“Spring is always special. I’m in town for a while and can show you around one day.” It wouldn’t be long till warmer winds were here. Soon the forest would cast aside its sleeping blanket and perfume the air with its riches. We traveled up the twisty, mud-packed paths, the scents of fresh earth rising with each step taken.
“Already graduate high school?” she inquired as we rounded another switchback.
“Never been.” I was glad she was behind me so I couldn’t see her face.
“Never? However did you manage that?” she asked with a big question in her voice.
“A lot of kids can’t attend. Some are taught at home and others just drop out or don’t go because they aren’t close enough, or don’t want to live at the Hindman Settlement or Caney Creek Schools. And a lot of folk don’t want their children taught by the fotched-on women either, yet others say they are some of the best teachers in the world. Mama said the fotched-on women make these ol’ hills a better place. But she insisted on teaching me from home and believes she gave me an education better than a lot of book-read folk.”
“What’s ‘fotched-on women’？”
“Well-to-do outsiders they fetched into our hills to teach in the settlement schools.”
Junia suddenly stopped, pinned back her ears, and brayed into the tree-soaked hills. A thin, piercing scream vibrated up, and I spied a startled bird limping toward the side of the path, dragging its wing.
“What is it?” Pearl leaned over my shoulder. “What the devil is wrong with that ailing creature?”
“That mama bird”—I poked a finger toward the thrashing critter shrilling on the grassy bank nearby—“ain’t ailing. The killdeer’s trying to draw us away from the nest she’s built on the path.”
Pearl whistled. “Just when I thought I’d seen it all in my last job. There’s so much I’ve yet to learn.”
“You will, and the critters will teach you something new each day.”
Together we peered up the rocky path and spotted an indention with three black-speckled eggs tucked inside.
Dropping Junia’s rein, I sprinted up to the nest and stepped around it. “C’mon, Junia, there’s room to pass.” I walked back to the mule and then up to the nest, sidestepping around it again. “Ghee up,” I ordered. But the ol’ girl weren’t having none of it. Instead she bellowed in singsong with the shrieking killdeer, causing so much racket I had to cover my ears.
Finally, I grabbed Pearl’s horse, leading it around Junia. The horse backed up, pawed at the hard earth, and I lost my footing, nearly falling off the mountain. Junia screamed out haws and snorted loudly, biting and nipping at the poor mount’s hide. The mule was determined to be in charge of this trip, and she wasn’t about to let Pearl’s horse take the lead.
“Pie, whoa, whoa,” Pearl ordered.
“Junia,” I cried out. “Whoa! Stop or you’re going to throw us off the mountain.” Junia took another nip of Pearl’s mount as we passed. Pie reared and bumped against me. Stumbling, I fell and busted my chin as he dragged me past Junia, leaving my face scuffed, lit afire by rock and clay, my legs dangling over the mountain. I gulped down scents of wet pine and rotted leaves, while I fought to scrape the air and lift myself to solid footing.
Again, Junia sent a thundering warning to the horse, the echoes lost to a still-sleeping forest.
“Honey, don’t move,” Pearl called out. She wedged past Junia, giving a firm tug to her halter. “Halt,” she scolded and lightly bopped the mule’s nose.
Junia snorted, then quieted.
Pearl rushed over to me. “Honey, let me get Junia so you can grab her lead.”