Part XVI

I spent a lot of time riding my bike, playing with Gretchen again, and talking to my animals. I pretended we were having conversations, and I would actually answer what I THOUGHT they were saying. Animals are wise, you know.

That was one thing I loved about Daddy. He loved animals and liked to be surrounded by them. He had told me that he never really got to have pets, because it was hard enough for my Grandparents to feed seven children. He had a stray dog once and loved him, but other than that, they had chickens and a pig.

The subject of chickens takes me to the trailor park again, visiting Grandpa and Grandma. Since my last visit, Grandpa had bought chickens for his yard! A lot of them. I tried to tell him that I never knew anyone in California with chickens, but he just told me that "they must not know Ray Cash." He always got a laugh out of that. Then he decided to teach me how to catch one. Looking back now, I'm not sure whether he did it to actually GET a chicken, laugh at me trying to catch one, or because it was too much work for him. He sat in his red motel chair, rolled his cigarette, kicked back, and laughed while I chased and caught the creepy things. I was afraid of the chickens after taking a long look at those beaks, but I sure didn't want Grandpa to know it. They also leave a lot of droppings, so it was not a pleasant challenge.

Grandma didn't like Grandpa's idea at all. She said I shouldn't "catch those nasty things," because she had to do it more times than she cared to count, and now she could just go to the store instead of "messin' with 'em." (I wasn't sure what she meant, but I would find out later.)

Being at home was harder now than ever because I was grieving too. Eula left to get married and start her life with Mr. Whatshisname. I couldn't stand not seeing her in our house anymore. It had been a very sad day when she left for the last time. Mom was looking for another housekeeper, and I didn't want any part of it. Daddy was on tour again, but home most of the time after he worked. Sadly, I only wanted to spend the night away when he was home. I had two reasons for that. I didn't like hearing him stay up all night, usually ending in an argument with Mom, and I knew that if he were home, Mom wouldn't have to deal with the drunk men at the door late at night. Daddy would take care of the "visitors."

I know it hurt my parents at times, but I was tired of their arguing and nightmares. I needed to sleep and spend time with people I missed. I was always concerned, though, so I came up with a way to manipulate the adults I was with at the time. I remember saying, "Oh, I forgot. Mama wants you to call her." That was a little fib, but the problem was solved. I rested better knowing someone had checked on her. I was free to ride horses, visit people I love, and still make sure everything was okay at home.

One time, Daddy was on the road and Mom had taken us to visit Aunt Reba. Mom liked to get home before dark, but this time it was later than usual. She pulled her Cadillac into the garage and told us all to get out of the passenger side and run into the house. She ran to her bedroom and quickly back outside to the garage before we could even ask her what she was doing. We were curious as usual so we followed her back outside. She yelled for Rosanne to pick Tara up NOW and for the rest of us to get back. "MOVE WAY BACK into the driveway or the house!" We were shocked to see a flashlight and a pistol in her hand. Mama gasped and took a few steps back. Then we saw and heard it. A huge rattlesnake was coiled up around the corner right next to the house. Mom quietly, but sternly, warned us again to get far away and cover our ears. She had the flashlight in one hand and pulled the trigger with the other hand. Backing up a few steps, she quickly reloaded the gun and didn't stop until all the shots were fired. My ears were ringing and the blast seemed to echo forever on that mountain. I was terrified of the snake but in total awe of Mama. Wow, she was one tiny little cowgirl, in my eyes!

I was so enthralled that I had not stepped back as far as I should have. I wanted to watch, and seconds later I realized the snake's blood had splattered all over the front of me. I instantly started yelling, "I'm going to die! I have snake blood on me! Mama help me! I have poison blood on me!" She wasn't sure if I was in danger either, so she tried to act calm, but I could tell she was alarmed. She made a quick call to Grandpa asking if the blood would harm me. He said he didn't think so, but she called the hospital anyway. I think they referred her to the poison control, so she called Dr. Hall at home. He told her I was fine and not to worry, just take a good long bath. I wanted to believe him, but I remember checking my skin many times that night making sure I wasn't dying.

