Light to the Hills: A Novel (63)

“Land sakes, Sass.” Mama twisted around in the seat to see what in the world had put a bee in her second daughter’s bonnet. Cricket leaned over the side, scouting the woods.

“Look at it, the poor thing,” Sass cried. She stood between two dogwoods, their branches full of buds and a handful of opened blossoms. An enormous spiderweb had caught the light as they’d passed by, the filaments spun in concentric circles and reaching from tree to tree. The web’s owner, a large black-and-yellow orb weaver, waited on one edge. Sass picked up a stick and poked at the center of the web, where a two-inch bundle wrapped in sticky threads still showed signs of movement. When Cricket saw what Sass was after, he was over the edge of the wagon and fast on her heels.

“Oh, mercy. It’s a spider,” Fern complained. “That’s what it does.”

“When we passed, I thought I saw . . .” Sass nudged the web again, and it bounced and swayed, anchored firmly. “Look, there’s its beak,” she said, pointing. Cricket stood at her elbow now, his neck craning up into the branches. “We have to free it.”

“It’s not moving, Sass.” Mama sighed.

“It is,” Cricket yelled. “I can see its head twisting.”

Sass aimed her stick where the web was anchored closest to her and swung, dislodging it from its tree and causing the web’s circles to deflate as it flapped in the breeze like a sheet hanging on the wash line. The heavy bundle in its center caused the web to spin in on itself and stick together.

“Get it! Get it,” Sass cried as Cricket jumped repeatedly, reaching for the flying threads. The spider abandoned its home and hightailed it into the tree onto solid footing. Sass’s fingers gingerly touched the wrapped bundle. It seemed to sense its miraculous second chance, and it struggled against its bindings.

“Cricket, your knife.” He dug in his pocket and flipped open the blade. Now that the spider was no longer front and center, Fern and Hiccup were more interested.

“Bring it over here,” Fern commanded.

“Let me see,” Hiccup called.

Sass held the bundle in her hand, and for certain, a thin beak poked out of the fibers, no bigger around than the stem of a flower. As Cricket cut away the web bit by bit, he revealed the hummingbird’s emerald-green feathers, and its tiny black eyes opened.

“Fern! Fetch me one of Plain Jane’s sugar cubes, quick. And the water pail.” Sass pulled the web off the bird’s feet, the tiniest feet she’d ever seen, wiping it off her fingers and onto her dress. The bird was free now, but it didn’t fly away. It couldn’t have been caught for long. Maybe it had a chance. It lay twitching and testing its wings, its feathers a stuck mess from its struggles in the web. Sass dipped her fingers in the water pail and let drops of water moisten the feathers, rubbing gently with the hem of her dress.

“Make a handful of water, Mama, with the sugar,” Sass said. Mama caught on, all of them involved in the operation now. She wrapped the reins around a post by the wagon seat. Plain Jane’s ears swiveled back and forth as she stood still; this was not an ordinary trip to town. Once Mama filled her cupped hand with water, Fern dropped the cube in, and Sass held the bird’s beak up to the small pool they’d made.

“Come on, birdy.” Hiccup beckoned to it. “Don’t you want to fly, birdy?”

“There it goes.” Cricket pointed. They stood around Sass’s and Mama’s cupped hands, all their heads bowed closely in a circle that blocked out the sun. The bird’s threadlike tongue darted once, twice. In a matter of a few minutes, it had sipped from their pool of life enough to right itself and flit its tiny perfect feathers. Its throat, the red of a jewel, bobbed as it sipped. When the little creature had had enough, Sass stepped back from their circle and held her hands out toward the woods, the sun reflecting on its brilliant green feathers. Its wings buzzed only twice before it lifted from Sass’s hand and zipped up to a nearby branch, where it seemed to take stock of itself and its surroundings.

“Bye, birdy.” Hiccup waved.

“I hope it’ll be all right.” Sass watched it until it zipped again, chittering and buzzing so fast she lost sight of it.

“That was somethin’,” Cricket marveled. “I never seen one up close like that.”

“Now that the day’s good deed is done, can we get on the way again?” asked Mama. They climbed back into the wagon, and the mare shook out her traces and resettled the harness.

“Finn will be sorry he missed that,” said Sass. “He’s the one showed me how hummingbirds drink sweet water. He made a little eating spot like that from the sugar he had for the mine ponies once.”

The rest of the way to town, they were in fine spirits. Once they pulled up in front of the general store, they climbed out of the wagon and scattered through the store, except for Hiccup, who stayed by Mama’s side as she greeted and chatted with folks. A visit to town was a chance to catch up on news and see fresh faces. This time, Fern lingered at the back, near where a tall, muscled, light-haired boy stood on a ladder and stocked the highest shelves. She kept asking him to reach things for her so that they could keep talking without him getting scolded by the store’s owner. Cricket and Sass stared into a glass case that held fishing tackle—rows of line, jigs, lures, weights, and sinkers.

“Think of the strings of fish I could bring home with one or two of these, Sass.” He studied on them intently, and Sass knew he was imagining how he could rig something similar from scraps in the barn.