Harbinger

 

      Winter was upon us and first light came too early for folks who get very little sleep. I woke at five while the sky was still dark. I was in the barn, milking both cows by five fifteen. When I finished, I turned 'em out to pasture. It was frigid, but if the cows got too cold they'd come back into the open door of the barn. By the time I stepped out of the barn, dawn was only a promise, hiding behind the mountain's crest.

      The cold had a bite to it that felt older than mountain, older than winter itself. I pulled my woolen shawl tight around me and hurried toward the cabin. I prayed that Micah had a blazing fire going in the wood-stove.

      He musta opened the cabin door to bring in wood for the stove. Cold air was rushin in like it had been invited. I was halfway to fussin’ at him when something small and quick darted past my cheek. A wren... tiny, brown, tremblin, shot through the open doorway and into the cabin. I froze. One hand on the door-frame, the other clutchin’ the milk pail so tight my fingers went numb.

      Micah turned to face me. “What was that, Bernadine?”

      “A wren,” I whispered. “It flew in.”

      He shrugged like it was nothin’. “I’ll shoo it out.”

      “No.” My voice cracked sharp enough to stop him cold. “Don’t touch it, Micah. Don’t go near it.”

      He stared at me, uneasy now. “Bernie… it’s just a bird.”

      “No,” I said, softer. “Not in this house. Not on this mountain.”

     Micah's lips turned down in a frown and his jaw tightened. He knew the old stories same as I did. He’d grown up with darker ones, too — tales whispered in candlelit rooms by kin who bowed to things that won’t God. He’d left all that behind when he found the Lord at thirty, kneelin’ in the little church I’d dragged him to. But some shadows don’t leave easy.

Everybody on Devil's Gate Mountain knew what had happened there. Because of the wickedness, the mountain has storms that gather fast. The wind carries voices where evil rituals was done. It's a place where omens appear and families warn their children to stay away from. Only positive thing is there is plenty ginseng to be harvested. We got to keep it all 'cause nobody would climb Devil's Gate to get it.

      I grew up hearin my mama say, “Devil's Gate ain't no place for good folk. During storms the devil hisself walks the ridge and leaves behind scorched ground, trees, bushes and wild grass, all burned beyond any beauty or use.

      When I married Micah, it scared Mama nigh 'bout to death because of all the evil his family had been guilty of. All of 'em 'cept Micah was dead and buried in the old family graveyard next to our cabin. All I can say 'bout that is good riddance. Mama was scared of bodies comin up outa the graves. She used to say, “Don’t go up Devil’s Gate after sundown. Your granddaddy saw somethin’ horrible up there once. That’s where the trouble started.”

      It didn't worry me none. Daddy (God rest his soul) always told me, “Child, it ain't the dead ones you need to watch out for, it's the living who will do you harm.”

      That afternoon brought all the dread that lay buried deep inside me, to the surface, where I had to look at it, deal with it... in the form of a tiny bird who was perched on the back of Micah's dinnin chair.

      “What you want me to do, Bernie? I can't leave that door open all night. It's freezing outside.”

      “I done told you, Micah, don't touch that bird or frighten it, and you better be leaving that door open enough for that bird to leave. Unless you want one of your family to die, leave that door cracked open. Until that bird or whatever is inside it, knows this family respects it and the old ways... we are all in danger.”

      “Alright, Suga. Whatever you say. I had a hard day at the mill and I'm tired. I'm goin to bed,” he said as he kissed my forehead and turned to leave the room. When he made his first step, that tiny wren, quick as bolt of lightning, flew down to the floor and was crushed under Micah's boot.

      A scream escaped my lips, “Lord help us. What have you done, Micah? Look at it, it's crushed to death and now the curse will surely find us.”

I picked up the tiny corpse and fear consumed my insides. “Well, the least you can do is bury it Micah. Take it down by the creek and give it a proper burying.”

“OK, Suga, whatever you say. Do you want I should read the Bible over it and sing Amazin Grace?”

