Chapter 8I was learning fast.I learned why you have to have Christmas Eve Day before you can have Christmas. It's so you can sit on the kitchen floor and string popcorn to hang on the big tree at church. Mierd told me that. And she was in a good humor, even laughing, when she said it.The next minute, though, Mierd was fussing, saying I was bad, tattling to Mama."Mama, just look at Bandershanks! You ought'a get a switch to her! She's eating up every grain of this popcorn! Won't be enough left to go from one limb to another, much less all round the Christmas tree!" Mierd jerked the pan of popcorn out of my hands and held it up toward Mama. "Look, Mama!""Mama, Mierd's telling you wrong! I just eat the ones that crack when I punch my needle in 'em!"Mama didn't even look around. She spread another dampened pillowcase on the ironing board and pressed her hot iron back and forth, back and forth, along the crocheted trimming.As soon as Mierd set the pan back on the floor between our feet, I reached for more corn."Bandershanks, you're clumsy with your needle on purpose! See how long my string is? And look at yours! I bet you ain't got fourteen grains on it. Quit grabbing all the biggest grains!""You're making me spill it, Mierd!"Girls! Girls! Christmas Eve's no time for sisters to be quarreling." Mama folded the pillowcase as fast as she could and gave it a final lick with the smoothing iron. She glanced down at Mierd and me and at the half-empty pan of corn. She couldn't see the sour face Mierd was making at me. "Now y'all make haste and finish stringing your popcorn. We've got to go on up to the church and help Aunt Vic. She's worked so hard getting up the program, the least the rest of us can do is have the church ready tonight.""Are we gonna just stay till the program?""No, Mierd. The cows have got to be milked, and I'll need to fix supper for your grandma and grandpa. So we'll rush back home as soon as we get the cleaning and decorating done. Thank goodness I'm through with this eternal ironing one more time."Mierd hopped up off the floor and asked Mama where Wiley was."I thought you knew he went with a bunch of boys to look for the tree—this morning.""No'm.""I wish I'd gone.""No, no, Bandershanks. Girls don't go tramping through the woods to cut down Christmas trees. The place for girls is in the house. Mierd, see if Grandpa Thad has finished hitching up the wagon for us."I grabbed myself a handful of corn and ran with Mierd.Lots of folks were going in and out of Papa's store as we passed there. Mama said they had waited till the eleventh hour to buy presents to put on the tree.We could see several people up at the church, too. Uncle Dan and Wallace Goode's papa were at the woodpile chopping kindling. Mrs. Goode and Mrs. Hansen were stooping down by the church doorsteps. At first I couldn't imagine what they were doing. Then, as we got closer, I saw that they had the wall lamps and tin reflectors lined up on the bottom steps and were cleaning globes, trimming wicks, and polishing the reflectors.Mama told Mierd that the Missionary Society had bought extra oil."Y'all gonna light all sixteen lamps, Mama?""Every one! After all, it's Christmas Eve!"As soon as Mama went inside, she and Aunt Lovie started talking about the sagging old benches. They looked at the one with the bad bottom."It ought'a be either fixed or thrown away," Mama said. She took hold of one slat and shook it. The whole pew almost fell apart."Every last one of them should be taken out and chopped up for firewood!" Aunt Lovie declared. "Then we'd have to get new benches. Pa used to say that when the old church was built the carpenters just nailed together some scrap lumber to use temporarily—till the congregation could buy regular pews. Then, when we put up this church, we foolishly brought the old things on over here.""Yes, I know," Mama said. "That temporary business turned into a long time. Forty years or more!"I left Mama and Aunt Lovie still talking about the pitiful condition of the church. Mierd and Sally were shrieking and fluttering around like two young setting hens, so I had to find out what they were looking at out the middle window.It was just Wiley and Wallace Goode and the big boys with the Christmas tree. They were at the corner of the building trying to slide the tree out of Mister Goode's wagon. We couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the way Dorris and Jim-Bo were waving their arms, they were all trying to decide whether to pull the big holly toward the front of the wagon or toward the back.The boys finally got the tree out of the wagon and a base nailed on it. They carried the tall tree to the front of the church, but they couldn't get it to stand straight. In spite of long, stiff wires fastened to its limbs, the tree kept leaning toward the pulpit. Aunt Vic said that would never do. She had Dorris and Jim-Bo turn the tree around this way and that. Still, it wouldn't stand straight.Finally, Mister Shepherd sent Wallace Goode home to get a hand saw so he could trim off the bottom of the trunk. Then