A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(24)
Something pinched in Del’s heart, watching them. Not jealousy, surely. Forsythia had had her own losses, true enough. But here she was, happily married at twenty-one, with three ready-made children as well.
It was best not to dwell on such thoughts. There were far more important things to worry about than buried dreams or even an absent schoolhouse. Time to quit bellyaching and make the best of it all.
The next morning, Del rose even earlier than the Nielsen sisters usually did. She crept out to the darkened main room of their soddy and lit the lamp on the table, then dug out her set of McGuffey Readers from the trunk. Locust plagues and uncertain school location notwithstanding, at least she could lay out a solid plan of course study for the year. Her students deserved that much. Her heart ached to think of the families whose crops had been hit far harder by the grasshoppers than the Nielsens’ had. For those without any other stable income, how would they survive?
Del leafed through the readers and began making notes in a slim journal within the circle of lamplight. Recitation, reading, penmanship, and arithmetic—these were the core subjects required, but she wanted to incorporate more history and science this year. Their parents had always made sure the Nielsen children—boys and girls—were well educated in all respects. Lark could still teach a lesson on botany, even if the samples available from Leah’s Garden would be much sparser than she’d hoped. And music—she definitely needed to have more music this year. Perhaps even a special program at the end of the year, with recitations and singing. A spark of excitement kindled in her middle.
“Goodness, you’re up early.” Lark yawned and laid a hand on Del’s shoulder. “Planning for the school year still?”
“The term begins in just over a week. And I know we’ve got all the plants Anders brought to get into the ground today.” Del glanced up at the window. Black had turned to gray, signaling dawn. She closed her notebook and stacked the readers. “I’ll get breakfast started.”
Lilac wandered in from the bedroom also, still buttoning her work dress, then she tied on her chore apron and tugged on her boots. “I’ll milk.”
“I’m coming too.” Lark snagged the milk pails and headed out the door after their little sister.
Del stoked the fire in the stove and lifted the crock of sourdough starter from the warming oven above. Scooping some out into a bowl, she added flour, salt, lard, and a little soda and mixed biscuits. She slid the tray into the now-hot oven, then started a pot of porridge on the back of the stove. Leaving it to simmer, she fetched the empty egg basket and headed outside to fetch eggs from the well house.
The twitter of early morning birdsong and sunrise clouds pinking in the water-blue sky lifted her spirits, and Del breathed deeply of the blessedly cool air. The heat would rear its oppressive head soon enough. Hopefully, they could get a start in the garden before then.
She stopped short next to the chicken coop. “Oh no.”
Lark came around the corner of the barn, milk pails brimming. “‘Oh no,’ what?”
“You didn’t see? Something got at the chickens.” Del stepped inside, shutting the gate behind her. The hens fluttered about at her feet, clucking in distress. Feathers lay strewn about, some of them bloody. One bird lay dead, bite marks on her neck, and she counted at least two birds missing.
“Coyote.” Lark set down the milk pails and joined Del inside the enclosure.
“How can you tell?” Del scooped up one of the birds and stroked her feathers, murmuring comfort. The hen was still trembling.
“See the place in the chicken wire that’s chewed with a hole dug beneath? Coyote are the main ones who do that, as far as I know. And they leave more of a mess. Foxes or bobcats will just take the birds back to their den.”
Del shuddered. “I thought this coop was secure.”
“Best as we knew to make it. These are the first birds we’ve lost, but now that critter may be back.” Lark blew out a breath. “I’ll have to ask Jesse if he has any more ideas. Maybe we could add sheet tin to the bottom of the coop walls and dig it into the dirt so they can’t dig under the fence.”
“That’s a thought.” Del swallowed. “Well, we’d best clean up this mess. Then maybe the rest of the flock can start to calm down. Poor things.”
“What in the world?” Lilac halted by the coop too. “A fox?”
“Coyote, Lark thinks.”
“First the grasshoppers, now this. It never rains but it pours. I’ll get the shovel.” Lilac headed back to the barn.
The chicken squirmed and kicked in Del’s arms, so she set the bird down with another murmur. There likely wouldn’t be many eggs today, if any. Del swallowed. Well, she’d lost her appetite anyway.
Lilac returned with the shovel, and together they cleaned up the bloody feathers and buried the dead bird. With the chickens comforted by an extra scattering of feed, the sisters headed back to the soddy to wash up.
“You never know what a day may bring forth, as Ma would say. We sure have been putting that to the test lately.” Lark dried her hands. “Any breakfast, Del?”
“Oh, the biscuits.” Del dashed for the oven and snatched a dish towel to pull out the tray. Well-browned but not quite burned. “I’m afraid they’ll have to do. I was going to get eggs from the well house, but maybe we should save them, since the hens probably won’t lay much today.”