Читать книгу The Evolution of Crimson - Jerry Aldridge - Страница 9

June 7, 1950

Almost 30 years after her grandparents moved to Manchester, six-year-old Winifred Dodd and her 10-year-old cousin Helen Mims spent their summers at Nana and Daddy Mims’ five acre farm. Long before the days of four lane highways, everyone going to Manchester had to travel a two lane, unpaved road. The dusty path to the Mims’ farmhouse meandered adjacent to the Warrior River. Winifred and Helen’s parents had to pass over a one lane bridge that returned to a dirt road until they came to a sparse settlement of houses and the Manchester Missionary Baptist Church. That was Manchester—a town with no sidewalks and no paved streets. At the end of the dirt road lived Nana and Daddy Mims. The mucky track ended at the back door of their country home. The Mims’ front door faced the creek. To Winifred’s grandparents, this was prime waterfront property. Their preferred source of entertainment during the summer months was sitting on the front porch, watching the “crick” go by.

Nana and Daddy Mims planted four acres on the side of the house that flourished in late spring with strawberries, green beans, field peas, corn, okra, and watermelon. On the other side of the vegetable garden blossomed fields of sunflowers, hibiscus, Indian pink, crested iris, royal catchfly, woodland phlox, swamp lily, and false indigo.

Daddy Mims worked at the Eldridge post office. Helen and Winifred stayed on the farm with Nana Mims, who was rather lackadaisical when it came to watching her granddaughters. However, she did have one non-negotiable rule. That was, they were never to go in the creek or over the creek because there were water moccasins. It was just plain dangerous.

During the summer of 1950, Helen and Winifred spent most of their time outdoors. Helen was as boisterous as a bull in a china shop. She always took the lead in both their indoor and outdoor shenanigans. Winifred resigned herself to just follow along.

In early June, Helen and Winifred were playing on the front porch with their dolls and teddy bears. Helen thought she was much too old for dolls and stuffed animals but since there was nothing else to do, she played with Winifred and bossed her around. The dolls and bears were used to pass the hot, steamy summer afternoon. Nana Mims was in the house trying to do chores and keep as cool as she could next to a blaring fan. The girls had the outdoors all to themselves.

The front porch looked out onto a sloping front yard. The Mims owned the property all the way to the riparian zone on the banks of the creek. Even though it was a small tributary of the Warrior River, the family referred to it as the “big Warrior River.” As the residents and guests sat on the porch, watching the river go by, chickens could be heard to the right and around the corner of the house. Next to that were the strawberry patch and the vegetable garden. After the vegetable garden, a tree lined path led to the woods. The barn and cornfield were located on the other side of the path.

Anyone who happened to see Winifred and Helen playing on the front porch would be struck by the stark contrast between the two girls. People often remarked how Winifred was such a beautiful child with her thick, curly black hair and olive skin. She was always cooperative, though a bit shy, and overly polite to the point of being a people pleaser. Though she had her own convictions, she was overly sensitive to what people thought of her. She wanted to be liked and if she got into trouble, it was most likely because she was following somebody else’s lead, or doing something someone wanted her to do, even if she thought it wasn’t a good idea.

No one was more different from Winifred than her cousin Helen. She was often described as stout, chunky, tomboyish, and overbearing. She was exceptionally pale with wiry, auburn hair tied in two pigtails that always disintegrated with her rough and tumble play. To her mother’s horror, she wore overalls most of the time and would do anything on a dare. Truth be told, Helen’s parents, Rupert and Purdy Mims, were always glad to dump their exasperating daughter at Nana and Daddy Mims’ doorstep every summer.

On this particular day, Helen was exceptionally bored, hot, and irritable. To spice up their play, she told Winifred gruesome ghost stories. Helen told her a ghost lived in Nana’s attic and would eat little children at night. She tried to torture Winifred with a tale about a farmer with hooks for hands that would chop little children’s heads off and use them as bowling balls. Over Winifred’s few short years, she had become immune to Helen’s mischievous behavior and just smiled as Helen spouted off her ghastly fabrications. This infuriated Helen. She began to think of something else to agitate dear, sweet Winifred.