he showed Jim-Bo how to brace the tree by nailing on three short boards.Mister Shepherd and Jim-Bo and Dorris raised the big holly again. This time it stood straight, but the top scraped against the ceiling, just a little bit."Miss Vic, will this be all right?" Mister Shepherd asked."Oh, sure. A bent twig or two won't matter. Our star will cover the tip top anyway. One of you tall boys—Dorris, you'll do—climb up the ladder and fasten on the star. And wire it tight! It fell last year, remember!"I didn't remember, but the boys did. They laughed."Boys, y'all lend a hand," Aunt Vic said, "and let's get the decorations on. Somebody tell those ladies in the back to put down their dust cloths and come help fasten the candles. Let's see, we ought'a drape the strings of popcorn around first. Here, Wallace, you and Wiley tie the popcorn balls on the low limbs. Oh, goodness! These I brought are sorta sticky!" Aunt Vic stopped talking only long enough to lick off the candied syrup that had stuck to her finger.I picked up a popcorn ball, thinking maybe some of the sweet goo would stick to my fingers. But the schoolteacher saw me, so I had to drop it back into Aunt Vic's box real quick. I licked my fingers, but not much sweet stuff was on them."Bandershanks," Aunt Vic said, "com'ere a minute." Aunt Vic sat down on the organ stool and swung herself around toward me."Now, Bandershanks." Aunt Vic put her arm around me and drew me up close. "Tonight you're gonna be the little walking Christmas tree and say a recitation too!""Me?""Sure. All the older children will be in the part Mister Shepherd's putting on. So we saved the walking tree bit just for you.""What does a walking tree do?"'Ill tell you that in a minute. Your mama is gonna get you here early tonight, and you bring one of your papa's old, worn-out felt hats with you. Before the program starts, we'll wrap your tree costume around you. Then, when the time comes—I'll tell you when—you'll step out front and recite your piece.""My piece?""Right! A little recitation all your own! Now don't mention what you're gonna say to anybody. It'll be a big surprise!"She leaned closer and whispered a short rhyme to me. "Can you remember that?""I don't know.""Oh, sure you can. Whisper it back to me."I said it for her."Good! Now, tonight after you say it, I want you to walk through the church with your papa's hat, and everybody will put in money. That will be for poor people. Then you come back to me, and I'll get some of the little presents off the tree and pin them on you. Then you'll walk up and down the aisle so that folks can take off their gifts. What do you think of that? Can you do it?""Oh, yes Ma'am! I can do it!"On our way home I thought I'd absolutely pop wide open with excitement. But I never did. At supper I gulped down a whole big glass of buttermilk with corn bread crumbled in it, and not a drop leaked out of me! Even after we got our stockings hung up and our Sunday clothes on, I was still in good shape.I kept whispering my Aunt Vic piece over and over to myself. But as we were going back toward the church, Mierd and Wiley talked so long about how many nuts and apples and oranges we might get in our stockings that I forgot every word Aunt Vic wanted me to recite!"Don't cry, for goodness sakes!" Mama told me. "Aunt Vic will tell you again what to say."It was dusk before we got within sight of the grist mill and cotton gin. Mierd and Wiley were quiet. Mama wasn't saying much either.When we were about halfway between the gin and Papa's new store, three men on horseback streaked past our wagon, their horses running neck and neck!"I wonder," Mama said, "who's in such an all-fired hurry to get to the Christmas entertainment.""That's just them Bailey boys," Wiley said."How do you know it's them dumb clucks?" Mierd asked."I'd know their bays day or night. They're the prettiest horses in Drake Eye Springs, and them boys are the meanest.""Y'all mustn't talk so about them wild, mischievous Bailey boys. 'Course it's true they sorta took after their ma's folks, and to my knowledge none of Lida Belle's kin—or Wes's—ever killed many snakes. But at the same time, I figure Addie Mae and the three boys do the best they can.""But, Mama, they—""Anyhow, Wiley, I thought you told us the other night that the schoolteacher goes over to the Bailey place on Saturdays to hunt squirrels with the boys and learn them how to read.""He does. But, Mama, they're still the worst boys in the whole school. Don't nobody like 'em."As we rode by the store, we saw Papa standing at the back door. Mama pulled up on the reins to make Belle and Pud-din' Foot slow down and called to Papa, "You coming on now?""Yeah! I'll be up there in a few minutes! Soon's I can blow out the lights and lock up."It took Papa more than a few minutes to get to the church. When the house was getting filled up with folks and the tree was sagging with presents and I was already in my Christmas tree costume and it was almost time for the Christmas Eve program to begin, he still hadn't come. I was afraid he wouldn't get to