"The Devil Made Her Do It"

The last story on my blog was of how my Mother got the nickname, "Frog Walker." As I have told you before, the first memory I have of her was the two of us sitting in the old squeeky front porch swing laughing, swinging and best of all listening to her tell me the stories of her past. And, what a past she had. When I was a Freshman in high school I missed my Mother one evening and went to look for her. I found her sitting in that old swing crying. I sat down beside her, put my arm around her and said, "Oh, Momma, don't cry. I can't stand it when you cry because you are the best person in the entire world." She laughed, wiped her eyes and said, "Honey, you don't know me very well. We all have a little mean streak in us. I'm no different than anybody else. Sometimes the devil just gets the best of all of us."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She started laughing and laughed until again she was crying.
"I was just thinking of something I did when I was about eight years old."
"What, Momma, what did you do?"
She told me this story:

Back when I was a young girl people didn't travel like they do these days. Most folks, especially in the country, still traveled by horse and wagon or buggy. And, folks didn't travel very much in the winter months. Summer, summer was the time people visited each other. Most of the time my Momma and Papa were the ones everyone came to visit because we didn't have a car or a horse and wagon so unless we borrowed my Grandpa Walker's horse, we stayed home and everybody came to our house. Momma was a good cook, always had a big garden and loved most people who came so it was a joy for her, however, there was one relative she did not like at all and dreaded his visits with a passion. That was my Papa's first cousin, Luther Walker. He always drove a big new, shinny car and everywhere he went he brought along his three precious blue tick hounds. He thought more of those hounds than he did most people. He bragged on how beautiful they were, how they were the best huntin' dogs in six counties and how smart they were.
Late one summer evening in July, here he came driving his big car with the three old hound dogs hanging out of the back windows. Momma didn't know I knew, but, I had overheard her and Papa once talking about the fact that one of the reasons she had such a distaste for Luther was the fact that he had made his money running moonshine in Knox and the surrounding counties. Now Momma would put up with a lot of things from the relatives but "booze" in her house was simply not allowed. A little blackberry wine was not considered as sinful as what Luther drank and made it's way to the table occasionally. It really got under her skin that when he came for a visit, Luther always carried a bottle of "white lightening" in his back pocket which he covered with a big silk handkerchief.
"He thinks he's foolin' us and that makes me mad as a wet hen. He is not foolin' nobody." She told my Papa.
After he had settled in and put his dogs in the pen out behind the house, Momma served a dinner fit for royalty and we all went to bed.
Besides drinking, Momma did not allow animals in her house either. The house was very small and she could not abide by the smell and mess they made.
Having to put his dogs out back just rubbed Luther the wrong way and so everytime he came for a visit, he made trip after trip out back to check on the critters and, if the truth be known, to also have a drink.
Long after everyone had gone to sleep, I had to go to the outhouse so I quietly eased off the sofa, where I had to sleep when we had overnight company, and tiptoed to the outhouse. I had just finished my business when, by the light of the moon, I saw Luther through a crack in the outhouse door. He had come out to check on his dogs. It was just about then that old mean devilish streak caused me to do what I did next. I eased out of the outhouse and hid over behind the woodpile which was just behind the dog pen. I knew he always talked to his dogs like they were human and could answer him back, so I waited.
"Howdy there, old girl,"he said to his favorite dog as he took the bottle from his back pocket and took a big swig. "How you doin' tonight you beauty you."
"I'm doin' fine." I said in my lowest voice.
Luther, tilted his head, looked at the dog and said,"I said, how you doin' old gal." To which I answered,"I'm fine I told ya."
Luther took a step back and said, "YOU G D DOG ARE YOU TALKIN' TO ME?"
"Sure am!", I replied.
Luther turned and started to run into the house, then he stopped, put the bottle of "white lightning" on my Papa's chopping block and ran on into the house.
The next morning I was setting the table for breakfast when Luther came out of the bedroom bags in hand.
"Leavin' so soon?" Papa asked.
"I didn't sleep a wink last night. I had me a terrible experience. One that has made me think I need to stop my drinkin'. Bruce, I swear one of them dogs actually talked to me last night. I swear it!"
I turned away and giggled quietly to myself, but, when I looked up there stood Momma.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It was you, wasn't it?"
I smiled and nodded my head. Momma shock her head and turned to the stove to finish cooking breakfast. I could see her body shaking... 'cause she was laughing too.


Mom laughed. I laughed and we went to bed happy. She had forgotten all about what had made her cry earlier.