Anna looked at her aunt in shock at such an astonishing statement. Her aunt looked back at her sideways. “Who d’ye think taught my Granny most of what she knowed ’bout bein’ a Root Woman?” Aunt Jinny demanded. “She knowed the plants she brung with ’er t’ Lonesome Holler, but she didn’t know the ones that was already here. ’Twas Old Raven’s granpappy and granny taught ’er, when he saw—” And then, unaccountably, she stopped. “Wall, niver mind. The Ravens be wuth twenty of the no-good layabout white trash that would’a took what they’d made, iffen they’d had thesselves a farm.” She snorted. “Asides, my Granpappy didn’ want none of thet kind around. They don’t put no work in on th’ land, they’s allus borrowin’ an’ niver payin’ back, an’ when it all falls t’pieces they turns up on yore doorstep with six hungry chillun, a-whinin’ an’ a-cryin’ thet they got nothin’ t’eat an’ no wood t’burn an’ fer the love of God let ’em in.”

Well this was the first time Anna had heard anyone say anything good about an Indian; she didn’t know quite what to think. Except that . . . Aunt Jinny had the respect of everyone who knew her. And Aunt Jinny was rich by Anna’s standards. And Aunt Jinny was smart by anyone’s standards. So . . . maybe everyone else was . . . wrong?

As she and her aunt washed up before supper, and she changed into her nightgown, she decided to ask more about Aunt Jinny’s Granny, who seemed to have been a formidable person.

“Granny? Oh she knowed more’n anyone hereabouts had any notion,” Aunt Jinny said with a smirk, as she dished up bean soup and cornbread, with sliced strawberries drizzled with honey on the side. “She come over from England. Devon. But afore thet, she met Granpappy, and he’s the one what built this here cabin all hisself, with his bare hands an’ the sack of tools he brung with him. An’ when my Pa’s Pa turned up an’ homesteaded the front of the Holler, he he’ped raise thet house an’ barn too, cause he could see my Ma was gettin’ sweet on my Pa. Built that there stove,” she added, nodding at the peculiar fireplace.

“Stove?” Anna exclaimed. “It don’t look like no stove!”

“But thet’s what ’e called it. He was from a place I bet y’all niver heerd of. Roosha! He was Rooski!” She chuckled at Anna’s bewilderment. “’Tis as fur from England as England is from here. Halfway ’round the world! They gots them kinda stoves all over where he come from, on account of the winter’s so bitter hard. ’E useter tell me our winter was like spring t’him. ’E made friends with Old Raven’s Granpappy Eagle Sight fust, then brought Eagle Sight t’meet Granny. Sometimes ’e useter talk t’me in thet Rooski palaver an’ I couldn’ make heads nor tails of it. But ’e made this ’ere cabin so it were good for a Rooski winter, an’ I reckon thet’s one reason why Granny lived as long as she did. Nary a chink t’let in the winter wind. An’ y’all kin sleep up there on t’stove if yore bones ache.”