see me being a tree or hear me say my Aunt Vic piece."When's Papa gonna get here, Mama?""Pretty soon. He'll be in before we start singing. Let's me and you sit on the front bench. That way, you can see good."The mourners' bench?""Sugar, it's not the mourner's bench, except during protracted Meeting time."Mama and I sat down and waited—and waited.All the school kids, ganged up in the corner behind the stage curtain, were getting noisy. It sounded like fun, but we heard Aunt Vic ask them to please be quiet.Mama wanted me to be still. "Quit twisting around, Bandershanks!" she said. "You'll tear up your costume!"I hadn't been doing any twisting, except when I slid down to the far end of the bench to watch the folks hang gifts on the tree, or when I looked back to find out who else was coming in the door, or when I turned so I could see everybody sitting behind us. Mama should have known that bit of twisting around wouldn't hurt my walking-tree dress.Mama turned sideways herself to see what Ginger was gonna do, as he kept trotting up and down the aisle. She said he was trying to find Aunt Vic.Instead of looking behind the curtain, Ginger kept going down to the bench where he sat by Aunt Vic on Sundays. Finally he gave up his looking and his trotting and lay down by the wood box.I stretched both my arms out straight."Mama, how come y'all wound this green paper 'round my arms?""They're tree limbs. And your pointed hat is the tip top of the tree. See?" Mama reached over and set my paper hat farther back on my head. "It's got to sit straight up to look right."I smoothed out the wrinkles at my elbows and fluffed the leaves across my shoulders. Aunt Vic had told me I looked pretty. I thought so too.Papa didn't know what to think when he finally walked in and saw me sitting there in my shaggy dress. Mama told me to stand up and turn around so he could take a look at me."Good gracious, Bandershanks, you're all diked out here tonight!""I'm a Christmas tree, Papa!""I believe you are!"Papa sat down on the front bench by us instead of going over to his Sunday place in the corner, where he always sat with Captain Jones and Uncle Dan and the other men.I noticed Captain Jones wasn't in the men's corner either. He was standing near the organ talking with the schoolteacher and my big sister Bess. As they talked, Captain Jones kept waving his walking stick toward the stage and the curtain. Every time he spoke, his chin jiggled his beard up and down. His beard, I decided, was even longer and whiter than Grandpa Thad's.The three stood talking only a minute longer. Then Bess sat down on the organ stool and started looking through her hymnbook. Captain Jones leaned on the teacher as they went slowly up the platform steps. Mister Shepherd had to help Captain Jones get seated in the high-backed chair Brother Milligan used on Preaching Sundays."My, Nannie, what a crowd!" Papa had turned to look over the church."Seems like everybody in the settlement is here, yet I see folks are still coming in.""I'm afraid Doctor Elton won't make it. He said when he passed the store that there's a regular outbreak of influenza down below the State Line Road.""I hope and pray it don't spread up here!" Mama pulled her cape closer around her shoulders. "Wind must be rising. Every time that front door opens, I feel it.""Yeah," Papa told her, "the wind has come up. A pretty night, though. Stars out. The moon full. Perfect for Christmas Eve."I twisted round to see who was letting more of that Christmas wind swoosh through the church door. It was stirring up the leaves of my dress, and they had to stay down smooth and nice!It was Miss Ophelia, bringing in her string of little red-headed young'uns and Miss Dink. But Miss Ophelia didn't have her new little baby with her. It was just as well that she hadn't brought him. She was having to use one hand to lead her two little girls down the aisle and the other to guide Miss Dink along and keep her from bumping against the heater. Why'd Miss Dink come, anyway? She couldn't see our high, sparkling tree, or the toys and presents, or the red paper bells and streamers hanging in clusters from the ceiling. Miss Dink couldn't even see my tree dress!There were so many of Miss Ophelia's kids I could tell it was going to take nearly two benches to hold them. Wallace Goode's mama and her sister got up and moved across the aisle to another bench so the Lawsons would have plenty of room. Miss Ophelia sort of bowed and told them, "Much obliged, much obliged," over and over.Finally, she got all the young'uns in place and Miss Dink settled, and she sat down on the front slat of their bench. I thought she would lean back and start smiling and talking to the folks around her, the same as everybody else. She didn't. She just stayed perched there on the edge of that one thin plank like a scared bird, afraid of having to fly away any minute."Bandershanks, turn around!" Mama whispered,"and quit staring at people. It's impolite."Papa started talking and worrying about Grandpa Thad. "Nannie, I do wish Pa had come. He would've