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Chapter 9 / Otto Is Bahl Medicine / Work Is Good Medicine

2010-02-22T01:20:00Z

Chapter 9
Otto is bahl medicine
Work is good medicine

    It had rained with a torrential rage for seven solid days in Anderson Valley. It was a real log lifter (heavy rain). The milky (fog) rain clouds had set on the drearies (mountains) so long it seemed that the sun would never shine again.

    The snoring sounds of Thomas’ bunkmate Sylvester, mixed with the dripping water from the ceiling, had created its own concerto. Other than dumping the bucket that filled slowly from a leak near his bunk, there wasn’t much more work for Thomas to do. It was almost a game with him now to try and guess how high the water was in the bucket. He could tell when it needed to be dumped by simply listening to the pitch of the water. The higher the sound, the closer it was to top of the bucket. When it reached a certain pitch Thomas would get out of bed and dump it, then he would replace the bucket under the drip and lay back down in his bunk. He would settle back in to the plunking sound of the water hitting the tin and the short snorts and long passages of wind emanating from Sylvester in the next bunk.

    Thomas was tired of the rainy days and he lay impatiently on his bunk. The murky days always made Thomas restless. It seemed like a thousand years since he was at the dance and saw Alice with Mason.

    Winter was never a good time for him. It was in the dead of winter when his mother passed away. He knew it wasn’t good to remember about her suffering in her final days but the dreary weather set the mood for his memories and he had a hard time fighting them. It seemed whenever her tried to find a good memory of his family, it was interrupted by a bad one. He desperately hoped for the warm summer days again, where he could work off his thoughts and demons in the fields.

    Spring would come and raise him and everything else from the dead. He needed that resurgence and he needed delivered from the vicious circle of this season.

As he lay on his bed looking up at the rafter, he realized that the room had gotten quiet. The dripping had stopped. Thomas looked at the bucket. It was now still and silent. He quickly rose out of his bed to go outside. Sylvester stirred from his sleep.

    “Where you going, kimmie?”

    “Nowhere.”

    “Then why you gettin’ up?”

    Thomas just waves at him to go back to sleep. “You just stay asleep, Sylvester. Your beauty rest hasn’t caught up with your face.”

    Sylvester rolls over muttering to himself. “We cain’ all be pretty boys.”

    Thomas smiles and looks out the door. The setting sun is pushing its way through the angry clouds. Thomas gazes at the freshly drenched fields. It is a thousand different greens. Every plant seems to be bowing under the weight of the water on them.
Thomas sees a small patch of color at the edge of the field. Yellow daisies are pushing themselves through the grass, reaching for one ray of sun and demanding to be seen. As the sun gains its glory back from the clouds, the sunflowers could be seen shaking off the water. They were standing taller by the moment as the water fell from their seed speckled faces.

    For amber waves of grain could have been written about the Smith’s farm. When the crops were in full growth it was a magnificent sight to witness. The hops, like soldiers, stood tall, awaiting their time to be harvested.

    Thousands of crimson apples decorated the trees with their striking variations of red. The young vineyards looked like perfect hair braids across the landscape. It was a cornucopia of crops that adorned the hills.

    “Looks like all our hard work is going to pay off this spring.”

    “Whatcha’ harpin' about?”

    “Oh farmin’ that’s all. You know, Sylvester, every farmer is an artist in his own right for Mother Earth.”

    “Would you mind waxin’ elegant to yourself, Longfellow?”

    “I’m going to have a farm like this someday.”

     Sylvester grunts. “And I’m going to learn how to fart daisy.”

    Thomas chuckles. Sylvester is an old coot. As far as anyone knows he’s been single all his life. Farming is all he cared about or maybe a good shot of whiskey.

    It was true, Thomas did hope someday to have a farm of his own like the Smith’s. He didn’t know how to accomplish it but dreams were free and he had plenty of them. The Smith’s ranch was one of the top producers in the area. During the busy season the ranch was filled with young, old, brawny, scruffy and leathery ranch hands. At the end of each season it was hard to tell who smelled worse, the cattle or the ranch hands.

    Suddenly a large bolt of lightning strikes close to the bunk house. Then it is followed by an earth shattering clap of thunder. The torrents of rain immediately start up again.
“Satisfied, kimmie? Now all your chatter has woked up the Good Lord. Sure sounds like we’re in for another log lifter."

     Thomas continues looking out the door toward the main farm house. “I’m sure it was your snoring.”

    Thomas sees Alice and her mother cooking in the kitchen. The smell is intoxicating. Sylvester notices that Thomas is watching Alice from the distance.

