Estella’s Ass: That Brays at Midnight

By Colt Travannion

The information about the book is not available as of this time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669851721

Colt Travannion

Colt Travannion was born in Crenshaw County, AL. The fifth of six brothers and a ½ sister. Education: He earned his BS Degree, his Masters Degree and his EDS. Degree at the University of Alabama. Profession: Teacher of every grade from Kindergarten through college level; Special Education, French, English, Art, Math and was a consultant over eight school systems for Teachers of Special Education in Georgia. He was a certified Psychometrist and Psychological Counselor. After teaching for 35 years, and raising four sons and four daughters, he retired. Following retirement, he lived in Paris, France, and traveled throughout countries in Western Europe and Asia. In Beijing, he taught English to Pre-med and pre-law students. Traveling was a special interest, particularly in Egypt. Living in the Appalachian Mountains, in the region of Western North Carolina was a favorite place in the USA, where several generations of his Scoth-Irish ancestors settled, before migrating to GA and AL. Hobbies: Played in a string band (Appalachian Dulcimer) for ten years, painting, writing, reading, ancestral research...and playing with cat, Cinder and dog, Mojo. He has nine grandsons and 3 granddaughters, and 6 great grandchildren. He now lives in seclusion in Columbiana, AL.

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ESTELLA’S ASS

That Brays at Midnight

Colt Travannion

Copyright © 2022 by Colt Travannion.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/18/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

846538

CONTENTS

Preface

The Characters

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Postscript

PREFACE

This narrative was meant to be a screenplay, and although it is close enough to be such, it actually took on the properties of a novel, which overshadowed that idea from the beginning pages. I even preferred to use the word scene instead of chapter for the different segments.

Although the characters are fictitious, I have known each of them at some time in my lifespan, and every word spoken herein, came from the lips of one or another, in different place, at different times and in different circumstances. I have known each of the characters personally (I have given them different names), and the words they speak through these characters, I hold in my memories from some event I witnessed, or shared in personally. The fact that some of the characters never knew each other, enabled me to write about each one in a style that gives them their individual personality, while associating them within the assemblage of family.

In my mind, most of the characters are of equal importance, and I never meant for any one character to be the main character. If one did evolve as the lead character, it would be Estella Hawkins Cathcart.

The setting is flexible. It could be the northern areas of Mississippi, Alabama or Georgia....perhaps in the foothills of southern Arkansas, or South Carolina. Since I have lived in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, I think the north-east corner of Alabama is a good setting. I heard talk of the denizens of that area: Those on Sand Mountain say that those across the valley (where Fort Payne is located) on Lookout Mountain are back-woodsy hillbillies; Those on Lookout Mountain say that those in the valley are white trash that blew off Sand Mountain. However different they may be, they are interesting people. But not all of my characters came from there and some not even from this country.

The characters in my book are not inconsequential, as they were all real people I have known....one is even based on myself. The story is about relationships, disappointments, regrets and dreams.

Although in reality, they did not share the same space in this world, nor the same point in time, since they are in my lifetime of memories, I have encapsulated them in one set of family, leaving each one unfettered to live independently of each other.

The setting, the time, nor the situations involved do not impede the personalities of the different characters. I have followed respectively, down pathways to where each one has lead me. Because of that, fiction is in the mix. Writing the story has brought back to me great memories of fine people. I knew them all. I am one of them (almost).

THE CHARACTERS

SECORAH McCALLISTER...the elder spinster sister who hated the past, but could not find the future

BETTY JANE McCALLISTER ATCHESON...the middle sister who was fortunate enough to marry well and move away

CLARISSA McCALLISTER...the younger sister who disgraced the family and was banished from the family home.