enjoyed it.""I tried to persuade him, Jodie. But 'course he felt like he had to stay with your ma.""I reckon so.""Guess who did come in a few minutes ago?" Now Mama was talking louder, and like she was happy."Who?""Lida Belle and Wes Bailey. They're sitting back yonder on the last bench.""I saw their rip-snorting boys ride past the store. Wes'd better watch out. Them boys will run his bays to death.""They passed us just a-galloping. You know, Jodie. I don't reckon Lida Belle and Wes have been to a tree in this church in ten years—oh, longer than that. Wonder what's come over them.""Funny thing. Wes Bailey came into the store day before yesterday and bought an expensive blue silk tie. Said it was for the tree.""I helped Vic put on the toys for Ophelia's young'uns and looked at all the presents, but I didn't notice whose name was on that blue tie.""And, Nannie, Lida Belle bought twenty-one yards of piece goods! First thing when she got in the store, she went 'round behind the counter and began fingering every bolt of cloth on the shelves. Why, it took her a good half hour to settle on what she wanted; and when she did, she got seven yards of purple calico, seven of yellow, and seven of the red.""Well, Jodie, I wonder if the reason Wes and Lida Belle haven't been coming to church on Christmas Eve is 'cause all these years the schoolteachers have never once given Ad-die Mae or the three Bailey boys a part on the program. 'Course I doubt if any one of them could, or would, learn a recitation, even if a teacher assigned it to them.""I don't know. I always thought the reason they hadn't been coming was because of the old feud.""Lida Belle and Wes weren't mixed up in the feud, were they, Jodie?""No, they weren't old enough. But Old Lady Bailey lived with them so long and harped on the feud so much, I reckon maybe they got to thinking they could get tangled up in its aftermath. Sometimes, you know, old folks can hand down hate and spite easier than they can pass on a single idea worth a hoot! The old soul probably raved most about the Christmas Eve her pa's cousin was murdered in Millers Chapel.""In Millers Chapel? That's new to me, Jodie. I never heard of a killing in that old church!""Folks quit talking it, it was so bad. I don't know what year it was, but that final and worst killing was when I was still a boy. It was on just such a fine Christmas Eve night as this."Papa took off his heavy jacket and kept talking."Folks from Drake Eye Springs and Tubal and Millers Crossing had come for miles. You couldn't find one empty bench in the whole meeting house that night; in fact, a good many had to stand. That was the only church in these parts then."The shooting was right after the program. There was the usual confusion as everyone began going up front to claim their gifts. Folks said afterwards that some of the Williams men and grown boys had been drinking pretty heavy. The one they called Jake was talking uncommonly loud. He was, by the way, a great uncle to Ward Lawson."So, when Jake Williams kept making such a nuisance of himself, Old Mister Gus Parker—he was sitting across the aisle from him—hollered out, 'Jake Williams, you get quiet! We can't hear 'em readin' out the names!'"Jake hollered back, 'Here's you a Christmas present, you old Parker coot!' And he grabbed out his pistol and shot the old gentleman dead, right there in the church!""No!""Mrs. Parker started screaming, Jake run out the door, and somebody blowed out the lights! Then every man in the house took to the woods. Left women and young'uns to get out and get home the best way they could!""It must've been a frightful thing!""It was, Nannie. 'Course the next morning the Parkers went back to the church to get Old Man Gus's body. But the tree with all the Christmas stuff was left standing there for weeks. Folks didn't have the heart to go back in the building."The following spring when the trial came up, Jake was convicted, but he broke jail and got away. Old Judge Crawford had all the rest of the Williamses, by name, to clear outta the country. And what few Parker men were left took their families and moved off too. They figured the killing could flare up again among some of the Williamses' blood relations, and there wouldn't be a Parker man or boy left to carry on their name. Wes Bailey's ma was one of the few who stayed behind. 'Course she was already married. Anyway, all the Baileys, except Addle Mae, are here tonight, and I'm glad. It's not good for a family to live to themselves so much. Besides, it's Christmas, and we ought'a all share it together.""Looks to me like Wes and Lida Belle would've had Addle Mae come home for Christmas. There's something mighty strange about them letting her stay down in Louisiana so long.""I reckon that's their business, Nannie."
I was learning fast.
I learned why you have to have Christmas Eve Day before you can have Christmas. It's so you can sit on the kitchen floor and string popcorn to hang on the big tree at church. Mierd told me that. And she was in a good humor, even laughing, when she said it.
