Part 4 (1/2)
”Miss Ophelia was crying.”
”What had Mister Ward said to make her cry?”
”He said, 'Won't that be a beaut?'”
”What was gonna be so pretty?”
”I couldn't see nothing, Papa. Just the branch. And tadpoles in the water.”
”What else did Mister Ward say?”
”He ain't gonna plant no more cotton. Just corn. And he ain't gonna buy no sugar from you.”
”Sugar? And corn? Hmm. Hon, what did Miss Ophelia say about the corn and sugar?”
”She said, 'Ward, don't do it.'”
”Don't do what?”
”Don't say nothing about shooting.”
”Yeah? Go on! What else?”
”'Don't make the moon s.h.i.+ne.'”
”MOONs.h.i.+NE? Great Jehoshaphat and gully dirt! Nannie, take this baby home! Don't let her out of your sight!”
”Papa, you mad at me?”
”No, hon. You're a sweet girl. You and Mama go on home now, and you help her milk the cows and fix supper. I'll be there directly, and maybe I'll bring you another stick of candy.”
”Peppermint?”
”Yeah. Peppermint!”
On the way home, Mama kept the buggy lines clenched tight with both hands, yet she allowed Old Dale to walk or trot slow, suiting himself. She seemed to be thinking about something far off down the road.
By the time we got back to our hill, the sun was all the way down. The sky, way across Papa's cotton field, looked red. Mama said that was the glow of the sun against some sinking clouds.
”It's a sign of no rain, Bandershanks, when the sky's red in the evening.”
We could see the moon, too, rising over the walnut trees, between the top of our wagon shelter and Grandpa Thad's house. It looked just like always, when the moon is full, and I didn't think Mister Ward had anything to do with it.
Chapter 2
Next morning, nothing was said about the moon s.h.i.+ning or about Mister Ward. Instead, while Mama was fixing my breakfast, she told me it was a perfect day to make sauerkraut.
”How come, Mama?”
”Our cabbages are ready, and Doanie and Huldie are up here to fix them.”
”Did Shoogie come?” I jumped out of my chair to run to the side window.