ESTELLA CATHCART...Clarissa’s mother-in-law whose grandchildren thought would never die

TRISTRAN COLT...Secorah’s beau who loved and lost

VANE...Secorah’s mysterious son

MILLICENT CATHCART...Clarissa’s daughter by her first husband, Henry Cathcart

DAVID BLUNT...Clarissa’s son by her second husband, Joe Blunt

DAISY BLUNT...Clarissa’s daughter who aspired to become an artist

BOBBY JOE BLUNT...Clarissa’s son who wanted to find his father

BILLY RAY BLUNT... the youngest of the Blunt Children, always a little slow on the uptake

BLAIR JUNKIN...who courted Millicent Cathcart

BLAIN JUNKIN...who also courted Millicent...twin of Blair

BILL JUNKIN...grandfather of the twin boys

CAROLINE McCALLISTER...cousin of the McCallister sisters

JOE BLUNT...Clarissa’s no-account second husband

RUBY JEWEL CRUMP...older woman was in service to Secorah, but not as a maid

MOLLIE...Secorah’s maid

JESSE...Secorah’s farm hand who did little more than repair fences and shop for her

SHAD SCONION...bootlegger who supplied Estella with medicinal spirits

MAYOR JOHN ATCHESON...Betty Jane’s husband.

JULIE...a school mate who David hoped to see again someday (a flash back)

TWO COLLEGE PROFESSORS...who offer Daisy a scholarship

THE ANIMALS

OLD JAKE...the ass

NANCY...the cow

DOG...David’s pet

MAUD...the much valued mule

OLD RED and other chickens; ducks, geese, turkeys and guineas

SCENE 1

Estella, standing outside of the barnyard fence, looked at Old Jake and then she said to David, I’m a’givin’ him to you, David. From now on, he’s your’n to take care of. Don’t take him back to the fields, ‘cause he ain’t no more use, no more than I am. He can’t pull a plough and I can’t push one. We’uns is both wore out. My Pa bought him nigh onto forty year back. He’s been a good old jack-ass, hard worker all his life, just like me. So, you take good care of him and let him rest now, you hear. He’s nearly blind, barely can tell day from night, I’m a’guessin’, ‘cause when he gits hongry, he’s a’goin’ to start his braying whether hit’s day or night. My Pa always said that when a crow perches on a tomb-stone, or when a ass brays at midnight, somebody’s a’goin’ to die. So don’t forget to feed him a’fore you go to bed every night. And give him some lovin’ now and agin.

David stroked Old Jake’s nose as he watched Estella walk back to her rocking chair on the side porch of the grand old log house.

The glossy, golden glory of the sinking sun softly set a purple mist around David, as he stood in the warm velvet twilight of evening. He could see a trace of sun rays behind the smoky blue, trimmed with a lace of burnished golden yellow, edged atop with a thin lining that glistened like a thread of spider’s web in the brightness of mid-day. He watched as the timid sun hid once again behind the now purple horizon. In an instant, purple vanished, disappearing behind the faded rays of sunlight, leaving only darkness as black and blank as the feeling that had swept over him when the beauty of the sunset had been erased from his view. It was a feeling, void of emotions: not sadness, nor melancholy; not joy, nor happiness, that left him in no way a degree of excitement, nor disappointment. No results of any events in life were upon him. That idle darkness in his heart vanished as suddenly as did the sunset. Now was his life, and thus it would always be...not yesterday, not tomorrow, but now. His only thought as he walked to the side porch to enter the kitchen door was Estella’s statement that, When the ass brays at midnight, somebody’s a’goin’ to die.

All of the family were seated at the table, finishing their last helpings. Estella remarked, Your sweet potato pie was good, Clarissa. You should have put a little more butter in it. ‘Though it was good. I would have left it in the oven a few more minutes, but it was fine just the way you made it. Despite Estella’s rather vague complaints about the pie, she left not a tittle of the dessert on her plate.

As was her custom (after dinner), Estella went to her rocking chair on the side porch to see if there was a moon somewhere. She enjoyed the hushed, warm evenings of summer, especially when the moon was bright enough for her to see the trees, the fences, the dusty road, the barnyard, and night creatures running about in her world where she had spent her entire life. Clarissa and Millicent were clearing the dining table and washing dishes. David had answered Old Jake’s ululation from the barnyard, and was on his pathway to feed the hungry beast. Such a small animal he was, to have a braying as loud as a foghorn. Bobby Joe and Billy Ray were naked at the water pump, washing off the dust of the day in preparation for bedtime.

