My Children Are More Precious Than Gold

This is the first Chapter of my children book - My Children Are More Precious Than Gold ISBN 1438240953
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Chapter 1

The Brown Woolen Scarf

Bess Bishop Thompson drove her car as close as she could get to the rubble. She climbed out, leaning heavily on her can. She had to pick her way carefully through the shaggy grass and waist high weeds.
Ahead of her was a termit infested wood pile that used to be the Bishop family log cabin. The rock fireplace, covered with wild honeysuckle and moss, stood in the middle of the rubble, a monument to long gone days and memories. Bess plopped down on a tree stump, the remains of the yard's mulberry shade tree.
She shivered when the northernly breeze hit her. She pulled her shawl thighter around herself and rubbed away the goosebumps on her arms. She should get back in the car where it was warmer, but a melancholy urge tugged at her to stay put longer. She hadn't come all this way to leave so quickly.
The trees, in full dress on the ridge, were vibrant colors of red, oranges and yellows. Bess remembered that vivid sight so well. Just one of the reasons she loved living on that ridge. Moments, memories and sounds flickered through her mind like the reel of film at a movie threater.
She could hear the laughter of her brothers and sisters coming from within the cabin heap. Her mother calling loud and clear for the younguns to behave. Her father's baritone voice, reading a story to them by the fireplace.
It was just as well in 1903 that she and her family didn't know how the year was going to play out. Not that every moment of the twelve months were that bad, but the way January started out should have been a warning to the Bishops if they had been paying attention to bad omens.
Sitting by what was left of her childhood home near Riner, Virgina in the Blue Ride Mountains, Bess closed her eyes to see the mental picture of days gone by. She listened to the sounds of that long ago January blizzard in her head. It was a winter morning. Bess shivered as she listened to the north wind's mighty roar. With a sound akin to the wail of a prowling panther, the wind announced a snowstorm's approach to the hollow before it pounced on the log cabin.
By noon, a constant tapping of sleet mixed with wet snow drumed on the cabin's tin roof. By lunch time, Jacob and Nannie Bishop and the other ten children realized as Bess did that the blizzard had arrived on their portion of the ridge. Six years old Dillard gulped down the last bite from a stewed rabbit leg, and tossed the bone on his blue and white enameled plate. He slid off the handmade, wooden, ladder back chair and ran to the only window in the combination kitchen and living room. Standing on tiptoes, he flattened his nose against the pane. His blonde hair, curled like tightly coiled springs, created Os on the frosty glass where he pressed his forehead to peek through a clear slit near the top of the window.
He stared beyond the ripples of drifting snow banked on the porch. The white mounds grew larger each time he looked. Antsy to get out of the cabin, Dillard daydreamed of playing in the snow. His imagination saw fierce snowball fights and making snowmen in the front yard with his brothers and sisters when the storm finally ceased. Bored, he declared, "Still snowen." Glumly, he watched the haze of snowflakes swirl across the yard.
"We know that without ya tellen us, Dillard," Veder snapped at him, ready for a fight. She didn't like being housebound in the winter anymore than he did.
"Cass, Bess, and Alma, stack the dishes, and I'll heet the water," ordered Nannie, leaning her wide hips against the kitchen counter for a moment.
Ten year old Bess, who resembled her mother in many ways, studied Nannie. She noted the fact that her mother paused to rest at the counter. Nannie looked tired, and that worried Bess. She wondered if any of the other children had noticed their mother didn't look well. With all the work Nannie did for her large family, it was no wonder she'd be tired. It appeared to be too much for her of late. Bess meant to say something to Cass when they were alone. Born in between the older boys, Cass, twenty years old, worked along side her mother. Mama told her things so Cass would know if Mama wasn't feeling well. Picking up the blue and white granite plates, Bess scraped the rabbit bones and scraps of food all on one plate for the coon hounds to chew on later and stacked the rest.
