"

"My health was poorly, fer one thing. Couldn't work like usual. And we done had us no rain to speak of. Didn't nobody in our holler do much good. Ceptin Turpin. He's so all-fired lazy, but he's got the bestest land in the holler, and his corn prackly growed all by itsef."

"What can I do fer yeh, Mr. Bass?"

"I hear tell yall had a corn surplus last year?"

"That's right. We was downright lucky."

"And I also hear yer in need a mules?"

Andrew nodded grimly. "Several brutes a ourn got kilt in a Groth attack on our field a while back."

Mr. Bass drawled formally: "Mr. Nici, I'd like to propose a barter transaction. Might yeh be innerested in tradin corn fer mules? I woulda went to Turpin, but he's crookeder than a dog's hind leg."

"Yeh done right to come to me, Mr. Bass. I reckon I can hep."

"That's downright kind a yeh," Mr. Bass replied, much relieved. "What yeh reckon would be a fair trade? I'd like to leave the terms to yall."

Andrew stared out the window, pondering the question. Then he looked at Mr. Bass. "How bout, say, fifty sacks a corn fer two mules? Would that be fair?"

"That'd not only be fair, Mr. Nici, that'd be powerful generous. Yeh shore yeh can afford to part with that many sacks a corn?"

"We got moren we can use, Mr. Bass, and yer family needs the corn. I wouldn't wanna take advantage of yeh in yer need."

"Well, we got some right fine young mules," Mr. Bass assured him. "Two's out front if yeh'd keer to take a look at em."

"I'll do that. But right now, I'd like to bring up the matter a how to transport all that corn. The mountains is mighty rough goin fer a wagon, and we ain't got nuff mules fer a mule train. But what we do got is the river. How bout if us Nicis built a raft big nuff to transport fifty sacks a corn downriver to yer holler? After that, it'd be up to yeh and yer boys to fetch the corn to yer homestead, and we-uns could ride the two mules on home." "A raft sounds like a right fine idee," Mr. Bass replied, nodding sagely. "How long yeh reckon it'd take yeh to build sich a raft?"

"Bout a fortnight. We can start in a week. It'll be our growin season and our work load'll be lighter. Will that be all right, Mr. Bass?"

"Sho-nuff," Mr. Bass replied.

Despite his family's critical need for corn, young Greg Bass had not been following the conversation. He was far more interested in watching Lavinia perform her chores around the hearth. One time he managed to catch her eye and smile and she pressed her lips together in a bashful self-conscious little smile and looked away.

The Old One entered the main room and asked Lavinia to bring in the laundry. The girl was dismayed, as the chore would take her out of sight of Greg Bass, but of course she consented, even though she knew he probably would not be staying long. However, Greg had overheard the Old One's request, and he stood and politely interrupted the conversation between Andrew and his pa:

"Mr. Nici, sir, would it be all right if I companied yer daughter out to the clothesline? That is, course, if she'd like me to."

Andrew was somewhat taken by surprise. "Lavinia?" he said.

"I don't mind, Pa," she replied, trying very hard to disguise her pleasure.

"Don't stray too fur, Greg," Mr. Bass said. "We got to be goin directly."

"Okay, Pa."

Greg held the door for Lavinia, who passed with her basket, and they went out together to the clothesline where freshly laundered clothing stirred gently in a soft breeze in the sunlight. Greg watched her take down the clothes.

"Yer pa's a right nice man," he told her. "I really like him a heap."

"Thank you," Lavinia said, carefully taking down a sheet.

"The rest a yer kin as nice as him?"

"I think so," she said, her movements self-conscious and unsure in his presence, and she hoped that she would not drop any of the clothing on the ground. "But, of course, I'm partial."

"Didje warsh all these here clothes by yersef?"

"Mostly," she admitted, hoping that it did not sound boastful. "The Old One hepped."

"Peers like a heap a work."

"It can be, sometimes."

With embarrassment Lavinia took down the Old One's petticoat. Greg noticed her cheeks pinken and he smiled.

"What yeh like to do fer fun, Lavinia?"

"Pa and me went fishin a while back."

"Was it fun?"

"Kinda."

"Didje ketch anything?"

