The Goodness of Guzzies Van Pelt by B. Scott Boring

2 days ago

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In rural USA during the Great Depression, one of the Allshouse children is hurt – will local hermit Guzzies rise to the occasion?

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Wiggy ran shirtless through the woods as fast as could. Having discarded his hand-me-down footwear, and now wearing his new shoes, he wasn’t stubbing his toes on rocks and tree roots as he used to do. This time he was running full tilt. He didn’t notice the marks and scratches tree branches were leaving over his bare chest and arms. Terror masked whatever pain he was feeling. He ran with all the might his teenage legs could muster. Even if he made it, he might be too late.

All the Allshouse boys loved hunting, though Jimmy and Boyd stopped when they began working the mines. Crow, Carney, and Wiggy went a couple of times a week especially in the fall. Raccoon coats were a rage during the 1920s, and a raccoon pelt fetched a nice price. During the Great Depression, there was less demand, but the boys loved hunting and whatever money they could get was still better than nothing.

This particular fall night, the boys decided they were going to track down Grizzly; the raccoon no one had ever caught. It got its name because it was the largest raccoon anyone had ever seen; it was often mistaken for a bear cub it was so big.

Carney had been fishing at the Tubmill Creek when he caught sight of Grizzly and trailed it to a hollow tree. He told his brothers at supper, and they planned to go hunting on Friday night.

Tracking Grizzly was all they could talk about on their way to and from school; they tackled their after-school chores without being told. After supper, they gathered Pappy’s shotgun and a lantern then leashed up Blue, their bluetick hound, and trekked to the tree Carney had marked.

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Blue was a great tracking dog. Crow often said, “Blue’s nose is so good she could smell an ant fart in a cow pasture.” She was really Wiggy’s dog. He bonded with her and trained her. Wiggy would even sneak out of the house and sleep in the doghouse with her when she was a puppy. When Mammy found out, she halted the habit. It didn’t stop Blue’s and Wiggy’s affection for one another.

When they arrived at Grizzly’s tree, Blue briefly put her nose to the wind to see if Grizzly was in its den. Carney scaled the tree and flashed the lantern light into the hole where he’d seen Grizzly disappear. The den was empty. Blue sniffed all around the tree using her super-powered olfactory sense to determine instantaneously if the trail was fresh or dated. A long bay rumbled from the depths of her lungs, and she was off, doing the one thing which brought her the most immense joy born into the breed, hunting raccoons.

“She has its scent,” Wiggy exclaimed. “I can tell it’s fresh too, or Blue wouldn’t be bawling like she is.” Blue had different sounds for each stage of the hunt. Her baying was long and excited when she was on the trail. When she treed a racoon, she howled until the boys found her. When she lost the trail, she would go silent and occasionally bark. She needed her human hunters to help her when she lost the scent. It usually meant the raccoon had pulled a clever trick.

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About thirty minutes into the hunt, Blue went silent and gave short barks every few seconds to lead the boys to her. The boys found her at the remnants of a split-rail fence on the edge of a clearing. Probably built to hold livestock back when the town was settled, it had been forgotten once the Borough of Bolivar was built along the river. It was at this forgotten fence Grizzly had pulled its first trick.

Carney scratched his head, “Brothers, we have to figure out how Grizzly tricked Blue.”

Blue searched up and down the fence, but the raccoon’s trail had vanished. The boys, nor Blue, could figure it out. They split up. Carney went left, Crow right, and Wiggy took Blue straight ahead. They each looked for some way Grizzly could have escaped leaving a trail. Out in the meadow, Wiggy spotted something when looking back at the woods. There were no trees in the meadow, and Blue searched the field using a grid pattern back and forth and caught no whiff of a scent. What if Grizzly hadn’t gone forward, or to the right, or to the left? What if Grizzly had gone backward?

Wiggy’s hypothesis had to be proven, so he took Blue back the way they had come. They crossed a small gully, and leaning over the gully was a low-hanging branch. What if Grizzly jumped from the gully to the low-lying branch? Taking Blue to the branch, Wiggy pulled it down for Blue to sniff. Blue stood on her hind legs and inhaled loudly; the bawl which erupted was so cacophonous, Wiggy had to cover his ears. Blue dashed to the tree and circled around it twice. Then followed a branch to the left about fifty feet. She sniffed and caught the scent, and off she went bawling with joy.