The next minute, though, Mierd was fussing, saying I was bad, tattling to Mama.
"Mama, just look at Bandershanks! You ought'a get a switch to her! She's eating up every grain of this popcorn! Won't be enough left to go from one limb to another, much less all round the Christmas tree!" Mierd jerked the pan of popcorn out of my hands and held it up toward Mama. "Look, Mama!"
"Mama, Mierd's telling you wrong! I just eat the ones that crack when I punch my needle in 'em!"
Mama didn't even look around. She spread another dampened pillowcase on the ironing board and pressed her hot iron back and forth, back and forth, along the crocheted trimming.
As soon as Mierd set the pan back on the floor between our feet, I reached for more corn.
"Bandershanks, you're clumsy with your needle on purpose! See how long my string is? And look at yours! I bet you ain't got fourteen grains on it. Quit grabbing all the biggest grains!"
"You're making me spill it, Mierd!
"Girls! Girls! Christmas Eve's no time for sisters to be quarreling." Mama folded the pillowcase as fast as she could and gave it a final lick with the smoothing iron. She glanced down at Mierd and me and at the half-empty pan of corn. She couldn't see the sour face Mierd was making at me. "Now y'all make haste and finish stringing your popcorn. We've got to go on up to the church and help Aunt Vic. She's worked so hard getting up the program, the least the rest of us can do is have the church ready tonight."
"Are we gonna just stay till the program?"
"No, Mierd. The cows have got to be milked, and I'll need to fix supper for your grandma and grandpa. So we'll rush back home as soon as we get the cleaning and decorating done. Thank goodness I'm through with this eternal ironing one more time."
Mierd hopped up off the floor and asked Mama where Wiley was.
"I thought you knew he went with a bunch of boys to look for the tree—this morning."
"No'm."
"I wish I'd gone."
"No, no, Bandershanks. Girls don't go tramping through the woods to cut down Christmas trees. The place for girls is in the house. Mierd, see if Grandpa Thad has finished hitching up the wagon for us."
I grabbed myself a handful of corn and ran with Mierd.
Lots of folks were going in and out of Papa's store as we passed there. Mama said they had waited till the eleventh hour to buy presents to put on the tree.
We could see several people up at the church, too. Uncle Dan and Wallace Goode's papa were at the woodpile chopping kindling. Mrs. Goode and Mrs. Hansen were stooping down by the church doorsteps. At first I couldn't imagine what they were doing. Then, as we got closer, I saw that they had the wall lamps and tin reflectors lined up on the bottom steps and were cleaning globes, trimming wicks, and polishing the reflectors.
Mama told Mierd that the Missionary Society had bought extra oil.
"Y'all gonna light all sixteen lamps, Mama?"
"Every one! After all, it's Christmas Eve!"
As soon as Mama went inside, she and Aunt Lovie started talking about the sagging old benches. They looked at the one with the bad bottom.
"It ought'a be either fixed or thrown away," Mama said. She took hold of one slat and shook it. The whole pew almost fell apart.
"Every last one of them should be taken out and chopped up for firewood!" Aunt Lovie declared. "Then we'd have to get new benches. Pa used to say that when the old church was built the carpenters just nailed together some scrap lumber to use temporarily—till the congregation could buy regular pews. Then, when we put up this church, we foolishly brought the old things on over here."
"Yes, I know," Mama said. "That temporary business turned into a long time. Forty years or more!"
I left Mama and Aunt Lovie still talking about the pitiful condition of the church. Mierd and Sally were shrieking and fluttering around like two young setting hens, so I had to find out what they were looking at out the middle window.
It was just Wiley and Wallace Goode and the big boys with the Christmas tree. They were at the corner of the building trying to slide the tree out of Mister Goode's wagon. We couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the way Dorris and Jim-Bo were waving their arms, they were all trying to decide whether to pull the big holly toward the front of the wagon or toward the back.
The boys finally got the tree out of the wagon and a base nailed on it. They carried the tall tree to the front of the church, but they couldn't get it to stand straight. In spite of long, stiff wires fastened to its limbs, the tree kept leaning toward the pulpit. Aunt Vic said that would never do. She had Dorris and Jim-Bo turn the tree around this way and that. Still, it wouldn't stand straight.
Finally, Mister Shepherd sent Wallace Goode home to get a hand saw so he could trim off the bottom of the trunk. Then he showed Jim-Bo how to brace the tree by nailing on three short boards.
