by
MagdalenMary495
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and
have been used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.
Setting:
The private Barkley railroad car on it’s way to Stockton for Thanksgiving.
Jarrod is relaxing in a chair , hidden behind a newspaper, his feet up on a
small table. He’s minding Jenny and Nicky while Louisa visits with a friend in
the dining car. The children are stretched out on the floor drawing mustaches
on the ladies in a catalog and making curls on the cowboys heads. The
conversation has turned to Thanksgiving with a Jenny slant.
“You wanna know why there’s a Thanksgiving, Nicky?”
Nicky looked up from the mustache he’d just drawn on an elegant lady .”Me know
already. We go to Grammie’s an’ eat turkey.”
“That’s not what Thanksgiving is all about!” Jenny shook her head at his
ignorance. “Don’t you know nothing about the Pill rums? Or the nice Indian
named Squash? Mama told me all about it the day before last night.”
“What’s a Pill rum?”
Jenny drew a squiggly line on the paper crinkling her nose in deep thought as
she tried to remember what Mama said. “I think it’s some people’s who road on a
big boat called the flowers in May. They floated across a big ocean–member when
Daddy took us to see the ocean?” Nicky nodded. “The pill rums came from the
other side of the water because a bad king chased them out of town. When they
got to ‘Merica, the boat crashed into a big rock.”
“Berry big rock?”
“Bigger than our house! The boat crashed and the pill rums said, ‘dirty darn
our boat is wrecked we will stay here and make a fort.’ So they did.”
Behind his paper, Jarrod hid a smile at Jenny’s version of the Mayflower
landing at Plymouth Rock. He made a note to repeat the conversation to amuse
the family later. Pill rums and Squash!
He settled back in the chair to listen in case there was more, careful not to
make any sudden movements to give himself away.
“Mama said the Pill rums had the first Thanksgiving because they were happy to
have a new home away from the bad king. They made a big party for all the
Indians who were their friends like Squash.” Jenny puckered her face. “Maybe
his name wasn’t Squash. Maybe it was Squish or Squint. I can’t remember now.”
“Squash,” Nicky repeated solemn eyed. “A nice Indian and pill rums for
Thanksgibbon.”
“Anyway, Nicky. We have a holeday cause the Pill rums and Indians started
Thanksgiving. That’s why we go to Grammie’s and eat turkey.”
Nicky sat up and stared in frank admiration at his big sister. Sissy
is smart, knowing all about the Pill rums and Squash.
He couldn’t wait until he was five and knew all those stories. ”Did the Pill
rums eat turkey, Sissy, with tatas and gravies?”
“No, they ate pigs like Daudra!” Jenny teased, looking up at her brother with a
teasing glint in her eyes. No matter how much she tried to be a good girl and
leave Daudra alone, she just couldn’t help what Mama called “provoking” Nicky.
It was too much fun.
Nicky squealed in alarm, grabbing his spotted pig up tight and holding him
close. “They did not! Pappy, the Pill rums didn’t eat Daudra did they?”
“Jennifer,” Jarrod warned from behind the paper, rattling it a little for
emphasis, “what happens to little girls who tease their brothers?”
“I don’t know, Daddy,” Jenny said in all innocence with a wide, who-me smile on
her face. “I don’t know any little girls who tease their brothers.”
Jarrod lowered the paper to give her a stern glare. “Little girls I know who
indulge in teasing are going to be standing in the corner alone pondering the
error of their way. Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she mumbled meekly, lowering her eyes until Jarrod lifted the
paper to his face again. Real quick she stretched her mouth with her fingers
and make a mean face at Nicky and his dirty darned pig. It worked opposite to
how she’d meant it because Nicky laughed. He thought she was being funny. Dirty
darn brother! Hadn’t she told Mama and Daddy she didn’t want a brother? Or even
a sister?
Every Thanksgiving Mama and Daddy made her say she was thankful for a brother
even though Jenny knew it was a dirty darned lie. She’d wanted a Jersey calf
instead cause Uncle Nick told her it would grow up to give only ice cream.
Nicky sure was a disappointment when you expected to have ice cream every day.
Once Jenny was sure Daddy had gotten interested in his paper again, she sat up
straight and leaned to whisper to Nicky. “You know what happens when we get to
Grammies? You member last year?”
“No.”
“You gotta know about Thanksgiving at Grammie’s house so I’ll tell you. There’s
rules for Thanksgiving. Don’t you know the rules from last year?”
Nicky thought, hugging Daudra in case her feelings were still hurt because of
Sissy. Furrowing his brow until his dark eyebrows almost touched, he thought as
hard as he could but all he remembered from last year was Uncle Nick helping
him pull apart a bone from the turkey and telling him to make a wish. He
remembered the wish! “I wished on a turkey bone.”
“What did you wish for?”
“I wished,” Nicky’s eyes sparkled in his beaming face, “I wished Uncle Nick
would stop bothering me and let me eat my tatas.”
