A Shawangunk Spell

Chapter One

It was five years ago this day Grandpa come to our cabin holdin' that dirty burlap bundle. "Found this here under a birch tree," he announced, settin' the bundle on the supper-table.

We all sat starin' at the burlap mound, when an infant's tiny hand shot out from under the folds. Mama let out a gasp. Grandpa sat down. "A boy. 'Bout eight pounds. Healthy. Not exactly just born. Been on this earth but a few days."

The pupils of Mama's eyes flashed. A long hard stare to Grandpa. She rose from her supper-seat and picked up the bundle. Holdin' it to her bosom peeled 'way the burlap. Her eyes widened. Grandpa gave a solid nod. For a prayerful moment stood, then 'cross the kitchen-room floor and out the back doorway she walked.

Ruth and me scrambled from our supper-seats. Out the door we went. Mama was headed to the well. Ruth hollered, "Mama! Mama! What are you doin'?" But Mama didn't pay Ruth no mind. With one hand to the rope she begun to pullin' the bucket up from the water, while the little bundle held still in her arm. "Mama!" Ruth ran to the well with me at her heels. "Don't drop him in the well!"

Mama rested the bucket on the well's thick stone wall. Liftin' the tiny body from the burlap, she peeled 'way the receivin' blanket, then held him over the bucket. He glistened like the china doll Ruth got for Christmas when she was little. "This here child is an angel," Mama whispered in her spell soundin' voice. Scoopin' a handful of water she poured it over the baby's head. "In the name of the Holy Father, the Blessed Son and the most Precious Spirit, I Christen thee Michael Gabriel," Mama announced.

***

Five weeks later Grandpa took this berry pickin' belt - two old Maxwell House coffee cans hooked to a leather belt - and said he was goin' to the top of the ridge to pick us some cranberries for Thanksgivin' Day.

No one seen him since.

At first Mama thought Grandpa had a change of thoughts and headed over to Ol' George's place, and the two of them took Ol' George's truck into the valley to Uncle Marty's tavern. But days passed. And even though Mama said she was sure Grandpa was goin' to show up with a long beard and an even longer story, her eyes was growin' heavy with worry. Ruth and me was also unsettled with fretful concern. Wasn't unlike Grandpa to take to the ridge and lose himself for a spell - did it all the time. But wasn't like him to say he was goin' to be back with berries or game or firewood and then not come home.

When Uncle Marty come by our cabin he told Mama that Grandpa ain't been to his tavern in over a month's time. Told her the Ol' Coot was most probably spendin' time at Ol' George's place or wanderin' the mountain. But Mama wouldn't pay Uncle Marty no mind. Why would he be visitin' Ol' George all this time when he said he was gettin' cranberries for Thanksgivin' dinner? Thanksgivin' is comin' next week. Never gone off for berries and not come home. Iffin he was goin' to take to the ridge for a spell, then he would have just done it and not said he was goin' for berries. Voice quiverin' with worry Mama began to beggin' Uncle Marty to look for Grandpa up on the ridge. Said she had a real bad feelin' brewin' inside her.

All of Mama's pleadin' must of caused Uncle Marty to stir up some concern of his own, 'cause he left with his truck and paid a visit to Ol' George. When he come back with no word he got Luke's pa, and Mavis, and with Mama they took to the ridge lookin' for Grandpa. Luke's pa said it would be most peculiar for Grandpa to get himself lost on this here mountain. After all, he's The Mountain Man, and like folks say, knows the ridge like the feel of his own teeth.

Uncle Marty, Luke's pa, Mavis and Mama was gone 'til the sun slid behind the west end of the ridge and the sky went dark. Back at our cabin Mama was near frantic, beggin' Uncle Marty to pay a visit to the police. Uncle Marty got himself some strong hesitations 'bout gettin' the police involved to searchin' the ridge, but Mama wouldn't take no for an answer.