“Always pass on yer left and always tip yer hat. Yer luck’ll be out, boy, if ya’s don’t!”
Old Gerd’s warning still rang in my ears even after I’d left my village far behind. The farmer had raised up from weeding his cabbage rows and leaned on his hoe as I drove my da’s cart past his farm. When I was nearly at the stone marker at the village edge, the old man had shouted his words at me. I had laughed and waved at him, but just before I was out of earshot, I heard him shout once more over the clopping of Dozie’s hooves on the hardpacked dirt road.
“It’s yer only life, boy, so don’t fergit it!”
I had laughed again and joked with my da’s old mare about the superstitious old folks. The sun was bright and the birds were chirping then, and Dozie had just chuffed and clopped on like there wasn’t a worry in the world. And there wasn’t then. True, it was my first time on the Town Road by myself and my first time delivering my da’s skins to the tanner at the Market, but I didn’t have nerves any more than Dozie did, no matter what Crooked Gerd hollered out over his cabbage heads.
Then, the Town Road drove into the Forest. Sure, I’d been through it with my da’ before, but the treetops seemed to block out more sunlight than I remembered. And the birds didn’t sing as much as I would have liked. I remembered squirrels and rabbits hopping about, too, but all I could see today was a dead crow lying feet up next to a bank of thorn bushes. I heard a fox bark once, but it cut off real quick and I never heard it again. I tried to joke with Dozie, but she just kept clopping and didn’t even chuff anymore.
So I tried singing one of my da’s songs, but it just seemed too loud, especially when the fog set in just before sundown. The forest wouldn’t last much longer. I had to be getting close to the other side, and I’d never heard any tales about bandits or bears or anything happening between our village and the Town. The only strange thing at all was the Grave, and that was just a made-up story old folks used to scare people who had more important things to worry about. I had a load of skins to deliver, and coins to collect from the tanner that would buy all the things we needed until the next visit.
And that’s why Old Gerd’s warnings just wouldn’t stop rattling around in my head, I guess. And that’s why I pulled the reins and brought Dozie to a stop when the wagon turned a sharp curve and the road split. It came back together after forty feet or so, making a little island of sorts in the road, a peculiar thing anyone would admit, and more so because a single old walnut tree reared up in the dead center of that grassy island. Beneath it was a worn, faded tombstone in a semicircle of tumbled, mossy stone markers. The Grave. The forest’s edge was less than a quartermile past it, and the Town just a shout farther.
Dozie was restless, but I let her stand idle for a bit more, just to rest her hooves, I told her. I needed to go over my lists once more anyway. I had my mother’s long one for the goods vendor and my father’s order for the blacksmith as well as the routine tanner business. That was a lot to keep in my head, especially when it was my first visit to the Town on my own. My da’ thought I was ready, and my mom said she was proud, so they knew I could do it. I’d ridden this Road a dozen times with my da’, and even if I hadn’t, I could close my eyes and let Dozie do it like she had going on for six years now. I mean, it sure couldn’t matter that much if I passed the Grave on the left or the right, could it? Of course not. How could it make a difference? And the tipping of your hat? How could that matter? What if a traveler didn’t even wear a hat? How could he tip it if he didn’t have one in the first place? Come to think of it, my da’ always did wear one when we traveled to the Town, and hadn’t my mother made sure that I had my hat on straight before I left? Where was it now? I didn’t have it on. I’d gotten hot, I remembered. Just before we’d come into the forest’s shade.
Dozie chuffed suddenly, making me jump and jerk the reins. She clopped forward. The Grave grew nearer, and I felt the mare veer slightly to the left all on her own. I relaxed a bit and remembered I’d tucked my hat under the wagon seat.
I tucked one hand up under the bench as the Grave came even closer. I only felt bare wagon boards. No hat.
Dozie kept plugging forward, drawing even with the tips of the walnut’s longest reaching branches. I twisted in the seat until my shoulder almost touched it. I stretched my arm every which way. Just more boards and no hat.
Dozie clopped on. I started to sweat.
Old Gerd’s final words boomed in my ears: ““Always pass on yer left and always tip yer hat. Yer luck’ll be out, boy, if ya’s don’t!”
The wagon passed the spot where the Road first split. The tumbled stones were right next to us. I clawed at the boards beneath my seat. A splinter dug beneath one fingernail. I kept reaching and twisting and stretching. My heart beat in my throat almost drowning out the farmer’s voice.
“It’s yer only life, boy, so don’t fergit it!”
The Grave was almost right alongside us. I saw the strange letters on its front. The pitted stone. The clinging moss. We were almost past it.
Then cloth hit my fingertips! My hat! I snatched it up and smacked it down on my head. I tipped it, just as Dozie drew the wagon past. I heaved a sigh and looked quickly back.
Before the walnut tree blocked it, I caught a glimpse of theGrave’s stone back. Something was there, a carving or some words. I couldn’t be sure.
But the Town waited. I straightened in my seat and sternly clucked at Dozie to pick up her pace. I flicked the reins a bit and kept my eyes fixed firmly ahead. Night was falling fast, and I still had work ahead of me before I could get room at the Town’s inn.
“No time for foolish superstitions, girl, we’ve got business in Town,” I said to the mare’s bobbing head. “It’s getting a little cool, I think I’ll keep my hat on for now,” I added, and Dozie rolled her head back, chuffed, and kept clopping on.
