#47
"How can you see where we are walking," Brett was curious; but like the sound of talking in the vast darkness. It helped keep the boogy men back.
"Wev'e been here almost three months now. I pay attention to where I am, and what I walk on," replied Benny.
"oh."
"When Mizz Evie gets a chance, she'll talk to you about being aware. Of where you are, what's going on around you, who is near, the weather, a whole bunch of different stuff." Benny offered, as the two boys shuffled toward the house. "I'm gonna stop, so slow up. What do you smell?"
Behind him, Brett sniffed loudly. "Skunk for sure."
"Well, is it stronger than it was?" Benny questioned.
"Yeah, a lot stronger." Brett concluded.
"Well then, two things. We are either near the door, or the dog, or both."
"Wow, that's a neat thing. Will you show me how to do that?" Brett wanted to know.
"Sure," Benny said. "Now listen," there was silence; then a thump, thump, and a small whine. "My ears say that's Inky,thumping his tail" Benny offered.
"He's probably by the back door. Now look up. You can see the faint light from the stove through the window."
"Hey, your right," Brett was excited. "We are at the back door. Neat!" "Hey," he paused, "Do you think Grandma will be ok, I mean, it's so dark and cold. She's an old lady."
Once inside, the boys washed up. The water was cold, and hardly any soap left was left, but they felt better. They were quiet, but woke Clora up anyway. "Where's Mizz Evie," she wanted to know.
Brett and Benny related the skunk story, and how Evie would be spending the night in the barn. "We need to wood up the fire, and have water on to heat," Clora supposed. "It must be awful late. I'm going back to sleep."
Benny stoked the fire and closed the damper halfway.
"How do you know how much to close it," Brett whispered loudly.
"By watching Mizz Evie," Benny returned. "A person has to use their eyes to see, not just look at things."
Evie drug the old horse blanket to the corner of the tack shed. It was tough trying to feel around in the dark, and there were more than one scurryings she listened to. Evie wasn't particually fond of mice, but better in the barn than in the house. Well wrapped, she sat down and covered her legs with Inga's discarded horse blanket.
Inga, she hadn't thought of her daughter since the Apperton's came and Pete's family arrived. Beautiful blue eyed, golden haired Inga. Evie was asleep. Worn out by the stress and emotional toll of the day.
Morning arrived dark and rainy. Benny fed the fire, moved the water to heat, and looked out at the morning. Inky was curled by the back door, his long hair hair shedding the rain. Puddles had formed in any depression in the yard, and a grey mist acted like a curtain making the barn appear distant and far away.
Clora paddled up next to Benny. "Do you think she's OK," she wanted to know, yawning'. "Help me look through the boxes to see what we can do for breakfast."
"We need to put this stuff away," Benny spoke softly. "It's not good to have it out where everyone can see how much we have." Together, quietly, they sorted and put the food away. There was oatmeal, the box marked as such. But no directions. So they debated as to how it should be cooked. They eventually wound up with Evie"s largest pot full of oatmeal. "Man, that sure made a lot," Benny marveled at the oatmeal filling the eight quart pot." It sure is goopy, Mizz Evie never had her oatmeal that runny" he sagely observed.
Clora stood looking at the pot. The mixture was steaming and bubbling. Using Evie's longest handled wooden spoon, she tried to keep the cereal moving, so it wouldn't burn. The white froth was threatening to boil over the rim. Twice already the oatmeat had plopped, stinging Clora's arm with bit of goo.
"Benny, I think you had better go get Mizz Evie. I think we have a mess. I don't want to burn it, but I can't stir it anymore." Clora gave up trying to cook the oatmeal.
Benny took one look at her, the pot of cereal and nodded. "I'll go get her."
Evie stood in the darkened tack shed, rubbing mane and tail soap all over herself. She had discovered the partial bottle way back on the shelf. Many times she and Inga had used the shampoo to take grass and manure stains off Inga's paint mare. Humming a stanza of 'The old Grey Mare Ain't what She Usta Be,' Evie rubbed with a rag and scrubbed her skin hard. She carefully worked the whiteish, ropy soap into her hair, and double scrubbed any part of her that she could reach.
There was a timid knock at the door. "Mizz Evie, are you awake," Benny questioned softly. He didn't want to wake her up if she was still asleep. "Just a minute," Evie hollered, as she wrapped up in the blanket. She had already decided to leave her clothes in the barn, to be gathered later. "I'm coming," she sang out. "It's cold out here."
Benny nearly cut and ran, when Evie came sailing out the door. He had no idea what she had plastered all over her, but boy was she sticky and wierd looking. "Come on," she insisted, as she hurried for the house. "I'm freezing!"
Slogging through the mud barefoot, Evie made it to the door before Inky unfolded himself from his sleeping position and woofed, startled by the creature slipping and sliding toward him. He made a defensive stance, and was ready to tear the apprition apart. Closer and closer the blanket flapping menace advanced toward the astonished dog, when there were horn honks in the drive.
"Damm that Claude," Evie said aloud.