by Trish Mercer
There was a stand-off of sorts in the morning. One man kept trying to stand up, and another kept forcing him off his feet.
“It feels fine. Just a little twinge, that’s all. I’ll walk it out.” Stand up.
“That twinge means it needs to heal. You’ll walk out all the stitches!” Push back down.
“I can make my own decisions, Dr. Zenos!” Stand up.
“And if I remember correctly, I can override the commander if I feel he is acting irrationally. Do you really want me to relieve you of duty, General?” Push down.
Camp was packed up, breakfast was put away, the horses were ready, the little boys had taken care of the weeds around the trees, and all that was left was for two men to decide how one of them was going to travel. Twenty-eight males watched two more arguing.
Guide Zenos stood nearby, waiting for his opinion to be asked. He wasn’t about to intervene yet, though, far too captivated with watching his son. He would never have had the guts to take on High General Shin when he was twenty-three years old.
“You’re not a full doctor yet, Apprentice Zenos.” Stand up.
“I’m as real a doctor as you are a general.” Push down.
“Is that a shot at what kind of general I am?” Stand up.
“I wouldn’t know. You’re the only general I’ve met. And right now you’re the moldy, stitched up kind.” Push back down.
“Yes, about that mold—just how much of that did you bring along? Your entire bag is turning green.” Stand up.
“Enough to keep you packed until we get back to Salem which, at this rate, will be today because I have half a mind to bring you home right now!”
“So you admit you have at least half a mind.”
Boskos took a deep breath in aggravation. “Papa!” he bellowed as the family laughed.
Perrin patted him on the shoulder. “Boskos, take a look at me—how many times did I stand up in the last minute? Obviously I can handle this.” He stepped closer and gave his irritated nephew a one-armed hug. “You’re a wonderful doctor, you know that? Thank you for trying so hard to take care of me. Whatever I do is my responsibility, not yours, right?”
Boskos sighed. “All right, Uncle Perrin. But if you do any more damage, promise you’ll tell Aunt Mahrree it’s not my fault.”
Perrin patted his cheek. “Of course. Now, where’s that stick your grandfather made me? I think I may need it this morning.”
Shem was relieved. “Now, Peto’s taking lead this morning. Perrin will walk in the middle of the pack with Deck, and I’ll bring up the rear until midday meal. Then we’ll re-evaluate Perrin’s leg,” he said with a meaningful look aimed at his son. Both of them were sure Perrin would be on a horse or in a sling by then.
“I’m walking with Puggah!” cried Briter. “I didn’t kicky his leg, so I get to walk with him.”
Lek looked to his uncle to see if that was all right, and Perrin nodded and smiled.
“I walking too!” called out Ensio. His cousin Cori ran after him to stand with Briter.
“I see I have my escorts ready,” Perrin said.
“So I better get my herding stick ready,” Deck decided.
Peto started off, handing his long knife to his son Kew at the first trees of the morning. “Your turn to mark. A little deeper. Whoa, not that deep—we’re not trying to cut down the tree. That’s better. You mark the next three trees, then hand off the knife to Atlee and Hogal.”
Perrin waited, leaning on the walking stick experimentally as he watched Peto coaching his son. He’d never noticed before that Peto marked only the first two trees of the routes. All of the other trees he let the boys mark. Perrin wondered how many years he’d been doing that. Since he was almost always at the head of the trail he never saw what was happening behind him.
Soon enough the rest of the boys and horses were on the way, and Perrin started along the bare forest floor with his three little charges. His leg twinged, but not unbearably, thanks to the pain tea. Besides, he had enough distractions.
Briter was trying to tell him a story, but Ensio and Cori kept interrupting him to tell Puggah their own stories. For the next hour Perrin tried to let each boy get equal time while he hobbled along.
Cori’s stories were the shortest but the hardest to understand. They consisted of him saying, “And then Mama gave me a sumpin sumpin and then I went ‘ohh’ and then I dropped it and then I laughed.”
Perrin knew the best response. “Oh really? You don’t say.”
Then Cori would try to say it all again, until he was interrupted by a cousin.
By the second hour they were falling behind back to Shem. Deck kept to the middle and Cambo’s son Decker joined Perrin and his escorts, as did Fennic Zenos and his uncle Young Shem Briter, who liked being among a group of boys where he, for once, was the oldest. He beamed with pride as he helped the smaller boys stay on the trail, and frequently nodded back to Uncle Shem that he had things under control.
