The Deaf Heart

Sherry Asbury
731 SW Salmon St. #710
Portland OR 97205-3048
503-525-5981
ladyuvrhyme@aol.com1

2591 word count2

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My Uncle Bill was a wadded-up stump of a man. Never had pretensions or put on airs. Even when he invented a valve that would revolutionize irrigation forever. He came home from a trip to Helena with a bride in tow. A willowy, handkerchief-sniffing hank of fluff. Her name was Elinore.
We all called her Lady Elinore because she thought she was a muckety-muck, since her husband was an inventor. Elinore was a Waterford vase among Kerr jars, we all tried to make her feel welcome. Not because we liked her, whiney thing that she was. But Uncle Bill adored her. He felt lifted out of the poverty our family shared. Being as ugly as a mug-wump, Uncle Bill felt he needed Elinore to make him a refined man.
Trouble was, there wasn’t enough refinement on the earth to smooth out this family. We were poor, but we were hardworking. Living off the land was just second nature. Elinore, however, wanted a fancy house. Vanity and frivolousness wasn’t politically correct to people who had to scrabble to survive. Bill was determined to build the fluff her house.
Uncle Bill wasn’t even sure what kind of money he would get from his invention, but if Lady Elinore thought it was worth being with Bill, it must be a tidy sum. She had read the contracts and helped Uncle Bill do all the files and registering. He met her in the patent office, told her he couldn’t read much, and she went about making herself indispensable to our Bill.
Poor, delicate thing she was. Her senses were offended by our log cabins and shacks. She squealed with horror at finding out most of the cabins had packed-dirt floors. When she saw the outhouse she threw a hankie across her offended nose and went into a swoon. She was going to be an adventure. She came from “society people, she said. Well-bred people. Well, let me tell you - we were simple folks, but we WERE well-bred.
Kindness was a thing everyone practiced, and honesty came without thinking. When you depend on folks to help you make it in a life of poverty, you treat them the way you would want to be treated. The Golden Rule was as much a part of our lives as were the packed-dirt floors that Elinore never got over.
My Mama got a job at Norm’s News in Kalispell. Made 25 cents an hour! Norm always gave me ice cream for free, so I thought he was the greatest person in the world. Norm always went to Elk Camp with us. His wife was dead and he came as one of the single men.
When Mama told Elinore about Elk Camp, the flighty creature exploded in a frenzy. No way was she going to sleep in a common tent, in the cold and dirt, no way! Uncle Bill put his foot down this time, Elinore would go. He came to Mama and asked her to help the woman pick out proper clothes and supplies. Said she was packing dresses and lace tablecloths.
Mama gave it an honest try, but she ended up walking away in a fury when Elinore said she would NOT wear boots. Mama told her it was good in case we ran into snakes, and Elinore fainted. Mama was exaggerating about the snakes, but she grinned every time she told how the woman put a hand to her chest and collapsed. I imagine Mama was getting some of hers back for the time Elinore called us poor white trash. Those kind of words didn’t set well with this family. Uncle Bill scolded Mama for frightening Elinore, but Mama grinned every time she told the story. Uncle Bill was over the moon about this woman and would listen to nothing against her.
Norm, who owned the soda shop, drugstore, magazine “News” had the best of the caravan of our raggedy old cars and pickups. He wasn’t above himself like Elinore. He knew what hard work was and he didn’t shun his roots. He had an automobile that held four people. So three of the Aunties rode in comfort to the camp. They all adored Norm, and wished he would cast his eye towards one of them, but he never did.
My brother Richard was almost three this year, and a little hellion to corral in the back seat of our car. He wasn’t made to mind as much as I was. He was a boy and I was just a girl. Sometimes I wanted to smother the little brat with a pillow. It was a long ride for me. Finally I grabbed him and sang until he went to sleep.
We had gone Upwoods for the last Elk Camp, but we were heading for The Meadow again this time. As our caravan began to park itself on the bare space of land in front of it, Elinore jumped from the Dodge Uncle Bill owned, second-hand, but solid, he always said. We all looked as Elinore ran toward a ditch and began to retch in a most unrefined manner. Mama could be a devil. She hollered out to Elinore to watch for snakes, causing the prissy thing to nearly fall into the ditch.
Elinore was a sight. She had on a pair of Auntie Etheline’s jeans, hem dragging in the muck. She had on at least three flannel shirt’s because she was ‘of a delicate nature’ and couldn’t risk illness or injury to herself. When she returned from the ditch she found out that we trekked in a couple of miles to our camp. She went wailing to Uncle Bill that she simply could NOT make a hike that long. She also had on brougham’s instead of boots. Bill soothed her and finally got her to wear a pair of Mama’s boots.
The men made travois to haul the camp gear in. Elinore saw the first travois and screeched that only Indians used those…those…things! My Mama was a little bit of a woman. Never 5’ tall in her life. Never weighed close to a hundred pounds except during her pregnancies. She walked defiantly to Uncle Bill and took his second travois from him. No one said a word as she tied herself in and began to drag the heavy load. Elinore was giddy with delight that my tiny Mama was going to drag her travois. It got real quiet about then.
Norm hauled a heavy load too, keeping his pace brisk. Elinore danced along to keep up with him and engage him in silly chatter. Norm was a brusque man, said yes and no and not much else. It wasn’t proper for Bill’s wife to prance around a single man, and not help her husband with the work. No one said a word.