Carney and Crow heard her initial bay and came running from where they were sleuthing. Wiggy explained how Grizzly had pulled off the trick. It had run to the fence and then backtracked over the same trail it had just left. When it got to the gully, it leapt onto the low hanging branch, then made its way through the branches and jumped away from the tree. Landing at least a hundred feet from the original trail, it took off running toward Tubmill Creek. Wiggy and Blue had figured it out, and the hunt resumed.

“Grizzly is one smart critter,” Crow said.

“Yes indeed! I almost hate pulling the trigger on this one. I’m really impressed by this trick.” Carney agreed.

“But the baby brother figured it out. I’m not the dumbest Allshouse after all,” Wiggy bragged.

“You will never be smarter than us. Don’t ever forget it!” Crow said as he punched the younger brother’s arm. I get straight A’s in school. When was your last A?”

“You have book smarts. I have common sense. With you, my smart-ass brother, common sense is not real common!” Wiggy gave a hearty laugh and sprinted ahead to avoid a cuffing from Crow.

“He got you good, Crow,” Carney guffawed.

The hunt went well after dark. Grizzly pulled trick after trick, but the boys and Blue solved every puzzle. It had scaled trees and jumped from one to the next. A typical trick, and one Itchy Lybald had even used when trying to escape Blue.

Then Grizzly swam through multiple cricks and streams, Blue would swim to the other side and run up the bank until the scent resumed on dry land. They were closing in. Grizzly had to be running out of gas and escape tactics. It wouldn’t be long now.

Guzzies Van Pelt was camping out at the Old Mill. During the wet weather of the autumnal season, she found the dilapidated structure a bit more hospitable than her lean-to the Allshouse boys had constructed in a thicket of hedges near their home. The Old Mill had stone walls and a working fireplace. Guzzies could keep warm here and relatively dry. She used some paper, dead grass, and twigs as kindling to get the fire started in the fireplace.

She wasn’t sure why the mill had closed. It still had a working water wheel with paddles made from slate. With the industrial age and machines becoming more and more popular, she guessed it was quicker to grind grain and corn with electricity and fuel of some sort. Whatever the reason, the abandoned structure was home for critters of all sorts – mice, chipmunks, possums, skunks, birds, snakes, bats, and insects – the menagerie of wildlife found the manmade structure a warm and dry home from the Laurel Highlands winds and weather. Guzzies didn’t mind sharing it with the critters. They didn’t bother her, and she didn’t bother them.

Guzzies heard a dog baying in the distance. Hunting with hounds was a popular pastime in Bolivar, especially in the Patch. Though the local game warden, Rip Felton, policed poaching and hunting out of season, during the Great Depression, many rural families depended on hunting and fishing to feed their families. Rip usually turned a blind eye, but he had to keep the Fish and Game Commission happy and paying his limited salary, so he issued the occasional citation.

It wasn’t unusual for Guzzies to hear guns and dogs barking in Bolivar. Sometimes, after they gutted some of their kills, she could find something to cook to fill her starving stomach. Guzzies kept an ear on the hunt, randomly guessing where the dog was hunting, and in her mind’s eye watching it like a moving picture show.

The barking seemed to be getting closer and closer to the Old Mill.

Crow yelled, “Grizzly is heading for the Old Mill. There are so many places for it to hide in there.”

“Yinz both keep chasing Grizzly,” Carney said. “If it is heading for the Old Mill, then I’m going to cut through the forest and wait for it. Keep pushing it in the mill’s direction,”

Crow handed the shotgun and shells to Carney. He raced after his youngest brother toward Blue’s bawling. Carney turned and headed to the Old Mill.