Perhaps it was Perrin’s slow gait, or the steepness of the climb, but by the third hour, even though he was very far behind, he wasn’t alone.
Boskos, concerned about Perrin’s leg, accompanied his son Toli who now also walked along with his cousins next to Puggah. Even Relf and little Grunick plodded along with them. They maintained a pace even the youngest boy at not yet two years could keep up with.
Shem remained behind all of them, gently nudging along children who were distracted by a fuzzy caterpillar or a fast snake, and encouraging them to see if they could run past their Puggah again.
Perrin had rarely been in the pack this far behind. Yesterday had been one of the few times he was among the last to arrive at the campsite. That made him uneasy. He always liked to be the first at each of their destinations to make sure all was secure and to direct everyone else in preparations. It didn’t feel right to let someone else take the lead.
But then again, at the lead of their hike today was Peto, followed by Deck. He couldn’t think of two better men for the job.
Perrin had learned years ago that the Creator always allows things to happen for a reason. He understood that morning why he was injured. Never before had he been in the company of so many funny little boys, and for the first time he didn’t look at the trees or the trail, or imagine soldiers along the tree line, or call out for Bubba to haul away logs that clogged the paths.
Instead he listened intently to eight little boys who vied for his attention and frequently asked if his hurt was all better yet. Their concern for his efforts as he had to negotiate a large rock in their path was not only amusing but heartfelt. By the end of the third hour, his shirt pocket was filled with tiny blue flowers the boys picked because flowers helped their mamas feel better.
Boskos and Relf walked most of the time with Shem behind Perrin and the little ones, the three men enjoying watching Puggah try to talk to all of them at the same time. Only occasionally did someone step up to help Perrin over more difficult terrain.
As they approached the area where they’d have their midday meal, Perrin was almost sad that the morning, no matter how slow and painful, was nearly over, even though Young Shem announced they would all continue to help Puggah on the next leg of the hike. Perrin realized he had spent that morning walking with the greatest men he’d ever met.
By the time Perrin and his eight short escorts reached the hidden mountain lake, the teenage boys had already fished out their meal and were roasting several large trout.
Peto stood from the fire he was tending and analyzed his father. “How are you doing?”
“Good, good,” he said, a little out of breath. “Much better now that I smell my favorite meal cooking.”
“Sorry we didn’t wait for you to get here. I thought you might want us to keep to the schedule—”
“Absolutely,” Perrin agreed.
“Over here, Perrin,” Deck gestured to some logs they had set up for him to rest on.
Perrin limped over and sat down in relief.
Young Pere walked over, clapped his hands like his grandfather often did, and announced, “About time you arrived! We’re ready to eat and get moving again. Are you?”
Perrin cringed. That was his speech to Young Pere the year he was impaled by a tree in his leg. Perrin hadn’t been the most understanding that day, and now he was reaping the rewards of that.
He nodded at Young Pere. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hold up everyone else. Back on my feet,” and he made a motion to get up.
“No, no, no,” Young Pere chuckled and pushed him back down. “I was just teasing you, Puggah. Fish won’t be ready for at least . . . two or three more minutes. You have that long to rest.”
Perrin sighed with a chastened smile. “Thanks.”
Boskos came over with his bag. “Time to flip your moldy bread, Uncle Perrin.”
“You sound like a horrible cook,” he said, grunting as he lifted his leg on to the log Deck had provided.
Boskos pulled up his trousers’ leg, unwrapped the wound, and gently peeled off the bread. He frowned as he looked at the stitching.
“Oozing, swollen, and red. Unsurprising. Does it feel tender?” he asked as he gingerly poked around it.
“Yes!” Perrin gasped.
Boskos nodded in disappointment. “That’s because you’ve been walking on it.” He turned over the bread and rewrapped the wound with the bandage. “So, are you ready to play big, tough soldier man?”
Perrin leered at him. “And what do you mean by that?”
“Don’t big, tough soldiers ride on horses?”
Perrin sighed. “Sometimes. They certainly don’t ride in slings.”
“And doesn’t the commanding officer always ride on a horse so he can have the best view of everything?”
“All right, Dr. Zenos,” said Perrin with resignation. “You win. Rig up Clark 14 to carry me for the afternoon.”
Boskos smiled. “Besides, some of the little ones will be ready for a nap, so they won’t be able to ‘help’ you as much. Maybe one can share your ride with you.”
Perrin nodded and closed his eyes to rest, and he felt someone else sit down next to him.
