The lad's back went straight as a trusty oak. "All right."
One day he'll be a man. Rocky gave his head a mental shake. "Come on then. We don't have all day."
At that, the boy pushed back his chair and leaped to his feet. "Yippee!" he yelped.
"Wait. Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.
Confusion shaded the boy's expression and he stood stockstill. "Huh?"
Smothering a grin, he nodded from Seth to Sarah. "You best ask first if you may be excused."
"Oh, yeah." Seth looked at Sarah, impatience seeping from his very pores. "Can I go now?"
Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, putting Rocky in mind of a warm brook on an August afternoon. Swallowing hard, he shoved the annoying simile to the back of his head.
"Of course," she replied, her sparkling teeth gleaming. "I suppose Rachel and I can manage without you for the rest of the day. What do you think, Rachel?"
Rachel wore a hint of a smile, but chose not to respond, just gave a slow nod. Rocky took it as a sign of approval.
Well, what do you know? The girl was coming around.
The hard, cold earth refused to give under Rocky's weight as he and Seth trudged past the barn and other outbuildings just minutes later. The pair's hot breath formed puffy, white wisps of vapor as they hurried down the path, Rocky having to slow his steps for the eager five-year-old's smaller ones.
Hungry chickens in search of seed picked greedily at the dry, icy ground. "Go inside, ya dumb birds," Rocky mumbled at them. "There's plenty of food in your coop."
Seth giggled. "They're dumb, ain't they, Uncle Rocky?"
"Aren't they," Rocky corrected. "Don't say `ain't.' And, yes, they are pretty stupid."
"Why do you pots 'em if they're so dumb?"
Rocky glanced down at Seth and found the boy's head turned toward him, his face filled with sincere curiosity. "I have them because they give us tasty eggs. `Gots' is not a word, Seth."
"I don't like eggs."
Rocky repressed a grin. "So you've said. Well, you like to eat chicken, don't you?"
"I guess."
They walked up a steep incline, neither speaking again for the next several minutes, as they made their way to the first fence line needing repair. "We'll stop here," Rocky said, hauling his tool strap off his shoulder and bringing out what items he would need for repairing the fallen board.
Seth seemed to size up the damage to the fence. "How'd it get broke?"
"One of the cows kicked it last fall. I figure she was stung by a couple of wasps when she got curious about that nest down there."
Rocky pointed at the ground. Seth's eyes followed a path to the destroyed nest now lying deserted on the ground just under the fence. Obvious interest had the boy bending over it, his eyes filled with nervous excitement. "I never seen one before," he cried.
"Yeah? Well, look your fill. It's harmless now."
Seth immediately took the gray creation in with greedy eyes and, before Rocky could stop him, had his hands on the thing, gingerly picking it up. "Can I take it home and show Rachel? She never seen one neither."
"Is that a fact?" He'd known his sister Elizabeth had lived in the city with her two kids, but had she never taken them to the country? It seemed hard to believe that the boy had never laid eyes on a simple hornets' nest. "Suit yourself," he replied, hauling out his hammer and a handful of nails. While Seth scrutinized the nest inside and out, Rocky looked on.
Without warning, a picture of his son flashed across his mind. Joseph would have been five, not much different in size from Seth and certainly no less inquisitive about life. If he thought about it long enough, he could see similarities in the boys-the color of their hair and eyes, and, at times, even the sound of their voices. In fact, the resemblance was almost eerie, so much so that looking at Seth now made him ache inside.
"Put it down for now and hold this board for me."
The boy laid the worthless nest beside him and took the board Rocky handed him. It wasn't particularly heavy, but he huffed with all his might to hold it steady. "That's right," said Rocky. "Now hold it still while I put this nail in place."
The two worked companionably, Seth firing question after question at him, most pointless in nature. "Why is that board crooked?"; "How far over that hill does the fence go?"; "When will it be warm again?"; "Who lives in that house down there?"; "How strong are you?"; and the clincher, "Do you like Sarah?"
