Mondays are like that (Cumberland Saga)

Bread was baked on Mondays and Thursdays.

Amira showed up early on Monday. The weekend had been rainy and Walter and the boys had gotten on her nerves. And vice-versa.

It was a relief to have a place to go.

Every woman who streamed through Alice’s kitchen seemed to know all of the details about her role in “helping” Constanze gracefully exit Copperhead Cove. In fact, they seemed to know some details that she, herself, was unaware of.

The third woman who graciously thanked her remarked “We did not see you at Sunday services. You are more than welcome to bring your family.”

Amira demurred. “I am not of your faith.”

“But Walter is” the woman noted. “Families who attend services together are made stronger by God.”

And then she added the hook “It is a great place to catch up with what is happening in the community.”

Suddenly it made sense to Amira. THAT is how everybody knew about her and Constanze. The women attended services and socialized. They talked about what was new and what was important.

From that perspective, she almost had to attend.

For the rest of the baking day, the women who drifted through Alice’s kitchen offered bits and pieces of wisdom. Some offered gardening advice, seeds or cuttings from their geraniums. Others offered herbs and spices for the kitchen. Others offered trades; work-boots for a chance to cherry-pick through Constanze’s closets. One woman volunteered that their dog was due to whelp soon and if it was a big litter, there would be unclaimed pups. Everybody had noticed that Evan and Abe’s footwear was unsuited for life at Copperhead Cove.

***

Amira had given Walter the task of retrieving his cellphone from Sig and finding a high point off-the-property. There, he was to start collecting information on gardening on the Cumberland Plateau and making notes. Constanze had 8 garden plots of approximately 25 paces on a side. While it was a huge amount for one, middle-aged woman, it hardly seemed like it would be enough for a family of four. Especially since two of them were teen-aged boys. Walter and Amira would have to farm it well if they were going to be able to eat.

Amira detailed Abe and Evan to help Sig and the other men with whatever they were doing.

Sig, not expecting the extra help decided to assign them to Lliam. “Just do whatever he tells you to do.”

Abe was two years older than Lliam. Evan was just a couple of months older. Neither one of them were too keen on taking orders from somebody who was not only younger than they were but who they saw as their social inferior.

The basic cadence of clearing the land was that Sig, Gregor or Blain took one-hour shifts running the chainsaw. That was about how long a tank of gas lasted. When the tank ran out, Sig “blessed” the cutting teeth of the chain with a file. The gas and the oil reservoirs were refilled and then the saw was handed off to the next cutter.

Lliam and the two young men dragged brush. The two older men who were not on the chainsaw helped shift and position logs so the person with the saw could buck them into lengths slightly longer than 8 feet. When not doing that, the older men helped dragged brush away from the cutting site and stacked it in drifts where the slope “broke” and where gullies were likely to initiate.

Lliam, at the age of fourteen, had been doing this kind of work for almost four years. He was trying to impart the basics to the new “men” they way he had been taught. Mixing “doing” with “telling”. Even work as basic as dragging brush has many details and without the context of “doing” the “telling” bounces off the wall and does not stick.

His two pupils had a lot of attitude and that left Lliam at a loss.

Things came to a head when Evan...who being the younger felt more threatened by Lliam...told Lliam “...get away from me, mother-fucker…”

Approximately 75 milliseconds later Evan was sitting on the ground and blood was gushing from his nose.

Scrambling to his feet and kicking wildly at Lliam, he found himself back on the ground.

Gregor grabbed Abe around the waist as he dashed to join the fray. “Iffen you want a piece of him, you can wait your turn” Gregor said as Abe thrashed and flailed as he attempted to dog-pile Lliam.

In the inexplicable calculus of resentment, Abe and Evan had converged on Lliam as the epicenter of their problems. Perhaps it was because they knew that they could not whip the adults...but another teen-ager, one who they handily out-massed individually was a different story. It would be a salve for their egos.

But it was not to be.

Unlike the school yard in St Louis, the adults did not intervene. It was not one-or-two swings and then the fight being broken up and both parties being able to declare victory.

The adults let the teenagers settle the matter.

Llaim was not a brawler but he was an accomplished scrapper. It was a rare month when he wasn't in a tussle with another lad. The rules were simple: Inflict no damage that wouldn't heal in a week and no damage that prevented the other from doing his daily chores.

 

Lliam'is Uncle Sig had taught him the fundamentals. Hit through your target. Keep hitting. Aim for soft targets...noses, stomachs and chins. Keep your forearms up and vertical to block. Move. Step into your punch. Keep your fist firmly clenched. Keep your wrist straight. Focus the force through your index and middle finger to avoid breaking your pinkie or ring fingers. And when the fight goes to grappling abandon the boxing and wrestle.

Evan’s coaching came from playing video games where the fighters defied physics with highly stylized Mixed Martial Arts moves.

Evan out-massed Lliam by twenty pounds and he had an inch more reach. Lliam, on the other hand, had an advantage of 15 more pounds of muscle.

Evan’s additional fine-motor skills in his thumbs and fingers from playing video-games did not translate into a competitive advantage in an actual, physical altercation.

The second big surprise was after Evan “tapped-out”.

Gregor did not let go of Abe but pushed him toward Lliam. “Your turn” is all he said.

“But I don’t want to fight him any more” Abe weaseled.

“Don’t matter” Sig said. “We ain’t girls. We gotta beef, we settle it. We settle it here. We settle it now. We don't hold grudges...but if you think you can do better next week you can give it a whirl then.”

“Issues that ain’t settled are like splinters that fester and poison the blood” Sig added. “I seen you gotta issue. Now is your chance to settle it.”

And then Lliam kicked Abe's ass, too.