“You look pale, Perrin,” Shem said quietly. “Please tell me you’re riding this afternoon.”
“I am,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“Not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy this morning,” Shem said. “Even though we’re way off schedule, I have to tell you, watching you with your little army . . . Well, I’ve seen you lead a lot of men in my time, but those are the greatest soldiers we’ve ever produced, aren’t they?”
Perrin smiled with his eyes still closed. “Yes, they are, Shem. How could we have wanted anything else? They are our best legacy.”
Shem was quiet.
“You’re not crying again are you?”
Sniff.
Perrin opened one eye. “Maybe you better lead this afternoon. Watching all eight boys take a nap on me might put you over the edge.”
Shem chuckled and patted his good leg. “I’ll go get your fish,” he said, wiping his face.
Perrin spied Young Pere out of the corner of his eye. He’d been watching his grandfather and uncle, and by the expression on his face he seemed to think he saw something very unpleasant.
---
Perrin didn’t eat alone. Soon his little division was seated on the ground in front of him eating fish, bread, and dried peaches. Their fathers sat with them listening to them recount the morning’s excitement on the trail.
“And then Cori fell over the root Ensio told him not to,” Briter announced. “I told him little boys are like that. They just don’t listen.”
Lek smirked as he heard echoes of his own lectures.
Young Shem nodded knowingly at Briter. “But I thought the best part was when Puggah messed up the words to that song Aunt Lilla always sings—”
“I wasn’t singing,” Perrin interrupted quietly.
Every set of eyes turned to him.
“I wasn’t,” and he took a bite of trout.
“Uh-huh!” Ensio said loudly, pointing at him. “You were too! You kept mixing up the buzzing bees and the bouncing butterflies! You kept singing the butterflies were buzzing.”
Fennic shook his head. “Butterflies don’t buzz, Puggah,” he said solemnly.
Perrin shifted uncomfortably, pretending it was his leg that was bothering him and not the snorts of suppressed laughter of the boys’ fathers. “I don’t sing.”
“That’s true,” Young Shem said, feeling very grown-up. “Not very well.”
Perrin fidgeted as the fathers didn’t even try to hide their laughter.
Relf pointed at him. “I thought I heard something ahead on the trail.”
“Uncle Puggah sing wiff us,” Toli tattled with a smile.
Ensio, Cori, and Grunick nodded in agreement.
“Like thunder,” Fennic said.
“Thunder?” Lek asked his son. “What do you mean?”
Fennic looked at his father. “Puggah’s singing sound like thunder. Far away.”
Briter nodded. “Yeah, that’s it!”
Perrin turned slightly red under the smiles of his grandsons. “I may rumble from time to time,” he confessed, “but I do not sing.”
“Of course, Puggah,” Sam patted him on the back as he stood up. “And I’m sure none of us will tell Lilla that you mis-rumbled the words of her song.” He took a cautionary step out of the swinging range of Perrin.
Perrin snatched up his stick threateningly and Sam took another step backward.
“You’re lucky I can’t move fast, boy!” Perrin growled with a twinkle in his eye.
“That’s why I’m over here,” Sam teased. “I know what you’re capable of, General, even with a bad leg.”
Immediately Perrin’s expression shifted and he tipped his head contritely. Sam hadn’t talked to him for almost an entire season after he married Lori, too terrified to get near him.
Sam’s face softened as he understood Perrin’s unspoken apology and he nodded back.
“Rumble all you want, Puggah,” Relf said as he got up. “We’ll make you an honorary Trovato yet.”
When the meal was over, Deck reconfigured the loads on the horses so that Perrin could ride along with the child carrier. The little boys were already discussing the order in which they would get to ride with Puggah.
Perrin stood up to mount Clark 14, and immediately was grateful he didn’t have to walk any further. An unexpected pain shot through his leg and he nearly collapsed.
Bubba and Cambo Briter caught him before he fell.
“Father! What’s wrong?” Peto came over quickly.
“Nothing, nothing,” Perrin said in a strained voice. “Just stiffened up while I was sitting, that’s all. Boys, can you help me up on the horse?”
“Of course, Puggah,” Cambo said, leading him slowly over to Clark 14 while Bubba moved a few logs to fashion steps up to the saddle.
“But Puggah,” Bubba said as he supported the other side of his grandfather, “remember—I get to ride with you first. I could use a nap.”
“No, Uncle Bubba!” squealed Cambo’s son Decker. “Papa, tell him—I first!”
