As I stood looking at the two graves, I tried hard to understand some of the things my father had told me, but I couldn't-I was still hurting and still had that empty feeling.
I went to Mama and had a talk with her.
'Mama,' I asked, 'do you think God made a heaven for all good dogs?'
'Yes,' she said, 'I'm sure He did.'
'Do you think He made a place for dogs to hunt? You know-just like we have here on our place-with mountains and sycamore trees, rivers and cornfields, and old rail fences? Do you think He did?'
'From what I've read in the Good Book, Billy,' she said, 'He put far more things up there than we have here. Yes, I'm sure He did.'
I was thinking this over when Mama came up to me and started tucking my shirt in. 'Do you feel better now?' she asked.
'It still hurts, Mama,' I said, as I buried my face in her dress, 'but I do feel a little better.'
'I'm glad,' she said, as she patted my head. 'I don't like to see my little boy hurt like this.'
XX
THE FOLLOWING SPRING WE LEFT THE OZAHKS. THE DAY WE
moved I thought everyone would be sad, but it was just the opposite. Mama seemed to be the happiest one of all. I could hear her laughing and joking with my sisters as they packed things. She had a glow in her eyes I had never seen before and it made me feel good.
I even noticed a change in Papa. He didn't have that whipped look on his face any more. He was in high spirits as we carried the furniture out to our wagon.
After the last item was stored in the wagon, Papa helped Mama to the spring seat and we were ready to go.
'Papa, would you mind waiting a few minutes?' I asked. 'I'd like to say good-bye to my dogs.'
'Sure,' he said, smiling. 'We have plenty of time. Go right ahead.'
Nearing the graves, I saw something different. It looked like a wild bush had grown up and practically covered the two little mounds. It made me angry to think that an old bush would dare grow so close to the graves. I took out my knife, intending to cut it down.
When I walked up close enough to see what it was, I sucked in a mouthful of air and stopped. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There between the graves, a beautiful red fern had sprung up from the rich mountain soil. It was fully two feet tall and its long red leaves had reached out in rainbow arches curved over the graves of my dogs.
I had heard the old Indian legend about the red fern. How a little Indian boy and girl were lost in a blizzard and had frozen to death. In the spring, when they were found, a beautiful red fern had grown up between their two bodies. The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred.
Remembering the meaning of the legend, I turned and started hollering for Mama.
'Mama! Mama!' I shouted. 'Come here! And hurry! You won't believe it.'
In a frightened voice, she shouted back, 'What is it, Billy? Are you all right?'
'I'm all right, Mama,' I shouted, 'but hurry. You just won't believe it.'
Holding her long skirt in her hand and with a frightened look on her face, Mama came puffing up the hillside. Close behind her came Papa and my sisters.
'What is it, Billy?' Mama asked, in a scared voice. 'Are you all right?'
'Look!' I said, pointing at the red fern.
Staring wide-eyed, Mama gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. I heard her say, almost in a whisper, 'Oh-h-h-h, it's a red fern-a sacred red fern.'
She walked over and very tenderly started fingering the long red leaves. In an awed voice, she said, 'All my life