The moon was rising, big and yellow, lighting up the surroundings. Estella gazed along the fence row that ran parallel with the road. The mocking birds and cardinals were quiet and still in their nesting places in the trees at the edge of the yard. No sounds could be heard, not even a swishing of a breeze through the needles of the tall pine trees behind the house. Tomorrow’s Holy Light of dawn would unfurl the morning glory blooms that grew along the fence. Her thought was that she would be up early (as usual) to sit on the porch and see the sweet blooms of white, blue, pink and purple morning glories while she waited for Clarissa to bring her first cup of coffee.

She looked beyond the fence and up the hillside where she could see the tops of the tall chimneys of the old McCallister house. She thought, Someday, I’m a’goin’ to walk up that road and have a chat with Secorah McCallister and learn me some McCallister history. She never did.

Secorah’s ambivalent feelings concerning her relationship with Tristran Colt were sometimes overwhelming to a degree which made her want to scream. Other times, she felt nothing at all for him. She was not even sure that she still loved him. Perhaps she loved only the cherished memories of their childhood days, their growing up together with her sisters and her cousin Caroline. They were visions which she held dear to her heart. Her feelings were forever vacillating so that it became a distraction in the predilection of her daily treadmill, which had become implanted in her lifestyle. At once, her attitude was both blissful and bleak. She met with desperation in her attempt to hate Tristran. Love for him was not something of which she was ever assured, could never be assured, after what had happened. Still, why was his handsome face so much with her after all the years that had passed with her never seeing him? Maybe it was her deep-rooted love for him, or perhaps because of the despicable thing he had done.

SCENE 2

Blair and Blain Junkin were twins, both of whom were blessed with extraordinary good looks. It was fortunate for them that both had inherited the best genes from both parents. No one could say that one was the good-looking one and the other the ugly one. They were equally favored with fair features and fit anatomy. Blain with his very dark wavy hair, dimpled cheeks and complexion as fair as a summer day, and eyes as dark as midnight stars that sparkled without a moon, and Blair with his brilliant red curly hair and complexion that had only a scattering of becoming freckles and eyes as green as the lush meadow in springtime, caught the glances and (quite often) the flirtations of all the girls in school. The twins, who did not appear to be even close cousins, and certainly not brothers, were inseparable, best friends and had been thus since they were babies. Their mother had died giving birth to them, and they had been cared for by various and sundry relatives until they were old enough to live with their grandfather, Bill Junkin, who lived just half a mile down the road past Estella’s property. Actually, they had been cast off (as it were) on Mr. Bill Junkin, much to his surprise and displeasure.

The Junkins were farmers, as were all their distant neighbors. At least they lived at a place which had once been a farm. The house was a two-story old house which had never been given a coat of paint, and had a gray, dismal appearance with no window curtains and a few broken window panes. But the old house had been built to last, and so it had endured through four generations and numerous storms and severe winters and summers of extreme battering.

The twin’s father had gone away as soon as he could be free of the responsibility of raising them, and so it fell into their grandfather’s lot to see after the young boys. Bill had never been a teetotaler, and could often be seen staggering to the barnyard to care for his few animals during the last hours of the day. As he grew older, and the twins grew into strong young boys, Grandpa Junkin did less farm work and more drinking, while the two brothers kept the run-down farm as well as their knowledge (and willingness) would allow.

Millicent, Clarissa’s elder daughter, was unhappy when the boys dropped out of school in order to keep the farm going as a livelihood. The boys and she had ridden the school bus together since grade school, and she knew that they lived only a short distance down the road. When they grew older, Millicent and her brother, David, would visit the twins and play together when there was no work to be done. Their dropping out of school was saddening to Millicent. However, it meant that Millicent did not have to share their attention with other school girls. As years went by, she became rather possessive of the boys, and a bit jealous when, at Church she would see the girls winking and flirting, making a fuss over ‘her twins’.

