Wish You Well

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The grandmother clock had just struck midnight when the pebbles hit Lou’s window. The girl was in the middle of a dream that disintegrated under the sudden clatter. Lou stepped to the window and looked out, seeing nothing at first. Then she spotted her caller and opened the window.

“What do you think you’re doing, Diamond Skinner?”

“Come get you,” said the boy, standing there next to his faithful hound.

“For what?”

In answer he pointed at the moon. It glowed more brightly than Lou had ever seen before. So fine was her view, she could see dark smudges on its surface.

“I can see the moon all by myself, thank you very much,” she said.

Diamond smiled. “Naw, not just that. Fetch your brother. Come on, now, it be fun where we going. You see.”

Lou looked unsure. “How far is it?”

“Not fer. Ain’t scared of the dark, are ya?”

“Wait right there,” she said and shut the window.

In five minutes’ time Lou and Oz were fully dressed and had crept out of the farmhouse and joined Diamond and Jeb.

Lou yawned. “This better be good, Diamond, or you should be scared for waking us up.”

They set out at a good pace to the south. Diamond kept up an animated chatter the whole way, yet absolutely refused to divulge where they were going. Lou finally quit trying and looked at the boy’s bare feet as he stepped easily over some sharp-edged rocks. She and Oz were wearing their shoes.

“Diamond, don’t your feet ever get sore or cold?” she asked as they paused on a small knoll to catch their breath.

“Snow comes, then mebbe y’all see something on my feet, but only if it drifts to more’n ten foot or so. Come on now.”

They set off again, and twenty minutes later, Lou and Oz could hear the quickened rush of water. A minute later Diamond put up his hand and they all stopped. “Got to go real slow here,” he said. They followed him closely as they moved over rocks that were becoming more slippery with each step; and the sound of the rushing water seemed to be coming at them from all quarters, as though they were about to be confronted by a tidal wave. Lou gripped Oz’s hand for it was all a little unnerving to her, and thus she assumed her brother must be suffering stark terror. They cleared a stand of towering birch and weeping willow heavy with water, and Lou and Oz looked up in awe.

The waterfall was almost one hundred feet high. It poured out from a crop of worn limestone and plummeted straight down into a pool of foamy water, which then snaked off into the darkness. And then Lou suddenly realized what Diamond had meant about the moon. It glowed so brightly, and the waterfall and pool were placed so perfectly, that the trio were surrounded by a sea of illumination. The reflected light was so strong, in fact, that night seemed to have been turned into day.

They moved back farther, to a place where they could still see everything but the noise of the falls wasn’t as intense and they could speak without having to shout over the thunder of the water.

“Feeder line for the McCloud River is all,” said Diamond. “Right higher’n most though.”

“It looks like it’s snowing upwards,” said Lou, as she sat, amazed, upon a moss-covered rock. And with the frothing water kicking high and then seized by the powerful light, it did look like snow was somehow returning to the sky. At one corner of the pool the water was especially brilliant. They gathered at this place.

Diamond said very solemnly, “Right there’s where God done touched the earth.”

Lou leaned forward and examined the spot closely. She turned to Diamond and said, “Phosphorus.”

“What?” he said.

“I think it’s phosphorus rock. I’ve studied it in school.”

“Say that word agin,” said Diamond.

And she did, and Diamond said it over and over until it slipped quite easily out of his mouth. He proclaimed it a grand and pleasing word to say, yet still defined it as a thing God had touched, and Lou did not have the heart to say otherwise.

Oz leaned forward and dipped his hand into the pool, then pulled it back immediately and shivered.

“Always that way,” said Diamond, “even on the hottest durn day.” He looked around, a smile on his lips. “But it sure purty.”

“Thanks for bringing us,” said Lou.

“Tote all my friends here,” he said amiably and then looked to the sky. “Hey, y’all knowed your stars good?”

“Some of them,” Lou said. “The Big Dipper, and Pegasus.”

“Ain’t never heard’a none of them.” Diamond pointed to the northern sky. “Turn your head a little and right there’s what I call the bear what missing one leg. And over to there’s the stone chimbly. And right there”—he stabbed his finger more to the south—“now right there is Jesus a’sitting next to God. Only God ain’t there, ’cause he off doing good. ’Cause he God. But you see the chair.” He looked back at them. “Ain’tcha’ now? See it?”

Oz said that he could see them all, clear as day though it was night. Lou hesitated, wondering whether it was better to instruct Diamond on proper constellations or not. She finally smiled. “You know a lot more about stars than we do, Diamond. Now that you pointed them out, I can see them all too.”

Diamond grinned big. “Well, up here on the mountain, we a lot closer to ’em than down to the city. Don’t worry, I teach you good.”

They spent a pleasant hour there and then Lou thought it would be best if they got back.

They were about halfway home when Jeb started growling and making slow circles in the tall grass, his snout wrinkled and his teeth bared.

