Of Coal and Cornbread
Angels and Ha'nts
by
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Pink Byers, Zell's
loud, plainspoken father, owned Old Sure Shot.
Old Sure Shot was a breeding bull who had acquired a reputation. To this monster, it fell
my lot to lead my little virginal cream-colored heifer. She had no idea what caused the primordial
itches that beset her, making her lunge and bawl and attempt to assault every
four-legged creature she encountered.
Praying all the way that I would
not meet Zell, I led the bawling, stamping creature
toward the Byers farm. My soul shriveled
within me at the prospect of having to try to explain the rampant, lustful
heifer to my fair maiden.
That morning, all nature seemed
to conspire toward perfection. The world
was arrayed in perfect hues of earth tones.
The air was filled with the sounds of God's creatures in harmonious
voice. But I approached the Byers place with gnawing apprehension.
At the bend just before Zell's home-site, I tied the heifer to a tree and sneaked
far enough down the lane to see the house and outbuildings. Zell was sitting
under a tree, reading. I knew I couldn't
lead my lowing young cow past her without being asked questions I didn't want
to answer. I struggled an extra two
miles, half-dragging my cow, as I labored in a huge semi-circle that brought
me, panting and sweating, to the back of the house. I skirted around the corral where Old Sure
Shot, having smelled the sweetness of my pet's longing, set up a raucous
bawling that shattered the morning quiet.
And my erstwhile lady-like little heifer was a lady no longer. She became a lewd, yowling courtesan who
flaunted her charms by screaming and cavorting shamelessly before the majesty
of that mighty blue bull. With a sinking
heart, I realized that soon someone must surely come to investigate.
Pink Byers ambled from the back
door with a toothpick between his teeth and an indecent grin on his face. "Looks like she's wantin' it bad, huh, boy?" He came down the steps, lifted the heifer's
tail and closely examined her inflamed seat of yearning. "Yeah. I'd be abound to say
she's ready."
Despite his foul mouth, I was
more than happy to be dealing with Pink, the only human male on the place. But he strode on past me and straddled a
horse that stood, saddled and ready, under a tree. "But, but...don't you know why I'm
here?" I stammered. "Ain't you goin' to stay¾'til
it’s over?"
"Naw,"
he said carelessly as he rode away.
"I gotta go over to the west new
ground. Zell's
around somewhere. She'll give you a
hand."
I couldn't believe what I
heard. No man, not even disreputable,
hard-drinking Pink Byers could let a child of Zell's
innocence be part of the vile scene that was surely about to happen. But as Pink cantered down the lane and
disappeared among the trees, I knew I had heard him right. There was no
escaping what lay before me. I couldn't
take my heifer and run. I couldn't have
budged her from the presence of that ranting bull. My fate was sealed when Cindy Byers, Zell's mother, came to the porch.
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About the Book
Whether describing the
embarrassment of a first grader with a brimming bladder or of the child’s
disillusionment and horror at recognizing his father’s shoes beneath a white
KKK robe, this book captures, entertains, and informs its reader.
Of Coal and Cornbread, Angels
and Ha’nts introduces a variety of characters including a lovable
bootlegger who risks his life for a child; an oily preacher who pursues Jake’s
mother; and a son-in-law who crawls around under the house in search of a
ghost.
The reader will meet neighbors like Hetty Ann and Pink Byers; friends like Sam Church and Gene
Sutphin; and enemies like Perfect Carl Anderson and the Yodeling Mule, as well
as Sure Shot, the breeding bull; and Old Pete, the deaf, half-blind mule.
In this book are many delightful
narratives ¾each
complete in itself¾
both amazing and amusing; often wrapping bits of bitter information in the
sweetness of humor. The reader will be
entertained while reaping the subtle dividend of mining history.
About the Author
As one of seven children born to
a mining superintendent and part Native-American wife, Jacob Segraves enjoyed
some privilege until his father died and young Jake became a family provider
while continuing his schooling. High
school graduation marked his passage into adulthood, and he was obliged to
become a coal miner: the dreaded, absurd culmination of 12 years of
schooling.
When the
Upon his retirement, he planned
to write a novel, based on his family and characters from his early life. In that pursuit, he helped to form a local
writers’ group where he met Gwenneth Hinz whom he employed to re-write his
first drafts, and they worked together until his death in 1992¾the
novel still in embryo.
Subsequently Hinz
received some of his manuscripts in the hope of publishing some of his
fascinating, humorous, informative, and poignant pieces. This book is the result.
Segraves
published several trade articles as well as one of the narratives included in
this book: Black and White Santas, (under the title Santa Don’t Have
to Wear a Funny Red Suit) in Good Old Days magazine.
Gwenneth
Hinz was born of American parents in
She attended