Behind the paper Jarrod snorted a laugh, disguising it as a cough. He gave up
all pretense of reading the news to listen. It took every ounce of control not
to burst out laughing at the seriousness of Jenny’s twisted instructions.
Jenny rolled her eyes disgusted at Nicky being so dumb. You think with Daddy
being so smart he could have a son who knew the rules of Thanksgiving. “Listen,
careful, Nicky, cause you have to know these things.”
“First, we get to the ranch and everybody hugs and kisses us.”
Nicky nodded happily. He remembered that part well. It happened whenever they
went to the ranch.
“Then we do some other stuffs and finally the next day comes and it’s
Thanksgiving. Mama and Grammie and Aunt Audra and Mr. Silas get up way, way,
way before the sun and start cooking the turkey in the stove. So when you wake
up you smell lots of good smells and you’re so hungry you want to eat and eat
and eat...” Jenny paused to make sure she had Nicky’s full attention. Satisfied
by his wide eyed, interested face she went on, “but Nicky, cause it’s
Thanksgiving you have to starve till dinnertime.”
“You do?”
“You don’t get nothin’ to eat cept maybe a glass of milk and some bread and
butter.”
Nicky’s brown eyes filled with tears of disbelief. “Why, Sissy? Was we bad?”
“No, it’s just cause it’s Thanksgiving. It’s a rule. You got to be starving
fore you get to eat the big dinner.”
Nicky didn’t quite remember that part and wished he wasn’t being told now.
Thanksgibbon sounded horrible already. Somehow he would have to make sure Mama
gave him something to eat. Or Mr. Silas. Or Grammie.
“You wait and wait and wait all day long,” Jenny assured him, embellishing the
tale a touch because she wanted to see his reaction. Nicky was such a good
person to tease because he always fell for her taunts, “Then you finally get to
sit down at the table for dinner with a big, big turkey and lots of smashed
potatoes.”
“Then we gets to eat?”
Jenny shook her head sadly, patting Nicky’s small hand. With mournful eyes she
told him the truth, “No, Nicky, cause it’s time for Uncle Nick to pray.”
“Untul Nick can pray? Me didn’t think he knowed how.”
Jarrod struggled not to laugh . A strangled chuckle caught in his throat. Nick
would get a kick out of this tale, especially Nicky’s bewilderment at his
relationship with the Almighty.
“I don’t think he does on any other day,” Jenny said seriously, “but on
Thanksgiving Grammie always makes him pray a long, long, long time. You have to
sit there and smell all that yummy food and your tummy growls and hurts cause
you’re so hungry but you can’t eat. You got to sit there with your eyes closed
and be good while Uncle Nick says a bunch of stuff we got to be thankful for.
It takes hours and hours cause Uncle Nick is making up to God for not being
thankful the whole rest of the year.”
Nicky pouted. He did not like this at all. How come Uncle Nick couldn’t say,
“Thank you, God, Let’s eat,” like Pappy did sometimes when Mama wasn’t home.
“And Nicky, you can’t wiggle around or peek or anything. You got to sit there
with your eyes squeezed shut and your hands together the whole time. And if you
peek Daddy knows even with his eyes closed.”
“With his eyes closed?” Nicky darted a respectful glance toward the paper that
hid Jarrod. Pappy was magic.
“Yes. Daddies always know if you peek and wiggle.” She scooted closer and
whispered a warning. “Our Daddy taps his foot against your foot if you peek. He
can smack under the table too without unfolding his hands or looking at all.
Very, very hard too!”
Nicky’s eyes widened in horror. Mouth slightly open, he gaped at Jenny in
stunned surprise. Why did peoples have Thanksgibbon if it was this awful?
Jarrod, who had only once tapped Jenny’s leg gently, cleared his throat and
almost interrupted this outright lie. He could remember the holiday meal in
tortured detail because two state senators and a priest had been sharing the
dinner. For reasons known only to herself, Jenny’s crowning moment of
naughtiness happened when she poked an olive on each finger and wiggled two
pickle slices in her mouth like long green teeth. He’d given her knee a gentle
thump and frowned. Hardly the abusive treatment she remembered. Jarrod frowned
behind the paper.
“You don’t wanna sit by Daddy,” Jenny announced in dire prophecy, “or Mama
either.”
“Me like Mama. Me sit by her at home.”
Jenny smiled a sad smile, her eyes tender. “Not on Thanksgiving, Nicky. You
don’t wanna sit by Daddy cause you got to behave every second,” she emphasized
the ‘every’ as if it were a fate worse than death. “And Mama is worser. Mama
puts little bits of every food on your plate and says, ‘just try a teensy
little bite, darling. You might like it.’”
A garbled snort escaped Jarrod’s lips at Jenny’s perfect imitation of her
mother. He covered this by coughing and making a big show of clearing his
throat. Louisa would love to know what her daughter thought of her attempts at
improving her tastes in food. The children were strangely silent for a few
minutes while Jarrod waited holding his breath. Would Jenny continue her
instruction? To his amusement she did.
