Signs in the Blood by Vicki Lane

down to the river to look at a piece of land Daddy knowed of and Romarie just let loose. You mean to tell me, she hollered, we got us another man to feed and do for? But when we told her about the gold watch chain and the red stone finger-ring she quieted down some and asked what age of a man Mister Tomlin was.
    By the time him and Daddy come back for supper, Romarie had fixed her hair up in a big pompadour like what the schoolteacher has, and had got out some of the jelly and pickles that she puts up special for when the preacher comes to dinner. I believe that she had got into Clytie's powder too.
    Daddy looked close at Romarie as she got the supper on the table. She was askin me and Clytie will you and why don't you just as sweet as if she'd never in her life offered to slap us twist-legged if we didn't hurry up with that wood-splittin. When we was all at the table and Mister Tomlin had said another one of his great long prayers, she commenced to askin after his family. When she learnt that he were a widder-man, she had a time to keep from grinnin outright. But she acted all sorrowful-like and ast Mister Tomlin iffen he wouldn't try some more of her blackberry jam.
    I could see right off that hit weren't no use, for though Mister Tomlin was a gentleman and answered her polite, I could feel him a-drawin back from her. Ol Rom never was pretty even when she was a girl and her hair and eyes is kindly no color atall so that she looks like she don't have no eyebrows nor lashes neither. She's always been sickly lookin though they ain't a thing wrong with her but that she is eat up with meanness.
    Me and Clytie take atter Mommy. At least that's what Aetha says. We have dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. Clytie has hips and bosoms like any grown woman, but I'm still flat front and back. Hit don't bother me none. But hit did surprise me when I seed that Mr. Tomlin was treatin me like I was growed up—askin me would I walk to church with him on Sunday. I didn't know what to say and I looked at Daddy. He just nodded his head yes and went on spoonin up his soup beans.
    That like to killed Romarie. She jumped up from the table so fast that her chair banged over and she started to clearin the dishes though Mister Tomlin was yet butterin a biscuit. And I could see Clytie's lower lip a-startin to pooch out like hit does when she don't get her way. Well, thinks I. Well.
     
    When Sunday morning come, Romarie stayed in the bed and left it for me and Clytie to do all the work. She let on that she was taken bad with her time of the month but I had seen her washin her clouts two weeks back and knowed she didn't have her period on her. I allowed as how she just didn't want to be there when I come a-walkin up to the church house with Mister Tomlin.
    Howsomever, I done the milkin and fed the chickens whilst Clytie fixed breakfast. Daddy had said to fix fried chicken for dinner. We didn't have no extry chickens for a coon had killed the young cockerels I was fattenin. Well, girl, Daddy had said, you kill one of them young pullets. And just you take my shotgun up to the chicken house tonight and lay in wait for that coon.
    I caught one of the young pullets and wrung her head off. I was settin on the back porch, pluckin off the feathers and puttin them in the feather basket when Clytie hollered out that the food was on the table. I could smell the sausage and my mouth fairly watered to think of biscuits and sausage gravy. But I had yet to gut and wash the pullet and put her to cool in the springhouse.
    By the time I got that done and washed the blood and feathers and that nasty chicken smell offen myself, they was all finished with breakfast. Daddy and Mister Tomlin was settin on the front porch a-smokin some long black cigars that Mister Tomlin had brung with him. There weren't no sausage left but Clytie had saved back some gravy and biscuits. I et it standin while Clytie done up the dishes. She was already wearin her blue Sunday dress and had