place here when she thought better of what she wanted me to do.
I pretended to think it over. “How do you know Tom is willing?”
She laughed. “Oh, Tom don’t care. He’ll do anything I ask him to do. And bedding some woman is about as pleasant a chore as he could think of, especially if you get him likkered up first. You aren’t bad to look at, Pauline. You’re skin and bones, but he’ll be happy to oblige you all the same.”
“He won’t be doing me no favor,” I told her, and it made me sore that she might think so. “I don’t feel a thing for Mr. Tom Dula. I can’t see nothing special about him at all. But if you want him serviced, I’ll do it. Same as I milk the cow and slop the hogs. It’s all one to me.”
“Good. It’s better if you don’t like it too much.”
“But how is that supposed to keep folks from suspecting you and Tom?”
“Oh, he’ll brag about it afterward. Men always do. Word will get around, but I don’t reckon you care about that. I reckon you had your share of soldiers back up the mountain.”
“Not ’cause I liked it overmuch,” I said.
“But you’ll do it?”
I shrugged. “As long as you don’t regret it afterward and turn me out.”
“No. It has to be done.” She peered up at me, turning things over in her mind, and then she said. “I don’t expect you to do it for nothing. There’s a jug of whiskey in it for you.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ll drink half of it first.”
I was still puzzling, though, over how she could bear to see him go off with another woman, if she loved him as much as she said she did. Now that her being with Tom was no secret from me, one night as I peeled potatoes for supper, I felt emboldened to ask her how it came about—her and Tom.
Ann smiled. “I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. The Dulas didn’t live any distance at all from my mama’s place, and we used to meet up—him and his brothers and some of us Fosters, and we’d all play Indian in the woods. He was a tough little boy, young as he was. He never cried or ran from anything.
“I remember one time this little dog of his had got to chasing a rabbit, and it went down a hole near the edge of the creek. I guess it got trapped in there, because we could hear it whimpering, but it wouldn’t come back out. That hole was so deep we couldn’t even see the pup, and I was crying thinking it would be dead for sure. It might have been a snake hole, even. When we knelt on the bank and looked down in it, we could see some broken tree roots, but the pup must have been eight feet down or more.
“Well, Tom told me to hush, and he dropped down on his knees beside that muddy hole in the creek bank, and listened for a minute. I was about to tell him that I’d run get his daddy and brothers to bring axes to help him widen the hole, but before I could say a word, Tom shot forward headfirst into that hole, shinnying down it until I couldn’t even see his feet anymore, and then I started to cry even louder. But a couple of minutes later, that dog clambered out of the hole, caked in red mud. And I looked down to see if Tom was following him, but the dog had made such a stir getting out that the hole was caving in. I started digging with my bare hands, and down at the bottom Tom was digging upward, and after what seemed like an hour, I saw his muddy hand clawing up through the dirt. I grabbed him and kept pulling until he was free. He looked like a gingerbread man, all caked with mud like he was, but he didn’t care. He kept saying, ‘I saved my dog. Done it all by myself.’”
Ann smiled, remembering that day on the creek bank. “He never did thank me for saving him, but I never forgot what happened. Tom loved that little no-account dog, and he was bound and determined to save it, no matter what. I knew then that if Tom Dula loved you, he’d do anything in the world for you.”
As long as it didn’t take too long, I thought, setting the paring knife at
I pretended to think it over. “How do you know Tom is willing?”
She laughed. “Oh, Tom don’t care. He’ll do anything I ask him to do. And bedding some woman is about as pleasant a chore as he could think of, especially if you get him likkered up first. You aren’t bad to look at, Pauline. You’re skin and bones, but he’ll be happy to oblige you all the same.”
“He won’t be doing me no favor,” I told her, and it made me sore that she might think so. “I don’t feel a thing for Mr. Tom Dula. I can’t see nothing special about him at all. But if you want him serviced, I’ll do it. Same as I milk the cow and slop the hogs. It’s all one to me.”
“Good. It’s better if you don’t like it too much.”
“But how is that supposed to keep folks from suspecting you and Tom?”
“Oh, he’ll brag about it afterward. Men always do. Word will get around, but I don’t reckon you care about that. I reckon you had your share of soldiers back up the mountain.”
“Not ’cause I liked it overmuch,” I said.
“But you’ll do it?”
I shrugged. “As long as you don’t regret it afterward and turn me out.”
“No. It has to be done.” She peered up at me, turning things over in her mind, and then she said. “I don’t expect you to do it for nothing. There’s a jug of whiskey in it for you.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ll drink half of it first.”
I was still puzzling, though, over how she could bear to see him go off with another woman, if she loved him as much as she said she did. Now that her being with Tom was no secret from me, one night as I peeled potatoes for supper, I felt emboldened to ask her how it came about—her and Tom.
Ann smiled. “I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. The Dulas didn’t live any distance at all from my mama’s place, and we used to meet up—him and his brothers and some of us Fosters, and we’d all play Indian in the woods. He was a tough little boy, young as he was. He never cried or ran from anything.
“I remember one time this little dog of his had got to chasing a rabbit, and it went down a hole near the edge of the creek. I guess it got trapped in there, because we could hear it whimpering, but it wouldn’t come back out. That hole was so deep we couldn’t even see the pup, and I was crying thinking it would be dead for sure. It might have been a snake hole, even. When we knelt on the bank and looked down in it, we could see some broken tree roots, but the pup must have been eight feet down or more.
“Well, Tom told me to hush, and he dropped down on his knees beside that muddy hole in the creek bank, and listened for a minute. I was about to tell him that I’d run get his daddy and brothers to bring axes to help him widen the hole, but before I could say a word, Tom shot forward headfirst into that hole, shinnying down it until I couldn’t even see his feet anymore, and then I started to cry even louder. But a couple of minutes later, that dog clambered out of the hole, caked in red mud. And I looked down to see if Tom was following him, but the dog had made such a stir getting out that the hole was caving in. I started digging with my bare hands, and down at the bottom Tom was digging upward, and after what seemed like an hour, I saw his muddy hand clawing up through the dirt. I grabbed him and kept pulling until he was free. He looked like a gingerbread man, all caked with mud like he was, but he didn’t care. He kept saying, ‘I saved my dog. Done it all by myself.’”
Ann smiled, remembering that day on the creek bank. “He never did thank me for saving him, but I never forgot what happened. Tom loved that little no-account dog, and he was bound and determined to save it, no matter what. I knew then that if Tom Dula loved you, he’d do anything in the world for you.”
As long as it didn’t take too long, I thought, setting the paring knife at
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