Old Gerd’s warning still rang in my ears even after I’d left my village far behind. The farmer had raised up from weeding his cabbage rows and leaned on his hoe as I drove my da’s cart past his farm. When I was nearly at the stone marker at the village edge, the old man had shouted his words at me. I had laughed and waved at him, but just before I was out of earshot, I heard him shout once more over the clopping of Dozie’s hooves on the hardpacked dirt road.
“It’s yer only life, boy, so don’t fergit it!”
I had laughed again and joked with my da’s old mare about the superstitious old folks. The sun was bright and the birds were chirping then, and Dozie had just chuffed and clopped on like there wasn’t a worry in the world. And there wasn’t then. True, it was my first time on the Town Road by myself and my first time delivering my da’s skins to the tanner at the Market, but I didn’t have nerves any more than Dozie did, no matter what Crooked Gerd hollered out over his cabbage heads.
Then, the Town Road drove into the Forest. Sure, I’d been through it with my da’ before, but the treetops seemed to block out more sunlight than I remembered. And the birds didn’t sing as much as I would have liked. I remembered squirrels and rabbits hopping about, too, but all I could see today was a dead crow lying feet up next to a bank of thorn bushes. I heard a fox bark once, but it cut off real quick and I never heard it again. I tried to joke with Dozie, but she just kept clopping and didn’t even chuff anymore.
So I tried singing one of my da’s songs, but it just seemed too loud, especially when the fog set in just before sundown. The forest wouldn’t last much longer. I had to be getting close to the other side, and I’d never heard any tales about bandits or bears or anything happening between our village and the Town. The only strange thing at all was the Grave, and that was just a made-up story old folks used to scare people who had more important things to worry about. I had a load of skins to deliver, and coins to collect from the tanner that would buy all the things we needed until the next visit.
And that’s why Old Gerd’s warnings just wouldn’t stop rattling around in my head, I guess. And that’s why I pulled the reins and brought Dozie to a stop when the wagon turned a sharp curve and the road split. It came back together after forty feet or so, making a little island of sorts in the road, a peculiar thing anyone would admit, and more so because a single old walnut tree reared up in the dead center of that grassy island. Beneath it was a worn, faded tombstone in a semicircle of tumbled, mossy stone markers. The Grave. The forest’s edge was less than a quartermile past it, and the Town just a shout farther.
Dozie was restless, but I let her stand idle for a bit more, just to rest her hooves, I told her. I needed to go over my lists once more anyway. I had my mother’s long one for the goods vendor and my father’s order for the blacksmith as well as the routine tanner business. That was a lot to keep in my head, especially when it was my first visit to the Town on my own. My da’ thought I was ready, and my mom said she was proud, so they knew I could do it. I’d ridden this Road a dozen times with my da’, and even if I hadn’t, I could close my eyes and let Dozie do it like she had going on for six years now. I mean, it sure couldn’t matter that much if I passed the Grave on the left or the right, could it? Of course not. How could it make a difference? And the tipping of your hat? How could that matter? What if a traveler didn’t even wear a hat? How could he tip it if he didn’t have one in the first place? Come to think of it, my da’ always did wear one when we traveled to the Town, and hadn’t my mother made sure that I had my hat on straight before I left? Where was it now? I didn’t have it on. I’d gotten hot, I remembered. Just before we’d come into the forest’s shade.
Dozie chuffed suddenly, making me jump and jerk the reins. She clopped forward. The Grave grew nearer, and I felt the mare veer slightly to the left all on her own. I relaxed a bit and remembered I’d tucked my hat under the wagon seat.
I tucked one hand up under the bench as the Grave came even closer. I only felt bare wagon boards. No hat.
Dozie kept plugging forward, drawing even with the tips of the walnut’s longest reaching branches. I twisted in the seat until my shoulder almost touched it. I stretched my arm every which way. Just more boards and no hat.
Dozie clopped on. I started to sweat.
Old Gerd’s final words boomed in my ears: ““Always pass on yer left and always tip yer hat. Yer luck’ll be out, boy, if ya’s don’t!”
The wagon passed the spot where the Road first split. The tumbled stones were right next to us. I clawed at the boards beneath my seat. A splinter dug beneath one fingernail. I kept reaching and twisting and stretching. My heart beat in my throat almost drowning out the farmer’s voice.
“It’s yer only life, boy, so don’t fergit it!”
The Grave was almost right alongside us. I saw the strange letters on its front. The pitted stone. The clinging moss. We were almost past it.
Then cloth hit my fingertips! My hat! I snatched it up and smacked it down on my head. I tipped it, just as Dozie drew the wagon past. I heaved a sigh and looked quickly back.
Before the walnut tree blocked it, I caught a glimpse of theGrave’s stone back. Something was there, a carving or some words. I couldn’t be sure.
But the Town waited. I straightened in my seat and sternly clucked at Dozie to pick up her pace. I flicked the reins a bit and kept my eyes fixed firmly ahead. Night was falling fast, and I still had work ahead of me before I could get room at the Town’s inn.
“No time for foolish superstitions, girl, we’ve got business in Town,” I said to the mare’s bobbing head. “It’s getting a little cool, I think I’ll keep my hat on for now,” I added, and Dozie rolled her head back, chuffed, and kept clopping on.
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