Oral History (9781101565612) by Lee Smith Page A

he was. Almarine moved along so slow with a little grin on his face so constant it was like it was slapped there for good. He moved like a man in a dream. And that Emmy? Lord, she was a-dusting, and a-sweeping, and a-cooking and milking the cow. As I said she was playing house. She looked real young and real pretty—her red hair just a-bouncing all down her back as she walked. You know a woman orter bind up her hair. But Emmy did not. It was the only way you could tell by looking that she differed from other womenfolks, but Almarine liked it that way and asked her to wear it loose down her back and she done it. Now this was all in froze-time when they were so happy. But twerent natural, no moren a snow in July.
    And of course nobody would venture nigh that cabin on a bet. Folks turned their heads a-hurrying along past the mouth of Hoot Owl Holler, they well-nigh run through them sprucey-pines. Rhoda Hibbitts who had spoke so favorable of Almarine—she had them two ugly daughters of hern, remember, a-trying to find them a man—why, Rhoda would not speak his name. Harve Justice swore he ventured up that way squirrel-hunting, and a big black raven flew outen a sprucey-pine and aimed straight at his head. Harve said that raven had eyes so big they looked like a human’s and it made a sound like a baby screaming. Peter Paul Ramey’s new baby took to colick-ing when his mama carried him past, and he colicked so bad he liked to kilt her afore he was through. I walked that baby half a day myself, with him just a-spitting up and a-hollering, so his mama could get her some sleep. She was just a young girl, and dead for sleep.
    Well, they is stories and stories.
    But the point is Almarine was bewitched, and twerent none of us could holp him. Everbody that had liked him so good, turned their back now. You don’t want no truck with a witch.
    I seed them one time myself. It was when one of them Stacy babies over on Snowman had the thrash and I was heading over there acrost the mouth of Hoot Owl Holler on my way, when something pulled at my heart. I believe I’ll just go up there and see that Almarine, I says to myself. I would like to set eyes on his face. Now I loved him as a baby, you recall. I said he was always so sweet. So I started traveling up Hoot Owl Holler on the trace alongside the creek. It all seemed natural to me right then, I couldn’t feel no witchery in the air, nor nothing wrong atall on the trace nor around that cabin when I got to it. Almarine’s chickens come a-running and a-scratching, and that witch had her wash strung out on the line like anybody. Can you feature a witch a-washing? She must of wanted so bad to be natural, what I think. She must of tried hard for a while. Anyway I hollered out one time for Almarine, but wasn’t no reply, so I went around the side of the holler to where the garden was, and sure enough they was out there a-planting. Something made me stop then, and stand stock-still behind them two cedar trees. That was the first time I remarked how it was coming on a storm—they’ll come up in these mountains real sudden-like.
    Well, Almarine was a-plowing with a bull-tongue plow hitched onto one of his mules. He was a-follering along behind the mule, guiding the plow, and you know how hard it is guiding a bull-tongue plow in the rocky ground. Red Emmy walked behind him with corn in her apron, drapping it down where he plowed. Now you plant your corn when the oak leaves is about as big as squirrel-paws, so this was about the right time. And I have to say that Almarine and Red Emmy looked like regular folks, going along down the side of the hill with their planting. The dogwood trees were a-blooming white and pink all around the field, and the purple judas behind it. The wind was all the time rising. It blowed that Emmy’s red hair all around and she was so pretty, I could see how he was bewitched. But something kept me from a-stepping out from where I