The Warrior's Return

Abstract

«?, 5^ r % TUP The Warrior's Return Alice Greer McNew Mimrod Larkin was named for his It wasn't the distinguished records grandfather, and his grandfather was of his forebears that made him happy to named for his grandfather. Mimrod be named for them-the first Mimrod had, thought it a good name and wasn't embar- after all, come from out East in a great rassed by the snickers and glances of other and mysterious hurry. The story had children at school who'd never heard the pursued him through the years that he likes of it, or the teachers who asked him was escaping something, and it seemed to spell it for them, like they couldn't likely that it included a wife and children, understand plain English spoken clear and and even a crime of some sort, but the loud, and thought he must have said rumors went unconfirmed. After some 'Nimrod,' which they had heard before. years he married the "mother of my chil52 dren," as he put it in his very courtly manner. The children numbered five at the time of the wedding. The mother was a plain-haired, hard-working mountain woman. The wedding had the relieved approval of all her relatives, but of course that first Mimrod was never really forgiven . Why his son named his own child after him is not known. Perhaps he liked the name. Or perhaps he liked his father. Well, the second Mimrod distinguished himself by being the first man in Onaker County to declare bankruptcy. He had a small sawmill at the forks of a river that, each year, ran nearly dry or else flooded. Either way there were inconveniences as the logs were floated down the river to the yard whenever it was possible. However, this second Mimrod was inclined to look on the bright side and thought the near-dry bed made a good road for his oxen and wagon. Anyway , he branched out into ice-keeping, and it didn't work out well, and the business failed. His wife was prone to twist her hands and moan about "the things we let slip through our fingers." (Her small inheritance had bought the ice house.) Mimrod, the grandchild, remembered her well, and knew she'd never known a day in her life that wasn't distraught, though Grandpa Mimrod was bland and healthy to age 89. His wife lived only long enough to bury him. Then, as if all obligations were ended, she died quietly in a lawn chair under a catalpa tree. The blossoms fell on her faded dress, which was made of durable material. Mimrod cherished the idea that he was the only Mimrod on the face of the earth. This seemed very likely since the name never caught on enough to be overused . Let all the Johns and Mikes, the Harolds and Williams think smugly about their popularity. Some stubborn part of Mimrod laughed at them. His very label showed how unique he was, and only he was himself, and he shared the name solely with two dead men. When he was 18, he left his mountain town beside the river. He'd never liked it much. Its name was Rawling, and the river lapped at it muddily and washed debris up on its lowest-lying streets regularly . There were two wealthy families in town. One owned the lumber mill and the other the funeral parlor-furniture store. Opportunities for the future in Rawling seemed to lie with those two families, and since Mimrod was not kin to either, he went away. His mother was dead by this time and his aging father was moving to live with a daughter in Royce County. Mimrod headed north toward Cincinnati, where his cousin Shade had found work the year before. He knew his kin people would put him up until he could get on at a factory. He thought at the time, that he never wanted to see another hill or mountain in his whole life. The knobs overlooking Rawling were steep and the soil was thin and only brairs and coarse grass grew there. He remembered the gravelly paths, the poor yellow soil...