Rocky managed to answer each one but the last. That one he simply disregarded until Seth brought it up again. He might have known the scalawag wouldn't let it go.
"I suppose I like her," Rocky finally admitted.
"Sarah says she married you so she could take care of us."
"That's right."
"And she said God told her to do it."
"Yeah?" Rocky nudged the boy on the shoulder and urged him to a spot further down the hill, bee's nest tucked under an arm, where another repair job waited. The boy complied but kept up his chatter. Since when was he such a babbler? Not two weeks ago, Rocky'd been hard-pressed to get the lad to put two words together. Now all of a sudden he was spouting off about anything and everything.
God told her to marry him? Highly unlikely, but a nice thought anyway. Sarah's coming along when she did was a stroke of luck-nothing more. Of course, he didn't really believe in luck, but neither did he believe in divine intervention-at least not anymore. Perhaps he had at one time, but that was long ago, before he'd lost his Hester to a terrible disease and then, more recently, his beloved son.
Plain and simple, the notion that God had led Sarah to Little Hickman for the sole purpose of marrying him bordered on impossible.
he days passed in steady succession. Sarah found herself falling into a routine of sorts, rising early to prepare breakfast and rouse the children. After breakfast, she and the children washed the dishes together, and then, while they tended to their assigned chores and Rocky headed for the barn, she scrubbed more floors and shelves and dusted and polished more furniture.
Never had she worked so hard or had the aching muscles to prove it. Even her once beautifully manicured nails showed signs of wear and tear. It seemed that every time she moved a chair away from a corner or a table from its long-held home, she discovered more dirt. It made her wonder what, if anything, her husband had done to keep the place clean once his wife had passed on. Had he counted on his elderly mother to tend to all his housekeeping chores?
Around-the-clock maids and hired cooks had been a way of life for Sarah, so taking to a broom and dust cloth didn't come naturally. Still, a keen sense of satisfaction filled her being at the end of each day when she at last fell atop her bed of straw. She was learning how to keep a tidy house, and, although it may have seemed an easy undertaking to some, it was a great accomplishment, to her way of thinking.
You'll never accustom yourself to this mud-hole town, Sarah. You've been pampered your entire life.
Stephen's words came back to sneer at her more than once, usually when she found herself crouched on the floor or stretching for something on a high shelf. Usually she brushed the remembered criticism aside, but some days were tough, particularly since she'd received little affirmation from her husband. Most mornings he greeted her with half a smile and an occasional "Mornin'." She wanted to ask him how she was doing, but at the risk of rejection, she kept her mouth shut.
Another matter of distress was the children. They had been more than helpful with the chores, even eager, although neither one had smiled much since that first day. Sarah was beginning to wonder what it would take to draw them out of their cold, dark shells. Although Rocky had taken Seth with him the day he'd tended to the fence, he'd failed to invite him again, and the boy's disappointment was clear whenever Rocky set off for his afternoon duties.
Rachel, although seemingly willing to help around the house, quickly took her leave when her jobs were finished. She was an avid reader, but while Sarah was thrilled with her uncanny ability to decod
e even the most difficult words, it worried her that the child used her books as a means of escape.
Sarah had taken to her Bible like a starving child every morning before rising, desperate for promises from the Lord that would sustain her, keep her encouraged, and fill her with tidbits of wisdom as to how to help this dismal household. Today she'd read from the book of James a passage she'd long ago memorized. "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him." She'd certainly needed those words this morning and had drawn comfort from them. Now, however, some ten days into her marriage, as she watched a despondent seven-year-old bury her face in a volume of Little Lord Fauntleroy, her small frame curved into a rickety chair, she wondered what had happened to that dose of promised wisdom.
"Are you enjoying the book?" Sarah asked while washing a couple pairs of Seth's denim trousers, taking care not to speak too loudly since the youngster had crawled up on the couch next to the woodstove and fallen asleep. It appeared to be a lazy afternoon. Bitter winds blowing in from the west whistled around the little cabin, seeming to send out some kind of admonition.
