Into the Wood

"The Cave"

I could smell the cedars as I stopped along the rolling brook, the water tasting sweet as I swallowed. Normally, I would never drink directly from a stream, but I knew that the source of this stream was pure, pouring from the mouth of a cave no more than a mile upstream.

I turned, excited to see the yawning cavern for the first time. It was something I'd always meant to do, despite the warnings from a few friends to stay well clear of Mooring Cave.

Being an adventurous sort of girl, I found the idea too much of a temptation. Having filled my camelback with the crystal-clear water, I continued, knowing I was only a few minutes away from my goal.

I would have a clear view of the entrance, at least according to the map. The stream ran straight from the base of an imposing bluff from which it surged. Pleased, I spied the cliffs rising from the horizon as I rounded a crook in the valley.

What I didn't expect was the line of smoke rising in a single line from the blackness of the cave. I was disappointed, as I wouldn't have the solitary experience of exploring the cave alone. Disregarding any danger that might lurk thereabouts, I continued.

The closer I came, the more acrid the scent of the smoke became, and I wondered just what the kids might have been burning. Of course, I had only assumed they were kids. Who else would light a fire inside the entrance to a cave? By the time I recognized the smell, it was too late.

"Who the hell 'r you?" A male voice scolded from above on the left bank of the stream. "Y'all shouldn't be up here."

Realizing that what I'd stumbled into was a moonshining operation, I went to leave, when someone grabbed me from behind. "Hey, let go!" I screamed.

"Let'r go Clive. She ain't gonna tell on us, are ya, pretty girl?"

"Y'all know the rules, Vernon. Ain't nobody to know 'bout this still. Ma said..."

"Well, Ma ain't here, 'n' this'un looks like trouble. Let'r go Clive." The pressure from the man's grip eased, but he didn't let go.

"I promise I won't say a word. Please let me go." I begged. I looked at Vernon, who seemed a bit older than the man who held onto me. "I just wanted to see the cave. I didn't know..."

"See that Vern, she wants t' see the cave. I say we show it to'r." Clive chuckled his breath stinking of rotgut whiskey as he peered over my shoulder.

"She ain't seen nothin' Clive. Y'all take'r up there'n she's all yours to deal with. What the hell'r you gonna do with a city girl, anywho?" Vernon chuckled, no longer seeming concerned over my well-being.

"Oh, I kin think on a few things I might git up to." Clive chortled, pushing me ahead of him towards the now ominous cave entrance. All I wanted to do was get away, to forget all about this place. Now it seemed I was going to be their guest, and that seemed like a horrible idea. "Who'all knows yer up here?" Clive asked, gruffly.

I had to think if I'd actually told anyone where I was going. I knew a few of my friends might think of this place, even though it had been a few days since we talked about the cave. I decided it would be safer for me if I let them think I'd be missed. "My friends know I'm up here, and they know where it is," I warned.

"Ya' see Clive, trouble." Vernon sighed, unable to convince whom I assumed was his brother to let me go.

"Aw, we'll let'r go, but not a'fore I have a bit 'o' fun with'r though." Clive laughed. I was certain whatever he considered fun, would be a nightmare for me.

'I'd Been Warned'

The smell of corn alcohol mixed with a strong syrupy smoke inundated the air as we approached the impressive entrance to Mooring Cave. Under any other circumstances, I would be overjoyed. Just then, I was terrified something awful was about to happen.

Just inside the entrance, I could see their operation, the copper coils of the still spiraling down to an older man, who looked up shaking his head. "What the hell r'you boys up to, n'who the hell is that little'un?"

"We found'er pokin' around outside, Paw." Clive was quick to answer, his hand still forming a vise around my upper arm. I was certain I'd have bruises, but that was the least of my worries.

"What the hell ya bring'er in here fer?" The old man scolded. He looked closer at me as Clive pushed me down the muddy slope that led to the business end of the still. "You two ain't got the sense that god gave a gnat, dag nab'it!" He took over for his son, his grip much tighter and a lot more forceful. "Y'all go over'n set on that rock, yonder." He ordered, releasing me with a push in the direction of a small ledge.

I imagined I just might make a run for it, but he interrupted the thought. "If'n yer thinkin' 'bout runnin', think agin, girlie." The old man grumbled. He leaned over and lifted a double-barreled shotgun from behind the still, just long enough to show me, before setting it back.