Mister Shepherd and Jim-Bo and Dorris raised the big holly again. This time it stood straight, but the top scraped against the ceiling, just a little bit.
"Miss Vic, will this be all right?" Mister Shepherd asked.
"Oh, sure. A bent twig or two won't matter. Our star will cover the tip top anyway. One of you tall boys—Dorris, you'll do—climb up the ladder and fasten on the star. And wire it tight! It fell last year, remember!"
I didn't remember, but the boys did. They laughed.
"Boys, y'all lend a hand," Aunt Vic said, "and let's get the decorations on. Somebody tell those ladies in the back to put down their dust cloths and come help fasten the candles. Let's see, we ought'a drape the strings of popcorn around first. Here, Wallace, you and Wiley tie the popcorn balls on the low limbs. Oh, goodness! These I brought are sorta sticky!" Aunt Vic stopped talking only long enough to lick off the candied syrup that had stuck to her finger.
I picked up a popcorn ball, thinking maybe some of the sweet goo would stick to my fingers. But the schoolteacher saw me, so I had to drop it back into Aunt Vic's box real quick. I licked my fingers, but not much sweet stuff was on them.
"Bandershanks," Aunt Vic said, "com'ere a minute." Aunt Vic sat down on the organ stool and swung herself around toward me.
"Now, Bandershanks." Aunt Vic put her arm around me and drew me up close. "Tonight you're gonna be the little walking Christmas tree and say a recitation too!"
"Me?"
"Sure. All the older children will be in the part Mister Shepherd's putting on. So we saved the walking tree bit just for you."
"What does a walking tree do?"
'Ill tell you that in a minute. Your mama is gonna get you here early tonight, and you bring one of your papa's old, worn-out felt hats with you. Before the program starts, we'll wrap your tree costume around you. Then, when the time comes—I'll tell you when—you'll step out front and recite your piece."
"My piece?"
"Right! A little recitation all your own! Now don't mention what you're gonna say to anybody. It'll be a big surprise!"
She leaned closer and whispered a short rhyme to me. "Can you remember that?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, sure you can. Whisper it back to me."
I said it for her.
"Good! Now, tonight after you say it, I want you to walk through the church with your papa's hat, and everybody will put in money. That will be for poor people. Then you come back to me, and I'll get some of the little presents off the tree and pin them on you. Then you'll walk up and down the aisle so that folks can take off their gifts. What do you think of that? Can you do it?"
"Oh, yes Ma'am! I can do it!"
On our way home I thought I'd absolutely pop wide open with excitement. But I never did. At supper I gulped down a whole big glass of buttermilk with corn bread crumbled in it, and not a drop leaked out of me! Even after we got our stockings hung up and our Sunday clothes on, I was still in good shape.
I kept whispering my Aunt Vic piece over and over to myself. But as we were going back toward the church, Mierd and Wiley talked so long about how many nuts and apples and oranges we might get in our stockings that I forgot every word Aunt Vic wanted me to recite!
"Don't cry, for goodness sakes!" Mama told me. "Aunt Vic will tell you again what to say."
It was dusk before we got within sight of the grist mill and cotton gin. Mierd and Wiley were quiet. Mama wasn't saying much either.
When we were about halfway between the gin and Papa's new store, three men on horseback streaked past our wagon, their horses running neck and neck!
"I wonder," Mama said, "who's in such an all-fired hurry to get to the Christmas entertainment."
"That's just them Bailey boys," Wiley said.
"How do you know it's them dumb clucks?" Mierd asked.
"I'd know their bays day or night. They're the prettiest horses in Drake Eye Springs, and them boys are the meanest."
"Y'all mustn't talk so about them wild, mischievous Bailey boys. 'Course it's true they sorta took after their ma's folks, and to my knowledge none of Lida Belle's kin—or Wes's—ever killed many snakes. But at the same time, I figure Addie Mae and the three boys do the best they can."
"But, Mama, they—"
"Anyhow, Wiley, I thought you told us the other night that the schoolteacher goes over to the Bailey place on Saturdays to hunt squirrels with the boys and learn them how to read."
"He does. But, Mama, they're still the worst boys in the whole school. Don't nobody like 'em."
As we rode by the store, we saw Papa standing at the back door. Mama pulled up on the reins to make Belle and Pud-din' Foot slow down and called to Papa, "You coming on now?"
"Yeah! I'll be up there in a few minutes! Soon's I can blow out the lights and lock up."