    “I ain’t ‘stitious, kimmie, but I’m sure it ain’t good luck to be gawking at the owner’s daughter all the time.”

    “I’m just wondering what they’re cookin’ up.”

    Sylvester just grunts in disbelief and rolls over. “Sure you are.”

    Thomas takes one last look and as he does Alice glances out the window. She smiles and waves. Thomas smiles and waves back awkwardly. He closes the door slowly and lays back down on his bunk. He was glad that there was contact again after what he’d seen at the dance.

    “Sometimes, Sylvester, you just have to enjoy the beauty of everything around you.”

    “Well, I guess that’s why the Good Lord gave you me.”

    “Maybe so, Sylvester, maybe so.”

    The clinking of the tin begins again and soon Thomas lays there in thought. He is still in the glow of Alice’s smile.

    Alice turns from the window to her mother. “Do you think that we could make apple fritters for the help?”

    “Is that somebody’s favorite?”

    “Well, I hear them talkin’ about food all the time. They’re hard working and it’s nice to fix them something nice, especially since the weather has been so harsh.”

    “I think we can do that. We have plenty of apples from the harvest. You go to the cellar and get a sack full and we’ll make some fritters. I sure wish your daddy build me an apple dryer. We could store two times more apples.”

    Alice is excited. “Thank you, mama.” She runs off to the cellar.

    “Don’t get any green ones, they’re too tart.”

    The morning arrives without a cloud in the sky. The drearies are clear of any milky and even a bird can be heard singing. Singing until Mary begins the morning ritual of ringing the dinner bell as loud as possible. Mary can get a sound out of the bell that no one else can.

    A shard of light cuts into the bunkhouse, it's aimed right at Thomas. Thomas is suddenly wide awake. Sylvester grumbles,

    “The way she rings that thing you can never be sure if it’s a meal or if the whole dang ranch is on fire.”

     Soon the men are up and ready for a fine meal and an honest day’s work. The sleepy farm hands find their way to the eating area and begin to do battle for the first cup of coffee and a fresh baked apple fritter.

    Alice sets a second round of hot fritters and coffee on the table. “Thank you, these are delicious, Alice.” Thomas smiles.

    “Why thank you, Thomas. My mama and I thought all you men deserved a treat. We weren’t sure that we could wake you hibernating bears up after that dreadful rain with oatmeal.”  Thomas takes another bite and smiles.

    Bayless bangs on the side of his coffee cup with a knife to get everyone’s attention.
    “I trust all you got plenty of rest these past few days. We have a break in the weather and the ground has softened so it’s a good time to lay down a few more crops and repair some posts.”

    Then he started to say what he always says, “We gotta make hay while the sun shines. But as you know, we aren’t cutting hay today; it’s got to dry first.” He was right, you could guarantee that when it rained on cut hay it was no longer good for selling.

    Several of the young men from town had hired on during this time of year to get the crops picked. This day was turning out to be a scorcher. Old Sol was directly overhead beating down on everyone in the field. Not one cool breath of air stirred. Had the workers been made of wax they would have melted by now. It seems that the Anderson Valley was suddenly in the middle of an out of season heat wave. The men working in the field had their bandanas and hats on to ward off sun stroke and to catch the sweat of their brow.

    The sun was sizzling the skin on Thomas’ already tan back. He is slight of build but muscular. It was easy to see why the girls were smitten with him. His physique combined with his hard work and his gentle nature, made Thomas a young man that anyone would be proud to know or call their beau.  Thomas glistened with sweat as he rolled bales of hay and stacked them.

    “Making hay while the sun shines, Thomas?” yells Jeb. Jeb was a hard worker but was always in and out of trouble.

    “Yep.”

    Jeb continued to jib Thomas, “I know someone else that was making hay while the moon shined.”

    Thomas could feel the blood rush into his face.

    “You hear me, Thomas?”

    “Yep.”

    “Ain’t you curious?”

    “Nope.”

    “It was Mason and Alice.”

    Thomas is stoic. He gives no response.

    “I know that gits ya, ‘cause you like that girl.”

    “She’s a nice girl and I don’t believe what you’re saying about her.”

    “You haven’t got the chance of a fart in a whirlwind with her. Mason says that he’s the one that’s gonna marry her.”

    Thomas puts down his tools and looks at Jeb. The veins in his face and neck are about to burst but he holds his composure. The other young men stop their work and watch what they think is going to be a fight. Thomas holds the hay hook clenched in his hand.

    “What did Alice say about this?”

    Jeb looks at the hay hook and then at Thomas.

    “She didn’t say yes and she didn’t say no.”