"We caught us a nice trout, a real pretty one. We put him back, though."

"What else yeh like to do?"

"I like to read," she said.

"Read?"

"An old hermit who died a while back taught us how."

"Yeh mean like books?"

"He left us a big trunk full of em, along with pencils and paper and such."

"He teach yeh how to write too?"

"And figures also," Lavinia nodded, taking down a pair of pants.

"Laws," Greg Bass marveled. "That's downright impressive. Don't know a no one else in these here mountains that can read and write and do figures and sich. Yer mighty lucky, Lavinia."

The girl did not know how to reply.

"Who yeh say it was, a ol' hermit?"

"He told us he used to be a teacher down in the flatlands. Never told us why he came to the mountains, though. Somethin sad happened, I reckon. He was a very sweet old boy. Kinda melancholy. He died a few years back." Lavinia silenced herself, fearing that she had been rambling a bit out of nervousness.

Greg nodded thoughtfully. "I shore do wish I'd a knowed bout this ol' hermit. I'd a liked to taken lessons from him, too." He seemed to lapse into thought for several seconds. Then he said: "Yeh really can read and write, huh? I envy that. I really do admire yeh fer it."

Greg was not just flattering her. She could tell that he was sincere.

The youth stood quietly now as though deep in thought. In the meantime, Lavinia

took the rest of the laundry down off the line. She turned and looked at him, holding the basket of clean dry clothes.

"Well, I'm finished," she announced.

He started out of his reverie. "Lemme tote that there basket fer yeh," he offered. He took the basket and they walked slowly back toward the house.

"Lavinia? I was a-wonderin. Yeh reckon yeh could teach my little brothers and sisters how to read and write?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know how to teach it," she admitted.

"But yeh knows how to do it. Seems to me yeh could teach it, too. Like, I knows how to prepare skins and furs and I teach it to my younger brothers."

"Readin and writin's different. Teachin it is real hard and it takes a long time. I don't know how the old hermit done it. I'm still kinda learnin myself."

"I see," said Greg Bass, disappointed.

"I'd like to be a teacher someday, though, when I'm older," she hastened to add. "Quint and Marty, they're my oldest brothers, they said they'd build me a schoolhouse if I ever decided to become a teacher for real. But I don't know how yet."

"Well, when yeh learn how, I shore would preciate it, and my folks would too, if yeh'd teach our young-uns. They'd be downright thrilled to git a chance to do some genuine learnin, and we'd all be right beholden to yeh."

They entered the house and Greg placed the basket of laundry on the table and returned to his seat. Lavinia and the Old One commenced folding the clothes, and while Andrew and Mr. Bass continued their conversation, Greg and Lavinia could not help but steal occasional smiling glances at one another across the room.

Finally Andrew rose to his feet, rubbing his hands together with anticipation as he said, "Now, let's go take us a look at them mules."

Mr. Bass and his son got up and retrieved their hats from the wooden pegs by the door. Before departing, young Greg went up to Lavinia and surprised her by gently taking her hand and saying: "Goodbye, Lavinia. It was mighty nice meetin yeh. I right enjoyed our tawk, and the apple cider, too."

He smiled sadly and turned and strode outside, and Andrew and Mr. Bass, grinning back at a pleasantly flustered Lavinia, then grinning at each other, followed the lad out the door. They went up to the mules and Andrew inspected their teeth, eyes, hide, muscle tone and hooves. He smiled with satisfaction, and said while slapping a haunch of one of the mules, "These here's right fine animals all right."

He and Mr. Bass shook hands.

"Would yeh and yer son like to stay fer dinner?" Andrew offered. "Matter a fact, why don't yeh spend the night and git a fresh start in the mornin?"

"That's right thoughty of yeh," Mr. Bass replied, "but my kin's expectin us back."

They took their leave of one another, and Andrew went up on the porch, watching

them ride away on the mules. Lavinia came out to her father's side and stood gazing wide-eyed after Greg Bass. The girl was clearly smitten.

"Ain't he awful good-lookin, Pa?"

"Mr. Bass?" Andrew teased.

"No, Pa, I mean his boy. Ain't he even as good-lookin as Lucas, and gentlemanly, too?"

"He's a right fine young man," Andrew said.