Rachel looked up from her wobbly perch, her spindly legs tucked under her long dress, bare feet sticking out at the hem. Sarah made a mental note to fit the girl with some more new dresses. Her wardrobe was painfully meager in comparison to Sarah's, and the realization produced guilt in the pit of her stomach. How could she have let the matter go untended? It didn't take more than a few hours to stitch a simple dress. Maybe she would even fashion a few pairs of pants for Seth, even though it did seem his wardrobe wasn't nearly so scant.
"I like it fine," Rachel responded glumly.
Sarah left the soaking denims in the basin and crossed the room to where the girl sat. Once there, she hovered over her to peek at the book. It appeared she'd read nearly three-quarters of the novel already.
"You're an excellent reader, Rachel."
"My mama taught me even before I went to school."
Sarah noted a distant look creep across the child's face. She hadn't pushed the girl with regard to her deep loss, but then neither had she spoken of her own. Some nights, as she lay in bed, the tears flowed freely from her own profound sorrow. She could only imagine the grief a mere child felt at the loss of a loved one. It must be akin to losing a part of one's soul.
"She was very smart to have exposed you to books at so early an age, but then you are very smart to have learned so quickly."
Rachel's expression turned even more introspective. "Mama always said I was smart. 'Course, so did Mrs. Riley"
"Mrs. Riley?"
"She was my second-grade teacher in Columbus, Ohio."
"I see. Is Columbus a large city?"
"I guess. We lived in a big building in the city, but we didn't go nowhere 'cause we was poor."
Sarah's heart lurched at the simple statement. "Was the school big where you attended?"
She nodded her head slowly. "There was an upstairs floor with lots more classrooms."
"It sounds like the school I attended in Winchester."
Rachel's eyes found hers. "Winchester?"
"Yes, it's where I grew up."
"Oh"
More quiet moments followed. "Do you miss your friends in Columbus?"
"I didn't have that many. Mama wouldn't let me visit no one. I do miss my school, though, and Mrs. Riley"
A tragic fire had destroyed Little Hickman's schoolhouse shortly after Sarah had arrived, forcing the town to cancel classes until the men of the village erected a new building. Talk was that the work would begin in the spring, provided sufficient funds came in. Already the townsfolk had held a bazaar to raise money, and more activities were in the works. Sarah intended to get involved in the efforts herself once she felt more settled.
"You will attend school here in the fall," she said, hoping to cheer the girl's spirits.
"I don't know none of the kids here."
`Any of the kids," she carefully corrected. Rachel was indeed intelligent, but it appeared her manner of expression needed improvement. "You will make friends easily once school starts. Perhaps you would enjoy meeting the Broughton girl. She is just about your age, I believe. We could drive over there one day soon if you like. Her stepmother has invited us to come anytime."
"What's her name?"
"Lill, I believe. Yes, Lill. Her parents attended our wedding festivities. You remember Mr. and Mrs. Broughton."
Rachel nodded. "I guess. My grandmother told me everyone's name, but I forgot."
Sarah smiled. "Everything has been so new for you. I imagine it's hard for both you and Seth to make such an adjustment."
At this, the girl stuck her head back in her book, so Sarah took this as a signal to change the direction of their conversation.
"Can you tell me about the book you're reading?" Sarah asked.
"I found it up there." Rachel pointed to the dozens of books tucked side by side on the bookshelf beside the fireplace. "Uncle Rocky has lots of books."
"I've noticed. I dusted behind every last one of them, remember?" She recalled that Rocky's Bible appeared to have accumulated the most dust of any book there, and the realization had saddened her.
At last, the girl smiled, reluctantly. "And I helped."
"Yes, you did, and I appreciated it very much. Now, back to the book."
"It's about a poor little boy from New York named Cedric. His papa dies and it's very sad. But then he finds out that his grandfather in England is very rich, and so he moves there with his mama. His grandfather is very mean and grumpy, though, like Uncle Rocky. I think Cedric might become the king or something, but I haven't got that far in the book yet."