Cambo chuckled as he eased Perrin up. “He’s right, Bubba.”
Perrin nodded solemnly from atop Clark 14, evaluating his burliest grandson. “Our combined weight would cripple this poor horse. Sorry, Bubba.”
Bubba shrugged. “Worth a try,” he said with feigned sadness. “Last time I rode with you I was maybe nine years old.”
“And about two hundred pounds lighter.” Perrin held out his arms for Decker and, with a grunt, placed him in the child carrier in front of him.
Decker grinned excitedly and bounced in his seat.
They made much better time to their campsite that night with Perrin on the horse and the little boys taking turns with him. Even Young Shem pretended to nap while he leaned against his grandfather for his thirty minutes on the horse.
/> Perrin didn’t have the heart to tell any of the boys, but supporting their weight as they leaned against him became more difficult throughout the afternoon. Just getting them in and out of the carrier was surprisingly tiring, but he kept a smile on his face as the boys’ fathers hoisted them up and down.
Cori was the last to go in, and Con eyed Perrin with concern as he lifted him up.
“Puggah, are you sure you’re up to this? You look pale. You could just rest for a while.”
Perrin shook his head as he slipped his great-grandson into the carrier. “And disappoint Cori? Besides, I’m still trying to work out what ‘sumpin sumpin’ is. He keeps telling me about it. Maybe if he’s sitting closer to me, I can decipher it. It’s become my goal for the day.”
Con smiled appreciatively. “If you figure it out, would you let me know? Jori and I don’t know what he’s talking about either.”
“Sure thing,” Perrin promised. He caught Con’s arm before he left. “I should tell you that . . . I’m sorry if, uh, maybe I intimidated you before you married Jori. I shouldn’t have done that. To any of you boys.”
Con’s eyes looked damp. “Don’t be sorry. You love your girls. You should. I’m planning to threaten the same thing to all of my sons-in-law.” He grinned and patted Perrin’s good leg. “Does this mean Wes doesn’t get to take a walk with you?”
Perrin chuckled. “Maybe when we get home I’ll sit him down in my office for a few minutes.”
Con rubbed his stubbly cheek thoughtfully. “But that doesn’t have the same effect as, say, the barn. Hold a pitchfork, too. He’s kind of expecting it, the rite of passage to becoming your grandson-in-law. His Great-Grandpa Jothan has already told him so many stories about you. Hate to disappoint him now.”
Perrin laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. Con, I haven’t told you before, but you’re a good husband to my Jori. Thank you. All of you boys are wonderful men. I’ve been watching you over the years. I’m very pleased with all of you.”
Con, taken aback by that unexpected compliment, bobbed his head in awkward acknowledgement. “Thanks, Puggah.”
He smiled at his little boy before joining the others ahead on the trail. Once he caught up to Wes, he put an arm around him, said something in his ear, and Wes turned back to look at Perrin.
Perrin smiled and nodded kindly, but Wes still regarded him with fear.
Con winked mischievously at Perrin and jogged up the path to his brother Sam.
“Con, Con, what did you say to him?” Perrin muttered as he clucked Clark 14 to start walking again.
“Papa says silly stuff,” Cori told him.
“Like you? Like you?” Perrin said, tickling his great-grandson who giggled. “So tell me, Cori, what’s ‘sumpin sumpin’?”
“Just sumpin.”
Perrin sighed. He never was good at juvenile interrogations.
---
By the time they reached their camp site for the night, Perrin couldn’t hide his exhaustion anymore. He allowed Barnos and Peto catch him as he slipped off the horse, and willingly let them, along with Viddrow and Holling Briter, carry him to his bed roll. He didn’t even look around to see if the camp was set up properly. It likely was.
Shem and Boskos came over to check on him. Without a word Boskos unwrapped the wound, and sighed when he saw it.
“Well?” Perrin whispered.
“It’s redder than earlier. Uncle Perrin, as much as you hate the idea, we need to keep your leg elevated. That means riding in the sling tomorrow.”
“All right, Bos,” he said weakly, his eyes already closed.
Alarmed at his uncle’s lack of argument, Boskos looked anxiously up at Peto and Shem.
Deck walked over to them. “Did he just say, ‘All right?’” he whispered. “Didn’t even put up a fight about the sling?”
The three of them shook their heads and stared at Perrin.
Deck squatted next to him. “Got some more fish for tonight, Perrin. Barnos found some of those herbs Lilla uses and is trying to make it like she does. Do you want that, or the jerky Jaytsy packed? Personally, I’d go for the fish if I were you. Smells pretty good already. I might even try some tonight.”