    “Listen Jeb, don’t mess with me. Did Mason ask her to marry him?”

    Jeb thinks for a moment. “No, but Mason says that he’s thinking about it.”

    “You need to know the difference between asking and thinking, and about thinking and doing and about someone else havin’ a say in it, Jeb.”

    Thomas takes the hay hook and drives it into a bale of hay with force and walks off. Jeb yells after him,

    “You don’t have a chance, Mason gets what he wants.”

    Thomas storms into the barn. He sits down on a bale of hay and just thinks and broods. He dips some water from a bucket and pours it over his head to cool himself down.
Mason has been a thorn in his side since the day he met him. He’s spent this entire young life protecting Alice from Mason. It is just too much for him to believe that Alice would even entertain an offer of marriage from Mason.

    Then his insecurities reminded him that he didn’t have much to offer a young woman that came from a family that was comfortable financially. He didn’t even have a family to offer her. What did he have to offer but his love and a promise to work hard? Being with him might mean a hard life for her, too. He knew that love can’t buy a roof over your head or food on the table. Thomas leaned his head against the stall. He could feel himself slipping into a deep despair.

    He rallies himself because he knows that he has a job to finish and this kind of thinking wasn’t going to help matters. He gets up and returns to the field. He was smart enough to know that hard work would settle his nerves. When he returned he just worked as if nothing had happened.

    None of the men said anything to each other the rest of the day. He buried his fears and thoughts back into the bales of hay. As he worked late into the afternoon, he was reminded of a saying his mother used to say when she was upset, “All my ills my garden spade can heal.” Thomas hoped that it worked for him. He knew who he was and what he wanted but would that be enough to offer Alice. He had to ask himself, “Do I love her enough to not ask her to marry me?”

    If he was to win her heart he would have to remind himself daily of what every farmer knew. They knew that you have to be willing to start with the small things. Every plant starts with one small seed. But the nagging chatter in his head was “Would that be enough for Alice?”

    The end of the day was a welcome time for the workers. They could hear Mary ringing all the sound out of the dinner bell. Thomas was looking forward to a great meal and a good night’s sleep. But deep in his heart he was looking forward to seeing Alice, even if it was for a second.

    One by one the workers rode in and took their place at the long tables. Thomas was seated and looking around but he didn’t see Alice anywhere. Sylvester, ripe with the stink of a hard day’s work on him sits down next to Thomas.

    “Whatcha deekin for?”

    “Nothing.”

    “The question was rhetorical.”

    “Well, that’s a fancy word comin’ from a crusty ‘ol farm hand.”

    “Maybe I wasn’t always a farm hand.”

    Thomas takes a warm bun from under the warming towel.

    “What did you used to be?”

    “Taint important what I used to be.”

    The two men sit in silence as they start their meal. After a few moments Sylvester breaks his silence.

    “She ain’t here. I heard tell that she visitin’ her friend Beth.”

    “I wasn’t lookin…” Sylvester interrupts him.

    “Save your breath, I know you’re stook on her (stuck on). I heard what happened today.”

    “Wasn’t nothing but Jeb harpin’ and tryin’ to get my hair up.”

    “You listen to me good, boy. You’ve taking a fancy to somethin’ that’s not in yours to want. So every chance that bunch has, they’re comin’ after ya.”

    “I ain’t afraid of them.”

    “Then you’re just stupid. Virgil, Jeb and Mason, they got no soul. They all about themselves, you understand. There’s no one that stands up to them… no one.”

    “What are you saying?”

    “I jest don’t want you to…”

    “To what…?”

    Sylvester looks hard into Thomas’ eyes. It was as if Thomas could see into Sylvester’s very soul. This was a broken man with many regrets and bad decisions. In his simple way he was warning and encouraging Thomas at the same time.

    “Don’t turn into me…You only get two regrets in life, son. The decisions you make and the ones you don’t. Jest know this, it ain’t wrong to want.”

    Thomas sits silent processing what Sylvester has just said. He takes a few thoughtful bites from his meal then looks over at Sylvester. This hardened old man has a small tear that has gotten stuck in his matted beard. Giving this much information about himself had been hard and it conjured up some long forgotten and dark regrets of his own.

“Thank you for that, Sylvester.”

Chapter 8 Slow Lope'n A Beeson Tree / A Nice Long Ride On A Horse

2010-02-22T00:54:33Z

Slow Lope'n A Beeson Tree
A Nice Long Ride On A Horse

    The splendor of the Anderson Valley countryside was very relaxing to Beth and Alice as they rode along on their horses. They finally had time to talk, muse and brood over the event of the dance.