Alma did her part by walking around the table to gather up all the silverware then carried it to the work counter.
Holding the long handled, aluminum dipper to one side with her thumb, Nannie tipped the wooden bucket to pour water into a large, tin dishpan. Carrying the pan carefully so she wouldn't spill the water, she placed it on one of the circle lids on the wood cookstove's hot, black surface.
"The rest of ya younguns, let's get out of the way. I'm goen to sit next to the fire fer a spell." Jacob eased his short, stocky frame into his rocking chair close to the crackling, red-yellow flames that danced over the logs in the large, rock fireplace. Combing his fingers through his thick, dark brown hair to flattened it, he leaned forward, extending his calloused palms toward the fire's warmth. The younger children rushed to position themselves near to him on the floor, squealing and shoving to move each other out of the way.
"Younguns, ifen you don't have anything better to do, that Christmas tree needs took down. It's turnen brown and droppen needles all over the place," suggested Nannie. She figured it was best to keep her restless younguns busy so they wouldn't be squabbling with each other.
"It's sticky, Mama. Do we have to take every thing offen it?" Lillie's light, brown pigtails stretched down the back of her faded, blue dress when the plump, eight year old frowned up at the tall, cedar tree standing in the corner of the room.
"Leave the popcorn strings on it fer the birds. They'll be glad fer feed in weather like this, but take off all the tinsel and the star. Stick em back in the Christmas box fer next year," instructed Nannie while she spread a Red Rooster feed sack, dish towel over the bowls of leftover fried potatoes, turnips and green beans she'd placed on one end of the long, wooden table. "Well fer once supper won't take too long to fix with all these leftovers," she said to Bess. It wasn't hard to hear the sound of relief that filled her mother's voice, because she wouldn't have to spend a lot of time cooking the next meal.
Surrounding the cedar tree, Lillie, Veder, and three year old Lydia, stood on tiptoes with arms stretched up, gingerly pinching off all the silver tinsel that they could reach without getting stuck by the tree's needles. Twenty two year old Sid, eighteen year old Tom, and sixteen year old Don, picked off the tinsel higher on the tree, and thirteen year old Lue, being the tallest, stretched his lanky frame on tiptoes to lift off the gold foil star atop the tree.
"The tree's cleaned off, Pap," Don announced, dropping the last piece of tinsel from his chubby fingers into the wooden box marked, "Christmas".
"Good! Reckon I'll drag it off when I go check the cows."
"Snow's still comen down good, Pap," Dillard forecasted from his post at the window.
Feeling a cold dampness ooze into the soles of his heavy woolen socks, Dillard looked down and frowned. A trail of water trickled along the wall from the line of tallow slicked shoes that sat beneath the row of winter coats and pooled under his feet. No one had overshoes or boots in those days so animal fat scraps were rendered by heating them until the lard melted out. Tallow was spread on the one pair of shoes that Pap made each of them. That coating kept the shoes water proof and softer.
Joining the others by the fireplace, Dillard sat down, turning his feet to the fire. He wrinkled his nose at the odor of wet wool as the heat seeped through the socks to warm his feet.
"Don't worry about me. I'll find my way. I always do," Jacob assured Dillard as he stood and stretched. "Anyway I reckon the cows will bunch up on the back side of the pasture hill so I won't have too far to go." Jacob put on his coat, hat, and boots then reached for a brown, woolen scarf hanging on his coat nail. "Besides, I'll be plenty warm in my new scarf that Bess knitted me for Christmas."
At the mention of her name, Bess turned from the dish pan to look at her father. He smiled and winked at her. Bess winked back with a twinkle in her dark eyes. Her round face showed appreciation of the fact that he liked the scarf she'd knitted for him. She watched him wrap the extra long scarf twice around his neck, and over his head, then throw the ends over his shoulders to trail down the back of his heavy, brown coat.
