Beneath the Apple Leaves(60)

“Hi,” he said.

She looked behind her and then at the floor. “Now’s not a good time. Mrs. Sullivan can’t talk right now.”

“Didn’t come to see Mrs. Sullivan.”

Lily kept her hand to her face. “I can’t talk now, either.”

“Who’s there, Lilith?” Mrs. Sullivan hobbled to the door, her hunched back nearly humped. “For goodness’ sake, child, why didn’t you invite the boy in?” The widow didn’t wait for an answer and opened the door, pulled Andrew in by his elbow.

“It’s freezing out there,” she harped. “Come warm yourself by the fire, son.”

Andrew allowed the woman to lead him, saw Lily shrink into the shadows. “How’s your aunt doing?” she inquired. “Haven’t seen her since the funeral.”

“Better.” He smiled at the old woman, his muscles thawing in the cozy room.

“So hard for me to get around these days,” she lamented. “Can’t even use the buggy—” She wiped a pearly eye with a handkerchief. “Oh, never mind. You’d think me a silly ole fool.”

“You’re not silly, Mrs. Sullivan.” Lily picked at the crocheted blanket draped over the sofa. “Nothing silly about caring for your horse.”

The woman’s wrinkled lips quivered and she dabbed her eye again. “Got herself all sick,” she told Andrew. “Stomach’s swelled up like a water tank. Can’t hardly walk.”

“May I take a look?”

“Andrew was planning to be a veterinarian,” Lily added.

The old woman lit up. “Would you? Was going to send for Mr. Thompson in town. Course, he knows more about butchering than nurturing, but thought he might help.” She cocked her head at Andrew and studied his face. “My word, son. Look at those eyes! My sight isn’t what it used to be, but on my word, I can see those!” She looked for Lily one way and then another before she found her tucked next to the sofa. “Lilith, have you seen this boy’s eyes?”

“No.” Lily reddened and moved against the wall.

“Ha!” The woman cackled mischievously and gave Andrew a lively pat on the knee. “Oh, she’s seen them. Yes sir, she can’t fool an old woman.”

Lily sighed and folded her arms. “Didn’t you want to show him the horse?”

“Oh yes. Yes!”

Together, the three bundled into coats and headed out to the barn. Sure enough, the roan leaned against the stall, head hanging, her belly round and painfully swollen. The widow took her own shawl and wrapped the knitting around the poor beast.

“Can’t lose this one. Not this one,” Mrs. Sullivan whispered. “Belongs to my oldest daughter. If something happened to this horse, I don’t think she’d ever visit me again.” She tried to make the sound light, but the loneliness and worry were clear.

Andrew touched the horse caringly, inspected the feedbag that hadn’t been touched. He went out of the stall and inspected the rest of the barn, found a burlap bag that was ripped. Green oats spilled from the hole and lay in a mound on the dirt floor.

He asked, “Have you been feeding the horse these oats?”

She came close and squinted at the pile of grains in his hand. “No.” She shook her head. “Was planning to return that one. Too green.” She twisted her mouth. “Rodents must have ripped the bag. Campbell never take it back now.”

“It’s not the rodents, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s your horse.” Andrew emptied the grains back into the sack. “That’s why she’s all bloated.”

The woman’s mouth fell open. “Well, my word!”

“If you have an empty syringe, I can fix her back up quick. Just need some strong coffee and a little whiskey, if you have it.”

“Little young to be drinking that hard stuff, don’t you think?” She laughed heartily at that and hugged him. “Just fooling with you, son.”

“I’ll bring it from the house,” Lily offered before ducking out the barn door.

A little after an hour had passed since administering the laxative, a rush of gas expired from the horse and her girth visibly diminished. Widow Stevens smiled all the way back to the warm house and wouldn’t let go of Andrew’s arm in gratitude.

In the parlor, she took out her purse and handed him several bills. “Thank you.”

“That’s not necessary.” Andrew stepped back. “I can’t take your money.”

“Yes, you can and yes, you will.” She grabbed his hand forcibly and stuffed the bills in his palm. “You just saved that horse’s life and you’ll take this money whether you want to or not.” She pointed at him sternly and with great affection. “I got money, son. Not a lot, but enough to pay for a service when it’s given. So, you take this money and make an old woman happy. Got it?”

He nodded reluctantly and reached for his coat. He gave the old woman a sweet peck on the cheek and she giggled like a schoolgirl. “And walk Lily home, would you?”

Lily’s brows inched together. “I’m spending the night, remember?”

Mrs. Sullivan turned off the lamp and smiled slyly. “Not anymore. You’re going to let this nice young man walk you home.”

*