The peeping little chicks are flopping around in the water and the goose is flipping them into the water one second and chasing down Auntie the next.
“It was a shouting match like you never saw. That goose was honking at Auntie and carrying on. Auntie is trying to shout down the goose and holler for Uncle to come and help her at the same time. Uncle was laughing so hard he couldn’t stand up straight. Finally, he walks over there, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve.
“And what does he do? Get the goose away from Auntie so she can catch her breath? No! He picks the chicks out of the water and just walks away. That mother goose was so busy trying to give Auntie what-for she didn’t notice Uncle.
“Auntie wound up having to make a run for it. That mad goose chased her all the way to the front porch, honking and flapping and trying to get hold of her. Auntie was all out of breath from the hollering and red in the face. She was so worn out, she had to go lay down a while!
“If Auntie hadn’t been there, that mother goose would have drowned every last one of those chicks trying to teach them to swim!” Annie’s stories always made everyone laugh. Her appreciation for the silly predicaments people got into was wonderfully entertaining.
Later, while Charlton was competing in a chopping contest, Annie stood at the sidelines chatting with Hixson. “Charlton says you’re going to Virginia to visit a lady you met there?”
“I am that. I intend to leave tomorrow. I think you’d like her, Annie. I hope you get to meet her.” Hixson said.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Annie asked.
“She might not want me. Or maybe she met someone else.”
“I doubt she’d not want you, Hixson. She’d have to be crazy to not want you. You and Charlton are easily the two best men here.” Annie was serious.
“Thank you! You’re very kind. I hope she feels that way. There are other things, too. She might not want to come away from her home. Even for a visit.”
“If she doesn’t want to go away, will you stay with her?”
“I believe I would.” Hixson grew thoughtful. Would he stay in Virginia to be with Sarah? He knew the answer: of course he would. “Yes, I definitely would. I’d go anywhere, for her.”
“Then you must go. If you make each other one tiny little bit as happy as Charlton makes me, then you will have the whole world.” Annie squeezed Hixson’s hand. “We will all miss you while you’re gone. The wedding is in September. If you can be there, I would be grateful. It would mean so much to both of us.”
July 4th, 1865--Spotsylvania County, Virginia
They weren’t celebrating the Fourth of July in Oak Hollow, Virginia. Sarah wasn’t sure there was a celebration that day anywhere in the South. Privately, she thought the South was foolish for trying to secede. She didn’t believe they’d ever had a chance to win the fight; the North was too rich and powerful and populated.
Sarah received letters from her uncle Andrew regularly. She was learning more about her heritage and glad of it. It was a pleasure to have family to correspond with. That was something she had been missing, without even realizing it.
She spent the day at Emma’s house, working on a new quilt and chatting happily. Many soldiers had been to see her in recent weeks, hoping to find relief from old and new wounds. Even more newly-freed slaves had come to her. The violence between them and their former massahs, overseers and the poor whites was everywhere…and brutal.
Doctors were back in their home towns now. One doctor in another town had helped a freed slave and been beaten for it. It was a time of turmoil and continued bloodshed and fear.
When someone would approach the cabin, especially if Sarah felt their need for help affecting her, she sent Towzer to fetch Emma. Emma always knew when she saw the dog to hurry over. Both women had been busy nearly every day with the needs of others. Not only was Emma glad to stay home all day. Sarah was stretched to the end of her strength and needed to be away from the suffering of others. It was a perfect day to rest.
Caleb played fetch with Towzer. He had an old sock which he had stuffed with sawdust and packed tight, making a homemade ball. Towzer loved to try to catch it before it hit the ground. When she achieved it, she’d bring it back to Caleb, tail high, feeling proud.
Caleb cocked his arm back, ready to throw. Towzer lowered her front legs, rump up and ears high and alert: she was ready to catch. Caleb threw the ball hard, and hit Towzer squarely between the eyes. She stumbled around, dizzy and wobbling. She was still staggering around like a drunk when Sarah and Emma came out onto the porch with cold tea.
Sarah saw Towzer staggering and thought at first the dog had suffered a stroke. She ran out to the dog, thinking something was seriously wrong.
“What happened to her? How long has she been like this?”