The other children held their hands over their mouths and snickered at Jacob's remark. They remembered him opening Bess's gift. He pulled out the scarf -- and pulled -- and pulled. Bess's proud expectations had turned to consternation when the other children giggled at the scarf's extra long length, but Jacob, blue eyes twinkling, looked serious as he thanked Bess for his warm gift.
When Bess told her mother waht she watned to make her father for a gift, Nannie gave Bess a choice of colors for the wool. Then Nannie helped Bess dye the wool. Soaking the fibers in black walnut hulls would make brown, hazelbark made black coloring and polkberries made purple. Bess chose brown. After Nannie spun the wool fibers, Bess knitted every moment when Pap wasn't near to see what she was making.
Jacob knew the effort it took to knit this gift. To silence the children before they hurt Bess feelings, he sternly reminded the children how hard Bess worked on his scarf. Also, he added that he liked his Christmas gift the length it was.
A blast of bitterly, cold wind rushed through the open door and swept across the room to the fireplace, causing red flames to shoot up and flicker wildly back and forth. Dragging the tree behind him onto the porch as quickly as he could, Jacob yelled above the roar of the wind before he shut the door, "I reckon to be back in about an hour."
Going to the wooden, steamer trunk, covered with more scars then paint from years of use, that set in the large room's far corner, Tom, a skinny young man, lifted the heavy, rounded lid. "I'm goen to get out the games. Who wants the checkers, and who wants the dominoes?"
"I'll take the checkers, and Lue can play me first," Sid suggested, sitting down Indian fashion opposite Lue on the floor. He expected to win at the game. He usually beat everyone in the family except their father.
Tom spilled the dominoes onto the floor, and Don plopped down across from him. Settling down near his brothers to watch, Dillard hoped that the winner of one of the games would let him play.
When the dishes were done, Nannie pulled her spinning wheel away from the wall next to the stairway door. She dragged it and a gunny sack of carded wool over near the fireplace where the lighting was better. Settling her ample frame on the stool, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her apron and tucked a stray wisp of gray streaked brown hair into the bun on the top of her head. Then she began to pedal while she fed a few fluffy, white, wool fibers through her fingers to the whirling machine.
Spinning relaxed her. Maybe because it was hypnotic to watch the wheel turning while thoughts rambled around in her head or maybe since she was always tried sitting down to spin was a good excuse to get off her feet. Which ever it was, Nannie didn't have time to sit and do nothing, but she could sit down to spin without feeling quilty.
Clink, clink came from near the fireplace where Cass, Bess, and Alma sat. The older girl, Cass, patiently showed her younger sisters how to knit some of the curves to make the heel in the socks. Then the fast, flying knitting needles the girls held changed the wool yarn Nannie spun into various sizes of socks, and later on they'd knit gloves and scarves for the family. The girls learned to knit at nine years old. First, they'd knit their own socks, gloves and scarves then knit for other members of the family.
The younger girls -- Lillie, Lydia and Veder came scurrying down from the cold upstairs bedrooms with their new rag dolls and plopped down in a circle near the fire.
For a while, the spinning wheel's whir, the knitting needles clank, the checkers thunks were the only noises in the cabin. The wind howling and the windows rattling kept them reminded of the snowstorm raging outside. Soon Bess grew tired of listening to the storm. It reminded her that Pap was out there somewhere in the cold. She needed something else to think about. "Mama, tell us what it was like in the winter when you were a little girl. Did yer Pap have to go out on days like this and check his cattle?"
"Papa has always been a hard worker like yer Pap, but we had workers called slaves that did most of the work, cause my father owned a lot of land back then. They called it a plantation. We lived in a big white house with six columns and when I and my brothers and sisters were small we had a nanny that helped our mother look after our needs."
"Were ya rich, Mama?" asked Bess.
"If we were, I didn't realize it at the time, but I suppose we had as much as most folks before the war." A far away look passed over Nannie's face. She let go with a long drawn out sigh. "After the war between the states, everyone had a much different life. Papa lost everything but that small piece of land he and Mama live on now. It being next to the Little River was a blessing. Papa built the grist mill and has made a good living ever since."
