"Thank you, Sam. That was very good."
The boy looked up from the book in his hands and smiled at the woman standing beside him. He liked Miss Christy. They all did.
"Now," she continued, "it's time for lunch. We'll do some more reading this afternoon. Class dismissed."
The children jumped up from their seats and hurried out the door into the warm sunshine, gathering lunch buckets as they went.
Sam, Andrew, and Thomas settled on the foot of the front steps with Creed Allen, Sam Houston, and Little Burl.
"I got a ham sandwich," Andrew said, looking into his bucket.
"Trade ya' a cheese sandwich for it," Sam Houston offered.
"Deal," Andrew agreed, and they swapped sandwiches.
"Red apple," Little Burl said, holding it up in a grubby hand.
"Green," Creed called, taking an apple from his bucket. The two pieces of fruit changed hands.
"What you got, Sam?" Andrew asked.
"We got tea cakes," Thomas answered instead, taking a handful of sugar cookies from his bucket.
All the boys' eyes widened.
"Is that all your Mama gave you?" Creed asked.
Sam sighed. "We packed our own lunch this morning. But we got other stuff, too." He took out a handful of beef jerky, a biscuit with honey, and a slice of sweet potato pie.
They all looked on with envy.
"There's enough to share," Thomas spoke up, digging into his bucket and passing the food around.
"Well, now, this looks interesting."
The boys looked up. Miss Christy stood over them.
"Sam, who packed your lunch this morning?"
Sam squinted up at her. "Me and Thomas did," he answered.
"Mama was sleepin' and Daddy was takin' care of Matilda," Thomas added by way of explanation.
"Mama's tired cause the new baby's comin'," Sam said.
Miss Christy nodded. "Oh, that's right." And with a smile, she walked past them and headed to the other side of the yard.
"You think she's gonna tell Mama?" Thomas asked, a look of worry crossing his face.
"Naw, she ain't gonna tell your Ma," Creed answered. "But she'll probably bring soup or somethin' over to your place. That's what she did last spring when my Ma was sick."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, stuffing a cookie into his mouth.
"My papa's going to buy me a horse," Andrew piped up.
"He is not," Little Burl shot back.
"Is too."
"That's not what he said," Sam reminded Andrew. "He said ya'll had to talk about it."
"Well, he's going to El Pano today to get something, and I think it's a horse."
"And I think you're wrong." In fact, somehow, Sam knew he was wrong. And he sighed. He'd always known things. For as far back as he could remember. He knew when people were sad or worried. Even when they didn't say anything. And he knew when they were telling the truth. Sometimes, he and Mama would talk about people's feelings. And Sam knew that she felt things deeply, too. It wasn't something he talked about with anybody else. He didn't think they'd understand. "Andrew, best not be getting your hopes up."
"Yeah," Sam Houston added. "Horses cost a lot of money."
~vVv~
Jean-Luc placed the final bill in Ed Foster's hand, and the man's fingers closed around the money.
"He's all yours, John-Luke," he smiled, reaching out to pat the mule with his other hand.
"And a fine thoroughbred he is," Will commented.
Ed laughed. "Well, he ain't a thoroughbred. But he'll sure enough be a good pack mule."
Jean-Luc nodded. "Thank you, Ed. He'll do just fine." He took the reins and led the mule out of the livery stable, Will following behind him.
The sun was dipping low in the sky and Jean-Luc squinted his eyes in the direction of the train depot. "Train should be here soon."
"Soon," Will agreed. "I think we've got time for an early supper first."
"Good idea."
~vVv~
"Beverly, I'm fine. I can manage supper."
"Sit down, Deanna. Besides, it makes sense for us all to eat here, and much more sense for me to make supper. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not nine months pregnant, and you are."
Deanna sank back down into the rocking chair she'd been sitting in for most of the afternoon.
"Anyway, I've got quite a good helper," Beverly added, watching Margaret as she moved around the small kitchen area.
"I helped Mama cook breakfast this morning," Margaret said. "Pancakes. Papa said they were good."
"And Papa knows his pancakes, doesn't he?" Beverly laughed.
"I'm sure he does," Deanna agreed. She looked over to the other side of the cabin. Matilda and Walker sat on the floor playing. "Walker," she called, "do you know where the big boys are?"
Walker shook his head. But Margaret answered.
"I think they're on the front porch."
"I'll go check on them," Deanna offered, and then cast a sideways glance at Beverly. "That's if I'm allowed to move."
"Oh, you can move. Just not too fast."
Deanna rolled her eyes. "Thank you."
Slowly, she got to her feet, crossed over to the front door and opened it. She stepped out onto the porch. The boys sat at the top of the steps in a line: Andrew, Sam, and Thomas. Their elbows were propped on their knees, and they rested their heads in their hands.
Deanna gazed down at them. "Supper will be ready soon."