The next morning, Grandpa came driving up bright and early with his measuring tape to see how big this rattler was. I got the impression he thought Mom was exaggerating about the size of this serpent. He stretched the rattler out on the driveway and measured it, immediately surprised at its length. It measured a little over six feet long! Grandpa wasn't one for being complimentary, but you could tell he was impressed when he pulled his pocket knife out and cut off the rattlers with one swift motion jamming them into his shirt pocket. Then he took great care to count the bullet holes in the mangled carcass. Out of twelve shots, Mama had hit her mark NINE times. He looked at her with awe, grabbed the snake by the tail, walked over to the opposite end of the drive and flung it as hard as he could over the side of the mountain, where we never ventured.

"J.R. teach you how to shoot Vivian?" (J.R. is Dad's given name. They always called him that.) Mom nodded her head in response, and said she didn't like having a gun but that she was glad she had one last night. Grandpa reminded her that we lived in a perfect place for snakes and that they were probably going to be out more now that it was summer. All of us were terrified by his remark, but Grandpa wasn't one to mince words. When Dad came home days later, we told him about our encounter and he was horrified. When we got to the part about Mama's shooting and how good she was, he hugged her and bragged about her, then glowed about it to anyone that visited for a long time after.

(Mom said when she was pregnant, they were in the waiting room to see her doctor and he was reading a National Geographic magazine. He turned the page and flung the book across the room, letting out a strange yelp. Mama went to pick it up and asked him why he did that. He was shaking and said slightly embarrassed, "Snake! A snake!" When she picked up the magazine, a color photo of a king cobra took up two pages and had scared him half to death.)

Now I was concerned about my horse. What if a snake bit him? Dad assured me that keeping the pastures mowed low, Snuffy would be fine. Horses were afraid of snakes and could run fast. I felt better, but worried about it when I laid in bed knowing Snuffy was in the dark out there in a big pasture, probably surrounded by rattlesnakes. It had traumatized me enough that now I was afraid to go down to the pasture by myself. I found myself standing at the chain link fence many times during the course of the day, just to make sure the horse and the cow were okay.

When Daddy was home, he had a lot of "nervous energy," so he found something to do every waking moment. He had never been handy around the house, and the few things he had tried to repair always ended in a bigger mess with an emergency call to a professional. One day, Dad decided he would "work in the pastures." I have no idea what work he was doing, but he was down there alone, while Mom was weeding her cactus garden and the four of us were playing in the driveway. We all heard a loud yell from Daddy that sounded urgent, but he was pretty far down the hill so we couldn't make out what he was saying. Mom ran over to the fence to look down, and we of course were right behind her.

He was a small figure, but we could tell even with his back to us that something was wrong. He was standing still just yelling "Vivian!! I need a hose! NOW!!" Mom ran over to the water hose and pulled it as fast as she could while running down the driveway towards Dad. (Luckily, they had added many extensions to the hose because Daddy had accidentally started a small fire down there the last time he "worked" by tossing a cigarette butt.) Mama got close to him, dropped the water hose without giving it to him, and started running back up the drive towards us.

What was going on? She ran into the garage, grabbed a HOE, and took off running again toward Dad, who was very slowly backing up. The four of us watched every move with curiosity and excitement. Mom had joined Dad now, and both of them were totally focused on something that she was attacking with a vengeance, using the hoe in a constant motion. A little while later, they came dragging themselves up the hill, filthy and sweaty. Dad was carrying the garden hoe. He looked like a deer in the headlights, but Mom looked hot, exhausted and a little afraid. She said it was time for everyone to go in for the day. Something in her tone told us not to object. We found out when we got in the house that it was another rattler. I worried about Snuffy even more now. That snake was in his pasture and I didn't want to ride down there anymore, but couldn't exactly move Snuffy into the garage.