“Just bury it and do it with proper respect. Don't you laugh Micah, and take that grin off your face. This is serious and it could mean death to our family. Someone we love is goin to die 'cause the omen was basically ignored by the head of this family. You give that little dead bird all the respect you would if you was burying your mama. And yes, read from the good book and sing a hymn. If you can, ask for forgiveness and mercy, unless you just don't give a damn about this family.”

“Alright, Darlin, don't get you panties in a wad. I'll bury it just like you told me to, and I'll even put a little wood cross on it's grave with 'Birdie' carved on it. Will that satisfy you, girl?”

      “Just go do it, Micah, and for Lord's sake wipe that grin off you face. I'm afraid you may soon find out how serious this is.”

      I wrapped the tiny bird in a clean, white, handkerchief. Micah, took it and headed out the door to bury it in the holler next to Troubled Creek.

     I watched from the cabin door as he moved beyond the ridge down into the holler where I couldn't see him no more. My eyes closed from gettin no sleep. That's when the vision came. It won't unusual for me to have visions. I'd been visited by 'em since I was a baby. This one was nigh 'bout the worse'n I'd ever had bother me.

      I saw Micah standing near the creek. First thing he did was take the little wooden cross I hung on an oak tree and turn it upside down. Then he threw the tiny body wrapped in the white handkerchief on the ground. I shivered with dread when I saw him stomp it under his big boot. Tiny trickles of red soaked the white cotton.

     I heard him say, “ You won't invited into my house and what I done to you I'll do to any living omen that sneaks inside. Damn you, stupid omen.”

      After that he threw the poor, tiny, wren into the creek. He didn' t start home. He headed in the direction of Fallin Rock Tavern. I knowed I'd not see him again before morning when he'd come draggin in with some wild tale about how The Lord give him a vision of forgiveness and how none of our kin was gonna die. Just the usual lie. I knew about most of 'em and he had no idea that I knew. Micah won't worth the bullet to kill him but I had made a marriage vow before the Almighty, and I was bound to keep it. Not for Micah but for God.”

      That night, Micah didn't come home. I'd not expected him to. Three days passed, then three weeks became three months. There ain't been so much as a small sign of my husband. I'll never forget the morning Daniel Veers and his wife Bessie knocked on my cabin door. Daniel was old and half crippled so I knew it took a lot of trying for him to climb the road to my cabin. He had a stroke a few months back and it left him with a tongue that just wouldn't work right anymore. He opened his mouth and tried his best to give me the news.

      “Ms. Bernadine, I___I. I hates to be the one___one, to bring you such sad__sad, news. One of the little McBride girls was playin down by the creek when she saw it. It was Micah's bones laying there on the creek____creek-bank. Me and Bessie come to get you so you'd be able to plan___plan_____the funeral.”

      Old Bessie was a good woman, she'd help prepare every corpse for buryin, in the last sixty years. She stepped close and hugged me.

       “I'm so sorry Bernadine. Do you wants to go see him down at Trouble Creek?”

      “Thank y'all for comin to get me. Yes, I'll go down to the creek.”

It was bitter winter and the path was icy. Several times I had to grab onto a tree limb to break my fall. When I got to the creek I saw the bones a layin on the bank. Them bones were altogether, none a them was missin. I spied his weddin ring and I knowed it was Micah. His skull appeared to be bashed in and tied around his neck was the wooden cross I'd nailed to the oak tree. There was carved on it only one word...SINNER.

      Daniel asked, “You want I should get some men to come and take____ta______take him up to your cabin?”

      “Thank you Mr. Daniel for offering, but I'll make sure he has a proper funeral. You and Miss Bessie go on home and get warm by the fire.”

      When I was alone with the bones I took care of what they was deservin of. There was no scripture read 'nor gospel sung. After attaching some large rocks onto the rope that held the cross, I dragged him down to the deep part of the creek and pushed him in. There's never been another omen, big or small, come to my cabin.