Guzzies warmed her hands over the fire. It wasn’t terribly cold outside, but as she aged, her extremities felt the chill more quickly than the rest of her body. She unwrapped a package of newspaper from inside her bag. Mammy Allshouse was an angel. She frequently left tidbits of food for her. Mammy never neglected her family, but if there were ever any leftovers, Mammy would wrap it up in newspaper and sneak up to her lean-to and place it in under an overturned coffee can. Today, Mammy had left her some bacon and meatloaf. Guzzies laid the meatloaf and bacon on a flat rock she had lain across the hot coals as a makeshift pan. As the meatloaf warmed, she heard a shotgun blast in very close proximity to the Old Mill. Perhaps the hunters finally got a shot at whatever they were hunting. Something strange then occurred. Usually when hunters hit their mark, celebratory whoops and yells accompanied, but this time she heard a loud and painful groan.

Crow and Wiggy heard the shotgun blast and stopped. Blue was still ahead of them heading toward the Old Mill. The shotgun blast was to the left of their position. Using their knowledge of the woods and triangulating with their auditory senses, they knew the gun blast was not at the Old Mill.

“Grizzly would have stopped at the Old Mill to catch its breath.” Crow shouted.

“You’re right, and I don’t hear Carney whooping. If he caught sight of Grizz, he would be hollering and whooping. Crow, something’s wrong.”

The Allshouse brothers forgot all about the hunt and ran in the direction of the gunshot. Blue continued bawling, baying, and barking as she trailed Grizzly.

Carney was making good time to the Old Mill. Based on Blue’s barking and his brothers whoops of encouragement, he should make it to the Old Mill before Grizz. He picked up his pace, exhilarated by the thought they would finally snag the legendary raccoon which had eluded every hunter in the Patch. They would be the talk of the neighborhood and the checkers game at the firehall.

He leaped over a fallen tree and stumbled when he landed, losing his footing; the unthinkable happened. The gun went off.

Guzzies Van Pelt was invisible in Bolivar. She stayed to herself, and everyone avoided her. Guzzies preferred the arrangement, but she wasn’t a monster. The gunshot rang out, followed by a loud groan, and then silence. She wrapped up her dinner, hid it under the coffee can, and hurried in the direction of the gunshot and groan.

As she made her way in the darkness, she spotted the glow of a lantern. She moved toward it and saw what she feared. Carney Allshouse lying on the ground, a dark stain spreading around his left side. His eyes were wide, filled with fear, disbelief, and pain. A low moan escaped his lips as he lifted his shirt. At least a half dozen tiny pellets were embedded in his flesh, blood pulsing from each one, staining the ground beneath him.

Guzzies took off her coat and then her outer shirt. She pressed the fabric on the wounds to try and stop the blood. Recognizing the yelling from Mammy’s boys coming closer, she called to them, “Over here, just past the fallen tree.”

Wiggy and Crow appeared. “Boys, quick. Take off your shirts and undershirts and put pressure to stop the bleeding, or he’ll die. The boys obeyed. “Now the quickest one of you, run to your Mammy and Pappy. Fast like lightning.” There was no discussion. Wiggy disappeared into the darkness.

“You hold these on him as tight as you can. Guzzies’ll will get her trowel and coffee can at the Old Mill. Dirt will aid in clotting. Dig with your hands best you can. Guzzies will fill the can with water. Do it! Don’t argue. Be right back.”

Crow did as Guzzies instructed and dug his hands into the forest soil. Taking the dirt, he rubbed it into the seeping wounds. Guzzies returned shortly.

“Now young fella, we’s gonna make mudpies. Just like when you was a tot. We’ll put the mud pies on the holes to stop the bleeding. He’s still breathing and groaning, so all is not lost. Do as Guzzies says.”

Crow didn’t argue. Tears streamed down his face, but he was not sobbing. Guzzies dug her spade into the soil. Crow grabbed the loose dirt and dipped his hand into the water-filled coffee can. Guzzies did the same. They placed the primitive poultices on the bleeding wounds. After applying the mudpies, Guzzies took the boys’ shirts and put pressure on the wounds. By Guzzies count in the dim light, she observed seven holes. The majority of the shotgun blast had missed the boy.

“We’ve done all we could until help gets here. Guzzie’s will go clean out this can and bring water back to make him drink. We have to keep water in him, or he will go into shock,” Guzzies said to Crow. She didn’t have the heart to tell him his brother was already in shock. All she needed was a boy on the verge of hysteria while she was tending to the wounded one. “Here, take Guzzies coat and cover him. You snuggle your warm body up real close and give him as much of your body heat as you can. You have to keep him warm.” Guzzies disappeared once again into the night.

