AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lyddie blushed. “The truth is, we’re taking the horse and cow to Mr. Westcott—in payment of debt, and we’re obliged to sell off this pretty calf straight away. Our mother’s put us out to work.”
“Thee’s leaving thy land?”
“It’s let as well,” she said, allowing just a tiny hint of sadness to creep into her voice. “Charles here and I was waiting for our father to come back from the West, but …”
“Thee’s been alone all winter, just thee two children?”
She could feel Charles stiffen beside her. “We managed fine,” she said.
He took off his hat again and wiped his face and neck. “I should have come to call on my neighbors,” he said quietly.
She sensed a weakness. “You wouldn’t be interested … no, surely not. You got a mighty herd already.”
“I’ll give thee twenty dollars for the calf,” he said quickly. “No, twenty-five. I know the sire and he’s of a good line.” He smiled.
Lyddie pretended to think. “Seems mighty high,” she said.
“She’s half yours by rights,” Charles blurted out before Lyddie could elbow him quiet. His honesty would be her death yet.
But the kind man persisted. “It’s a fair price for a nice fat little heifer. Thee’s kept her well.”
He invited them in to complete their business transaction and, before they were done, they found themselves eating a hearty noon dinner with the family. The room they sat down in was larger than the whole cabin with the shed thrown in. It was kitchen and parlor with a corner for spinning and weaving. The Quakers were rich enough to own their own loom. The meal spread out on the long oak table looked like a king’s feast to children who, until the cow freshened, had lived mostly on rabbit and bark soup, and the last of the moldy potatoes from the year before.
The Quaker’s wife was as large and red-faced as her husband, and equally kind. She urged them to eat, for they still had a long walk ahead of them. This reminded Quaker Stevens that he needed nails. One of the boys could take them to the mill and then on to the village, he said. The cow and horse must be tethered to the back of the wagon, so it would be nearly as slow as walking until they got to Westcott’s, but, if they’d care for the ride …
The sons had removed their hats for the meal. They looked much younger and less stern than she remembered them. The youngest, Luke, she had seen more often, back in the days when she had gone to school. He had been one of the enormous boys who sat in the back of the schoolroom—sixteen or so when she was a tiny one in the front row. She hadn’t gone to school at all since her father left. She hadn’t dared to leave the babies alone with their mother. Charles had gone for most of the four-month term up until this past winter—until it had seemed too hard. She hoped the miller would let him do some schooling. He had a good mind, not so stubborn against learning as hers seemed to be.
Luke Stevens tied the horse and cow to the back of the wagon and then came around to give Lyddie a hand up, but she pretended not to see. She couldn’t have the man thinking she was a child or a helpless female. She jumped up the high step into the wagon and then realized she’d be squeezed between Luke and Charles on the narrow seat. She sat as tightly into herself as she could. She wasn’t used to brushing bodies with near strangers. They hardly touched one another in the family. It made her feel small and tongue-tied to be so close to this great hulk of a man.
He wasn’t much of a talker either. He leaned forward from time to time and talked around her to Charles. He asked if Charlie knew much about the mill where he’d be working. Charles’s sweet, high-pitched boyish tones made him seem heartbreakingly young against the deep male voice of his questioner. It was so unfair. This man had both father and mother and older brothers to live with and to care for him, while little Charlie must make his way in the world alone. She felt around the bottom of the gunnysack until her fingers found the lump of coinage. She pinched the money hard to remind herself not to cry.
“Then the farm will just lie fallow?” Luke was asking Charles.
“No, it’s let—the fields and pasture and sugar bush for the debt. The house and shed we’ll just leave be. I hope the snow don’t do in the roofs.” Charles’s anxious concern was almost too much for Lyddie to bear.
“Oh, they’ll be all right. And we’ll be back in a couple of years.”
“I could stop by. Would thee like me to stop by? Shovel the snow off the roof if need be?”
“No need …” she started, but Charles was already thanking him for his kindness.
“I’d be obliged,” he said. “It would take the worry off. Lyddie and me aim to keep it standing against Papa’s return. Don’t make it trouble for yourself, though.”
“It’d be no trouble,” Luke said kindly.
“Ain’t nobody to pack down the track come snow.”
He ignored her grumpy tone, smiling at her. “I can snowshoe it. Nothing better than a good hike on my own. That house gets mighty crowded come winter.” The way he spoke made Lyddie feel that she was the child and Charles the responsible one.
The horse and cow were safely delivered to Mr. Westcott. His farm lay in the river plain and was already alive with shoots of new corn. Lyddie watched Mr. Westcott lead their old cow and horse away. Next to Westcott’s sleek stock, they’d look like hungry sparrows pecking in a hen yard.
At a livelier clip they took the river road toward Baker’s Mill. “I can walk from here easy,” Charles protested, but Luke shook him off. “Faster I get home, sooner I’m hauling rocks,” he said, laughing.
She didn’t want Luke Stevens watching while she bid Charles good-bye, but again maybe it was better. She might weaken if they were alone, and that would never do.
“I’ll only be in the village,” she said. “Maybe you can drop up.”
Charles put his little hand on her arm. “You mustn’t worry, ey Lyddie,” he said. “You’ll be all right.”
