When the neighbor called the next morning, Aunt Cathy told him to go ahead and keep the cow and calf. She wouldn't take money for them, saying she owed him something for keeping the road clear as best he could in winter. In fact, dispite the son's obvious leeriness of Aunt Cathy, the neighbors kept an eye out for her, checked on her when they were all trapped up the holler by snow or mud, and were always good to help if a pipe froze or some other problem occurred. They also listened in on the party line when she got phone calls, which is why she and Zeke always spoke 'in code' about the still, not that the whole holler didn't know about it anyway. And not that she didn't know that some told somewhat bizarre stories about her, but that was simply the way of folk up these hollers. After all, that is the way of extended families, and there were few people living up any particular holler and its branches who couldn't reckon themselves to be kin to one another by marriage, blood, or both, even if it was 5th cousin twice removed. The farmer reluctantly agreed to accept the cow without paying her, but allowed the least he could do was keep her in milk and cream without charge.