THE OLD WOMAN FROM CATSPAW
By
Russ Durbin
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Russ Durbin
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There are those in Catspaw, Indiana, who say the old woman just up and moved away one night.
Then, there are those who don’t say anything, but puff their pipes and smile their knowing smiles.
That her disappearance was mysterious, all will agree.
Felicity Furr was a cranky old crone nobody liked. She lived in a little log cabin high up on Devil’s Elbow, which overlooked the tiny valley and town, nestling deep in the Brown County foothills. How long she had lived up there alone, nobody knew, but it had been a good while. Well, she wasn’t alone; a 19-pound coal black cat named Lucifer lived with her.
She didn’t come to town often; when she did, all the folks knew it by the way their cats acted. You see, while the old woman didn’t care much for people, she loved cats. And they, apparently, were attracted to her.
Children would peep at her from around doorways and from behind logs or their mothers’ dress tails. They would watch with round eyes as she paused to stroke the backs of the cats that were drawn to her. As she moved them gently aside with her crooked little walking stick, she would mutter, “And how are my pretty pets today?” Then she would cackle in her high-pitched voice the way a toothless old woman might.
Very early in life, the children of Catspaw were warned what the “cat lady” would do to them if they were naughty and didn’t obey their parents or didn’t do their chores.
To be sure, people in the village sidled past the old woman when she came to town. She almost always brought bags of dried herbs and potions to trade for her meager supplies at Henry Carver’s General Store.
“Howdy, Miz Furr. How are you today?” Mr. Carver would greet her.
“Fair-to-middlin’,” she would mutter, then add. “Brought a new potion I made. Good for the rheumatisms.”
“Why that’s just fine, Miz Furr. I’ll put it on the shelf right next to the patent medicines.” Mr. Carver was always polite to everyone. “How can I help you today?” She would hand him her little list and then look about the store while he filled her order.
Folks ‘round Catspaw wondered how the bent-over old crone got from her cabin to town. Some said she walked, but that was a good three miles or so from Devil’s Elbow. Some whispered that “maybe she flew down” like one of the black ravens. Of course, nobody much believed that tale. But her comings and goings seemed a bit strange.
One October the weather had turned unusually warm after a good cold snap that left frost heavy on the pumpkins and the corn shocks. Autumn in Brown County is a sight to behold with all the reds, yellows, purples and browns of the leaves set against the deep greens of the pine trees. People come from miles around just to see Old Mother Nature’s show.
That was the year that young Tommy Wilson got in trouble. Well, no, that’s not quite right. You see, ever since Tommy came to live with his uncle and aunt, Tommy was ‘most always in trouble of one kind or other. His yellow-white hair and his devilish blue eyes seemed to be right in the center of any dust up that was going on ‘round town.
Some folks said Tommy had a mean streak. Others just laughed off his pranks, saying, “Boys will be boys.” He had run off a time or two but always came back. His uncle and aunt were worn to a frazzle just keeping track of him. “Land sakes,” cried his aunt one day, “I don’t know what will become of that boy.”
One day, Tommy felt the wrath of “the cat lady.” You see, Tommy didn’t like cats, house or barn cats or strays. He would tease and torment them every chance he got. Cats in town would hiss and arch their backs whenever Tommy was near.
Well, on this particular day, he had caught one of the strays, a skinny old gray tabby, out by Henry Carver’s shed. He was tying a tin can to the cat’s tail when Felecity Furr came out of the store and saw him.
She screeched at him, raised her crooked little walking stick and gave him a good whack on his backside. He dropped the yowling cat and turned white as a ghost, his freckles popping out on his face. He cried and took off for his uncle’s place lickety split, yelling over his shoulder at the old woman, “I’ll get you for this. I will, I swear.”
Well, most folks around town got a good laugh over Tommy getting his just deserts, even though they didn’t care too much for old Miz Furr.
The night before Halloween Tommy decided to get even with the old woman. He coaxed a couple of his buddies, Billy Joe Higgins and Jimmy Peterson, into going up to Devil’s Elbow to do some mischief like turning over the outhouse, a popular pastime for some of the older kids. Billy Joe and Jimmy were reluctant co-conspirators because they had grown up hearing the tales about the “cat lady.”
“Aw, you’re just a couple of scaredy cats,” Tommy taunted. So they went.
It was dark as the inside of a tomb when the boys crept close to the old woman’s cabin. Scudding clouds obscured the half moon. They could see the flickering light of a candle through the window but heard no sound.
Yellow eyes watched as the boys crept closer and closer.
Just as they were about to the steps of the cabin, a black shape, yellow eyes glowing, rose in front of Tommy hissing, spiting and growling in a low menacing voice.
Startled, the boys leaped up screaming. Billy Joe fled to the woods with Jimmy hot on his heels. Just as Tommy turned to run, a bony hand grabbed his arm with surprising strength.
“Help! Help!” screamed Tommy.
Nobody ‘round Catspaw saw Tommy after that night. Some say he just ran off again. Others wink knowingly and puff their pipes, saying that Tommy, he…well, perhaps it’s best not to guess what happened. All they ever found was a bit of torn flannel from Tommy’s shirt sleeve.
The old woman was gone, too, along with her valise and her big cat, Lucifer. No one ‘round Catspaw ever saw her again. But she left behind her twig broom and her potions.
* * *
The enormous cat stretched and yawned on the window seat, the sun coming through the window making his black coat sparkle. Visitors to Peace Valley Retirement Center were just bidding the old lady in the chair goodbye.
“Aunt Felicity, we are so glad you decided to move to Chicago near us. Isn’t this lovely apartment nicer than that old cabin?”
“I suppose so,” the old lady replied, “but it’s not as much fun. Did I ever tell you about the Halloween when I scared the freckles off some ornery boys?” She cackled loudly as she recalled the scene.
“Yes, Aunt Felicity, you’ve told us that one many times.”
* * *
Back in Catspaw, a new stray had moved in and made himself a nuisance. He was a scrawny white cat, some called an albino. But the remarkable thing was that he had blue, rather than red, eyes.
One of the town wags said that stray was Tommy Wilson; the old “cat lady” had put a curse on him. ‘Course nobody much believed that tale, but folks took to calling that cat Tommy!
* * *
Other Short Stories By Russ Durbin
A Quiet Man
Henry Willeford III was a quiet man. He was tidy and neat. He never varied his daily routine…until today!
The Comeback
The odds are stacked against him, but Jim Roberts, once great pitcher, is determined to make his comeback to the Major Leagues from a devastating injury and an alcoholic limbo that threatened to end his career permanently.