He took his sons just outside the entrance and started screaming at them in a tongue that was just barely discernible as English. Obviously, they saved the fancy speaking for me, because I swear I barely recognized a word.

The three of them walked back into the cave, single file, Vernon and Clive obviously having had an earful of their father's wrath, the old man pressing up behind them.

"Soon's we're done here, missie, y'all'r gonna have to talk t'Ma. 'Magine she'll know what's best fer ya." The old man hissed. "Whaddya wanna poke 'round here fer?" He asked, under his breath.

"I just wanted to see the cave." I managed, still terrified but at least confident that nothing horrible was going to happen to me at the hand of his son, Clive. I was fairly certain the old man had at least some scruples.

I think I sat there on that ledge for hours before they announced to me that they were heading out for the day. Another man, considerably younger than the other two arrived just as they were packing up. I assumed he was the night shift. He was more than amused over my predicament, laughing as Vernon filled him on the day's events, using the backwoods dialect that I was struggling to understand.

"Give'r one them jugs, Vernon. Might as well git some use outta her." The old man handed his son a large earthenware jug which the man immediately handed off to me.

"Don't ya go droppin' that now, less'n y'all want a whuppin'." Vernon warned. Between the small pack that was still strapped on my back and the jug, I had all that I could carry.

We walked in the opposite direction, up and over the bluff and across a field until we reached a dirt road. An old pickup truck was hidden in the bushes, emphasizing the fact that what they were doing was still quite illegal. Clive strapped the jugs into a wooden crate and took a seat next to them in the bed of the truck while Vernon and his father sandwiched me between them on the bench seat, the gear shift suspended precariously between my legs.

Even though I could hardly understand them, I knew they were joking about how close the old man's hand was coming to my crotch every time he'd shift. After twenty minutes or so, we turned off onto a barely navigable track, heading up a steep hill.

'Ma's House, Ma's Rules'

A couple of young kids came running up to the truck as we pulled in front of an old house, which had one of those wrap-around porches. Sitting in a rocker in the center of that porch, a woman leaned forward as Vernon pushed me in her direction. I assumed this was 'Ma'.

She didn't say anything as I was walked up to the porch and up the rickety stairs that seemed barely there. The old man spoke to her in their tongue, and I did my best to listen, barely able to pick out but three words: cave, trespassing, and trouble. The rest was gibberish.

Again, she failed to say anything, simply motioning to the door with her eyes. I think I was more frightened of her than I had been of any of the others, only because she didn't say a word. She didn't have to. Her hardened face a testament to a difficult life, she had eyes that just bore holes right through me.

I'm a gonna put y'all in here 'til Ma comes 'n sees ya." He opened the door to a central room, obviously used as a catch-all. In the center, a single chair seemed out of place, until I realized just what this room was used for. He sat me down and closed the door as he left, a single line of light leaking under the door the only illumination.

I tried not to think about being put in there as a child, for some sort of twisted time out, because that's exactly what the chair must have been there for. Every time a shadow crossed in front of the door, I saw Ma opening it and scolding me in whatever hellish voice I imagined her having.

Slowly, shadows began to form in the room as my eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light. It wasn't long before I was able to make out shapes and recognizable objects. Suddenly, my eyes were insulted by the bright light that coursed in, the old woman appearing as a silhouette before me. "Y'all come with me, girlie!"

A hand reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the chair. Just as quickly we were climbing a set of stairs, her bony hand leaving more bruises on my arm, I was sure. "You're hurting my arm." I managed, as I stumbled on the top step before being launched into a bedroom off the landing.

"You set right thar, missie." She pushed me onto the single bed, the metal headboard painted white but peeling ever so slightly. Strange, the things you remember. "Why'd ya have to go sniffin' 'round that cave?"

"I'd heard it was beautiful inside," I admitted, truthfully.

"All the caves in Tennessee, y'all had to pick ours. Well, now I gotta figure out what I'm gonna do with ya. Not from these parts, are ya?" The older woman accused.

"No. I just moved here from New York. I'm sorry. If I'd known that..."

"New York? Well, city girl, we do things a bit different down here." She tossed a faded blue dress on the bed after rummaging in a small dresser for a minute. "Y'all put that on."

I looked down at the single-piece smock, then back at the woman who was staring me down with those eyes again. She didn't appear to be leaving so I assumed she wanted to watch. I took off my pack and started unbuttoning my shirt, not thinking anything of not having worn a bra. I very rarely did.

