Signs in the Blood Read Online Free PDF

once.”
    Hoping to distract Miss Birdie from her grief, Elizabeth had replied, “I don't know the story about Little Sylvie. Dessie just said she was a wild girl.”
    “She was a shameless huzzy, leastways that's how I heared it. Her folks was the Bakerses, lived in a big old two-story log house down there where yore rent house is. That log house burnt up back in, let me see, I believe it was '52. Anyhow, they say Little Sylvie married a rich man, a Mr. Tomlin from Tennessee. He must have been a good somebody; it was him give the money to build the church down on the branch. Him and Little Sylvie lived for a time in that cabin right over yon, but they say he was aimin' to build a big fine house down by the river.”
    Miss Birdie was, like so many of the older generation in these mountains, a born storyteller. For the moment, her losses seemed forgotten, and she spoke of a time she had never known as if it were personal experience.
    “Why, Little Sylvie's husband worshipped the ground she walked on—wouldn't hardly let that girl out of his sight. When Little Sylvie had a baby, that man was the proudest daddy around though hit weren't but a girl-child. And when that child was still but a titty baby, Sylvie, she up and run off with some feller and never come back. Some folks said that her and her new man stayed up on the mountain, like wild Indians. (I believe hit was a Johnson boy whose family lived over to Walter and Ollie's old place that she took up with. Seems like his given name was Levy or some such.)
    “Howsomever, the way they tell it, for a time him and Sylvie lived in a cave partways up the mountain. Course there ain't no caves on Pinnacle, but I believe they must have been namin' that place up from yore house where them big rocks leans together. I know my boy sheltered there one time when he was a-huntin', and Cletus he said it was as dry as ary house but hit gave him bad dreams and he swore he'd not go back.”
    “I never knew there was anyplace like that up the mountain, Miss Birdie. I can't believe my girls didn't discover it, as much as they liked to roam around.”
    “Ay law, Lizzie Beth, Cletus said he wouldn't have known about it iffen hit weren't for Pup, no, hit was afore Pup's time; hit would have been old Rover that chased a rabbit or some such varmint into it. Cletus called and old Rover didn't come out so Cletus went atter him. That boy allus was plumb foolish over his dogs. Cletus said he had to get down and squinch under a big ledge for a ways but then he got to a place like a nice room, most big enough to stand up in. He reckoned the Indians might of used it way back for he saw they'd been a fire in there and that they was bones scattered around. I told him not to say nothing about it for fear yore girls would try to go in there and get snakebit.”
    Miss Birdie had smiled sadly at this memory of her lost son, then resumed her tale. “Now, the way they tell hit, atter a time, whilst they was livin' in this cave, Little Sylvie took a notion to see her baby and she come back to the cabin but her husband wouldn't let her in—slammed the door in her face. So she clumb up on that big rock out front of the cabin, thinkin' to see the baby through the window. Now, Little Sylvie weren't but a little bitty thing and the window too high. So she'd jump up and catch at the windowsill and hang there a-lookin' in but then she'd lose her grip and kindly slide down the logs. Mamaw said that she had seen the scratch marks on the logs where Little Sylvie had clung, a-tryin' to see her little one. Mamaw allus said that hit was a sight to break yore heart.”
    “But how does the story end, Miss Birdie?” Elizabeth had asked.
    “They say Little Sylvie and Levy Johnson run off, never to be seen again. They say she stole her daddy's shotgun and her husband's gold. And I think that the little baby died.” Miss Birdie frowned. “But that story don't sound right, do it? Hit's always puzzled me some—what for