He moved in that direction then realized it came from the pond. He didn’t hurry, he didn’t need to. He sensed the source wasn’t going anywhere.
Luther came out at the edge of the pond a hundred yards from Ailey, who leaned back resting on his elbows and sang at the top of his voice. Loud as it was, it seemed natural in the amphitheatre formed by the pond and the surrounding trees.
Luther stayed back out of sight in the trees. He sat down and took an apple from his pocket and cut chunks from it with a bone-handled Buck knife. He watched Ailey lazily in the afternoon sun.
Ailey was oblivious. He didn’t even notice the twitch in his line. Luther smiled and whispered.
“You are about to get a surprise, boy, an’ you don’t even know it.”
Something tugged the line once, hard, then headed for the other shore with no intention of stopping. Ailey was so surprised he dropped the pole and the fish dragged it into the water.
Ailey dived for it and fell into the pond sputtering and thrashing. He grabbed the pole and tried to stop the fish.
“Whoa, you dang fool fish. Where you goin?”
In the trees Luther laughed out loud. Ailey had a hold on the pole and wasn’t letting go. The water was up to his waist. Ailey grabbed the line and pulled it in as fast as he could.
Luther realized he must have a real granddaddy of a catfish on the line, might go ten pounds or more. All of a sudden Luther stopped laughing, dropped the apple, and ran through the trees toward the edge of the pond. He’d been in there a year ago stalking a bear. By that same rock, he’d stepped in and sunk into the mud over the top of his boots. Like to never got out. Boots were still there as far as he knew.
Through the trees he saw the boy sink in deeper; couldn’t go forward or back, but he wouldn’t let go of the pole.
From the edge of the rock, Luther leaned forward, hands held out to Ailey.
“C’mon boy, gimme your hands or your gonna sink right on down to China.”
Ailey reached out one hand, he wouldn’t let go of the pole. Luther pulled slow. He could feel Ailey coming free, still clutching the fishing pole. Once Luther got him up on the rock he sat him down.
“Now, pull that fish on outa there before he pulls you in agin’,” he laughed.
Ailey pulled with all his might, muttering dark threats all the while. He got up and stepped backward off the rock to the shore. Once there he dragged a fat catfish, close to ten pounds after him. Still towing the fish, he walked back through the cattails onto solid ground. He thumped the fish six or eight times on the head with a rock until it quit wriggling.
“Boy oh boy,” -- his eyes were big -- “that’s the biggest one I ever caught. Must weight...” he had to think about it for a minute, “twenty or thirty ton.” Ailey hadn’t been paying that much attention when the class learned about the weight of things.
Luther didn’t correct him. “You got a knife so’s you can clean him?”
Ailey frowned. “No, sir, ah don’t. I’ll take him on down to the house.”
Luther took out his Buck knife and opened it with what Ailey thought was a very satisfying snap. He handed it to Ailey haft first.
“It’s real sharp, so have a care.”
Ailey looked at it longingly, then gutted the fish. He took it down to the edge of the pond and cleaned it and the knife carefully. He figured out how to close the knife, then brought it and the fish back to the where Luther sat.
“You must be Little Joe Barkwood’s boy. I knowed your Daddy many years ago. Hear your granddaddy passed a year back. I am Sorry to hear it, I liked that man, though he could be some stubborn. Reckon you got some of that from him.”
“Are you the cr--the man that lives up top the mountain?” Ailey asked.
“I am. You think I’m crazy, boy?”
Ailey wound the fishing line around a piece of cardboard. He looked directly at Luther, considering.
“Nope.” He went on rolling up the fishing line. “Is your name, Cole?”
“Uh-huh. I’m Martin Luther Cole. What’s your name?”
“Ailey, Ailey Parkman Barkwood.”
“Well Ailey, you ‘n me are first cousins. ‘Cept for some distant folks over by Elkins, yore my only kin.”
Ailey thought about it for a minute, then smiled.
“Aren’t you too old to be a cousin?”
“Nope, but you can call me Uncle Luther if it’d be more comfortable.”
Ailey guessed Luther meant to have fun with him, but he didn’t mind. He’d already decided without reservation, the way children do, that he liked Uncle Luther. He hadn’t offered to pull in his fish. That showed a nicety of understanding about what’s important that few adults would have known.
“Okay.”
“Who you live with now your grandpa’s gone?” Luther asked.
“On weekends, I stay with Sammy Sue on the farm down yonder,” he pointed off to the south. “Weekdays I stay with Miz Bentley in Luthersville. She’s the school teacher.”
“Is she agreeable?”
“Uh, huh, she’s nice. She let me have a violin someone left in a closet over at the school, and all kinds of music. Been teachin’ me to read that music too.”
Luther looked at Ailey for a long moment, like someone he’d been expecting but didn’t know what he’d look like.
Luther stood, stretched, and looked around slowly.
“You got strong legs, Ailey?”
“Sure. I can run faster’n them two dumb hounds of mine.”
“You hungry,” Luther asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m goin’ along home, git that deer tomorrow I guess. You come with me, I’ll cook that cat fish in corn meal, make a few dozen biscuits. Got twenty pounds of new honey from the broken oak over by forty-mile crick.”
“Okay, Uncle Luther.”
Luther set an easy pace so Ailey could keep up. Unlike most boys his age, Ailey didn’t feel the need to chatter. He felt at home with the natural sounds of the forest. And since no one else, including the dogs, seemed to like his loud singing, he figured Uncle Luther might not like it that much either.
When they had walked two miles or so, Luther heard Ailey puffing like a truck with a busted gasket. Luther stopped and looked at the ground, pretending he’d seen some tracks.
“Deer come through here this time of year.” Luther said. They were in a grove of oak and acorn husks littered the leathery carpet of leaves.
“They eat the acorns, least those the squirrels don’t git.”
Luther took his time looking around, watching Ailey out of the corner of his eye. When he thought Ailey was rested, he pointed up through the trees.
“Not much further, maybe five hundred yards,” and moved slowly in that direction.
It was in Luther’s nature to lead. He knew the condition, the state of mind of those he led and adjusted his