Estella, Millicent’s grandmother, constantly reminded her that the Junkins were not to be thought of as her friends (nor any of her school mates), as they would not fit into the plans which she had made for Millicent. Estella had saved money through the years for Millicent to attend college. Estella would remind her granddaughter that someday she would be away to college and become somebody. Staying on the farm was not in her plans for her. Marriage to one of the Junkin twins was definitely an outlandish idea.

Despite Estella’s constant grumbling about Millicent’s association with Blair and Blain, she was often in their company. Eventually, when they reached their teen-age years, the boys began to ask Millicent to go to the movie theater in town. She was allowed to go, by Clarissa, only if David was welcome to accompany his sister with the boys. The boys had learned to drive their grandfather’s old truck, which had not had an up-to-date license in questionable years. Estella objected to Clarissa’s approval, as she did to most everything that anyone else did or said.

Each of the boys desired Millicent’s attention, but it was a difficult to be alone with her, as both boys enjoyed each other’s company as well, and there, too, were Millicent’s younger sister and brothers with whom they had to contend, besides Estella.

Millicent had been a pretty little girl, and as a teenager, she had become quite beautiful, just as was her mother. Clarissa could see in her daughter her own beauty when she was crowned, Miss Water Mellon Queen of 1938. But a rather hard life had taken a toll on her appearance. The beautiful features of her face were still apparent, but a lack of make-up products and many hours spent in the garden during the hot summers had diminished her glamour. Her first husband, Henry Cathcart, (Estella’s only child) had died before Millicent was born. Her second husband, Joe Blunt, was the father of David, Daisy, Bobby Joe and Billy Ray. He had been a poor excuse as a husband and provider from the beginning of their marriage. Clarissa was always aware that Estella could put them out of her house at any time, as she despised Joe Blunt. The feeling was mutual, and Joe so disliked Estella that he went into the city and found work in a cotton mill in order to distance himself from her. Estella never overlooked a chance to make derogatory remarks about Joe, and she did not care that he could hear her statements concerning his character. Five children and a no-good husband and a disgruntled mother-in-law had left Clarissa with no time to be concerned about her own looks, but there were times when she would take a few minutes just to stare at her beautiful daughter, and to dream of days gone by, when she herself was the belle of the ball.

Secorah, being the firstborn of the three sisters, was heir to the property, and she stood apart from all other young girls at balls and parties, including her sisters. Her parents had trained her to become the grand hostess of Redoak, when she would become its owner. Due to circumstances beyond her control, Secorah never went away to a finishing school, nor college. Betty Jane, the middle sister, leapt at the opportunity to go away to college...to go away from Red Oak. She had met and married a young man of a wealthy Mississippi family, who, quite naturally, were curious as to why their son and Betty Jane had eloped, having no relatives and friends present at a grand wedding. Nevertheless, Betty Jane had been welcomed into the family by John’s relatives, and his parents were well pleased with John Atcheson’s choice of a bride.

Clarissa was the younger sister. She was always referred to as the pretty one by relatives and friends. Her fair complexion and light hair color was from her mother’s side of the family. Neither of her two sisters were plain. Secorah’s charm made her popular with everyone, especially Tristran Colt, who had loved her since he first kissed her when he was ten and she was eight. Betty Jane’s delightful personality made up for her lack of beauty. The sisters and their cousin, Caroline, had grown up together, since Caroline’s parents had died of the fever. The four girls had enjoyed a happy and elegant childhood. As young ladies, they had looked forward from one party to the next, dancing with neighborhood boys, and boys from wealthy families whose homes were in the city. Their parents knew how to host balls and parties and the ball-room of the house was always filled with guests who were happy to receive invitations. Though not antiquated, the balls at Red Oak were a shadow of the ones once enjoyed in antebellum days. Margaret Mitchell had written about how the old South had vanished away with the wind through the South. But not all of the soul of the South had gone away with the wind. There would always be that feeling of loftiness in the heart of the Southern peoples. The damn Yankees took away and destroyed much of Georgia and Alabama, but they would never take away the spirit of the South. The balls at Red Oak were in keeping up with the times, but always had a touch of splendid wonder of the many years in the past.

