Hell Fer Sartain and Other Stories , livre ebook

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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. Thar was a dancin'-party Christmas night on "Hell fer Sartain. " Jes tu'n up the fust crick beyond the bend thar, an' climb onto a stump, an' holler about ONCE, an' you'll see how the name come. Stranger, hit's HELL fer sartain! Well, Rich Harp was thar from the head-waters, an' Harve Hall toted Nance Osborn clean across the Cumberlan'. Fust one ud swing Nance, an' then t'other. Then they'd take a pull out'n the same bottle o' moonshine, an'- fust one an' then t'other- they'd swing her agin. An' Abe Shivers a-settin' thar by the fire a-bitin' his thumbs!

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	27 septembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819926634
Langue	English

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'Hell fer Sartain'
and
Other Stories
by
JOHN FOX, JR.
TO
MY BROTHER
JAMES
AUTHOR'S NOTE
ON HELL-FER-SARTAIN CREEK
Thar was a dancin'-party Christmas night on “Hellfer Sartain. ” Jes tu'n up the fust crick beyond the bend thar, an'climb onto a stump, an' holler about ONCE, an' you'll see how thename come. Stranger, hit's HELL fer sartain! Well, Rich Harp wasthar from the head-waters, an' Harve Hall toted Nance Osborn cleanacross the Cumberlan'. Fust one ud swing Nance, an' then t'other.Then they'd take a pull out'n the same bottle o' moonshine, an'—fust one an' then t'other— they'd swing her agin. An' Abe Shiversa-settin' thar by the fire a-bitin' his thumbs!
Well, things was sorter whoopin', when somebody upsan' tells Harve that Rich had said somep'n' agin Nance an' him, an'somebody ups an' tells Rich that Harve had said somep'n' agin Nancean' HIM. In a minute, stranger, hit was like two wild-cats in thar.Folks got 'em parted, though, but thar was no more a-swingin' ofNance that night. Harve toted her back over the Cumberlan', an'Rich's kinsfolks tuk him up “Hell fer Sartain”; but Rich got loose,an' lit out lickety-split fer Nance Osborn's. He knowed Harve livedtoo fer over Black Mountain to go home that night, an' he rid rightacross the river an' up to Nance's house, an' hollered fer Harve.Harve poked his head out'n the loft— he knowed whut was wanted— an'Harve says, “Uh, come in hyeh an' go to bed. Hit's too late! ” An'Rich seed him a-gapin' like a chicken, an' in he walked, stumblin'might' nigh agin the bed whar Nance was a-layin', listenin' an' notsayin' a word.
Stranger, them two fellers slept together plumfrien'ly, an' they et together plum frien'ly next mornin', an' theysa'ntered down to the grocery plum frien'ly. An' Rich says, “Harve,” says he, “let's have a drink. ” “All right, Rich, ” says Harve.An' Rich says, “Harve, ” says he, “you go out'n that door an' I'llgo out'n this door. ” “All right, Rich, ” says Harve, an' out theywalked, steady, an' thar was two shoots shot, an' Rich an' Harveboth drapped, an' in ten minutes they was stretched out on Nance'sbed an' Nance was a-lopin' away fer the yarb doctor.
The gal nussed 'em both plum faithful. Rich didn'thev much to say, an' Harve didn't hev much to say. Nance was sorterquiet, an' Nance's mammy, ole Nance, jes grinned. Folks come in toax atter 'em right peart. Abe Shivers come cl'ar 'cross the river—powerful frien'ly— an' ever' time Nance ud walk out to the fencewith him. One time she didn't come back, an' ole Nance fotched theboys thar dinner, an' ole Nance fotched thar supper, an' then Richhe axed whut was the matter with young Nance. An' ole Nance jessnorted. Atter a while Rich says: “Harve, ” says he, “who tol' youthat I said that word agin you an' Nance? ” “Abe Shivers, ” saysHarve. “An' who tol' you, ” says Harve, “that I said that word aginNance an' YOU? ” “Abe Shivers, ” says Rich. An' both says, “Well,damn me! ” An' Rich tu'ned right over an' begun pullin' strawsout'n the bed. He got two out, an' he bit one off, an' he says:“Harve, ” says he, “I reckon we better draw fer him. The shortes'gits him. ” An' they drawed. Well, nobody ever knowed which got theshortes' straw, stranger, but—
Thar'll be a dancin'-party comin' Christmas night on“Hell fer Sartain. ” Rich Harp 'll be thar from the head-waters.Harve Hall's a-goin' to tote the Widder Shivers clean across theCumberlan'. Fust one 'll swing Nance, an' then t'other. Thenthey'll take a pull out'n the same bottle o' moonshine, an'— fustone an' then t'other— they'll swing her agin, jes the same. ABEwon't be thar. He's a-settin' by a bigger fire, I reckon (ef heain't in it), a-bitin' his thumbs!