Wiggy knew these woods better than anyone. He knew every sight, sound, and smell. He could have been blindfolded, and he still wouldn’t have lost his way. He ran with every ounce of energy his thirteen-year-old body could summon. He caught glimpses of lights flickering from the lit windows in the Patch. He ran faster, tears streaming down his face.

Wiggy burst through the back door of the house, and Mammy jumped from the kitchen table with a shout. She was about to reprimand her youngest son, but then saw his bloody chest and the terror and tears in his eyes; she knew instantly one of her brood was in trouble.

“Kate! Lyle! Moogie! get bandages and honey!” Mammy barked orders before Wiggy spoke a word. A mother knows; a mother always knows. “Tell me, Wiggy. What’s happened?” All were on their feet. Jim, Boyd, and Pappy ran to the kitchen. The daughters ripped old bed sheets and towels into long strips while others looked for Mammy’s sewing sheers.

Wiggy, gasping for breath blubbered, “Carney, Carney is shot! The gun went off by mistake! He’s bleeding on his left side. Miss Guzzies was nearby. She’s there with Crow trying to stop the bleeding. Mammy, he’s hurt bad! He’s near the Old Mill!”

If Mammy was anything, she was stalwart in an emergency. She barked orders and never fell apart. “Pappy, you, Boyd, and Jimmy grab a plank for a stretcher and begin making your way there. We’ll follow with supplies. Pressie and Beesie, run down to Wormy Williams’s house. He has kin who are nurses, and other relatives have vehicles. We need them to fetch an ambulance and a doctor. They won’t say no. Not if they know what’s good for them. Lyle, Itch, and Moogie, put old linens on the kitchen table and start boiling water. We’ll need lots of towels. Get my sewing kit and the boys’ tackle box. We may need to stitch him up. Kate, come with me and Wiggy.” Everyone jumped to action.

Mammy, Kate, and Wiggy grabbed lanterns, threw supplies into a galvanized steel bucket and ran toward the Old Mill. Pappy and the older boys had already disappeared into the thicket.

The word-of-mouth alarm spread through the entire Patch like a fire, and the neighborhood acted. Vehicles headed into town. Patch women brought more supplies to the Allshouse home. Wormy Williams appeared. The best fisherman in the Patch, he started threading needles with fishing line for stitches. Patch men lined up in two rows from the tree line to the back door of the Allshouse homestead. When Pappy and the boys returned from the Old Mill, they would be exhausted. They would pass the makeshift stretcher down the hill from one pair of hands to the next right into the house. The women were at the pump and also made a bucket brigade. They pumped water and passed the pails up the line to the house. Some dumped the buckets into stock pots to boil water. Others poured it into pitchers. Whatever thought came to mind, the Patch residents just did it. They acted. There was no debating or conferencing to map out a plan. Just action.

Guzzies returned to the bloody scene and cradled Carney’s head into her lap. She cupped water into her hands and said, “Drink lad. You have to drink. You will need all the strength you can muster. This fight is just begun.” Carney, in and out of consciousness, lapped up the water, coughing, lapping, coughing. “There’s a good boy. Keep at it. Guzzies has as much water as you need. In the distance, Blue was bawling treed. She had cornered Grizzly, but no one heard it. The entire focus was on Carney.

“Please, Guzzies, save my brother,” Crow wept.

“Guzzies has done all she can. We just have to hope and pray your brother got help.”

At the sound of distant voices, Guzzies breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s Pappy!” Crow said.

“Go to him. Guzzies will swing around and take your place and put pressure on the bleeds and keep him warm.”

Crow dashed off towards his father and brothers, screaming, crying, waving his lantern back and forth.

“There’s a lantern swinging,” said Boyd.

They worked their way to the light. They heard Crow crying and screaming. As they drew close to him, Pappy’s heart sank when he saw Crow in full lantern light. Crow was a mess, tears streaking his face, bare-chested, and covered in mud and blood.

“Calm yourself, Crow. We need everyone in his right mind. Right now, we need strength and character,” Pappy said. “Now take us to Carney.”