Those days were remembered by the sisters, but their present lives did not remotely resembled such times.

Sometimes, Secorah could not remember when life was fun: beautiful bright colored ball gowns swirling; lively music echoing through the house; handsome young men vying for the next dance, and the image of faces would become cloudy and confusing. She remembered quite well the funerals. Those of her parents, her uncles and aunts, her cousins and some friends. Many of them had been laid to rest in the McCallister cemetery which was only a short distance from her home. The church building was long gone, but the gray weathered tomb stones, for the most part, stood as upright as when they were placed there. They were a reminder to Secorah that she had not always been alone, although some of the names chiseled into the granite were of people she could not remember.

Secorah did not know the Blunt children, nor the Junkin twins. None of them knew her, nor did they have any interest in who was dwelling in the big, faded white house with six columns. Indeed, they did not know whether anyone lived there, as they never saw anyone around the house as they would pass on their walk into town. Once, David thought that he had seen a face disappear behind a faded velvet drape. He was not sure that it was not a ghost from the nearby cemetery.

SCENE 3

Millicent was in the sitting room brushing her long, silky light brown hair. She sat in a ladder-back old chair near a window so that the sunshine could dry her hair as she brushed it. Estella was sitting on the wicker sofa. She said, Millicent, you are the purtiest girl in five counties! When you get your learning over with in college, you can be anybody you want to be. And you will pick a fine young rich boy for a husband.

Grandma, if you are going to lecture me about those Junkin twins, just don’t start on it. Those two don’t mean anything to me. I mean, they are not interested in me like you think. We are all just friends.

There ain’t a man on God’s green earth that ain’t interested in a purty girl like you, Millicent, and you know what kind of interest I’m a’talkin’ about. And that includes them two country bumpkins that live down the road a piece. You just mind what I say and keep your mind off’n them two.

Millicent responded, They are not so bad, Grandma. They are always nice to me. And neither one of them would ever let the other one disrespect me. They certainly would not let any of those town boys hang around me. Feeling that her hair was still a bit damp, she continued to brush her hair in the warm sun. Also, she continued to defend Blair and Blain Junkin. They are good boys, and they take good care of their grandpa. They work hard, too, trying to keep that old run-down farm making crops. When I go off to college, I’ll probably never be coming back here.

Not even to see me? Estella’s question sounded more like a command.

Grandma, you need to find yourself some old man to keep you company. Millicent teased.

Hell’s too hot and damnation is too long for me to stoop to Ruby Jewel Crump’s bearing.

Why are you so concerned about Miss Ruby Jewel’s business? It sounds like you might be just a little bit jealous of her, seeing that you think she has a young man a’callin’ on her now and then.

I don’t think, I know! But I ain’t concerned, nor jealous of any old butt-ugly trout like her. I just hate to see her go to the bad place for a’messin’ around some young man...and at her age! He looks like somebody I’ve seen before, maybe a long time ago when I used to step out of my yard.

Maybe he’s her son. Grandma. Millicent suggested.

I said before, she ain’t got no son. Ain’t no man bad off enough to be doin’ anything...well, you know what I mean...sump’n bad like...well, you know what I mean.

Then you don’t need to be concerned. That’s just the point, she’s not doing anything with anyone. What you are thinking, Grandma, is worse than anything that she is doing.

Estella noticed that Millicent was applying lipstick. Where are you a’goin’ all painted up like some of them hussies I see in your Hollywood movie magazines you buy in town. I told David not to give you money for such stuff.

Grandma, you don’t need to be reading those trashy Hollywood magazines.

I don’t read them, I just look at the pitchers. Estella assured her granddaughter. It was the truth, for Estella never learned to read well.

I’m just going to the picture show.