THROUGH THE GAP
When thistles go adrift, the sun sets down thevalley between the hills; when snow comes, it goes down behind theCumberland and streams through a great fissure that people call theGap. Then the last light drenches the parson's cottage underImboden Hill, and leaves an after-glow of glory on a majestic heapthat lies against the east. Sometimes it spans the Gap with arainbow.
Strange people and strange tales come through thisGap from the Kentucky hills. Through it came these two, late oneday— a man and a woman— afoot. I met them at the foot-bridge overRoaring Fork.
“Is thar a preacher anywhar aroun' hyeh? ” he asked.I pointed to the cottage under Imboden Hill. The girl flushedslightly and turned her head away with a rather unhappy smile.Without a word, the mountaineer led the way towards town. A momentmore and a half-breed Malungian passed me on the bridge andfollowed them.
At dusk the next day I saw the mountaineer choppingwood at a shanty under a clump of rhododendron on the river-bank.The girl was cooking supper inside. The day following he was atwork on the railroad, and on Sunday, after church, I saw theparson. The two had not been to him. Only that afternoon themountaineer was on the bridge with another woman, hideously rougedand with scarlet ribbons fluttering from her bonnet. Passing on bythe shanty, I saw the Malungian talking to the girl. She apparentlypaid no heed to him until, just as he was moving away, he saidsomething mockingly, and with a nod of his head back towards thebridge. She did not look up even then, but her face got hard andwhite, and, looking back from the road, I saw her slipping throughthe bushes into the dry bed of the creek, to make sure that whatthe half-breed told her was true.
The two men were working side by side on therailroad when I saw them again, but on the first pay-day the doctorwas called to attend the Malungian, whose head was split open witha shovel. I was one of two who went out to arrest his assailant,and I had no need to ask who he was. The mountaineer was a devil,the foreman said, and I had to club him with a pistol-butt beforehe would give in. He said he would get even with me; but they allsay that, and I paid no attention to the threat. For a week he waskept in the calaboose, and when I passed the shanty just after hewas sent to the county-seat for trial, I found it empty. TheMalungian, too, was gone. Within a fortnight the mountaineer was inthe door of the shanty again. Having no accuser, he had beendischarged. He went back to his work, and if he opened his lips Inever knew. Every day I saw him at work, and he never failed togive me a surly look. Every dusk I saw him in his door-way,waiting, and I could guess for what. It was easy to believe thatthe stern purpose in his face would make its way through space anddraw her to him again. And she did come back one day. I had justlimped down the mountain with a sprained ankle. A crowd of womenwas gathered at the edge of the woods, looking with all their eyesto the shanty on the river-bank. The girl stood in the door-way.The mountaineer was coming back from work with his face down.
“He hain't seed her yit, ” said one. “He's goin' tokill her shore. I tol' her he would. She said she reckoned hewould, but she didn't keer. ”
For a moment I was paralyzed by the tragedy at hand.She was in the door looking at him when he raised his head. For onemoment he stood still, staring, and then he started towards herwith a quickened step. I started too, then, every step a torture,and as I limped ahead she made a gesture of terror and backed intothe room before him. The door closed, and I listened for apistol-shot and a scream. It must have been done with a knife, Ithought, and quietly, for when I was within ten paces of the cabinhe opened the door again. His face was very white; he held one handbehind him, and he was nervously fumbling at his chill with theother. As he stepped towards me I caught the handle of a pistol inmy side pocket and waited. He looked at me sharply.
“Did you say the preacher lived up thar? ” heasked.
“Yes, ” I said, breathlessly.
In the door-way just then stood the girl with abonnet in her hand, and at a nod from him they started up the hilltowards the cottage. They came down again after a while, hestalking ahead, and she, after the mountain fashion, behind. Andafter this fashion I saw them at sunset next day pass over thebridge and into the mouth of the Gap whence they came. Through thisGap come strange people and strange tales from the Kentucky hills.Over it, sometimes, is the span of a rainbow.