I was a quiet, strange child. Everybody said so. I never said a word to Elinore as I passed her with my brother papoose-packed on my back. Arriving at the camp was another trauma for Elinore, who thought camp meant fancy. I guess it was fancy to me, a wonderful bed of green grass and wildflowers just fading away. Elk Camp delighted me.
When we set up the big tent. it is a wonder to behold. Again I was trusted with the Hammer and as I carried it to Daddy I heard Elinore say to Uncle Bill that this was a savage rite. He was not talking. He knew the way that traditions made life more special. When he didn’t answer her, Elinore went to Norm and began to prattle. Turning red, Norm hung his head, hating being the center of interest. I guess Elinore took this as a sign he was hanging on to her every word and on she talked.
In our ‘family, which included anyone who showed up, we were conservative I’d have to say. There were no spoken rules, no clay tablets spelling out behavior, a person with good sense knew what was proper and what wasn’t. This probably came from folks being so close together all the time, and needing each other. Men and women were friends and that was fine, to a point. A “decent” woman behaved in a way to bring honor to her husband and her family.
Elinore never even tried to follow convention. She had no idea she was making a spectacle of herself with Norm. She wasn’t much liked to begin with and this just tipped the scales. Norm was mortified with her obvious interest. He wasn’t able to figure out how to handle this coquette on his own. Uncle Bill would glower darkly whenever she fawned over Norm, but he didn’t want to risk losing her if he got too harsh.6