There was a collective groan.
"Is there something wrong?"
Sam turned and looked up at his mother. "I don't think we're hungry."
"I see," she said, moving over and sitting down in a chair. "Would that have anything to do with the dozen sugar cookies that I found missing from the cookie jar?"
Sam winced.
"And the beef jerky that your father had in the pantry?"
"I guess it could have something to do with it," Sam answered meekly.
"Should I ask Aunt Beverly to give you some medicine for your stomachs?"
There was an immediate chorus of "no's," and the two other boys turned and looked up at her.
"We didn't mean to eat so much, Mama," Thomas sighed. "But Daddy let us fix our own lunch, and..."
"Well, we didn't know what to fix," Sam added.
"Don't tell Mama," Andrew pleaded. "She'll make us take medicine, and it'll be awful."
Deanna nodded. "But if you're sick..."
All three of them sat up a little straighter.
"We're not sick," Thomas insisted.
"We're just not too hungry," Sam explained.
Deanna couldn't help but smile at the three worried faces. "All right, it can be our secret."
~vVv~
The sun was setting as Will and Jean-Luc rode toward home. The sky was still aglow with streaks of orange and pink, and the moon would rise shortly. It had been a clear day, and it promised to be a clear night as well.
They walked along at a steady pace, the mule following behind the horses on the mountain road.
"Despite all my teasing, I think Andrew is going to be pleased with your purchase," Will said, glancing back at the mule.
"I think so, too," Jean-Luc responded. "He's a fine mule."
"As mules go," Will agreed, taking the lead as the road narrowed.
They skirted around a fallen tree, and Jean-Luc's horse hesitated. He urged him on with a gentle prod of his heels. The horse shied back and whinnied; the mule stomped behind them.
"Come on, Galileo," Jean-Luc encouraged, patting the horse's neck.
The horse took a step forward, and then shied back again, pulled at the reins. His hind feet slid on the leaf strewn ground, and he reared back as a snake slithered out from under the tree.
"Jean-Luc!" Will cried as the horse pulled back onto his hind feet.
Unable to hold on, Jean-Luc fell from the saddle and crashed into the undergrowth along the side of the road, sliding several yards down the hill in the process.
Will jumped from his horse, looping the reins around a nearby limb. The snake appeared to be gone. He quickly reached out and grabbed hold of the other horse's reins.
"Easy there," he shushed, patting the horse's neck. "Easy." He peered down the hill. "Jean-Luc?"
"I'm all right, I... Ah!" The cry of pain was all too real.
Will tied the horse's reins to another tree limb, made sure the mule's reins were still looped securely around the saddle horn, and then carefully made his way down the hillside.
Jean-Luc was sitting up, his right arm cradled in his lap. In the dim evening light, Will could see the pain etched across his friend's face.
"Is it broken?" he asked, kneeling on the ground beside him.
Jean-Luc nodded. "I'm afraid so." He moved his other hand away, and Will saw the blood on his jacket. "Pretty badly."
Will knew that the bone had broken through the skin. "All right. You just sit tight."
He hurried back up the incline to the mule and found the bolt of cloth he'd bought for Deanna. He unwrapped several feet of the material and tore it off. On his way back down the hill, he found a long, fairly straight stick. Breaking it over his knee several times, he was able to produce two sticks of roughly the same size to use for a splint. He returned to Jean-Luc and knelt beside him.
"This might hurt a little," he warned.
"You're not going to try and set it, are you?" Jean-Luc asked, worry and pain creasing his face.
Will shook his head. "No. I think it'll be best if I just try to cover it and immobilize it. We'll pass by Neil's place before we reach home."
He took his knife out of his pocket and carefully cut away the sleeve of Jean-Luc's jacket and shirt. His forearm was covered in blood, and through the rip in his skin, Will could see the jagged edges of white bone. He noticed that Jean-Luc was purposefully looking away.
"At least there's not too much blood," Will said, as he ripped part of the cloth. "The bones don't appear to have severed the artery."
"Small favors," Jean-Luc grunted through clenched teeth.
Will wrapped the cloth loosely around Jean-Luc's arm, and then tied the bandage in place with smaller strips of cloth. He positioned the two sticks along either side of the arm, and tied them in place as well. He used the rest of the cloth to fashion a sling and draped it around Jean-Luc's shoulder and under his arm.
When Will was finished, Jean-Luc exhaled a long sigh of relief. The pain was almost unbearable, even without Will's ministrations. Perspiration beaded over his face, and the younger man drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Jean-Luc's cheeks and forehead.
Jean-Luc sighed again and stared up at the road. "Well, we'd best be going. Can't stay here all night."
"No, but we can rest a few minutes longer."
"Good," Jean-Luc managed a half-smile and then leaned against Will's shoulder and closed his eyes.
~vVv~