    The morning milky had burned off from the peaks of the drearies and you could see how green they were. The fields were filled with enough sunflowers blooming to make Old Sol jealous. Every tree, flower or weed was in full bloom. It looked to be a beautiful spring.

    “How’d you get away from your chores today, Alice?”

    “Well, it seems that my daddy got it into his head to build some new fangled thing called a bathroom. He’s gonna build it right off the kitchen.”

    “Is that sanitary?”

    “Well, it’s not really in the house. Him and my momma saw one of these on a trip. He’s been talking about building one and he decided that today was the day to build it.

    “I wonder what it will look like.”

    “I have no idea. He was all excited and was trying to explain it to my momma and all she would say is, they’d better not put it anywhere near my garden.”

    Beth laughs “She loves her garden.”

    “Anyway, she said that she was going to town to go shopping and I could come over to see you. Truth be told, she knows that she’d worry the whole time they were working on it and would be harpin’ at my daddy. She wanted him to build her an apple dryer and he was arguing that a place to soak his ‘weary’ bones was better. This is more fun anyway.”


                                    (miniture of a real Boonville Apple Dryer)

    “He buildin’ it alone?”

    “No, Thomas and Sylvester are going to help him.”

    The smile leaves her face. If only she could get rid of this rain cloud over her head about Thomas and the dance.

    “Beth, I need to talk to Thomas.”

    “Maybe you do and maybe you don’t.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well, he’s not expressed his intentions yet. Those are all wishes in your mind.”

    “True.”

    “Until you know his real feeling you don’t have anything to respond to. I mean after all, you are not his girlfriend or Mason’s for that matter.”

    “You bite your tongue, Beth.” Alice laughs.

    “It’s good to see you laugh, oh, oh you want to hear something funny?”

    “Sure.”

    “Last night at the dance Jeb asked me to be his girl. But he said it really funny. He used that crazy Boontlin’.”

    “What’d he say?”

    “He asked me if I’d be his applehead. Is that the funniest thing? Apparently that is the word the boys decided to call their girlfriends.”

    Alice sucks in her cheeks like a shrunken head. “Is this what we look like to them?”
The girls laugh and the horses whinny at the girls. It’s almost as if they are laughing with them.

    “I hope they aren’t kissing all the gannos in the Gowen orchard for practice!” Both of the girls roar with laughter until tears run down their face. Alice fans herself.

    “My goodness, it feels so good to laugh. I am taking things too seriously.”

    “Amen.”

    “You’re right. He hasn’t even expressed his intentions. You’re right, I’ve been putting words I want him to say in my own head and then telling myself he said it or at least, that he wants to say them!” She thinks for a moment. “I am a silly, almost applehead! The girls laugh some more.

    “Oh, oh my ribs, I can’t laugh anymore.”

    “Okay, hey we’re right by the river, let’s stop here and have some of the good food my mom packed us. It’ll let the horses rest a bit, too.” Alice says.

    The girls stop and dismount. They open the bags on the side of the horses and take out the items. Beth spreads the red checkered table cloth on the ground as Alice unloads the lunch.

    “This all looks so good,” Beth says as she licks her lips. “Your mom is such a good cook.”

    “Thank you, I think so too.”

    Soon the tablecloth was filled with delectable items festooned on the tablecloth that would rival a king’s banquet table. There was Old Sol Cake. It was made with 10 Easters and a teaspoon of orange extract. It was so light and fluffy it almost dissolved in the air. There were fresh picked apples, peaches, berries, raisins and nuts mixed together. Salted cheese and beef jerky. There was a loaf of fresh baked potato bread lightly dusted with powdered sugar. There was barbequed chicken, corn, churned butter that was melting faster than the girls could spread it on the bread. Mary had outdone herself.

    “I hope my stomach is bigger than my eyes because I am going to make this all disappear,” Beth said.

    After eating they were so full that all they could do is lay on their backs on the ground and talk. The girls giggled and talked for what seemed like hours.

    “I’m surely going to die from eating all this food,” Beth moaned.

    “You’d better hope you live until Sunday so you can repent for your gluttony!”

    Beth laughs and then immediately moans. The girls go silent as they stare at the cloud formation and listen to the water slowly trickle over the rocks in the river. It seemed like forever before either of them said anything. Then Alice spoke up.

    “I’m so ready to have a home and start a family.”

    “Me, too. Having babies and cooking for my husband is my dream. I hope I have a dozen kids.”

    “You going to marry the stork?” The girls laugh again.

    “Maybe Jeb,” Beth whispers.

    Alice can’t believe her ears. Jeb was almost as bad as Mason, he was always in trouble or causing trouble.