“What’s wrong with him, Diamond?” asked Lou.

“Just smells something. Lotta critters round. Don’t pay him no mind.”

Suddenly Jeb took off running hard and howling so loud it hurt their ears.

“Jeb!” Diamond called after him. “You come back here now.” The dog never slowed, though, and they finally saw why. The black bear was moving in long strides across the far fringe of the meadow.

“Dang it, Jeb, leave that bear be.” Diamond raced after the dog, and Lou and Oz ran after Diamond. But dog and bear soon left the two-legs in the dust. Diamond finally stopped, gasping for air, and Lou and Oz ran up to him and fell on the ground, their lungs near bursting.

Diamond smacked his fist into his palm. “Dang that dog.”

“Will that bear hurt him?” asked Oz anxiously.

“Shoot, naw. Jeb pro’bly tree the durn thing and then get tired and go on home.” Diamond didn’t look convinced though. “Come on now.”

They walked briskly for some minutes, until Diamond slowed, looked around, and held up his hand for them to stop. He turned, put a finger to his lips, and motioned for them to follow, but to keep low. They scooted along for about thirty feet, and then Diamond went down on his belly and Lou and Oz did too. They crawled forward and were soon on the rim of a little hollow. It was surrounded by trees and underbrush, the limbs and vines overhanging the place and forming a natural roof, but the shafts of moonlight had broken through in places, leaving the space well illuminated.

“What is it?” Lou wanted to know.

“Shh,” Diamond said, and then cupped his hand around her ear and whispered. “Man’s still.”

Lou looked again, and picked up on the bulky contraption with its big metal belly, copper tubing, and wooden block legs. Jugs to be filled with the corn whiskey sat on boards placed over stacked stone. A lit kerosene lamp was hooked to a slender post thrust into the moist ground. Steam rose from the still. They heard movement.

Lou flinched as George Davis appeared next to the still and flopped down a forty-pound burlap bag. The man was intent on his work and apparently never heard them. Lou looked at Oz, who was shaking so hard Lou was afraid George Davis might feel the ground vibrating. She tugged at Diamond and pointed to where they had come from. Diamond nodded in agreement and they began to slither backward. Lou glanced back at the still, but Davis had disappeared. She froze. And then she nearly screamed because she heard something coming and feared the worst.

The bear flashed by her line of sight first and into the hollow. Then came Jeb. The bear cut a sharp corner, and the dog skidded into the post holding the lamp and knocked it over. The lamp hit the ground and smashed. The bear careened into the still, and metal gave way under three hundred pounds of black bear and fell over, breaking open and tearing loose the copper tubing. Diamond raced into the hollow, yelling at his dog.

The bear apparently was weary of being chased and turned and rose up on its hind legs, its claws and teeth now quite prominent. Jeb stopped dead at the sight of the six-foot black wall that could bite him in half, and backed up, growling. Diamond reached the hound and pulled at his neck.

“Jeb, you fool thing!”

“Diamond!” Lou called out as she too jumped up and saw the man coming at her friend.

“What the hell!” Davis had emerged from the darkness, shotgun in hand.

“Diamond, look out!” screamed Lou again.

The bear roared, the dog barked, Diamond hollered, and Davis pointed his shotgun and swore. The gun fired twice, and bear, dog, and boy took off running like the holy hell. Lou ducked as the buckshot tore through leaves and imbedded in bark. “Run, Oz, run,” screamed Lou. Oz jumped up and ran, but the boy was confused, for he headed into the hollow instead of away from it. Davis was reloading his shotgun when Oz came upon him. The boy realized his mistake too late, and Davis snagged him by the collar. Lou ran toward them. “Diamond!” screamed Lou once more. “Help!”

Davis had Oz pinned against his leg with one hand and was trying to reload his gun with the other.

“Gawd damn you,” the man thundered at the cowering boy.

Lou flung her fists into him but didn’t do any damage, for though he was short, George Davis was hard as brick.

“You let him go,” Lou yelled. “Let him go!”

Davis did let go of Oz, but only so he could strike Lou. She crumpled to the ground, her mouth bleeding. But the man never saw Diamond. The boy picked up the fallen post, swung it, and clipped Davis’s legs out from under him, sending the man down hard. Then Diamond conked Davis on the head with the post for good measure. Lou grabbed Oz, and Diamond grabbed Lou, and the three were more than fifty yards from the hollow by the time George Davis regained his legs in a lathered fury. A few seconds after that, they heard one more shotgun blast, but they were well out of range by then.

They heard running behind them and picked up their pace. Then Diamond looked back and said that it was okay, it was only Jeb. They ran all the way back to the farmhouse, where they collapsed on the front porch, their breathing tortured, their limbs shaking from both fatigue and fright.