I saw an eyebrow rise as I slipped the garment over my shoulders, revealing my A-cup breasts. I heeled off my sneakers and started unzipping my jeans. I was thankful that I at least hadn't gone commando that day. All the while, the stare of those jet-black eyes nailed me to the spot.

Picking up the dress, I raised it and allowed it to slip over my arms and neck, the flimsy fabric falling over my nearly naked form. I lifted my waist-length hair out from under the collar, and I thought I heard a measured scowl from the woman as it fell around my shoulders. I went to put my sneakers back on, but she shook her head.

"Na uh. N'you kin get them socks off too, city girl." She insisted.

I did as she asked, slipping the ankle-high socks off my feet. "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked.

"I can't very well let y'all go back into town, blabbin' about our still, now, can I?" The woman reasoned. "So, yer just gonna have to set here fer a while, least 'til I know y'aint gonna talk." She reached out and fingered my hair, shaking her head as she let it go. "Soon enough."

I didn't have to wonder what she was thinking, and the thought of this woman touching my hair made me shiver inside. I was proud of my blonde hair and had been growing it out for years.

Satisfied that I was presentable, she motioned toward the door, and we headed back down the stairs; the splintery wood testing my bare feet. Clive, Vernon, and the two kids were sitting in the living room as I came back in, and I wondered just what they were thinking when they saw me like this. The two young men chuckled under their breath, their amused faces saying all that needed to be said.

'Those Jezebel Tresses'

"Come on, then." The woman spat, glaring at the men, who immediately wiped their faces clean of the smirks. She led me into the kitchen, pulled out a chair from under the table, and dragged it to the center of the room. "Y'all set in thar, now, missie, n' stay quiet."

My heart sank in my chest as I saw her lift a large pair of scissors from a drawer. Opening and closing them, she looked my way and frowned. "Y'all look like a jezebel with all that harr."

I shut my eyes, wishing it to be over. Not just this, but the whole ordeal. My heart was in my throat as I felt the cold steel against my neck. But, the sickening crunch of the blades against my crowning glory, sent it racing. I closed my eyes tight, vowing not to cry, but knowing it would be futile.

When I felt the scissors against my cheek, I knew how short the woman had cut it. As she started in on the other side, the unbidden tears started to fall over my cheeks. I tried not to imagine what I was going to look like. Stripped down and forced into a hillbilly dress, and now having all my hair cut off, my nerves were frayed to tatters. I started to bawl.

"Quit yer caterwaulin', girlie. It's only harr." The woman chided as she finished with the cut. I opened my eyes looking down, the floor puddled with a sea of shiny blonde strands. I reached up and felt the blunt ends of my hair ending at the middle of my ear, and the back just as short. Still sniffling away my crying spell, I sat waiting for the woman to bark something at me, but she didn't.

So, I sat there, my fingers testing just how short my hair was and coming to the conclusion that it was a really short bob. It probably looked horrible. I always looked awful in short hair. My ears were too big for it, sticking out from the sides of my head like little radar dishes. So, I kept it long, the only evidence of them, the delicate pink rims that poked through the long tresses unassumingly.

"Y'all gonna just set thar, or are ya gonna clean up that there mess y'all made?" The woman pointed to the floor around my feet, tossing a paper bag to the base of the chair. "Go on now."

I slowly stood, my own hair tickling the bottoms of my bare feet as I did. The woman put the chair back under the table, leaving the pile of hair haphazardly arranged in a ring before me. Still fighting back tears, I knelt, took the bag and scooped a generous quantity of my hair, and deposited it inside.

It was demeaning enough to have my hair stolen from me, but to have to clean up the aftermath was beyond humiliating. Handful after handful went into the bag until all that remained on the floor were scattered silky hairs that my efforts had missed.

The woman handed me a whisk broom, encouraging me to finish what I started. "We'll git y'all over to Markus in the mornin', but that'll do fer now." She decided, taking the bag and the whisk from me as I stood, the floor as clean as it had been before, which wasn't saying much. "Go on and set with the boys, 'til I git to fixin' supper."

Unsupervised for the first time, I wandered slowly back toward the living room, spying a bathroom along the way. Ducking in, I examined just how drastic the haircut had been. My beautiful hair was gone, a short choppy bob in its place. The ends barely grazed my cheeks, and as I had feared, my ears stuck out from under the hair that would only have just covered the tops, if they weren't so big.