"It's been a while since Pap left. Shouldn't he be back by now?" Sid asked his mother as he jumped Lue's last checker. He listened to the gale force winds whip around the house and worried about his father being out in the storm.
"Yip," agreed Lue. "I think his hour must have been up a long time ago, Mama."
"Supposen we should go see what's keepen him?" Don, uncomfortable on the hard floor, wanted any excuse to stop the domino game, because he was losing.
"Just wait a bit. Ya have to go out in this awful weather soon enough to do chores. Maybe yer pap will be back by then." Nannie spoke calmly though her forehead wrinkled with worry creases.
More time passed, the storm moved on. Beyond the cabin was quiet. Still Jacob wasn't back. "Mama, we better go hunt fer Pap. He should have been back afore now," Sid insisted as he looked out the window. "The storm's let up, and still no sign of him comen down the pasture hill."
"Spect yer right. Don and Lue, you all go hunt fer Pap. Sid, you and Tom go start the chores. They need to be done. It'll be dark soon."
"Sure, Mama," the boys cried in unison as they rushed for the row of coats.
Reaching for his coat, Lue's hand caught on something on Jacob's empty nail. "What's this here?"
"Yarn," said Don.
"Sure enough is. Ain't this the color of Pap's scarf?" Lue ran his fingers along the yarn to where it was caught under the door. "Pap must have caught his scarf on the nail, and it's comen undone." Lue opened the door, and lifted up on the brown yarn to pop it from under the snow drift on the porch. Untwisting the end that was hooked on Jacob's coat nail, Lue rolled the yarn into a ball. "Don, let's follow this here string. Maybe it'll lead us to Pap."
."That could be hopeless. As long as Pap's scarf is, he could have gone the whole length of the Blue Ridge Mountains afore that scarf would come undone enough that he'd notice it's missen." Don giggled as he stepped out on the porch behind Lue.
Wood smoke hung heavily in the air, caught in a down draft created by the north wind coming over the roof. Lue and Don walked through the smoky, snow drifted yard, down the lane, and up the pasture hill. Once in a while the overcast sky spit a few lacy flakes at them as a last reminder of the storm.
They trod toward the blue gray horizon. The only sound breaking the silence was the rhythmic crunch underfoot as the boys struggled through the deep snow. Rolling the ball of icy yarn while he walked, Lue gently pulled to lift it from under the snow so he wouldn't break it. This yarn was the only trace of Jacob, because the blowing snow had long ago filled his tracks.
At the base of the hill's backside, the boys found the Christmas tree laying where Jacob had dropped it. A flock of sparrows fluttered off the branches and flew away, disturbed from their popcorn feast by the boys approach.
Lue cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "Pap, Pap!"
The echo, P-A-A-P, P-A-A-P, bounced back at them from the distant ridge. Over the wind's eerie moan, it whistled through the frosted, white pines and the leafless trees blanketed in snow.
"Look! There's the cows over yonder by the creek." Lue pointed in that direction. He felt the cold air sting the tip of his chilled, blue finger, sticking out of the hole in his wool glove. "Maybe Pap's over there."
"Maybe he went to see if the creek's froze over. He'd have to break the ice so the cattle could drink ifen it was," Don puffed, sending small clouds of steam floating away in front of his face.
At the top of the knoll, the boys spotted at the same time a brown hump moving in the snow some distance from them. "Pap!" Lue and Don yelled together as they staggered along through the deep snow. Lue had stopped rolling the yarn and stuck the ball in his coat pocket. The rest of the yarn trailed behind him, leaving a small groove in the snow as it popped to the surface.
The boys heard a groan escaped Jacob's blue lips when they reached his snow covered form. "Pap, what happened," Lue panted, dropping to his knees beside his father. "What's wrong with ya?"