When they sat up, Lou considered taking up the run once more because Louisa was standing there in her nightdress looking at them and holding a kerosene lamp. She wanted to know where they’d been. Diamond tried to answer for them, but Louisa told him to hush in a tone so sharp it struck the always chatty Diamond mute.

“The truth, Lou,” ordered the woman.

And Lou told her, including the almost deadly run-in with George Davis. “But it wasn’t our fault,” she said. “That bear—”

Louisa snapped, “Get yourself to the barn, Diamond. And take that dang dog with you.”

“Yes’m,” said Diamond, and he and Jeb slunk away.

Louisa turned back to Lou and Oz. Lou could see she was trembling. “Oz, you get yourself to bed. Right now.”

Oz glanced once at Lou and fled inside. And then it was just Lou and Louisa.

Lou stood there as nervous as she had ever been.

“You could’a got yourself kilt tonight. Worse’n that you could’a got you and your brother kilt.”

“But, Louisa, it wasn’t our fault. You see—”

“Is your fault!” Louisa said fiercely, and Lou felt the tears rush to her eyes at the woman’s tone.

“I didn’t have you come to this mountain to die at the sorry hands of George Davis, girl. You gone off on your own bad enough. But taking your little brother too—and he follow you cross fire, not knowing no better—I’m ashamed of you!”

Lou bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Louisa stood very erect. “I ain’t never raised my hand to a child, though my patience run sore over the years. But if you ever do somethin’ like that agin, you gonna find my hand ’cross your skin, missy, and it be somethin’ you ain’t never forget. You unnerstand me?” Lou nodded dumbly. “Then get to bed,” said Louisa. “And we speak no more of it.”

The next morning George Davis rode up on his wagon pulled by a pair of mules. Louisa came outside to face him, her hands behind her back.

Davis spit chew onto the ground next to the wagon wheel. “Them devils broke up my propity. Here to get paid.”

“You mean for busting up your still.”

Lou and Oz came outside and stared at the man.

“Devils!” he roared. “Gawd damn you!”

Louisa stepped off the porch. “If you gonna talk that way, git yourself off my land. Now!”

“I want my money! And I want them beat bad for what they done!”

“You fetch the sheriff and go show him what they done to your still, and then he can tell me what’s fair.”

Davis stared at her dumbly, the mule whip clenched in one hand. “You knowed I can’t do that, woman.”

“Then you know the way off my land, George.”

“How ’bout I put the torch to your farm?”

Eugene came outside, a long stick in his big hand.

Davis held up the whip. “Hell No, you keep your nigger self right there afore I put the whip to you just like your granddaddy had ’cross his back!” Davis started to get down from the wagon. “Mebbe I’ll just do it anyway, boy. Mebbe all’a you!”

Louisa pulled the rifle from behind her back and leveled it at George Davis. The man stopped halfway off his wagon when he saw the Winchester’s long barrel pointed at him.

“Get off my land,” Louisa said quietly, as she cocked the weapon and rested its butt against her shoulder, her finger on the trigger. “Afore I lose my patience, and you lose some blood.”

“I pay you, George Davis,” Diamond called out as he came out of the barn, Jeb trailing him.

Davis visibly shook, he was so angry. “My damn head’s still ringing from where you done walloped me, boy.”

“You durn lucky then, ’cause I could’a hit you a lot harder if’n I wanted to.”

“Don’t you smartmouth me!” Davis roared.

“You want’a git your money or not?” said Diamond.

“What you got? You ain’t got nuthin’.”

Diamond put his hand in his pocket and drew out a coin. “Got me this. Silver dollar.”

“Dollar! You wreck my still, boy. Think a damn dollar gonna fix that? Fool!”

“It done come from my great-granddaddy five times removed. A hunnerd year old it is. Man down Tremont say he gimme twenty dollar for it.”

Davis’s eyes lighted up at this. “Lemme see it.”

“Naw. Take it or leave it. I telling the truth. Twenty dollar. Man named Monroe Darcy. He run the store down Tremont. You knowed him.”

Davis was silent for a bit. “Gimme it.”

“Diamond,” Lou called out, “don’t do it.”

“Man got to pay his debts,” said Diamond. He sauntered over to the wagon. When Davis reached out for the coin, Diamond pulled it back. “Look here, George Davis, this means we square. You ain’t coming round to Miss Louisa for nuthin’ if’n I give you this. You got to swear.”

Davis looked like he might put the whip to Diamond’s back instead, but he said, “I swear. Now gimme it!”

Diamond flipped the coin to Davis, who caught it, studied it, bit on it, and then stashed it in his pocket.

“Now git yourself gone, George,” said Louisa.

Davis glared at her. “Next time, my gun don’t miss.”

He turned mules and wagon around and left in a whirl of dust. Lou stared at Louisa, who held the rifle on Davis until the man was out of sight. “Would you really have shot him?” she asked.

Louisa uncocked the rifle and went inside without answering the question.