The back was cut above the hairline, and I could see the woman had tried to trim the hair close where it was exposed. The bristles felt long and coarse against my fingers. She had said something about somebody named Markus, but I tried to put that out of my mind as I made my way to the living room.

"Well, Ma sure set you to rights." Vernon chortled, as I took an available spot on a threadbare sofa. I looked over to Clive, who seemed less enthused over what 'Ma' had done to me.

"Y'all look funny." The young girl said, standing to face me, her own brown hair hanging just to her shoulders. She reached in and took the tips of my ears in her fingers and waggled them to and fro. I shook off her assault, but not before she had garnered a few laughs from the rest.

"Y'all do have some ears on, don't ya?" Clive finally said, before turning away.

Feeling a bit out of place, I stayed quiet for a while, listening to them converse in their peculiar tongue. Finally, I said something. "Who's Markus?"

"Oh, he's an old coot that lives up the holler. The ol' guy likes to pretend he's a barber, so Ma sends us up thar if'n we need a trim." Vernon scruffed his head, the close-cropped stubble barely qualifying as a crewcut.

"Ma threaten to take y'all up thar or somthin'?" Clive asked.

"She said she'd take me to see him in the morning," I answered nervously.

"Well, say goodbye to that harr, missie. Markus'll take care o'what Ma might'a missed on ya." Vernon chuckled. "Y'all er gonna look funny in that dress 'n' them ears, all skinned up the back and sides."

I tried to ignore what they were saying, hoping that Ma might treat me differently than the men. I was a girl, after all. "Can't look any worse than it does now," I murmured under my breath.

"Y'all got a name, city girl?" Ma asked, as I helped her peel potatoes in the kitchen.

"Rachel," I managed, dropping a peeled spud into a large pot that was just coming to boil. "Rachel Wood."

"Well, fer now, ya'll 'er gonna be Bertha, my niece from up'n Kentucky. Am I bein' clear enough fer ya?" The woman insisted. "So, what's yer name?"

"Bertha." I hissed through gritted teeth.

"N where Y'al from?"

"Kentucky!" I blurted out as she swatted me on my rear end.

"I don't take no sass from any 'o' mine, so y'all ain't no differnt!" Ma dusted her hands together. The thin material of the dress and my panties offered little protection from her spank, and my ass stung from it.

In the back of my mind, I knew there had to be a way for me to escape this hell. If only I'd listened to my friends and stayed away from that cave, none of this would have happened. I'd still have my long blonde hair and I would be wearing this ridiculous dress, barefoot and doing this woman's bidding. Now she was spanking me, for crying out loud. I had to escape.

That night, I was back in that dingy little room on the second floor, expected to sleep and be ready for Marcus the next day. I could only just imagine what lay in store for me there. According to the men, it was nothing good. I just lay awake and fretted.

I had tried the window, but it was painted shut. Maybe after everyone was asleep, I could sneak down the stairs and run. I had no idea where the hell I was, but anywhere was better than there. I tugged at my hacked-off hair, mourning the fact that it was utterly ruined. A tatty old mirror that had lost most of its shine hung over the small dresser, and I had sat looking at myself until I could no longer bear the sight of my own reflection.

When I was certain that everyone was asleep, I made my move to get away. I had made it halfway down the stairs, when one of them creaked so loudly, that I cringed. I felt a presence behind me.

"Where you goin', Bertha?" I heard Vernon's voice from the top of the hallway.

I quickly thought of the only thing that made sense. "I've got to use the bathroom."

"Well'n use the one up heres." He pointed behind him to a small door halfway down the hallway. I slipped by him on the landing, wearing the flannel nightgown that Ma had given me; all my plans dashed. To be honest, I was surprised by the fact the place had running water, much less an upstairs bathroom.

Much to my frustration, all I managed to do for the rest of the night was sleep. I don't know how, but between thoughts of escape and my impending haircut in the morning, I had drifted off.

'Markus, The Backwoods Barber'

"Rise'n shine, Bertha!" Ma yelled in the door, the sounds of the children laughing in the background only cementing my reality. My pleasant dreams were shattered by the looming plans for me that morning. "I sent Clive off to Markus's place. He ain't got no phone, so's he's ready'n waitin' fer ya."