Jacob's face contorted with pain as he struggled to speak. "I -- I tripped on an icy rock hidden in the snow. I -- I think I broke my leg."
"Hold on. We'll get ya home," Lue assured him. "Don, break off some branches on that old, snaggled tree over yonder to make a splint. I'll roll up the rest of this yarn."
"Why bother with that yarn now?" Don puzzled. "We found Pap."
"We need it to hold a splint on his broken leg. Now hurry up afore Pap freezes to death." Hearing his father's teeth chattering behind his trembling, blue lips, Lue knew they had to work fast.
Don laid the sticks down around Jacob's leg, and gently lifted it. Jacob moaned softly as the movement caused his pain to increase. As fast as he could, Lue ran the yarn ball around and up and down the splint to hold the sticks tightly to the leg until the ball was gone.
"Pap, we're ready to start toten ya home now. Don, hep me lift him." Lue lifted under Jacob's arms. Don picked up his father's legs. Jacob, pain searing through him, cried out and fainted. "He's better off not feelin' this," Lue comment, struggling to keep his balance in the snow. "He's heavy to tote in this deep snow so we're not gonen to be able to move fast."
Soon exhausted, the boys gently laid the unconscious man down in the snow, then sat down beside him to rest. "Kin we make it home with Pap afore dark?" panted Don.
"Sure we kin. Just rest a minute." Lue had to be optimistic for Don's sake even though he knew it'd be dark soon.
"I don't know. I'm pooped."
"I sure do wish we had a cart to carry Pap," Lue wished, trying to get his brother on another subject besides himself.
Moo -- oo! Just then the jersey cow, Daisy, greeted them as she climbed the hill on her way to the barn for the nightly milking. A creature of habit, instinct told her where the cow path was even when it lay buried beneath the snow.
"Don!" Lue grabbed his brother's arm. "There's our cart comen now."
"Ya've gone crazy from the cold. That's Daisy."
"I know that. Stop her, and we'll put Pap on her."
"Think we kin?"
"Sure. She lets the younguns ride her to the barn all the time, don't she?"
"Yep, but Pap is heavier than the younguns, and he cain't sit up."
"So we'll hold him on. Go catch her."
Don met the family's tawny colored milk cow, and walked along side her toward Lue and Pap. Calmly, she watched him with her large, dark brown eyes while she tromped up the hill. As soon as the cow and Don were even with Jacob, he put his arms around her neck to stop her. "Lue, undo what's left of that scarf around Pap's neck and hand it to me. I'll put it around Daisy's neck to hep hold her."
"Here it is." Lue tossed Don the scarf. "Now hold on to Daisy."
He put his hands under Jacob's arms, straining to lift his father's limp body. Don, with his free hand, grabbed the seat of Jacob's pants to help boost him, but Daisy's ice covered, broad back was slick and so were Jacob's snow covered clothes. Add to that the fact that their fingers were numb from the cold. The boys couldn't keep their grip on the heavy man's clothes. Jacob slid head first over the other side of the cow, sinking into the deep snow. Fluffy flakes billowed around him, dusting him with a new layer of snow. He lay in a motionless, frosted heap with his brown yarn, splinted leg sticking up in the air like a fence post.
"Don, ya shouldn't have pushed so hard," Lue accused running around the cow.
"Me push hard! I only had one hand to use. I'm holden the cow with the other one. Ya was supposed to hold onto Pap!" Don argued in his defense, trying to hold Daisy still when she sidestepped to see what had happened beside her.
Once again, Lue lifted Pap. Don grabbed hold of the seat of his pants, and together, they boosted him slowly onto Daisy's back. With a better grip this time, Lue held his father in place.
"Don, get Daisy moven."
"Come on, Daisy. Head fer the barn," Don coaxed, tugging on the scarf around the cow's neck.
