By Vicki Lane
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I asked her would they wash off and she said they weren’t supposed to. ” The little woman measured out a double length of twine, secured it to the side rail of the chair, and began to weave. Over three, under two, over three, under two. “I hate it about that big feller. He was a pretty good somebody. Did you know he come down and cleared out my gutters atter that last big rain? I offered to pay him but he wouldn’t take no money. So I give him a jar of my bread-and-butter pickles— I’d just finished three runs of them.
Ketch us, Mariah! We’re arunnin away! So Mariah ran up to Uncle Sol and the calf, grabbed Uncle Sol’s overalls, and hung on for dear life. Gol darn it, Mariah, Uncle Sol bellowed. Turn a-loose of me and ketch a-holt of that thar calf! I’ll stop! I can still see the two, shaking with helpless laughter as they told the story. Indeed, for years after my marriage I dined out, as they say, on that story. I could mimic the mountain twang to perfection and was always called on to “do” the story of Uncle Sol and the bull calf.
Em three was right quare dudes but leastways they was always friendly. ” It was quickly established that Birdie knew what there was to be known about the fire. Except for the part about the so-called nanny, thought Elizabeth. Kyra must not have told the sheriff about that last night. “I guess we’ll know more about it when they get done with the investigation, Miss Birdie. ” Birdie glanced sideways at Elizabeth and smiled knowingly. ” Elizabeth sighed and wondered briefly if anything ever happened on Ridley Branch without Miss Birdie’s knowing about it.