Sarah smiled at the simple description. "I remember the book, but I was much older than you when I read it."
Rachel's expression perked up. "Did you like it?"
"I enjoyed it a great deal."
"Did Ceddie become king of England?"
"Not exactly, but oh, I can't tell you how it ends, sweetie. That would spoil the whole book. You might not want to read it if you learned the ending ahead of time."
Rachel grew thoughtful again and her large blue eyes went misty. "Sometimes I wish I knew how things were gonna turn out ahead of time so I could be ready for them."
Sarah's heart turned over with Rachel's straightforward pronouncement. Such a carefully thought-out statement for a mere child.
"I think it's best that we don't know. Life would be much harder, I think. God knows all of our tomorrows, honey, and He wants us to trust Him."
"I believe in God. My mama taught me to love Him."
"I'm glad to hear that."
Again, the child's eyes traveled back to the book, but it was apparent by the way she stared at the page that she wasn't truly reading.
"Well, I suppose I should finish washing Seth's trousers."
Just as Sarah headed toward the sink, Rocky came through the door, his face reddened from the cold, his wool cap pulled down low on his forehead, almost, but not quite, shielding his dark eyes.
Sarah checked the clock on the wall. It was mid-afternoon. "Are you finished early with your chores?" she asked, searching his expression for a hint of warmth, but finding none.
"Need to make a run into town for some supplies," he answered.
It'd been nearly a week and a half since Sarah had laid eyes on another human being besides Rocky and the children. The prospect of a trip into town on the buckboard, regardless of the cold, suddenly thrilled her. "Oh, may we come along?"
"I don't think it's a good idea. The weather is turning."
"I promise we won't be any trouble."
Just then, Seth started to wake up. He sat up and wiped his sleep-filled eyes. "Can we come, Uncle Rocky?"
"I didn't say you'd be any trouble," Rocky clarified, giving Sarah an impenetrable look. They'd spoken little over the past days, and Sarah thought him a difficult man to read. She'd never known anyone to be so somber.
"It's the weather that worries me.
"But it'd be so nice to get out of the house," Sarah said, hating that she had to beg.
Now his blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through her. "I guess you have been holed up here. I take it you're not used to seclusion."
Not knowing how to take the comment, she remained silent but hopeful.
"Well, I'm leaving in a few minutes. Can you all be ready?"
"Of course," she cried, finding it impossible to hide her excitement.
He walked across the room to the glowing fire. "Think I'll warm up a bit before I go out and hitch up the team. It's getting mighty cold out there. Everyone dress warm. Something seems to be brewing in the west. Storm clouds are moving in."
Sarah caught a glimpse of concern in his tone but chose to ignore it on the chance he might change his mind about allowing them to accompany him.
"Come on, Rachel," Seth squealed, running past his sister. "We gotta hurry an' get ready 'fore Uncle Rocky leaves us."
Rocky watched the lad scoot off the couch and run for his coat. A hint of a smile crossed his face, the kind that betrayed pleasure.
My goodness! Was he actually mellowing?
The four of them sat huddled together on the long seat atop the open buckboard. It was a cold, bumpy ride into town, but with the children squeezed in between Sarah and Rocky, Sarah occasionally grabbing hold of the side bar for security's sake, Rocky thought they managed quite well. Sarah had thrown a fleecy quilt over the children's laps and bundled them up from top to bottom so that little more than their eyes and noses saw the light of day. It was a far cry from the day Rocky had made the kids take the two-mile trek into town mittenless. He still felt haunted by Sarah's words of admonishment when she'd discovered what he'd done.
Out of the corner of one eye, Rocky studied his wife. A few curly locks of red hair had escaped her blue wool bonnet to blow in the wind and curl around the exposed part of her pale neck. He didn't doubt she was pretty enough to be pictured on the front cover of one of those newfangled ladies' magazines Hester used to drool over if ever they took an extended trip into Lexington and happened onto a bookstand.
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 9