The dusky, afternoon light rapidly faded into night. Standing in the barn door, Sid and Tom strained to see through the twilight, watching for Daisy when they saw their brothers wading the snow on the pasture hill, leading the milk cow. When they were close enough for Sid and Tom to make out that Daisy had a burden on her back, the boys burst from the barn door to meet Lue and Don.
Don led the cow close to the porch and held her as Sid helped Lue remove Jacob. Tom held the door open while the boys carried their father in and laid him by the fireplace. Cass and Bess hurried to the cookstove to get Lue and Don a cup of coffee while the cold boys dropped down close to the fire, sticking their numb hands toward the fire.. Alma and Veder scurried off to bring quilts to cover them to stop their shivering. Nannie knelt down beside Jacob to see what she needed to do for him.
"We'll need to set his leg afore he wakes up, Mama. It's broke," Lue said as he wrapped his cold fingers around the steaming cup Bess handed him. "He tripped on a rock up in the pasture."
"Boys, after I get this splint cut away, hep me get his pants offen him."
Sid and Tom removed Jacob's jeans, then Nannie rolled his long john leg up to inspect the white indented spot on his right leg shin. "Sid, Tom, Lue and Don hold him still while I pull on his leg to set it. I got to get this done afore his leg starts to swell now that he's in here where its warm," Nannie instructed.
The boys took a tight grip on each side of Jacob, and with a pained expression on their faces, they turned their heads away so they wouldn't have to watch. Nannie jerked hard on the leg. A grating crunch sounded as bone ground against bone when it popped back into place.
"Dillard, bring me some of the longer pieces of kindling from the wood box. Alma, get some strips of cloth out of the medicine box. Sid and Tom get back at those chores now. Might as well get 'em over with," Nannie ordered.
"We's about done cept fer milken Daisy, Mama. She's still standen in the yard. I'll take her to the barn," said Sid, putting on his coat.
With Cass and Bess holding Jacob's leg between the sticks, Nannie wrapped the cloth strips tightly around the kindling. "Now, younguns, get busy rubben Pap's hands and feet. He may have frostbite. Lue and Don, ya two ought to get back over by the fire and warm up. Ya look most froze to death."
Just then Jacob groaned softly. The family stopped what they were doing and quickly gathered around him He opened his eyes and turned his head from side to side as he focused on the concerned faces leaning over him.
"Lay still, Pap. Ya're home now," Lue assured him.
"How ya feelen?" asked Don.
"My leg throbs somethen awful. I know it's broke and should hurt, but fer some reason, I have one heck of a headache, too," he said, rubbing the top of his head.
Nannie caught the look that passed between Lue and Don, but she decided this was no time to find out what they knew about Pap's headache. It could be he hit his head when he fell and just didn't remember it, but she made a mental note that later she should get the boys alone and find out the details of Jacob's rescue.
"The boys found ya and brought ya home, Jacob. Yer goen to be okay so jest rest easy." Nannie stroked her husband's shoulder, relieved that Jacob seemed to be alert.
"Thank ye, boys," Jacob whispered weakly. "I don't know how ya found me so fast, but I'm glad that ya did afore I froze to death."
"It was easy," Lue said with a grinned. "The scarf Bess made led us to ya."
"My scarf?"
For proof, Don held the much shorter, brown scarf up for Jacob to see. Bess's Christmas gift had loops showing all along one end with a piece of yarn dangling ready to release a new row.
A weak smile spread across Jacob's face. "I hope all of ya hold Bess's gift in a new light after this."
"Yep, we sure do. It helped keep ya warm, and saved yer life, too," Don said.
Wanting to contribute something to the scarf's praise, Dillard piped up with, "It sure made a great lead rope for Daisy."
Everyone burst out laughing. Bess looked over at her mother who was watching her for a reaction, because she knew how sensitive Bess had been about that scarf. Nannie shouldn't have worried. Bess laughed right along with everyone else. She could see the humor of their milk cow wearing Pap's brown woolen scarf around her neck.

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