Miles was the oldest of us children. He detested farming and barely tolerated his chores. Daddy knew it and they clashed often. When they were at it, the rest of us knew to be silent.

Miles hated to hunt, was uncomfortable with guns even though he was a fairly good shot. He didn’t mind killing things so much, but would rather be curled up with a book. Daddy would make him go anyway, and if he came back empty-handed, would berate him before us all at the dinner table. I longed to go hunting, but Daddy only laughed when I mentioned it.

“Aint fitting for a girl,” he’d say.

I knew that many of the girls at school could handle guns, but that didn’t convince him. He said we were raised better than that.

Miles and I finally came to an agreement. He would secretly teach me to shoot. Then I would take over his hunting chores. After that, Daddy was not so mean to him, but Miles was still restless and dissatisfied. At seventeen he was done with Scary Creek School. He should have gone out to get himself a piece of land, or married and settled in on the Homeplace. But he claimed he wanted to leave. He wanted to go to Berea but was afraid to ask Daddy about it.

Ben came to his rescue. He acknowledged there was nothing wrong with a man who did not like to farm and said as much to Daddy. To our surprise, Daddy said mildly that Ben may be right and that Miles could go if he wanted. Miles was admitted to Berea for the next year. He was a great deal easier to live with after that.

Only Aunt Becka was unhappy when Ben and Flora announced their engagement. It wasn’t that she disliked Ben. He praised her cooking, and she enjoyed serving his favorite meal of chicken and dumplings. She declared that Flora could do no better for herself, if she must marry. In other words, Ben Honaker was just fine, for a man.

Aunt Becka was married once, for a month. It was well before my time, but I had the story from Aunt Jane. The man carried Aunt Becka away to Chloe Creek in the next county, and she showed up on the front porch of the Homeplace one month later, having walked all the way and slept in the open for three nights, the last in a pouring rain. Aunt Becka took her own name back again. It was said later that her husband took off for Arkansas or thereabouts, where he no doubt became a bigamist.

“Was he mean to Aunt Becka?” I asked Aunt Jane.

“Law, no, child. He was just more man than your Aunt Becka wanted.”