“Fish is fine,” he whispered. “Wake me when it’s ready.”
“Should only be a few minutes, Perrin.” He looked worriedly at Boskos who didn’t shift his gaze, but continued to stare at his ailing patient. Having no other way to help, Deck jogged over to the fires where dinner was cooking.
Boskos stood up and silently motioned for Peto to follow him. They walked away several paces while Shem kneeled down by Perrin again, and they watched from a distance as Shem asked another blessing for him.
“Uncle Peto, I think we need to get him home,” Boskos whispered. “He’s far more frail than he should be. I don’t like it. Dr. Toon has different molds he’s been experimenting with and probably has something more effective than what I brought.”
“I agree,” Peto said. “But let’s not tell him until morning. He’ll be upset about not getting to the temple ruin this year. It will be the first time he’s missed it.”
“I’ll help take him down,” Boskos said. “I just need another person for the other pack horse.”
“Actually, Bos, I think you should stay. What if something happens to someone here? Young Pere has yet to get into trouble, but it’s coming, I know it. He’s been far too quiet and good. You could write a detailed note for Dr. Toon telling him what you’ve been doing, then a few of us can hurry my father down. We should be able to get there by afternoon if we leave early in the morning.”
Boskos tipped his head. “Sounds like you’re planning to take him.”
“He’s my father, after all,” Peto said. “None of the young fathers should help me, though. They need to watch their boys. Maybe Cephas or Viddrow or—”
“Young Pere? If he’s with you, you won’t worry so much about him. Besides, he could do his own stitches now,” Boskos almost smiled. “You might have some time to talk with him. I think he’d be a great doctor. He could start taking the anatomy courses when classes resume and be ready for the entrance exams by Planting Season.”
Peto patted him on the back. “Not bad ideas. But I’m worried about not leaving you with enough horses.”
“Well, you need one to send a rider ahead to retrieve the wagon from Grandma Trovato’s in Norden,” Boskos thought out loud, “Then you still need two horses to carry Uncle Perrin in the sling down the mountain—”
“That leaves you with only one horse for the food and supplies and children,” Peto said. “I don’t like that, Bos.”
He waved it off. “Now that I think about it, I’m sure we can handle it. It’ll be downhill all the way back. Besides, it’ll be a good experience, remember? Not everyone will do this trip with pack horses. If needs be, we can leave the supplies here and retrieve them later. No, Uncle Peto, one horse will be all we need.”
“Let’s keep thinking about this until tomorrow morning, Bos, then we’ll make final decisions. I have a feeling the Creator will tell us by then what we should do. Let’s keep open minds so that He can.”
---
Perrin felt the land tremor, and the snow coming through the roof and landing on him. He was in Edge and Idumea at the same time, and the ground wouldn’t stop shaking. No matter what he did he couldn’t hold it still. The snow fell on his face in big white clumps, chilling him all over.
But what bothered him the most was that he couldn’t find Mahrree anywhere.
When he opened his eyes, the sky was dark. In the dim firelight he recognized Shem on one side, Peto on the other, and Deck above him. Someone was working on his leg, and it felt like it was on fire. He recoiled in pain, but didn’t have any strength to move it, even if firm hands weren’t holding it in place.
Deck laid something cool and wet on his head.
“No. Too cold,” Perrin whispered. “No more snow.”
“Father, you
have a high fever,” Peto told him. “We need to cool you down.”
“Stoke the fire. Too cold.”
The three men looked briefly at each other. The fire was lit for light, not for warmth on that balmy Weeding Season night. “We can’t do that, Father. The heat might make you worse.”
“Peto, I can’t find your mother.”
Peto took his trembling hand and held it firmly. “I know, I know. We’re taking you home to her. We’ve already sent Barnos on Clark 14 to the Trovatos. The wagon will meet us at the bottom of the mountain.”
“Just find her, son.”
“Perrin, I’m not sure you understand what’s happening,” Shem said, leaning closer to him. “We’re in the mountains now, on a marking trip, but your leg was injured, and now it’s looking much worse. We need to get you to Dr. Toon to try something different. As soon as Boskos has your leg rewrapped, you’re heading down the mountain.”
“After the land tremor.”
The three men looked at each other again.
“Land tremor, Perrin?” Deck asked.
“Shaking.”