Elk Camp is hard work. There is coffee to be made. Water to be carried. Meals to be cooked, children to tend, kills to gut and get the hide off of . . . and a hundred other things. We needed the hands of everyone in camp. Elinore just plain ignored the bustle of chores, sat by the fire with a nail file, endlessly scraping at her perfect-oval fingernails.
Elinore was dumb as a goose or as bright as a fox, one or the other. The women would scold anyone who was not busy, right in front of Elinore. She never said a word, rasp, rasp of her file as irritating as gnats. One time Elinore ’asked’ me to get her a drink of water. I was knee-deep in you gun’s, keeping them out of harm’s way. I went to the cask and drew a cup of water. As I walked to where she was sitting, I tripped over something and spilled that cup of freezing water in Elinore’s lap.
Elinore screeched like a banshee and bolted to her feet. I stood in front of her with my head down. “I’m sorry Aunt Elinore, I tripped over a rock. Let me help you dry off.”
Quick as a snake Elinore’s hand darted toward me and slapped me hard across my left ear. Everyone jumped and began to scurry around me. The blow had been hard enough to knock me on my fanny. A dozen hands pulled me back to my feet. Auntie Donna enfolded me in a furious hug and glared at Elinore. One of the women fired a “come home” shot and Elinore sputtered. I had it coming, she said. I was not only a strange little brat, but clumsy as well.
Mama had run over to see if I was all right. My ears were delicate, everyone knew I might be deaf later in life. She had lambasted me hard enough to break my eardrum. I could feel the deafness inside my ear.
“Lorraine, I don’t see why you can’t discipline this weird child,” Elinore said.
She was ignorant of the fact that she had crossed a line that she could never step back over.
Auntie Donna screamed at Elinore, “You brazen bitch!” Everyone blinked in surprise at Donna’s profanity, but none of them disagreed.
Mama spoke up, telling her that I was one of the children she had ever seen. I could be trusted with adult chores and was more mature at eight as Elinore was at whatever age she happened to decide she was each day.
By then the hunters out began to run into camp. Everyone talked at once. I could hear only a roar in my right ear. Norm’s cool head got everyone quiet and he sorted out what had happened. Then he said, “You don’t never hit a child in the head, woman. No need to slap her ’cause she had an accident. No one mentioned the fact that the ground was stamped flat and the only rocks in site were around the fire pit.
They tell me I passed out then, throwing everything into chaos. All I remember is waking up to see that Norm had scooped me up. The stillness was deadly. Elinore was so vague she didn’t realize what she had done in raising a hand to me. Some of his brothers were holding my father back as he struggled to be free. Elinore was real lucky they were big, strong boys.
Mama looked at Uncle Bill, who had tears in his eyes. He said, “Lorraine, it’s your go.”
Mama knew what Bill was saying and she nodded her head, her teeth clenched so that her jaw stuck out at an angle. If anyone had disagreed, they would have said so. Instead they cleared a path for my Mama to walk to Elinore. Elinore stared at her dumbly, but beginning to back away as if some light bulb might have gone off in her empty brain.
Mama was tiny, but that slap was heard in echoes like thunder. Stunned, Elinore ran to Uncle Bill shrieking, “Billy, look what she did to me!”
Uncle Bill pushed her off of him and said, “Woman, you deserved that. If Lorraine hadn’t done, I woulda done it myself. You get away from us all now. Go think about this thing you did to that child.”7

Elinore went to their car and eased herself into the back seat. Probably she expected Bill or Norm to come make sure she was all right. We were there three more days, and Elinore didn’t show her face. At night we could hear her scrounging in the camp food, but no one denied the woman food.
When we got back to town there was a man waiting at the hotel for Elinore. Jimmy Suggins brought the note to Elinore. Brazen tart, she walked over to the hotel and went inside to see this mystery person. They came out hand in hand, Elinore and this slick guy who looked like a shyster.
Bill watched as she got into the man’s car, huffy gestures tossed from side to side. They drove out through Kalispell and disappeared from view. Men in those days didn’t get in touch with their feminine side. Stoic and silent, Uncle Bill lowered his head. He had known not to stop her. The men clapped him on the back and passed around a jar of ‘shine, their way of therapy.
Not two weeks later Uncle Bill got a letter from Elinore. He threw it on the ground, but Harry Sample picked it up with a questioning look. Uncle Bill nodded his consent and waited as Harry read the letter. Harry was real pale when he got to the end. He swallowed and handed the letter to Daddy. Daddy was kin and that meant he would do the telling.
It seems Elinore had played dirty with the patent papers and ended up with them in her name. So much for her help. Everyone told Bill to go after her. Said they’d all go to
the patent office and swear he was the one invented the valve. He wouldn’t have it. He withdrew into himself and became morose, drinking ‘shine by the quart.
As for Elinore, there is sometimes no mercy in the universe. She became rich as a king off that patent. Uncle Bill stayed poor. He said he would rather be poor and honest than be like her.
She hadn’t made me deaf, Elinore. There was a sea of earaches and infections, but I can hear the birds sing under the eaves outside my window. Whenever in this life I have been tempted to be less than honest, I remember that hateful witch and the urge goes right on away.
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