Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

the creek is getting to be a regular highway for the neighbors. Maybe you ought to post some signs.”
    “Oh, it ain’t that big a problem, is it?” Shaw said. “The path only cuts across our property for about twenty yards, and it’s a mighty long way from the house, more than a mile.”
    “Phoebe is going to marry John Lee Day,” Blanche piped in, before Shaw could consider the path problem any more.
    “Is that so?” he said offhandedly. A man with nubile daughters grew accustomed to unfounded rumors of marriage. “When did you decide this, Phoebe?”
    “Oh, Daddy, you know that ain’t true,” she replied, dripping with scorn at her little sister. “I met John Lee on the road and he walked me up to the house and now nobody can talk of nothing else.”
    “It’s true, Daddy,” Alice admitted, her eyes bright with mischief. “We’re just starved for entertainment.”
    Shaw laughed at that, for his children were masters of creating their own entertainment. “I see that boy out in the fields every once in a while,” he said. “He sure is a worker, and always respectful when we’ve had occasion to speak. Truly, I think he’s the only one who does a lick of work on that scraggly farm of theirs. I swear he’s the only one over there I ever speak to, though.”
    “I barely know Miz Day to see her,” Alafair confessed. “It’s shameful not to know your neighbors any better, but it seems like they prefer to keep to themselves and shun company.”
    Shaw nodded. “It’s strange,” he agreed. “Do you remember Harley’s old dad?” he asked Alafair. “He was a fine man. He had a share in the brick plant, I believe.”
    “I know Jeb Stuart Day,” Charlie said in. “He’s just my age, and we play sometimes. His daddy don’t let him come over here, but I see him at school when he comes.”
    “Me and Fronie play with Mattie and Frances,” Blanche contributed. “They’re nice, but they don’t come to school all the time, either.”
    “I talk at John Lee some,” Gee Dub told them. “Sometimes our cattle get in together over by the pond, so every once in a while we meet when I go to bring in the stock. He’s nice. He really admires the horses, Daddy. Said he wishes they could afford to raise horses. I used to be friends with that oldest girl, Maggie Ellen, but I haven’t seen her in ages. I heard she got married and is living in Checotah now.”
    “They’re poor, ain’t they, Mama?” Ruth asked.
    “There’s no shame in being poor,” Alafair told her.
    “There’s poor and then there’s poor, Ma,” Alice noted.
    “That’s hardly the kids’ fault,” Martha pointed out.
    “No, it ain’t,” Shaw agreed, “and I’m pleased that you all have made friends with them sad ragamuffins. But the sadder truth is that Mr. Day is not a man I want you kids consorting with. So it’s all right if they want to come over here and play or visit, as long as they come up to the house and say hello first. But I don’t want you kids going over there onto the Day property.” He looked at Phoebe. “Especially you girls,” he said. “Y’all understand?” There was nothing stern about his tone, but all the children took serious note of what he was saying. There was a straggle of “yes, Daddy”s. Shaw’s eyes crinkled over the cornbread he had raised to his mouth as he looked across the table at Alafair. A wordless parental agreement to discuss this topic later.
    “Now, what have the rest of you been up to all day?” he wondered.
    ***
    That night it snowed; fat, wet flakes that fell thick and drifted deep. In her dream, Alafair was running toward town, toward the doctor, as fast as she could go, her dying baby in her arms. Her lungs were bursting, but the faster she ran, the farther away the town became. Alafair awoke with a start, her heart pounding and her cheeks wet with tears. The snow sat deep and heavy wherever it fell, and as dawn approached, Alafair could hear cracks like pistol fire as tree limbs succumbed to the weight of the snow that blanketed them.

Chapter Three
    The snow lay on the ground for three days, deep and white under a gray sky, ribbed with the black of bare tree limbs and half-covered buildings, a black and white world. On Saturday evening, the clouds began to break up and the wind shifted, and the thaw started. By nightfall, the roof edges had cleared and black ruts stood in the roads and footpaths. The thaw continued in earnest all day Sunday, and by Monday