“Perrin,” Shem laid a firm hand on his shoulder in a futile attempt to still him. “Can you feel me? The only thing shaking is you. That’s what woke Briter up. Your shaking means you’re suffering from an infection. The only way to treat you is to get you home and to Dr. Toon. Do you understand me?”
“I think so,” he mumbled and shivered.
“He’s ready,” Boskos said, placing a light blanket over Perrin.
“Can I go with Puggah?” asked a little voice.
Everyone turned to look at Briter.
“I won’t kick him.”
Shem pulled his grandson close. “Puggah’s very sick. He’s going home to get better.”
“I don’t want to leave Puggah. We should go with him,” Briter decided. “But I don’t need his hotness. He has too much now.”
Shem sighed. “Briter, the sun won’t be up for hours still. Go lie down with your brother and get some more sleep—”
“No!” Briter started to wail. “Puggah needs me!”
Peto noticed Young Shem approaching. “Uncle Peto, can I go with you? I heard Young Pere saying you were going to help Puggah go home. I can help.”
“Don’t you want to stay with your papa and help finish marking the trail?” Peto said. “You get to see the temple ruin today.”
Now Young Shem tried not to blubber as he turned to Deck. “Puggah needs me, Papa.”
Deck exhaled. “Son, it’s not like you can ride with Puggah.” He glanced up as Young Pere and Cambo led two pack horses over to them.
Lek was testing a long, thick tree trunk they had just chopped down, intended to hold the sling as it straddled between the two horses.
“I hope it’s strong enough,” he said quietly to Young Pere. “Relf and Sam are looking for another piece that you can take along with you, in case this one cracks.”
Shem stood up and felt the diameter of the wood. “Looks adequate. Let’s pray it’s enough.”
Suddenly Atlee, Hogal, Kew, and Nool stood nearby. “We’ve decided,” Nool said, “We all want to go home, too.”
On the ground Perrin shivered again.
Shem knelt down gripped his shoulders to try to calm him. “Boys, now’s not the time. We need to move quickly and soon.”
Boskos nodded in agreement.
Lek, Peto, and Deck hefted Perrin into the net sling already spread out on the ground next to him, and Shem slipped the ends on to the tree trunk.
Zaddick came trotting out of the dark woods with another long trunk. “Relf and Sam said to couple this one with it. Should be more than strong enough now.”
It took three men to heft Perrin and his sling, then attach the sling to the pack horses that shifted unsteadily under the awkward load.
Deck frowned. “I don’t like the looks of this. Those Clarks aren’t trained like the horses used on the routes from Edge. And what if something goes wrong? They’re already looking skittish. Peto and Young Pere can’t lift Perrin and steady the horses by themselves.”
Shem closed his eyes.
Everyone watched him, holding their breath.
When he opened his eyes a few moments later, he looked around at the faces illuminated by the dying fire.
“Wake everyone who’s not up yet,” the guide ordered. “Pack only the necessities. We’ll retrieve the rest later. We’re all going home, but we need to leave in the next half hour.”
Several of the boys cheered, taking care of the first item Guide Zenos mentioned.
“What about marking the path and clearing the downed trees?” Peto asked, no longer really concerned about it, but feeling he should mention it.
“We can finish later in the season,” Shem told him. “Idumea’s not coming this year.”
---
Mahrree found herself lying awake in her bed and wondered what had disturbed her. She listened carefully to the sounds of the house. Not having any men around always made her a little jumpy, although Salem was the safest place she could imagine. Even with visiting granddaughters and great-granddaughters filling most of the rooms that the boys left, the house seemed a little empty. She was still exhausted, having sat up with the teenage girls and married women until late in the night, talking and laughing.
Jaytsy and Lilla were sure they knew all there was to being a good wife, and Mahrree kept setting them straight again and again. Calla sat back and listened, rocking her latest granddaughter and offering the sagest advice of all, but only when asked. The good-natured arguments certainly kept Hycy’s rapt attention as she learned more about men than she ever had before.
Mahrree tried rolling over to get back to sleep but found her eyes opening again. She sat up and looked around. The sun wouldn’t be rising for perhaps another hour.
But then a feeling of intense worry filled her, as if she was watching something terrible happen, but she couldn’t see what it was. It was followed oddly by great warmth and peace, gently wiping away the concern.
She listened carefully, then heard again what had awakened her.
Mahrree, there’s been an accident. But it’s the Creator’s will.
Oh Father, who is it?
Perrin. He’s starting on his way home.
Chapter 12--“And it’s the Creator’s will.”
