Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1917-12-21
CHAPTER III.
Marthy Buries Her Dead and Greets
Her Nephew.

TASE did not move or give his Gus
tomary, %querulous grunt when Mar
y thy nudged him at daylight, n
morning in mid April. Marthy gave an
other poke with her elbow and lay still,
numbed by a sudden dread. She moved
cautiously out of the bed and half
across the cramped room before she
turned her head toward him. Then she
stood still and looked and looked, her
hard face growing each moment more
pinched and stony and gray.
Jase had died while the coyotes were
yapping their dawn song up on the rim
of the cove. He lay rigid under the
coarse, gray blanket, the flesh OF his
face drawn close to the bones, his
skinny, gray beard tilted upward.
Marthy's jaw set into a harsher out
line than ever. She dressed with slow,
heavy movements and went out and fed
the stock. In stolid calm she did the
milking and turned out the cows into
the pasture. She gathered an apron
full of chips and started a fire, just as
she had lone every morning for twenty
nine years, and she put the coffeepot
IN the greasy stove and boiled the brew
of yesterday, which was also her habit.
She sat for some time with her head
leaning upon her grimy hand and stared
~unseeingly out upon a peach tree in
full bloom and at a pair of busy robins
who had chosen a convenient crotch for
their nest. Finally she rose stif1y, as
If she had grown older within the last
hour, and went outside to the place
where she had been mending the irri-
eating ditch the day before. She knock
ed the wet sand off the shovel she had
left sticking in the soft bank and went
out of the yard and up the slope toward
the rock wall.
On a tiny, level place above the main
ditch and just under the wall Marthy
began to dig, setting her broad, fiat foot
uncompromisingly upon the shoulder of
the shovel and sending it deep into the
yellow soil. She worked slowly and
methodically and steadily, just as she
did everything else. When she had dug
down as deep as she could and still
manage to climb out and had the hole
wide enough and long enough, she got
awkwardly to the grassy surface and
sat for a long while upon a rock, star
ing dumbly at the gaunt, brown hills
across the river.
She returned to the cabin at last, and,
with the manner of n who breads do
ing what must be done, she went in
where Jase lay stiff and cold under the
blankets.
Early that afternoon Marthy went
staggering up the slope, wheeling Jase's
body before her IN the creaky, home
made w~heelbarrow. In the same harsh,
primitive In which they both
had lived Marthy buried her dead. And
though In life she had given him few
words save in command or u~pbraiding,
with never a hint Of love to sweeten the
days for either, yet she went whimper-
ing away from that grave. She broke
off three branches of precious peach
blossoms and carried them up the slope.
She stuck them upright In the lumpy
soil over Jase's head and stood there
a long while with tear streaked face,
staring down at the grave and at the
nodding pink blossoms.
Billy Louise rode singing down the
rocky trail through the deep, narrow
gorge to where the hawthorn and choke
cherries hid the opening to the cove.
From there to the pink drift of peach
bloom against the dull brown of the
bluff Blue galloped angrily, leaving
deep, black prints in the soft green OF
the meadow. So they came headlong
upon Marthy, just as she was knocking
the yellow clay of the grave from her
~irrigating shovel against the pole fence
of her pigpen.
"Why, Marthy Once before in her
life Billy Louise had seen Marthy's chin
quivering like that and big, slow tears
sliding down the network of lines on
Marthy's leathery cheeks. With 2