The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 10

Sunday and Monday March 7-8

Carl never worked on Sunday, nor did he make any of his children. He didn’t go to church, but he had promised Edna before they got married that he would, in her words, “Keep the Sabbath holy”. He had never gone back on his promise.

When he was days behind in planting or plowing or chopping or some other activity, he wondered if it had been a foolish promise. But, over the years he had found that one day off a week didn’t really negatively change anything about the farm’s production. On the positive side, he saw the value of a day of just relaxing, especially for Thomas and Marshall. A true day of rest allowed them, and he, to work the other six days with much more vigor.

Many of the other farmers around thought he was foolish, wasting one seventh of the week. But at harvest time, Carl’s farm almost invariably had production as good or better than any of his neighbors. That was why he and the Bentwood family continued taking Sunday off.

Edna, the girls, the younger boys, James and Milly, Thomas’ wife of six months, went to church. Carl and Thomas worked on equipment or found something else to keep them busy. Marshall, as he almost always did, went hunting.

That afternoon, James would have walked to town to see Angie, but, he remembered she had said she and her girlfriends usually spent Sunday afternoons together. So instead, he stayed home and simply enjoyed his family. In fact, overall, for the whole family it was a peaceful, restful day, the last one of its kind for a while.

Monday came as another typical work and school day. Carl, Thomas and Marshall were back in the field while James and his siblings went to school.

“She’s sick,” Mrs. Leonx told James when he couldn’t find Angie in the halls. “She sent word she had a cold or flu or something.”

He had wanted to apologize once again for the fiasco of a date. Plus he had simply looked forward to seeing her. Tthe day seemed to drag on more than usual, but finally it ended at 4:05 and he and the rest of the school-going Bentwood kids were soon home.

Carl saw the bus coming down the road and turned the harrow he was riding back toward the house. As James exited the bus, his father yelled at him from some two hundred feet in the field.

“James,” Carl yelled his name again. “I need ya to go back inta town ‘fore the feed store closes. A couple of the hens hatched out a brood and we need some chick starter. Oh, and get some pink eye medicine for Jersey.”

“Yessir,” James answered and started toward the house.

“Just take the horse.” Carl said over his shoulder. “No need waistin’ gas.”

James put his school things away, then changed into a pair of well worn overalls and work boots. He grabbed an old brown coat to help cut the chill while riding and firmly seated an even older brown fedora on his head. In the barn, he quickly saddled Lucy, swung onto her back then started up the drive.

“Don’t be too long, James,” Edna said from the porch where she had been looking at the skies. “It’s gonna be gettin’ colder and I don’t want none of you kids out in the night wind. Can’t afford any of ya to get sick. Ya hear me?”

“Yes’m,” James said smiling at his mother as he passed the porch. “I’ll hurry.”

Regardless of how cold it was going to get, however, James was going to take enough time to go in and ask Mary Mitchell about her daughter.

It was 4:45 when he got to town and the feed store didn’t close until 6:00 so he knew he had time to check on Angie. So, like Saturday, he tied Lucy up and trotted toward the alley to Mitchell’s.

“Hey, Marsh,” Someone behind James yelled and he turned momentarily to see who had spoken, but a number of people were on the street so he couldn’t tell. So he turned back around an, as he entered the alley, he simply raised his arm in response and waved, not bothering to call out a correction.

Angie began feeling much better during the day and had walked to the store shortly after noon. Angie knew Monday was always the day Mary had new stock arriving and it was often difficult to tend to the new items while waiting on customers. She knew Mary would appreciate the help.

“Are you and James going out again this weekend,” Mary asked Angie while opening boxes of ladies hats and began lining them up on the freshly cleaned shelves.

“He asked me before he brought me home Saturday night.” Angie answered. “I told him I would tell him at school. I just don’t want to seem to anxious.”

“You like him don’t you?”

“Sure I like him.”

“Well, then don’t worry about seeming too anxious. He’s a good boy and a good one for you. Plus your dad liked him so don’t play around with him.”

Angie had stopped in the midst of opening a box and was staring at her mother not quite knowing what to make of her advice. Every thing she had told her in her 18 years, and especially the last two or three years, had been the virtual opposite of what she was saying now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mary snapped at her daughter when she saw her staring at her. “I know both of you want to go to college. So, if you could go to the same school that would help. You’re not a little girl anymore and good men aren’t just everywhere. So if you find one like James, you at least need to give him every chance.”

When Angie didn’t respond, Mary concluded, “All I’m saying is the rules change some when you start to get older. So just recognize that.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Angie answered.

Mary then looked up at the clock above the door and saw that it was 5:30. They were almost through with the new merchandise and there were no customers in the store so she walked over and locked the door.

“Let’s go ahead and close up early.” She told her daughter. “Sweep up in the back then carry the trash out and we’ll be ready to go.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Angie grabbed a broom and twenty minutes later had the back of the store swept. Then after collecting the two trash cans from the front of the store, she headed toward the back door and the “burn “barrel in the alley.

Mary had just finished sacking the money from the cash drawer when she heard a scream.

“Angie!” Mary yelled as she began running toward the back of the store.

She hesitated at the doorway. Her daughter was standing in front of the 55 gallon drum some fifty feet down the alley. The two trash cans lay on either side of her, their contents spilled onto the ground. Angie had her hands up to her face and was staring down into the barrel.

“Angie, what is it?” Mary said as she rushed to her daughter’s side.

“Oh, Momma!” Angie gasped, buring her face in Mary’s shoulder.

As she held Angie, Mary stared down into the barrel. James was curled up inside of the blackened interior. His chin was on his chest and she could see a half-inch hole in the back of his neck. Above the hole, his skull was cracked open and caved in. Blood had poured from the wound, but was now coagulated, matting his hair.

“Mary, what’s the matter,” Brickman yelled as he came running to them. He had also heard the scream.

“In the barrel,” She nodded, then physically turned her daughter around. “Angie, let’s go inside. We need to call the police.”

“Oh, no,” Brickman said when he saw James. “It’s Marsh Bentwood.”

“No,” Mary called over her shoulder. “It’s James.”

“James?!” Brickman looked again and saw she was right. “Man oh man, what’s this world comin’ to.”

It was nearly 9:00, well past dark, and Carl Bentwood was sitting on his long front porch puffing on a bowl of rum and maple tobacco. It had been five hours since he sent James on a two hour errand. If it had been Thomas or Marshall, he wouldn’t have thought that much about it, but James was dependable.

The temperature was in the low thirties making Carl shiver, but he did his best worrying on his front porch, cold or not. So he waited as he had for three hours and as he would continue to do until he saw his son coming down the road.

“No sign of him yet?” Edna opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch wrapping a blue shawl about her against the cold.

“No,” Carl said through pipe gripping teeth.

His wife was a fretful woman and the current worry was evident in her voice. The March wind jostled her graying, curly hair as she looked up the road toward Wynne…..hopeful.

“Carl, ya need to come in,” She said as she pulled her shawl closer around her. “It’s nearly freezin’ out here.”

Carl ignored her pulling his watch from his overalls pocket.

“If he’s not back by nine,” He said. “Thomas and I’ll go find ‘im.”

He did his best to sound calm for her sake.

“Take Marshall with ‘ya, too.”

“I would if he was around. He’s coon huntin’ again.”

As if to accentuate his words, they both looked up toward the Ridge as they heard the crack of a .22 rifle in the distance.

To Be Continued........