With them two twin nitwits, I’m a guessin’, Estella had guessed correctly. As she walked through the kitchen and on to the side porch where her chair was waiting, she mumbled, I know I’ve seen Ruby Jewel’s young caller somewhere before. My mind just won’t recollect it for me.

SCENE 4

The webs we weave and those woven around us by others, should not be strong enough to silence life’s throat of its joyous song, nor weaken the cry of the world’s message of right and wrong. Traveling through life’s trail of brambles and thorns, sometimes, for some people, there is a rose that diminishes, perhaps even vanishes all cares and woes. The pricks and sticks throughout the days are softened, even faded from a constant presence into an intermittent annoyance. When that flower appears, it comes in the form of loving eyes, a sun-beam smile that for an instant beguiles existence more than a heart deserves to ask. For a short space in time, it clears away the filmy webs, and heals that desolation that proliferates rampantly over an innocent heart, leaving only scars that no longer smart. Throughout the darkest nights, until there is a dim ray of dawn showing through a cloudy life, sometimes welcomed, sometimes cursed, the sunshine with its overpowering presence, spreads over all, like the fragrance of a full-blown rose on a splendid day.

Though slowly, living begins again, and the radiance of sunsets and moonbeams play above in heaven’s fading blue, bringing once again joy to Secorah McCallister, even though she allows the images of the most handsome face she remembers to linger about her for only infinitesimal periods of time, a feeling that it does not deserve to be there, even if it still makes her heart tremble with unreasonable pleasure. Those images brought brilliantly alighted joy in her being, and enhanced the beauty of her surroundings whether inside her abode or outside in her beloved, though forsaken gardens. At will, she was able to banish the images, knowing well enough that low, heavy clouds with their mist of melancholy held entitlement of replacement.

Secorah remembered watching so helplessly as true love vanished like yesternight’s dew on a warm, sunny morning. Life had become unreal enough to prevent her from seeing all of the questions, but none of the answers. And so, she rambled through the bright of the days and scrambled through the dark of long sleepless nights. Blossoms still nodded in the summer winds that cooled her overgrown (with weeds) gardens and orchards, where apple, peach, plum and pear trees bloomed, shrouding her with an umbrella of white, pale and bright pink beauty which held her for lengthy periods of times, and which produced for her an abundance of delicious fruits. And there was where happiness dwelled throughout her childhood.

In front of the old three-storied house with its six stately columns there was a (now gray) picket fence, still sturdy, all though in need of a coat of white wash. Its squeak was not a bother to Secorah. Instead, it was rather a voice of welcome and of goodbye. She would sometimes open, then close the gate several times, never meaning to go through it. It was a way of knowing that should anyone call on her, she would know of their entering her property, as she could hear the squeak even while meandering through her orchards behind the house. She never invited anyone to come in, and if anyone should enter, she considered it a trespass. The expectation of anyone entering was never in her mind. For a long while, no one had entered through the gate. Jesse, Secorah’s longtime friend and former overseer of the farm (when the property was still a farm), would always come in the back way, for there is where he was most likely to find her. The back field and through the woods and across the cemetery was a short-cut into town, where Jesse would walk to make purchases for Secorah, as she never ventured off her property.

From her second-story balcony, she could not see beyond the tops of the huge old Red Oak and pecan trees. She had no wish to see farther. Squirrels, chipmunks and birds of various and sundry colors and songs, seemed to expect Secorah to appear on the balcony every morning with her coffee or tea during the mornings of comfortable, pleasing weather.

As one grows older, one looks at the past in search of acceptance and satisfaction, without unbearable regrets. One spends less time dreaming and making plans concerning the future. This hour, now is of the utmost importance. That, for Secorah, made it easier for her to make time for her to do the things that needed to be done each day, without the anxiety of feeling rushed and hurried through a mess of half-finished responsibilities. In her younger mind, the things to do now, tomorrow and in years to come, were a delight to consider. When she grew older, planning was minimized to thinking of things to do today, for there might not be a