It took Papa more than a few minutes to get to the church. When the house was getting filled up with folks and the tree was sagging with presents and I was already in my Christmas tree costume and it was almost time for the Christmas Eve program to begin, he still hadn't come. I was afraid he wouldn't get to see me being a tree or hear me say my Aunt Vic piece.
"When's Papa gonna get here, Mama?"
"Pretty soon. He'll be in before we start singing. Let's me and you sit on the front bench. That way, you can see good."
The mourners' bench?"
"Sugar, it's not the mourner's bench, except during protracted Meeting time."
Mama and I sat down and waited—and waited.
All the school kids, ganged up in the corner behind the stage curtain, were getting noisy. It sounded like fun, but we heard Aunt Vic ask them to please be quiet.
Mama wanted me to be still. "Quit twisting around, Bandershanks!" she said. "You'll tear up your costume!"
I hadn't been doing any twisting, except when I slid down to the far end of the bench to watch the folks hang gifts on the tree, or when I looked back to find out who else was coming in the door, or when I turned so I could see everybody sitting behind us. Mama should have known that bit of twisting around wouldn't hurt my walking-tree dress.
Mama turned sideways herself to see what Ginger was gonna do, as he kept trotting up and down the aisle. She said he was trying to find Aunt Vic.
Instead of looking behind the curtain, Ginger kept going down to the bench where he sat by Aunt Vic on Sundays. Finally he gave up his looking and his trotting and lay down by the wood box.
I stretched both my arms out straight.
"Mama, how come y'all wound this green paper 'round my arms?"
"They're tree limbs. And your pointed hat is the tip top of the tree. See?" Mama reached over and set my paper hat farther back on my head. "It's got to sit straight up to look right."
I smoothed out the wrinkles at my elbows and fluffed the leaves across my shoulders. Aunt Vic had told me I looked pretty. I thought so too.
Papa didn't know what to think when he finally walked in and saw me sitting there in my shaggy dress. Mama told me to stand up and turn around so he could take a look at me.
"Good gracious, Bandershanks, you're all diked out here tonight!"
"I'm a Christmas tree, Papa!"
"I believe you are!"
Papa sat down on the front bench by us instead of going over to his Sunday place in the corner, where he always sat with Captain Jones and Uncle Dan and the other men.
I noticed Captain Jones wasn't in the men's corner either. He was standing near the organ talking with the schoolteacher and my big sister Bess. As they talked, Captain Jones kept waving his walking stick toward the stage and the curtain. Every time he spoke, his chin jiggled his beard up and down. His beard, I decided, was even longer and whiter than Grandpa Thad's.
The three stood talking only a minute longer. Then Bess sat down on the organ stool and started looking through her hymnbook. Captain Jones leaned on the teacher as they went slowly up the platform steps. Mister Shepherd had to help Captain Jones get seated in the high-backed chair Brother Milligan used on Preaching Sundays.
"My, Nannie, what a crowd!" Papa had turned to look over the church.
"Seems like everybody in the settlement is here, yet I see folks are still coming in."
"I'm afraid Doctor Elton won't make it. He said when he passed the store that there's a regular outbreak of influenza down below the State Line Road."
"I hope and pray it don't spread up here!" Mama pulled her cape closer around her shoulders. "Wind must be rising. Every time that front door opens, I feel it."
"Yeah," Papa told her, "the wind has come up. A pretty night, though. Stars out. The moon full. Perfect for Christmas Eve."
I twisted round to see who was letting more of that Christmas wind swoosh through the church door. It was stirring up the leaves of my dress, and they had to stay down smooth and nice!
It was Miss Ophelia, bringing in her string of little red-headed young'uns and Miss Dink. But Miss Ophelia didn't have her new little baby with her. It was just as well that she hadn't brought him. She was having to use one hand to lead her two little girls down the aisle and the other to guide Miss Dink along and keep her from bumping against the heater. Why'd Miss Dink come, anyway? She couldn't see our high, sparkling tree, or the toys and presents, or the red paper bells and streamers hanging in clusters from the ceiling. Miss Dink couldn't even see my tree dress!
There were so many of Miss Ophelia's kids I could tell it was going to take nearly two benches to hold them. Wallace Goode's mama and her sister got up and moved across the aisle to another bench so the Lawsons would have plenty of room. Miss Ophelia sort of bowed and told them, "Much obliged, much obliged," over and over.
Finally, she got all the young'uns in place and Miss Dink settled, and she sat down on the front slat of their bench. I thought she would lean back and start smiling and talking to the folks around her, the same as everybody else. She didn't. She just stayed perched there on the edge of that one thin plank like a scared bird, afraid of having to fly away any minute.