Caleb started to claim ignorance, but then realized he had better confess. “I hit her in the head with the ball. I’m sorry.” He could not have been more shamefaced.
Emma started to giggle. Sarah looked at Emma and started to laugh, too. Pretty soon, the three of them were guffawing and Towzer was sitting on her haunches, dazed.
When the dog had regained her wits, Caleb called her into the shade of a peach tree. Caleb sat with his back against the tree; Towzer lay down and rested her head on his lap. In minutes, they were both dozing.
Sipping cool tea and fanning themselves, Sarah and Emma sat on the porch. It was so quiet and peaceful they spoke little. It was enough to relax in silent companionship and they thought their own thoughts without sharing. The sound of a buggy coming through the wood stirred both women from the workings of their minds.
Caleb was too asleep to notice, but Towzer lifter her head to see who was coming. Hans Loefler, the undertaker, was approaching fast. His wife Gert was slumped in the seat beside him. Emma glanced at Sarah, checking her reaction. Gert Loefler was no friend to Sarah.
Gert Loefler was a bitter, carping shrew who never said a kind word about anyone. Most of all, she never spoke kindly of Sarah. Given the slightest opening she would harangue whoever was there to listen, saying Sarah should be driven from the town. She called Sarah a witch, a bastard, and even a few things worse.
Hans Loefler halted the team suddenly when he realized Sarah was on the porch. He had obviously been heading to her cabin. He called from the buggy, demanding help to bring Gert out.
Hans was a slight man, short and spare. His hands were tiny for a man, and lily white. The little hair he had was an ashy gray that just looked dirty; this he combed around his head in a swirl in an attempt to hide his baldness.
Emma had always wondered how such a man could think himself to be such a handsome fellow. He assumed all women lusted after him. Even when a woman told him bluntly that she did not, he convinced himself she was just covering up. Any woman who was remotely civil or polite to him, he interpreted as a flirtation. He strutted about, and winked at women of all ages with a knowing leer.
Knowing, indeed. The man knew nothing. He was repulsive to every woman in town, even to Gert Loefler though she had not divulged that. His profession alone was distasteful to think about. The smell of the chemicals he used in embalming seemed to permeate his very person. His voice was high and effeminate. Certainly, his ogling ways were repugnant. The man was a disastrous specimen.
This was the man who squeaked out in a sissified voice an imperious command to help him carry Mrs. Loefler out of the buggy. Emma and Sarah went to help, as they would have done anyway. Gert Loefler was moaning softly as she leaned on her husband. Her belly was distended, her color was very poor, and she had an acrid sour smell. As hot as it was out, she shivered.
They carried her indoors and laid her on the floor; Emma’s table was much smaller than Sarah’s. The moment Sarah had looked full into Gert Loefler’s face, the light began to focus on the sick woman. It made it difficult for Sarah to navigate. This woman was terribly ill.
Emma, too, could see how serious the situation was. “How long has she been ailing?” She asked Hans Loefler. “O
h she’s been down a fortnight, I suppose. She’s been complaining since Christmas of gripping pains in her middle. But then, she complains about everything.” There was no apparent worry in his voice.
“I brought her here because she insisted. I don’t know what a witch is going to do for her, but she begged me.”
Emma spun on him, “You get your sorry ass out of me house. You go wait out with the hogs. That’s where you belong, if they’ll tolerate you. I got no use for your mean wife, but she needs help. You, you just need to get out of me house before I hit you upside the head with a rolling pin!” When Emma was mad, her accent grew stronger.
Hans scurried out like the rat he was, and Emma turned her attention back to Sarah. Her color was still high when she asked Sarah what was wrong with Gert Loefler.
“She’s got a tumor or something in her stomach, Emma. See how there’s no light there? No, I guess not. Something is badly wrong. I can take away her pain, but I don’t believe she’ll wake from it.” Sarah was trembling as she spoke. Sarah turned her head away to gag and she was breathing hard.
Emma could see this was a very bad case. Emma called Caleb in and had him go fetch Mr. Loefler. She would not go herself; she was still in too much of a temper.
The obnoxious little man came back to the doorway without stepping inside. Emma glared at him, but it was Sarah who spoke. “Mr.