Light to the Hills: A Novel (41)

They kept a good-natured running tally of what each of them bagged for the week. It was hardly fair since Harley spent half his time at the mines, and Cricket used those hours to set traps and snares, which counted toward his total. Harley had decreed that fish and frogs didn’t figure in; they were too easy. That didn’t keep Cricket away from the creeks and deeper pools of icy water, trying to snag a mess of bluegill or an occasional trout that would fry up crispy and golden.

The day of the ice storm, it wasn’t long after Amanda and Finn had burst back into the cabin, red-cheeked and laughing, that they heard the familiar boots clomping on the porch steps. Finn and Amanda warmed their hands by the fire, and Digger and Tuck ducked through the open door and made themselves at home close to the orange glow of the coals.

Cricket triumphantly held up a triplet of squirrel tails, and he handed a sack of their skinned corpses to Rai. In a swirl of stomping and shaking off water, Harley and Cricket shucked off wet coats and boots and hung their hats to dry on their pegs.

“It’s not fit for man nor beast this evening,” Harley declared. “Started out sleet, and now it’s coming down jagged icicles.” He nodded to Amanda, who scooted to the side to give him room by the fire. “You might jest as well stay here for the night. It’d be miserable going any stretch in this.”

Amanda hadn’t considered this. She’d always been able to make it home by the end of a route.

“Mooney won’t know what’s kept me.”

“Reckon she’ll get the idea once she pokes her nose outside,” he said. “It’s no use. Even if your mule has pine tar on his shoes, the trails ain’t safe as icy as it is, and you’re liable to freeze plumb to death.”

“Miles,” Amanda said, looking to Rai. She would understand her need to return.

“Mooney’ll look after him, and you can set out soon as you’re able. It won’t do him no harm.”

Amanda twisted the ring on her hand, the laughter and joking with Finn fading with the worry that rose in her chest. This would be the first time she and Miles would spend a night apart. Of course she trusted Mooney; that wasn’t it. Miles was her first priority, the only reason she’d gotten the book route in the first place. A thread of guilt wound itself around Amanda’s heart. She should have started home earlier rather than lingering for a few extra minutes with the MacInteers. Now Miles would worry and fret because of her selfishness. She doubted she’d get a lick of sleep all night, but Harley was right.

“What can I do to help you with supper?” Amanda sighed. “Pick out a good book, Sass. You can read it while we fix these squirrels.”

Harley and Cricket cleaned up from the hunt, and Rai and Amanda bustled about the small stove, feeding kindling into its glowing maw, salting the game, and chopping the potatoes Finn had peeled. Harley peeped out the window now and then, watching the light fade as the temperature dropped. Although he’d told Amanda it would be foolish to be out in the weather, the foreman wouldn’t see it that way. Instead of chancing his job to the next man in line, Harley placed his boots and coat by the fire to gather extra warmth for walking the miles ahead.

“Daddy, Myrtle didn’t come up to eat earlier,” Fern reported. “Goats and horses look all right, but Myrtle ain’t doing right, and she looks to be making bag.”

Harley scratched his beard. “If that don’t beat all to wait for a’ ice storm. Reckon she’ll be calving here ’fore too long. I’ll round her up before I leave, and boys, you’ll have to look after her till I get home. Chuck some logs in that woodstove out there so you won’t freeze to death while you’re waiting.”

“Yessir,” Finn said. “We’ll handle it. Them chains out in the barn just in case?”

“Should be hanging on the east wall. Might orta knock the dust off, though I reckon ole Myrtle won’t much care how clean they are if you’s to need ’em. Iodine’s sitting in the case there as you walk in.”

Supper was lively. Harley and Cricket joked and teased about who was winning the hunting wager, and Fern, Amanda, and Sass talked about the folks on her route and who might like a stuffed rabbit. Poor Hiccup was in a foul mood and fussed.

“Can I do something for Hiccup?” asked Amanda.

“Oh, no, I believe she might have a tapeworm is all. She’s hungry ’cause she ain’t had ’ary a bite since last night, but after supper here in a minute, I’ll give her some.”

While Harley took his customary after-supper nap, Fern sat Hiccup on the table while Rai warmed a bit of milk on the stove and held a small jar of it up under Hiccup’s nose.

“Smell that?” she coaxed, miming how to breathe deeply. “Smell it good, baby.” Hiccup sniffed at the milk and stretched out her hands to drink it, but Rai held her hands down and gradually brought the jar farther and farther from the girl’s nose as she sniffed. “Here it comes, good girl.”

The flat white head of a worm, wanting supper just as much as Hiccup did, waved out one of Hiccup’s nostrils in search of the milk. When enough of it had ventured forth, quick as a hare, Rai set down the jar and grasped the end of the worm with a rag, pulling gently until the accursed parasite was out. Hiccup barely registered anything was happening; her eyes were on the milk and bites of meat and potato that had been set aside for her as a reward. Rai deposited the hateful thing in the bucket of peelings and other chicken scraps.