Daddy wasn't acting nervous all the time. Sometimes, he would tuck us into bed, and sing silly songs to us. I liked singing "Jesus Loves Me," so I sang to him if he requested it. When he felt good, he laughed easily again and turned my light off with the familiar, "Daddy loves you, baby." He started at Rosanne's room, then mine, and ended his rounds with the "little kids" room at the end of the hall. I could hear his song or laughter with my sisters, and when it was my turn, I felt so happy to have his attention. Mama followed soon after to listen to our prayers and kiss us goodnight. She smiled a lot more when the Daddy was like himself again, but we never knew which way it would go from day to day.

Daddy would still take his occasional "camping or hunting trips," but now he was joined by two or three men, and usually included Grandpa. He always came home the day he said he would when Grandpa went with him. Mama invited my aunts and cousins or Bev and Christy Wooley over, or the Lewis' when Daddy was gone so they could visit, and we could have playmates. Curley was usually gone with the men, so it was fun. We had a big dinner and the ladies would visit or play cards or canasta. We would play until we were exhausted and fell asleep on quilts in front of the television.

The house was busy, but always busier when Daddy was home because many musicians were playing Country and Western bars or dance halls around California. It wasn't unusual for Carl and Pearl Butler, Joe and Rose Lee Maphis, The Staler Brothers and many others to pop in and stay a night or two. We loved all of them, and they became family to us. Daddy seemed to act better when they were around too, so it was fun. Jethro was still a huge source of entertainment. Grandpa had become attached to him, so he added a few phrases and words to his vocabulary Daddy had left out.

One day when Daddy was home from the road, he said Curley was coming to pick Trouble and Billy up. I was very upset and shocked. WHY was Curley taking our animals? Mama wouldn't look at me and seemed upset about it. Daddy being the country boy he was, explained that it was time for them to go to the slaughterhouse. The word sounded scary, so I demanded to know what that was, and when he briefly explained I felt sick to my stomach. He tried to give us some talk about "that's why we got them in the first place." I was so mad and horrified. Reminding us that he HAD told us they were temporary was just not a good enough argument. I could tell he felt bad, but I didn't care. I loved Trouble, so I used Grandma's argument that we could go to the store to buy cow. We didn't have to kill Trouble and Billy....that made me madder than ever. I'm not sure Tara understood, but the three of us did, and we stayed mad at Dad and Curley for a while. I wasn't about to watch our animals go, so I went to my room and shut the door, playing my records louder than usual just to let everyone know how upset I was. It didn't matter. Hours later, I looked down the fence and Trouble was gone. I couldn't bring myself to go to the backyard. I knew Billy wasn't there either. Now I didn't like Curley at all, and intended to tell Carol and his children just how mean he was the next time I saw them. I felt too guilty being that mad at Daddy.

Soon, our big freezers in the kitchen and garage were filled with what used to be our brown eyed cow and black Billy goat. It seemed like hundreds of white wrapped packages were all that you saw when the door was opened. Both our parents were very good cooks, but no matter what they cooked, or how they presented it, our first question was, "Is that Trouble?" For a long time, we refused to eat anything that contained meat. It just was WRONG. Trouble may be in that paper, but he sure wasn't going to be eaten by me, his friend. Looking back now I'm sure they put the meat in a different wrapper after going through weeks of this ordeal at meal time. Not only were we on strike, but we made sure any time we had guests for dinner, they were glared at as we made our loud announcement "YOU'RE EATING TROUBLE!!"

It wasn't long before we had a new woman working for us named Mrs. Fish. That was unfortunate for her, because even though I'm sure she was a very nice woman, she wasn't Eula. Mama and Daddy had explained to us that she would be doing the same things Eula did, and that we had to be nice to her. That was all the fuel I needed. I had not been happy with my parents since the day Curley came, so I did not want to be nice to Mrs. Fish. I started my own secret campaign to make sure she knew it, too. I'd have to be careful about it so Mama and Daddy didn't get on to me, but I would make sure Mrs. Fish would not like her job.

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