Jem yawned. He slumped over his bowl of hot cereal.
“What’s wrong?” Mama asked. “Don’t you like your mush?”
She held out a small pot of dark, sticky liquid. “I’ll pour a little more molasses on it.”
Jem nodded. He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and ate his lumpy mush.
The extra molasses didn’t help the taste.
“Hurry, Jeremiah.” Mama glanced at the sun. It was peeking over the hills. “You don’t want to be late for school.”
“No, ma’am.” Jem finished the mush and picked up his books.
Mama handed Jem his lunch pail.
He looked inside. Mmm! A big piece of cornbread and a handful of dried blueberries.
“Hurry home after school,” Mama said. “You can deliver the Sterlings’ clean laundry before supper.”
Jem didn’t say a word. He stuffed his books under his arm and took off running for town.
He did not want to deliver laundry. He didn’t want to go anywhere near Will’s house.
Not after the pie disaster last Saturday.
Besides, Jem was tired. The dog had woken him up Saturday night and Sunday night. He was too tired to walk back and forth to town.
He couldn’t tell Mama, though. She would ask questions.
Jem yawned. “I hope I don’t fall asleep in class.”
Miss Cheney would tell Mama. The teacher might even whack Jem’s palm with her ruler.
Woof, woof!
Jem’s foot froze on the schoolhouse steps. He spun around.
The dog wagged his tail. Woof!
“Oh no!” Jem groaned. “Why did you follow me? You can’t stay here.”
The dog plopped down on the porch and looked up at Jem. His tail went thump, thump, thump.
Three children ran up the steps and petted the dog. “Is he yours?” Perry asked.
“No.”
“He looks like your dog,” Ruthie said. “I saw him following you.”
Jem let out a breath. “He belongs to my miner friend Strike.”
Will walked up the steps. “He’s a scrawny, filthy thing.” He made a mean face and went inside.
The day did not get better. When the pupils sang “America,” the dog howled.
The children giggled.
Just before lunchtime, the class recited their times tables. They chanted louder and louder.
The dog howled along with them.
The class laughed and looked at Jem. His face grew hot.
The heat spread to his ears when Miss Cheney said, “Take your dog home, Jeremiah.”
Jem couldn’t say the dog was not his. He could not argue with the teacher.
That was called talking back.
He had no choice but to obey. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jem picked up his lunch pail and ran outside. “Come on,” he told the pup.
Halfway home, Jem dug around in his pail. He took a big bite of cornbread and kept walking.
The dog whined.
Jem stopped and looked at him. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Woof!
Before he changed his mind, Jem gave the dog the rest of his cornbread. “Don’t tell Mama.”
When he got home, Mama looked surprised. But she didn’t ask any questions.
She didn’t have to. She saw the dog and shook her head. “What a bother that pup is!”
Jem left the dog with Ellie and went back to school.
By the time school ended, Jem’s belly was rumbling. A bite of cornbread and a handful of blueberries did not fill a boy up.
He kicked rocks all the way back to Cripple Creek. He wanted an apple or a piece of jerky. Maybe even a bowl of mush.
But Jem couldn’t tell Mama he was hungry. She would find out that he had given the dog his cornbread.
So, Jem told his belly to be quiet. He ran the rest of the way home.
Mama stood waiting next to the wagon. Clean white laundry lay folded in a wicker basket.
“Make sure you keep the dirt off these clothes.” She spread an old quilt over the top of the basket.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jem swallowed a yawn before Mama could see it.
“Hurry back.” She pressed a kiss against Jem’s forehead. “We’re having rabbit stew tonight.”
Jem’s mouth watered. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Ellie stayed behind. Jem didn’t need help with the laundry basket.
No sirree!
A quick run to town and back. And then… rabbit stew!
Jem’s footsteps slowed down when he got to Goldtown. His heart began to pound.
Will Sterling and his family did not live in a tent. They lived in a brick house on Main Street.
A cook fixed their meals. A maid cleaned their house.
And Mama washed their clothes.
“I wish Mama would stick to washing the miners’ clothes,” Jem huffed.
Gold dust sometimes stuck to the dirty clothes. Mama always smiled when she washed gold from the miners’ clothes.
Jem took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other. Will’s house lay just ahead.
Jem frowned. That rich boy always made him mad.
He took a deep breath and prayed, Please help me not to get mad at Will.
Will was swinging on a rope. It hung from a big oak tree in front of his house.
When Will saw Jem, he dropped to the ground. “I’ll take that basket inside.”
Jem shook his head. He didn’t trust Will. Not one bit. “I need to get the money.”
“I’ll bring it to you.” Will grabbed one of the basket’s handles.
“No.” Jem’s stomach felt sick. He grabbed the other handle. “Let go. This is my job.”
“These are my clothes.” Will pulled.
Jem yanked.
The tug-of-war did not last long. Will let go.
Jem sat down hard. The basket tipped over. Clothes and sheets spilled on top of him. Some of the laundry landed in the street.
Will laughed and ran inside. He came back with the maid.
“Oh, dear!” she said. “What a mess.”
The maid sorted through the laundry. She put the clean clothes in her apron. She piled the dirty laundry back in the basket.
Jem’s empty belly felt tied in a tight knot. Tears stung his eyes.
Mama would have to wash the clothes all over again.