“The best person to sit by is Grammie. She don’t put anything on your plate she
knows you don’t like. You can swing your feet an’ wiggle an’ eat olives off
your fingers and be bad and she don’t say nothin.’”
“Me sit by Grammie.” Nicky decided firmly.
Jenny shook her head at his innocence. “You don’t get to choose, Nicky. Aunt
Audra makes cards with all the peoples names on it and you got to sit where she
says. You might get Grammie or maybe Uncle Heath. It’s good to sit by Uncle Heath
too. Know why?”
Nicky shook his head no. Learning the rules of Thanksgibbon was worse than
learning to button your shirt.
“If you don’t like somethin’,” she leaned close to whisper conspiratorially as
Jarrod strained to hear, “he slips it on his own plate!”
“Me sit by Uncle Heath.”
“No, you can’t! I’m sitting next to him cause this year Dr. Merar and Mrs. Dr.
Merar are comin’ to Thanksgiving and you know what that means?”
Nicky whimpered, he couldn’t even imagine what horrible thing this could mean,
“No.”
“Mrs. Dr. Merar will bring her yucky, nasty, horrible candy squash.”
“Me like candy.” Nicky wasn’t sure about the squash part but candy was always
good. Wasn’t it? Maybe candy on Thanksgibbon changed to taste like liver.
Nothing about this scary day would surprise him now.
“No, Nicky, nobody likes her candy squash. Even Uncle Nick hides his under his
bread an’ Mama and Grammie only eat it cause they don’t want to hurt her
feelings. Once,” Jenny’s voice rose indignantly over this remembered outrage,
“Daddy made me eat two whole bites of it! Yucky!” Jenny made gagging sounds
that Nicky imitated in sympathy. “I told her it was the worsted thing I ever
ate too! Then Daddy said, ‘scuse us’ and took me out in the kitchen.”
“Den you got pumished.” He asked eagerly. Nicky loved stories where Jenny get
punished. Sissy was mean to Daudra so much he liked knowing there was some
justice in the world.
“No, “ Jenny dashed his hopes. “Daddy just talked lots of words I forgot. Then
he made me look at all the pies...punkin’ and apple and peach and blackberry
and lemon and he asked if I wanted some pie. So I said yes and Daddy said if I
wanted pie I gots to eat more squash.”
Nicky’s eyes lit up at this revelation, knowing how Jenny loved pie. “You eated
the squash?”
“Ha!” Jenny gave a short laugh, her face lit up with bitter triumph, “I
pretended but when Daddy didn’t look I hid it in the ledge under Grammie’s
table. Uncle Nick showed me it’s where he always hid his peas when he was
little.”
“Me sit by Untul Nick?” Nicky asked hopefully, only to have Jenny give him
another sad shake of her head.
“Sitting by Uncle Nick is too hard cause he moves all the time. He taps his
feets and throws his hands all over and talks too loud it hurts your ears. Then
he...” Jenny’s eyes widened in surprise as Nicky put his hands over his ears
and squeezed his eyes tight. “Don’t you want to hear more? Nicky? NICKY!”
Nicky opened his tear filled eyes, “Me don’t want to have Thanksgibbon, Sissy.
Never, ever.”
Jarrod started to fold his paper and go to his son’s aid when he saw Jenny
scoot close enough to put her arm around her brother in a comforting hug. “Yes,
you do, Nicky. Thanksgiving is a good day once everybody gets done eating.
Everybody gets to take naps...”
Nicky gave a startled gasp. Not a NAP too! How much worse could this day get?
No eating, no wiggling while Uncle Nick prayed and then you had to take a nap!
“It’s not like not Thanksgiving day naps,” Jenny hastened to reassure him,
“cause we get to get in the big bed with Mama and Daddy and they don’t make us
go to sleep right away. You can tickle Daddy or talk an’ sometimes Mama even
lets us jump on the bed! With Daddy already in it and he don’t get mad!”
“Nuh, uh.”
“It’s true! Then when everybody gets up the whole family goes for a long, long
ride in a wagon filled up with hay. When we get home everybody gets to eat
again but this time Daddy prays and he does it fast. We get to stay up late and
eat pie an’ popcorn and drink apple cider and Aunt Audra plays the piano so we
can sing. Everybody talks and laughs and plays games. You can even be a little
naughty without getting yelled at cause all the grown ups are too stuffed with
turkey to chase you. Thanksgiving is a good day, Nicky.”
Nicky sniffed back tears and asked woefully, “For true, Sissy?”
“And you know what the bestest thing about Thanksgiving is, Nicky?”
“What?”
“Once you get over Thanksgiving it’s almost time for Christmas! And, Nicky,
guess what we get to eat on Christmas?”
“Turkey?” he quavered. “Tandy squash?”
“Daudra!”
“No!”
“Jennifer!"