Hi. My name is Bud. It is really Billy Bob, but everyone calls me Bud. It sounds like mud. I live way up at the end of Calders draw. Momma said we have been there forever. I think she thinks that is a good thing.
Our house is like most in the back country, it is a log house set up high above the crick with rock supports that keep it in place, most of the time.
The roof only leaks when it rains and then only in some places. We put a pan under the leaks and throw it out the door so it lands on the ground just like it would have if the roof hadn't leaked. I think that whole idea was Momma's idea. It works really good. Momma is really smart. She went to the 5th grade before she knew all she needed to know.
We can sit on the porch of an evening and listen to the coon hounds runnin' those big ring tails through the river bottoms. The birds sing most all day, but I like the mornin's most. If I listen real close I can tell where the quail are singin' and then I can go fetch me a mess of them for supper.
I don't know what Momma would do without me. My sister and brother have moved out and gone to town to work and live. Momma said that wasn't what I should do. She said I was gonna stay right here in the hills and make somethin' of myself.
I reckon I am about 18 years old now. I don't recall when I was born, but Momma says that is about right. She was there, so she should know as well as anyone.
For the last two years I have been cuttin' wood for the neighbors. Momma says my daddy was a wood cutter, so I guess I am kinda following the family tradition. Daddy isn't around anymore. He travels a lot.
Momma speaks kindly of him however. I remember one time she told me he wasn't the sharpest axe in the woods, but he did have the longest handle she had ever seen.
She had a far off, kinda wistful look about her when she talked about daddy.
I went out and found me a good hickory limb and made me a really long handle for my axe, and I went my daddy one better and kept my axe sharp too. I don't know if my handle was longer than Daddy's handle. When I showed Momma my long handle she wouldn't tell me.
I know my Momma loves me. Sometimes she does this certain think when she talks to me, and I know when she does it that it is Momma's way of showing me she loves me. And when I showed Momma my long axe handle she did it. She kinda gets all speechless and looks down at her feet and shakes her head back and forth slow like.
When I was about 12 I had made it to 3rd grade. Mrs. Marme, the teacher, took me by the hand and walked me all the way home. She was nice like that. When we got home she told Momma, "I just don't think I can teach him anymore."
Momma and Mrs. Marme both just looked down and slowly shook their heads side to side.
I was so proud of myself. Here I was only 12 years old and already I knew so much my teachers couldn't teach me anymore. Momma and I agreed I didn't need to spend anymore time in school after I already knew it all.
Of a Sunday, we would go to church. Momma made me wash up in the crick and I had to have both straps of my coveralls over my shoulders. I didn't mind much though. Sometimes I got to sneak off to the woods with some of the girls after the preacher swept out the devil and all his buddies. The men would head around the church and take a nip of shine. The women would sit and eat fried chicken and drink tea under the oaks. And the kids old enough to look cross wise at their boy or girl friend would wait until the women were gossipin' and slide away into the woods.
There was only one girl in the hills I was interested in, and that was Lula May Cratchet. She was just like Momma. Whenever I hugged Momma, I couldn't reach all the way around her. Now don't think I am just a little feller. I stand tall enough I need to duck to get through most doors. And my shoulders are wide enough I need to go in sideways on some doors.
But when it came to women, I wanted them just like Momma. She was big and soft and you couldn't throw her up in a tree like some of the little skinny things I had seen.