He led them through the woods and over the fallen tree. Guzzies, lying by Carney’s side, pressed bloody fabric onto the wounds, pushing her fingers hard enough they were turning white. Pappy stopped breathing as he took in the sight. His son was pale-faced, sweat oozed from every pour, and his breathing labored. Pappy, keeping it together, swallowed the lump in his throat said, “Ok sons, let’s roll Carney onto the board and get him back to the house.” Pappy and Guzzies rolled Carney toward them while Boyd and Jimmy slid the board under his back. Carney groaned in pain.

They picked up the makeshift stretcher and began making their way back to the Patch. Guzzies continued to apply pressure as they walked. When they got back to the path, Mammy, Kate, and Wiggy finally caught up to them.

“Put him down, and everyone hold the lanterns, so I can see,” Mammy directed.

Guzzies lifted the bloody garments and spoke, “By my count, there are seven bullet holes. We put mud cakes on all of the wounds to slow the bleeding, but it was too hard to see in the dim light. I hope I found them all.”

“You did good, Guzzies. You done real good. Let me tie bandages around his body to help slow the blood, and then we’ll make our way to the Patch.” She took large swaths of cloth and rolled Carney twice, once in each direction and pulled the cloths under his back and around his torso. Mammy knotted the linens tightly around Carney.

“ARRRGGHHHH!” Carney groaned loudly.

“He’s still alive,” said Mammy. “Alls we can hope for at this stage. Lift men, and let’s make haste.”

Guzzies stood as the Allshouses made their way to the Patch. Mammy was intent on her son, but she stopped and turned around. “Guzzies Van Pelt, you are an angel sent straight from Heaven. I don’t know what purpose the Good Lord has for you in this life, but if it was for what you did today, then you have earned your wings. Thank you, my childhood friend.” Mammy turned and hustled after her kin.

Guzzies Van Pelt stood there in the darkness. Tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She had lived a horrible life. Abused by her father, left to fend for herself, ignored by society, she was totally alone in the world, homeless, unloved, and no one cared a lick about her. Mammy’s words touched her deeply. She had never heard a kind word in her life until this moment. She was unsure where to go and what to do next. Should she return to the Old Mill and her supper, or should she make her way down to the Patch to see how the boy fared? She stood there alone, undecided and uncertain, but the tears flowed. “You did good, Guzzies. You done real good.” Mammy’s words echoed in her head.

All the preparations the people of the Patch had put into place worked like clockwork. It goes to show when the human spirit works together, things happen. By the time the board holding Carney reached the neighborhood, Pappy and his sons were indeed exhausted. The love for Carney was the only thing giving them the energy their aching muscles needed.

The brigade took over, and the men propelled Carney to the house in half the time two people carrying him could have. Pappy and his sons began to protest, but the men of the Patch didn’t listen. “You’ve done your part, Pappy Allshouse. Now let us do ours,” a neighbor said.

The seas of people parted making way for the patient to be placed on the makeshift operating table. Mammy was right behind, but the professional nurses amongst her neighbors took the lead. Mammy let them. The skilled nurses cleansed the wounds of the mud poultices Guzzies had created. As one cloth was dirtied, unknown hands appeared, grabbing the soiled cloths and replacing with clean ones. Using fingers and tweezers, they found the pellet in each wound and dug it out. One of the neighbors appeared with some moonshine alcohol. The nurses used it to cleanse the wounds, while others used cups to get some down Carney’s gullet to anesthetize him and dull the pain. He continued to groan, all good signs. Wormy handed Mammy needles with fishing line affixed. As the nurses finished cleansing a wound, Mammy’s stitching began.

One by one, they doctored each of the seven wounds. Guzzies’ counting was spot on. Mammy couldn’t stitch up all seven wounds, but the nurses jumped in. Mammy followed up the stitches placing honey over each wound to halt infection and aid in healing, and then applied loose bandaging.

An ambulance/hearse from the local funeral home in Bolivar arrived with a doctor. He rushed in and looked over the wound care. He gave Carney a shot of penicillin and some morphine. The ambulance drivers hauled him out to the emergency vehicle.

“You folks did a fine job,” the doctor said, “A trained emergency room wouldn’t have done better. The nearest hospital is in Johnstown. Mammy, I’m assuming you are going too?”

