Welty - Losing Battles

Books by
EUDORA WELTY

A Curtain of Green

The Robber Bridegroom

The Wide Net

Delta Wedding

The Golden Apples

The Ponder Heart

The Bride of the Innisfallen

One Time, One Place

The Optimists Daughter

The Eye of the Story

One Writers Beginnings

VINTAGE INTERNATIONAL EDITION, AUGUST 1990

Copyright 1970 by Eudora Welty

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published by Random House, Inc., in April 1970.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Welty, Eudora, 1909-
Losing battles.
I. Title
PZ3. W4696Lo 1978 [PS3545.E6] 813.52 89-40629
eISBN: 978-0-307-78798-9

v3.1

T o the memory of my brothers,
Edward Jefferson Welty
Walter Andrews Welty

Contents

Characters in the Novel

THE FAMILY :

Elvira Jordan Vaughn, Granny Her grandchildren: Nathan BeechamCurtis Beecham, m. BeckDolphus Beecham, m. BirdiePercy Beecham, m. NannyNoah Webster Beecham, m. CleoSam Dale Beecham (deceased)Beulah Beecham, m. Ralph Renfro Beulah and Ralph Renfros children: Jack, m. GloriaElla FayEtoyleElvieVaughnLady May Renfro, child of Jack and GloriaMiss Lexie Renfro, sister of Mr. RenfroAuntie Fay, sister of Mr. Renfro, m. Homer ChampionVarious descendants and cousins and married kin of the Beechams

FROM BANNER COMMUNITY :

Brother Bethune, a Baptist preacherCurly Stovall, Banner storekeeperMiss Ora Stovall, his sisterAycock Comfort, a friend of JacksMr. Comfort and little Mis Comfort, Aycocks father and motherEarl Comfort, Aycocks uncle, a gravediggerWilly Trimble, a jack-of-all-tradesVarious othersBroadwees, Captain Billy Bangs, etc.

FROM ELSEWHERE :

Judge Oscar Moody, of LudlowMrs. Maud Eva Moody, his wifeMiss Pet Hanks, telephone operator, of MedleyMiss Julia Mortimer, once the teacher of Banner School, now of Alliance

TIME :

A summer in the 1930s

PLACE :

The hill country of northeast Mississippi

Part 1

W hen the rooster crowed, the moon had still not left the world but was going down on flushed cheek, one day short of the full. A long thin cloud crossed it slowly, drawing itself out like a name being called. The air changed, as if a mile or so away a wooden door had swung open, and a smell, more of warmth than wet, from a river at low stage, moved upward into the clay hills that stood in darkness.

Then a house appeared on its ridge, like an old mans silver watch pulled once more out of its pocket. A dog leaped up from where hed lain like a stone and began barking for today as if he meant never to stop.

Then a baby bolted naked out of the house. She monkey-climbed down the steps and ran open-armed into the yard, knocking at the walls of flowers still colorless as faces, tagging in turn the four big trees that marked off the corners of the yard, tagging the gatepost, the well-piece, the birdhouse, the bell post, a log seat, a rope swing, and then, rounding the house, she used all her strength to push over a crate that let a stream of white Plymouth Rocks loose on the world. The chickens rushed ahead of the baby, running frantic, and behind the baby came a girl in a petticoat. A wide circle of curl-papers, paler than the streak of dawn, bounced around her head, but she ran on confident tiptoe as though she believed no eye could see her. She caught the baby and carried her back inside, the baby with her little legs still running like a windmill.

The distant point of the ridge, like the tongue of a calf, put its red lick on the sky. Mists, voids, patches of woods and naked clay, flickered like live ashes, pink and blue. A mirror that hung within the porch on the house wall began to flicker as at the striking of kitchen matches. Suddenly two chinaberry trees at the foot of the yard lit up, like roosters astrut with golden tails. Caterpillar nets shone in the pecan tree. A swollen shadow bulked underneath it, familiar in shape as Noahs Arka school bus.

Then as if something came sliding out of the sky, the whole tin roof of the house ran with new blue. The posts along the porch softly bloomed downward, as if chalk marks were being drawn, one more time, down a still misty slate. The house was revealed as if standing there from pure memory against a now moonless sky. For the length of a breath, everything stayed shadowless, as under a lifting hand, and then a passage showed, running through the house, right through the middle of it, and at the head of the passage, in the center of the front gallery, a figure was revealed, a very old lady seated in a rocking chair with head cocked, as though wild to be seen.

Then Sunday light raced over the farm as fast as the chickens were flying. Immediately the first straight shaft of heat, solid as a hickory stick, was laid on the ridge.

Miss Beulah Renfro came out of the passage at a trot and cried in the voice of alarm which was her voice of praise, Granny! Up, dressed, and waiting for em! All by yourself! Why didnt you holler?

This old ladys one granddaughter was in her late forties, tall, bony, impatient in movement, with brilliantly scrubbed skin that stretched to the thinnest and pinkest it could over the long, talking countenance. Above the sharp cheekbones her eyes were blue as jewels. She folded the old lady very gently in her arms, kissed her on the mouth, and cried, And the birthday cakes out of the oven!

Yes, I can still smell, said Granny.

Miss Beulah gave her call that clanged like a dinner bell: Come, children!

Her three daughters answered. The Renfro girls ran out of the still shadowy passageway: Ella Fay, sixteen, the only plump one; Etoyle, nine, fragrant of the cows and the morning milk; and Elvie, seven, this summers water hauler, with her bucket and ready to go. They lined up and put a kiss apiece, quick as a bite, on Grannys hot cheek.

Happy birthday, Granny! all three of them said at the same time.

Im expecting to see all my living grandchildren, all my great-grandchildren, and all the great-great-grandchildren they care to show me, and see em early, said Granny. Im a hundred today.

Dont contradict her, Miss Beulah commanded as Etoyle opened her mouth. And Granny, youll get the best present of allthe joy of your lifes coming home!

Granny nodded.

Wont that be worth the waiting for? cried Miss Beulah. Then she patted the old ladys trembling hand.

From the waterless earth some flowers bloomed in despite of it. Cannas came around the house on either side in a double row, like the Walls of Jericho, with their blooms unfurledMiss Beulahs favorite colors, the kind that would brook no shadow. Rockets of morning-glory vines had been trained across the upper corners of the porch, and along the front, hanging in baskets from wires overhead, were the green stars of ferns. The sections of concrete pipe at the foot of the steps were overflowing with lacy-leaf verbena. Down the pasture-side of the yard ran a long row of montbretias blazing orange, with hummingbirds sipping without seeming to touch a flower. Red salvia, lemon lilies, and princes-feathers were crammed together in a tub-sized bed, and an althea bush had opened its flowers from top to bottom, pink as childrens faces. The big china trees at the gateposts looked bigger still for the silver antlers of last years dead branches that radiated outside the green. The farm track entered between them, where spreading and coming to an end it became the front yard. It lay before them in morning light the color of a human palm and still more groined and horny and bare.

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