special that people couldn’t mistake any other Chinese willow pattern for the Colebrook Blue Willow, and it became famous, and Marthasville became Atlanta, and Artemas became a rich man, with a big house over by the Toqua, and a corn mill, and of course, his china factory.”
“Under the lake!”
“Under the lake, that’s right. But his money couldn’t buy love from Elspeth’s sons, who never stopped blaming him for what happened to her. To make matters worse, Artemas married a Yankee woman visiting from New York and turned to supporting the northern cause.”
Lily frowned. “Artemas isn’t a Yankee ’cause he’s from New York, is he?”
“No, I’m sure the shame’s worn off by now,” Mama said. “Anyway, Elspeth’s sons were grown men then, important farmers with wives and children of their own, and they had duties to the town they’d started.”
“MacKenzie? Just like now?”
“Uh-huh. So they had stronger roots here than Old Artemas, and besides, there’s no accounting for people’s politics. Anyway, the war made the MacKenzies andColebrooks enemies. Bad times, bad blood. Elspeth’s sons got a big gang of men together and rode over the Smoky Hollow Trail late one night when the moon was dark, and they set fire to Old Artemas’s house, and his china factory, and everything else he owned, ’cept his corn mill, which folks around here needed.”
“That was mean.”
“I guess that’s where you get your temper from,” Artemas quipped. Lily elbowed him again.
“Yes, it sure was mean,” Mama continued. “And Old Artemas, he came over to their farm the next Sunday, when they were at church in town, and he brought his own gang of men, and they kept the field hands back while Artemas cut Elspeth’s trees down. He burned them—burned them to the roots. It was his way of saying her boys had broken the bond between him and them.”
“What did they do then?”
“Nothing. There was no mending the terrible breach between them and Old Artemas. He said he’d leave and not come back until he could lord it over every MacKenzie in the county. So he took his money and his Yankee wife, and he went to New York. And he bought clay quarries, and that led to buying iron mines to get the blue cobalt from, and pretty soon he and that woman had grown sons who knew how to buy things and make money, and the Colebrooks sold the best china in the country besides owning all sorts of businesses. And in those thirty years they became rich as Midas and began struttin’ like bantam roosters.” Mama’s eyes became wide with drama. “But you know what? The willows grew back . They couldn’t be killed, because Elspeth’s love was too strong!”
Lily squealed and clapped her hands. “Because they’re magic. ”
“Yes.”
Artemas had grown silent and withdrawn. Now, he took his arm from around Lily’s neck and, propping his arms on his legs, stared at the floor. Lily worriedly poked him on one knee. “I like you anyway, you rich rooster.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
“Hmmmph.” Mama scowled. “Well, the MacKenzies never got rich, not by Colebrook standards, but they were always the best farmers in north Georgia, and on top of that they became county-court judges, and sheriffs, and preachers—and moonshiners, but that’s another story.”
Lily bounced. “Tell me, please!”
“No, no. I only meant to tell the bear story It’s gettin’ late.”
“Can’t you tell her how the Colebrooks came back?” Artemas said, raising his head slowly, his eyes somber. Mama looked down at him for a minute, then sighed. “Oh, well, all right.” Sitting down on the floor by Lily, who gazed from her to Artemas with puzzled sympathy, she said, “You know that sign under the big willow up on the estate road?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Well, your great-grandparents gave that tree to Artemas’s great-grandparents, when they came here in 1895. Johnathan Colebrook was rich, richer than all the other Colebrooks,
“Under the lake!”
“Under the lake, that’s right. But his money couldn’t buy love from Elspeth’s sons, who never stopped blaming him for what happened to her. To make matters worse, Artemas married a Yankee woman visiting from New York and turned to supporting the northern cause.”
Lily frowned. “Artemas isn’t a Yankee ’cause he’s from New York, is he?”
“No, I’m sure the shame’s worn off by now,” Mama said. “Anyway, Elspeth’s sons were grown men then, important farmers with wives and children of their own, and they had duties to the town they’d started.”
“MacKenzie? Just like now?”
“Uh-huh. So they had stronger roots here than Old Artemas, and besides, there’s no accounting for people’s politics. Anyway, the war made the MacKenzies andColebrooks enemies. Bad times, bad blood. Elspeth’s sons got a big gang of men together and rode over the Smoky Hollow Trail late one night when the moon was dark, and they set fire to Old Artemas’s house, and his china factory, and everything else he owned, ’cept his corn mill, which folks around here needed.”
“That was mean.”
“I guess that’s where you get your temper from,” Artemas quipped. Lily elbowed him again.
“Yes, it sure was mean,” Mama continued. “And Old Artemas, he came over to their farm the next Sunday, when they were at church in town, and he brought his own gang of men, and they kept the field hands back while Artemas cut Elspeth’s trees down. He burned them—burned them to the roots. It was his way of saying her boys had broken the bond between him and them.”
“What did they do then?”
“Nothing. There was no mending the terrible breach between them and Old Artemas. He said he’d leave and not come back until he could lord it over every MacKenzie in the county. So he took his money and his Yankee wife, and he went to New York. And he bought clay quarries, and that led to buying iron mines to get the blue cobalt from, and pretty soon he and that woman had grown sons who knew how to buy things and make money, and the Colebrooks sold the best china in the country besides owning all sorts of businesses. And in those thirty years they became rich as Midas and began struttin’ like bantam roosters.” Mama’s eyes became wide with drama. “But you know what? The willows grew back . They couldn’t be killed, because Elspeth’s love was too strong!”
Lily squealed and clapped her hands. “Because they’re magic. ”
“Yes.”
Artemas had grown silent and withdrawn. Now, he took his arm from around Lily’s neck and, propping his arms on his legs, stared at the floor. Lily worriedly poked him on one knee. “I like you anyway, you rich rooster.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
“Hmmmph.” Mama scowled. “Well, the MacKenzies never got rich, not by Colebrook standards, but they were always the best farmers in north Georgia, and on top of that they became county-court judges, and sheriffs, and preachers—and moonshiners, but that’s another story.”
Lily bounced. “Tell me, please!”
“No, no. I only meant to tell the bear story It’s gettin’ late.”
“Can’t you tell her how the Colebrooks came back?” Artemas said, raising his head slowly, his eyes somber. Mama looked down at him for a minute, then sighed. “Oh, well, all right.” Sitting down on the floor by Lily, who gazed from her to Artemas with puzzled sympathy, she said, “You know that sign under the big willow up on the estate road?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Well, your great-grandparents gave that tree to Artemas’s great-grandparents, when they came here in 1895. Johnathan Colebrook was rich, richer than all the other Colebrooks,
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