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Near the Mims’ property lived a bull. The farmers of Manchester were a congenial, cooperative, close knit group. In 1948 they decided to buy a bull for the community to service their cows. This bull resided in the pasture just beyond the Mims’ farm. He lived just across the creek and beyond a half acre of loblolly pine trees.

That was it! Helen decided the bull would provide an entertainment of fear and trembling for the afternoon, so she took Winifred to the creek. At the north side of the Mims’ property the creek made a bend and there was a small, muddy beach at the end of the path, used by fishermen in the community. Winifred and Helen moved all the dolls and teddy bears to the beach where they set up their campsite. Winifred had no idea what adventures Helen had planned. The next few hours would be something Winifred would never forget.

“I really want to see that bull on the other side of the creek. Winifred, that bull has flashing red eyes and snorts fire and smoke through its nose,” prodded Helen.

Winifred jumped. “We’re not allowed to go in the creek.”

“Watch me,” Helen smirked. “I’m gonna build a bridge over it right now.” And with that, Helen went scavenging for materials to build a bridge. Near the edge of the creek she found an old hollow log. Helen, being quite strong, dragged the log and placed it over the creek. She smiled as Winifred watched with fear and amazement.

“Bye now! I’m gonna go see that bull.” Helen walked across the log, eased through the foliage and the loblolly pine trees. She could see the bull in the distance.

“You’re not gonna believe this. Yes indeed! That bull has red eyes and smoke and fire are coming out of its nose,” Helen yelled to Winifred.

“Wait on me. I’m comin’. I gotta see that too.”

Winifred started across the log but halfway across the creek she became frightened. The log began to roll as Winifred tumbled into the middle of the creek. Thank goodness the water was shallow. Winifred stood up and sludged through the mud back toward the house.

Winifred hollered, “I have to sit in the sun until my clothes dry or Nana will know I’ve been in the creek.”

Helen walked back across the log and sat with Winifred, waiting for her clothes to dry. “We’ve got to figure some way for you to see that bull,” Helen mused. She thought about it and came up with what she was sure was an ingenious plan.

“I’ve got it! We’ll give the bull a mating call and he will come to us.”

Helen, bossy as ever, told Winifred they were going to climb their favorite tree that was on the edge of the creek about 70 yards from the house past the vegetable garden. It was, by far, the biggest tree on that side of the creek. The gigantic oak’s branches shaded a large picnic table used for family and neighborhood gatherings during spring and summer. Climbing the tree was not so simple.

Helen’s plan was unnerving to Winifred who insisted they take the dolls and teddy bears so they would be safe if the bull came through the creek. Winifred was afraid the bull would destroy them, even if she put them under the picnic table. Helen and Winifred climbed the branches, carefully holding the dolls and bears, until they came to their favorite horizontal branch that was always good for sitting on after supper.

Once they were situated and as comfortable as possible, Helen commanded, “OK! Let’s do this. Let’s give the mating call.”

They swayed their legs and perseverated back and forth as they cried, “Moooooo! Moooooo!

Helen ordered, “Let’s try again. Moooooo! Moooooo! Moooooo!

They kept mooing for ten minutes but it didn’t seem to work. There was no sign of the bull.

Then Helen jumped, “I heard something splash. He must be comin’!” And then, “Winifred, I don’t think we’re high enough. He could shake us out of the tree. We’d better run for the house.”

They scrambled down the tree, evacuating the dolls and teddy bears. As they started running, Winifred began to panic and dropped everything. She screamed, “The bull is comin’! The bull is comin’!”

Helen stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to Winifred and said the following words strong and firm like a Baptist preacher. “ In a time of panic, we must pray!”

“Help! Lord Jesus!” cried Helen at the top of her lungs as they heard another splash. Then Helen fell on her knees with fear and trepidation. She decided there was no time to pray.

“Start singing, Winifred! Sing ‘Jesus Loves Me’,” demanded Helen.

Winifred stood. She and Helen ran and sang and sang and ran until they reached the other side of the garden where it was safe.

That night Winifred had nightmares about a bull with red eyes, spewing smoke and fire from its nostrils.