    “Why Jeb?”

    “He’s cute.”

    “Is this because he asked you to be his applehead? We have a lot of dances still to go to. You could be an entire orchard of appleheads before you meet the right man. And anyway, cute doesn’t make up for how rotten he is!” Alice is getting revved up over this.

    “What are you so mad about?” asked Beth.

    “It… it’s just that we’re best friends and I always thought that our husbands would be, too. And then our children... You know what I mean?”

    “Alice, have you counted the eligible bachelors in this town? Half of them are related and the other half are… well, let’s just say they’re a bit odd.” Alice is stumped for a moment. Beth speaks up.

    “I’m not a math expert, Alice. I just know that there’s not that many to choose from and besides I sort of like him. I can tame his wild ways.”

    Alice rolls her eyes. “You like him for the very reasons I can’t stand Mason.”

    The girls realize they have reached an impassable part of the debate. Alice stares down Beth and Beth refuses to blink as long as Alice is staring at her. Simultaneously they say, “I’m not going to blink!” Then they both hold their breath to not blink but not for long. Alice breaks the silence.

    “Did Jeb ask you to marry him?”

    “No, did Mason ask you to marry him?”

    “No.”

    Beth blinks, “Did Thomas ask you to marry him?”

    “No.”

    “Then what are we fighting about? We don’t even have a decision to make except for…”

    “For what?”

    “Except for the last piece of the Old Sol cake.” Alice looks at it and so does Beth. Alice smiles, “Let’s share it.”

    The argument was as quickly behind them as it started. They shared the last slice of the Old Sol cake and talked some more about boys.

    The day was coming quickly to an end and they knew that they needed to head back to their respective homes, so the girls packed up their belongings. After they’d ridden awhile they came to the divide in the road that lead to each of their homes. Alice hugs Beth good-bye.

    “That was fun. I guess we are growing up and are going to have different opinions about things.”

    “I know, funny thing Alice, I always thought we’d see things the same way, too.”

    “Yes… but then if we both did the same thing we would be married to the same man and that just wouldn’t work.” The girls laugh. They both got the point.

    Alice looks at the rock covered dirt road. “I guess this road is sort of like you and me. We both have homes and families but there are different roads that take us there.”

    “Well said, my friend. But did you notice there are no locked fences to our homes. We are both free to come over to each other’s home.”

    Alice looks at the storm clouds beginning to blow over the hills. “Looks like it's going to rain. We'd better hurry. It looks like it's going start raining before we get home.”

    The girls reach from their horses and hug each other good-bye again.

    At the Smith ranch the men had been hard at work building the framing for the bathroom just off the kitchen. It wasn’t a big room but it was large enough for the tub and to dry yourself off. There was no plumbing, of course. They had built a door from the kitchen that opened into the bathroom so that it would be convenient to carry the large black cast iron pots full of boiled water from the kitchen to the tub.

    “It’s a mighty fine addition, Mr. Smith.”

    “Thank you son, I couldn’t have done it without qou and Sylvaster’s help.”

    Sylvester grumbles, “Don’t know what you need it for. We’re only about a half mile from the river. Works fine for me.”

    Thomas looks at Mr. Smith. They both know that Sylvester only visits the river in the spring and a couple of times in the summer.

    “Well, Sylvester, I ain’t much on long walks naked or wet, but I thank ya for helping me.”

    Bayless is always the master of diplomacy. He was a rare man for his time. He wasn’t a rough man but he was a good man and apparently he liked to be clean.

    “Well, you ready to get the tub in here?”

    The men head toward the barn to get the tub. Sylvester muttering about the nonsense of having a tub in the house.

    “It jest don’t make sense but you rich folks do crazy things.”

    As the barn door opens and the light fills the barn, there it was. A large tub made of wooden boards, shined and shellacked. Not a splinter or a rough spot on it. The interior of the tub was lined with tin. Sylvester and Thomas are impressed. Bayless had built it by hand himself and he was rather proud of it.

    “Why, this is finer than any buggy I’ve ever seen in town, Sir.”

    Bayless pats it,    “Yes, she is.”

    Sylvester rubs his hand inside the tub on the smooth tin. “Where’d ya get the shinny tin?”

    “They’re from the five gallon cans of coal oil we use for the lamps. We had a mess of them.”

    Sylvester ponders the nicely made tub and then asks, “You got any tin left?”

    “We have a few, but I’ll betcha a bucky that Floyd Hutsell has a passel of them. Whatcha got in mind?”

    Sylvester grins, “I’m thinkin’ you rich folks need to have cleaner ranch hands.”