"Bandershanks, turn around!" Mama whispered,"and quit staring at people. It's impolite."
Papa started talking and worrying about Grandpa Thad. "Nannie, I do wish Pa had come. He would've enjoyed it."
"I tried to persuade him, Jodie. But 'course he felt like he had to stay with your ma."
"I reckon so."
"Guess who did come in a few minutes ago?" Now Mama was talking louder, and like she was happy.
"Who?"
"Lida Belle and Wes Bailey. They're sitting back yonder on the last bench."
"I saw their rip-snorting boys ride past the store. Wes'd better watch out. Them boys will run his bays to death."
"They passed us just a-galloping. You know, Jodie. I don't reckon Lida Belle and Wes have been to a tree in this church in ten years—oh, longer than that. Wonder what's come over them."
"Funny thing. Wes Bailey came into the store day before yesterday and bought an expensive blue silk tie. Said it was for the tree."
"I helped Vic put on the toys for Ophelia's young'uns and looked at all the presents, but I didn't notice whose name was on that blue tie."
"And, Nannie, Lida Belle bought twenty-one yards of piece goods! First thing when she got in the store, she went 'round behind the counter and began fingering every bolt of cloth on the shelves. Why, it took her a good half hour to settle on what she wanted; and when she did, she got seven yards of purple calico, seven of yellow, and seven of the red."
"Well, Jodie, I wonder if the reason Wes and Lida Belle haven't been coming to church on Christmas Eve is 'cause all these years the schoolteachers have never once given Ad-die Mae or the three Bailey boys a part on the program. 'Course I doubt if any one of them could, or would, learn a recitation, even if a teacher assigned it to them."
"I don't know. I always thought the reason they hadn't been coming was because of the old feud."
"Lida Belle and Wes weren't mixed up in the feud, were they, Jodie?"
"No, they weren't old enough. But Old Lady Bailey lived with them so long and harped on the feud so much, I reckon maybe they got to thinking they could get tangled up in its aftermath. Sometimes, you know, old folks can hand down hate and spite easier than they can pass on a single idea worth a hoot! The old soul probably raved most about the Christmas Eve her pa's cousin was murdered in Millers Chapel."
"In Millers Chapel? That's new to me, Jodie. I never heard of a killing in that old church!"
"Folks quit talking it, it was so bad. I don't know what year it was, but that final and worst killing was when I was still a boy. It was on just such a fine Christmas Eve night as this."
Papa took off his heavy jacket and kept talking.
"Folks from Drake Eye Springs and Tubal and Millers Crossing had come for miles. You couldn't find one empty bench in the whole meeting house that night; in fact, a good many had to stand. That was the only church in these parts then.
"The shooting was right after the program. There was the usual confusion as everyone began going up front to claim their gifts. Folks said afterwards that some of the Williams men and grown boys had been drinking pretty heavy. The one they called Jake was talking uncommonly loud. He was, by the way, a great uncle to Ward Lawson.
"So, when Jake Williams kept making such a nuisance of himself, Old Mister Gus Parker—he was sitting across the aisle from him—hollered out, 'Jake Williams, you get quiet! We can't hear 'em readin' out the names!'
"Jake hollered back, 'Here's you a Christmas present, you old Parker coot!' And he grabbed out his pistol and shot the old gentleman dead, right there in the church!"
"No!"
"Mrs. Parker started screaming, Jake run out the door, and somebody blowed out the lights! Then every man in the house took to the woods. Left women and young'uns to get out and get home the best way they could!"
"It must've been a frightful thing!"
"It was, Nannie. 'Course the next morning the Parkers went back to the church to get Old Man Gus's body. But the tree with all the Christmas stuff was left standing there for weeks. Folks didn't have the heart to go back in the building.
"The following spring when the trial came up, Jake was convicted, but he broke jail and got away. Old Judge Crawford had all the rest of the Williamses, by name, to clear outta the country. And what few Parker men were left took their families and moved off too. They figured the killing could flare up again among some of the Williamses' blood relations, and there wouldn't be a Parker man or boy left to carry on their name. Wes Bailey's ma was one of the few who stayed behind. 'Course she was already married. Anyway, all the Baileys, except Addle Mae, are here tonight, and I'm glad. It's not good for a family to live to themselves so much. Besides, it's Christmas, and we ought'a all share it together."
"Looks to me like Wes and Lida Belle would've had Addle Mae come home for Christmas. There's something mighty strange about them letting her stay down in Louisiana so long."
"I reckon that's their business, Nannie."