“Just someone try to stop me!” she threatened.

After Carney left in the ambulance, everyone fell apart. The sisters were weeping; the boys were bawling, and the women of the Patch hugged and encouraged the siblings as others cleaned up the temporary emergency ward.

One by one people made their exits. As the crowd thinned outside the backdoor, Guzzies Van Pelt stood in the dark, unnoticed, and invisible. Kate opened the back door to discard wastewater and saw her. She put down the basin and made her way to her. Guzzies was a mess, blood all over her, muddied from her emergency wound care, and shivering from the cool temperatures and trauma of the evening.

“Miss Guzzies, come in the house, and let’s get you cleaned up. You have Carney’s blood all over you,” Kate said sweetly.

“Don’t want to be any trouble. Just couldn’t rest until Guzzies knowed if the boy was okay,” she replied.

“Nonsense,” Kate replied. “You are no trouble at all. Mammy would have our hides if she knew you was waiting out back, and we didn’t invite you in. Now be a dear and let us clean you up. You don’t need to be wearing blood all over Bolivar; folks will think you gutted a deer.”

Guzzies Van Pelt made her way into the Allshouse kitchen; she had never been inside the pristine home. Mammy’s six daughters began tending to her. They sent the men out and got one of Mammy’s housecoats for her to wear. Pressie washed Guzzies’ clothes in the washtub. Kate and Lyle cleaned the blood and mud off her hands, face, arms, and body. Itch and Moogie washed her hair. Beesie fixed her a plate of food and boiled water for coffee. Guzzies hated all the fuss, but she didn’t complain. She felt appreciated and cared for. It was a strange sensation. These girls doted on her. Guzzies couldn’t deny the warm feeling it gave her to feel human touch and kindness.

After they had doctored her up, Pappy came into the kitchen, sat next to Guzzies, and took her hands in his. He looked at her and saw her, truly saw her, probably the first time in all his life. Pappy smiled at her; the tears began rolling down his cheeks. Guzzies patted his hands and said, “There now, you’ll be fine. Let it out. Guzzies is here.” Pappy sobbed as did his children.

Pappy finally collected himself and choked out his thanks, “Guzzies Van Pelt… Never in all my life… never has anyone done a kinder, braver thing than you did tonight. You are a hero! And I’ll never forget what you did for as long as I live. If Carney makes it, you saved him, Guzzies Van Pelt, no one but you. Carney’d be dead now if you hadn’t acted. I’d be burying my boy save for you. We are forever in your debt.”

Pappy stared at her and emotion overtook him; the tears flowed again. Perhaps they were tears of relief, maybe tears of exhaustion, probably tears of fear for his son, likely tears of gratitude, but if Pappy really admitted it, they were tears of shame – shame for treating Guzzies as an invisible.

Guzzies drank her coffee and patted his hands. “Be all right, Pappy. Be all right,” she mumbled over and over. Some of the Allshouse children stood; some sat around the table and took it all in. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, not even Guzzies.

They fixed a bed for her on the couch and covered her up. She dozed off to sleep. She was gone when they woke the next morning.

A week went by; Mammy never left Carney’s side. Neighbors ferried Pappy and a few siblings to Johnstown each day. Ridgeview Mine Company gave Pappy some paid days off to tend to his family. Carney healed nicely and returned to the Patch.

Mammy fetched Guzzies from her lean-to. She hugged her childhood friend and begged her to come sit for a spell and see Carney. After some coaxing, Mammy grabbed her hand and led her into the house.

Carney was lying on the sofa. His siblings all around him fussing over him. When they saw Guzzies Van Pelt, everyone stopped talking. “Wiggy, get Miss Guzzies a chair here next to me,” Carney instructed.

Guzzies sat down, not knowing what to say. Finally, she muttered, “Glad to see you mended so well.”

“Miss Guzzies.” Carney choked up and had to collect himself. “Miss Guzzies, Mammy done told me what you did. Doctors and nurses said your battlefield surgery saved my life. I don’t remember much, but I have some memory of a someone making me drink water. I’m guessing was you?”

“Yes, t’was Guzzies,” she whispered.

“Miss Guzzies, I’m grateful, truly I am,” Carney blubbered.

