Light to the Hills: A Novel (59)
Mama left the girls tidying up the garden tools and went to meet him. On their way to throw the weeds over into the chicken pen, the sisters dawdled long enough to hear bits of Daddy’s tirade. Mama’s calm answers were so soft they couldn’t make them out.
For months now, while Finn shuffled back and forth into the woods, Sass took notice of Mama standing with her hands on her hips or wringing them in concern as she watched him from the window or doorway, but she’d held her tongue. She knew he was working things out in his mind and healing how he thought best. Truthfully, she preferred him up and active, even if he came home plumb exhausted at the end of a day, than propped up in bed, staring at nothing out the window. He was mighty intent on something, she knew, enough to brush her off. Once or twice, he even spoke sharply to her and Cricket, which they’d chalked up to the pain in his leg.
“. . . what the devil he’s thinking?” Daddy yelled. “This ain’t the way to do it!” Boots stomped and dishes rattled on the shelves. “. . . was almost proud to report it to me, like I’d be all for the idea. Bad as it is in the mines, I don’t see how serving jail time makes you any freer.”
Sass and Fern looked at each other, eyes wide. Jail? Who was going to jail? The scuff of wood against wood and a final slam—that would be Daddy shoving a chair against the table, unable to sit still. He wasn’t often angry, but when he was, it was best not to be a piece of furniture.
“Fishing, are they? Well, he’ll be squirming like a worm on a hook by the time he’s heard me out! Tell him to come find me in the barn. Shift is canceled tonight anyhow.” The door slammed with a thunk Sass thought might loosen a shingle or two. Good thing Digger and Tuck had gone with the boys, or they’d be hunkered under the porch, their tails flat against their bellies. Sass and her sisters hastened their steps to the chicken pen and tossed the armfuls of weeds over the wire. The hens fell upon the greenery like it was manna from heaven. They weren’t choosy, squabbling with each other over the right to scratch and peck to fill their gizzards.
Daddy stayed in the barn the rest of the afternoon, and Sass spied him now and then as she passed by, doing chores around the yard. He curried the horses until they shone and oiled their tack until it handled soft as melted wax. He scoured water buckets and mucked out the stalls, tossing manure into the compost pile behind the barn. When working out a temper, it helped to do horse chores, smell the sweet hay and leather tack. Sass sensed a change in Mama, too, since Daddy had come home. She seemed aggrieved, her mouth set in a line, not to be crossed. Sass was grateful Mama wasn’t prone to outbursts, too, or they might not have a place left to eat supper.
Digger and Tuck reached the cabin first, toenails clicking on the porch steps. Finn and Cricket carried a string of fish, already cleaned and gutted, that would make a delicious supper, and Mama busied herself with the cast-iron stove. Fern rose to help, but Sass stayed at the table with Hiccup, a book spread between them.
“We left that sack of fish heads hanging on the garden post for the taters later like you said, Ma,” said Cricket. “I’m gonna go clean my knife.”
When he’d disappeared around the side of the cabin, Finn set their dinner pail down on the table. “All right,” he said. “Reckon someone needs to speak up.”
Mama turned from the stove, her lips pressed tight. “Your daddy’s in the barn wanting to have a word.”
Finn’s mouth worked a bit as he considered this; then he nodded. “Best be heading out there, then.” He leaned his walking stick inside the door. He didn’t rely on it so much anymore, unless he planned on traveling a long distance. When he’d been gone a minute, Sass started to close the book, but without even turning around, Mama heaved a sigh.
“In case you’re thinking of sidling out there, Miss Nosy, you can just sit your tail back down and stay put. Your daddy wanted you to have a ringside seat, he’d a’ sent you an invitation.”
Caught, Sass minded, but she couldn’t let go of all that had unfolded that afternoon. What had Daddy so tore up? What did he and Finn need to talk about? And the worst: Why would Finn be going to jail? It wouldn’t go over well to ask her father outright, and she had a feeling this wasn’t going to come up in conversation with her brother. She’d been wrong about how alike she and Nancy Drew were. Sass had no clue how to figure out this mystery.
Supper was mighty quiet. If it weren’t for Hiccup being wound up and full of sunshine, no one would have spoken two words. Daddy speared his battered fish like he was trying to land it a second time and nearly choked on a bone, he ate so fast. Finn, who’d spent all day catching the mess of bluegill and trout, had lost his appetite and rearranged bites on his plate four or five times before leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Moon’s in tonight, so we’re planting taters,” Mama announced as she stood to clear the dishes. “Sass, you can scout for some morels if you’ve a mind before then. Don’t stray far before it gets too dark to see. Take Hiccup with you. She’s full o’ pep yet.”
Sass grabbed up her sack and headed outside to catch up with Hiccup, who’d gotten a head start. It was easier to breathe out here in the warm spring evening air; it was too close inside the cabin.
“C’mon, Hic, I know where there’s a stand of ash not too far thisaway. You can carry the sack.”