The Hinterlands by Robert Morgan

Author:Robert Morgan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 1994-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

I didn’t think I could hold on much longer. My left hand was already stiff from gripping the sow’s tail, the way it gets from holding an ax handle for hours. My palm was sore and sweating. I wanted to change hands, but even if I could have, it would be awkward to blaze the trees with my left. Maybe Sue would stop for a rest when we started climbing.

We had come to steeper ground. In South Carolina the hills start rolling higher as you approach the mountains. But the hills don’t rise gradually toward the mountains; they canter along and hit the wall of the ridge head-on. It was in the steep country I really needed the sow. Anybody can lay off a road in flat country, in gentle hills. But how do you find the best grade for going around mountain flanks and crossing coves and winding up to a gap? Is it better to go across a ridge or around it?

Sue seemed to speed up as we started climbing. A hog climbs not in jumps and humps but in little steps running like a spider. A hog moves its big weight a little bit at a time.

The grits felt uneasy in my stomach. Having to run bent over was the worst. Several times the brash come up in my throat and I tasted the sour butter and coffee. I swallowed hard to sweeten the taste with spit. I hoped I didn’t get sick at my stomach. If I got to throwing up, I’d have to let go of Sue. They’s no worse feeling than that. A man will wish he is dead if he gets sick enough at his stomach. Bending over was putting pressure on my belly. And getting hot will make you sick too. I was used to heavy work, but the running was worser than anything I’d done.

The sow turned up the slope at a steeper angle than I would have took. We had come around a hill right to the foot of the mountain. I wondered why she was going to the top of the rise. She trotted, stirring up the dry leaves. I felt itchy with sweat and scratchy with spiders and gnats. But I could not scratch with the hatchet in my right hand.

It was only when we reached the top of the rise and walked panting through the thinner trees that I saw the reason she had come that way. The creek below was lined with big boulders. It would take months, even years, to bust up the rocks to make a way through there. Sue had took the only route that bypassed the boulders. How had she knowed they was there? For the second time that day I felt a thrill of satisfaction and confidence in what I was doing. What the boy at Kuykendall’s store said about a hog’s instinct was turning out to be true.

My left hand felt like it was bleeding, but I could not release my hold to look at it.

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