“Glad Guzzies was nearby. Guess it was fate,” she smiled. “Did yinz ever collect your hound? Went back the next morning, and it was still making an awful racket at the Old Mill.”

Wiggy spoke up, “Yes we did. Blue treed Grizzly in the rafters. Crow and me retrieved her the next day. The raccoon was growling and hissing.”

Crow continued, “We didn’t have the heart to kill it. Truth is we kinda lost our stomach for hunting. We had to drag Blue all the way home and tie her to her doghouse to keep her from returning to the Old Mill to finish what she had started. Blue wailed a mournful howl for hours.”

Guzzies smiled, “Guzzies best be on her way.” Guzzies patted Carney’s hand as she stood, “Glad you is home.” She shuffled off toward the kitchen.

Mammy handed her a potato sack and whispered, “I fixed you some treats. Guzzies, whenever you need a meal, I expect you to knock. PERIOD!”

Guzzies smiled and whispered, “Yes Ma’am.”

Word spread through the Borough of Bolivar of the heroics of Guzzies Van Pelt. Bolivar held a ceremony and awarded Guzzies the Citizen of Honor Award. She was its first recipient. Years later, veterans of World War II received the award also, Itchy Lybald among them.

Guzzies Van Pelt was never invisible again. She was welcomed wherever she went, and never went hungry. Folks waved and said hello; Guzzies smiled and waved back.

The men of the Patch built her a one-room log cabin up on the hill overlooking the Allshouses’ back door. It was a humble abode but perfect for Guzzies. It was warm in the winter and a cool breeze blew through in the summer. She never had to sleep in a lean-to, camp out in abandoned building, or escape the elements in a root cellar again. It’s not clear who owned the land where her forever home stood, but no one ever questioned it.

Furnished with a table, a chair, and a cot, Guzzies couldn’t remember the last time she slept in a bed or sat in a chair for a meal. The women in the Patch outfitted her with kitchenware and utensils, while Mammy and her daughters decorated and made curtains.

Rip Felton, a capable woodworker and Kate’s beau, built Guzzies a wooden rocker for her front porch. She would sit on it most days for the rest of her life with a Mason jar of lemonade or iced tea in her hand. Pappy and Mammy often joined her, visiting well into the night.

Guzzies was welcome to anything she desired in the Allshouse garden or root cellar. Mammy tried to get her to join them for evening meals, but Guzzies always declined. Though she was no longer homeless, she enjoyed her solitude. Folks understood and didn’t infringe.

On a brisk autumn day, years in the future, Guzzies was seen walking in the direction of the Old Mill. She never returned. Some believed she knew she was dying and didn’t want there to be a fuss, so she just found a quiet place to rest and drifted off to sleep. The Patch assembled a search party to look for her, but they never found a clue to her disappearance.

Mammy believed and often said, “Guzzies was sent by God for one purpose, to rescue my son from certain death. Once her life was over, the Good Lord just took her straight to heaven and made Guzzies Van Pelt one of His angels. I believe Guzzies still walks among us as a divine appointment, guarding us, protecting us.”

Months went by. It was colder and winter was setting in. The house was quiet. Her children raised and had begun families of their own. After the war, only Wiggy returned to live in Bolivar.

Mammy finished up some canning and made her way to the root cellar. She shelved the produce and noticed a potato sack under the wooden stairs that led to the exterior door. She reached for it to hang it on the wall and noticed it had some weight to it. Mammy reached in and pulled out a folded scrap of paper and a piece of wood. She opened the folded paper and gasped as she read the following:

Dear Mammy,

Guzzies don’t possess nothing of value from this life except this plaque. Guzzies thinks you might like to have it. Thank you for all the kindness you have shown me.

Your friend,

Guzzies Van Pelt

Mammy turned over the plaque to see:

Borough of Bolivar

Citizen of Honor Award

Guzzies Van Pelt

Mammy’s knees went weak. She collapsed on the dirt floor of the root cellar and grieved for Guzzies Van Pelt, her beloved friend. She clutched the plaque to her chest as the tears flowed.

Mammy had a gravestone etched and placed in the Allshouse family cemetery next to Wormy Williams’s final resting place: