Chapter Twenty-Six

 

The silence with all those men around us was so loud, I just had to say something. Nothing came to mind though.

There is something I could do.

“We need to take more ponies soon, don't we?” I faced the corral.

“Five days,” Adam said.

“I'll work with the horses while you build the house.” I hugged him tightly. “I promise I won't daydream.”

“That's a darned good idea,” he said. “I hadn't figured out how to break the horses and build a house.”

I approached the herd's leader while blinking back tears.

“You'll carry a friend of mine for The Pony. I want you to listen to him, so he doesn't have to punch you. Will you let me up on your back so my brothers can get this house built? We have to get ready for a new shipment, and you're all we have to send this time. I'll make sure the ones who stay behind bring lots of your friends so you won't be lonely.”

A soft nose nuzzling my hand almost made me run for the hills, but I gulped back my sobs and climbed onto his back.

“Just you hang on while I make sure those men aren't messin' around.”

I looked around. Adam took half our neighbors to where we wanted to put the new house. Within minutes, the men set to work on smoothing dirt while others pounded in long, thick corner beams. The rest of my brothers stacked the burned remains of our old house far from everything else. Uncle Andy leaned against the well, careful of his burned arm.

The day before Adam's group had to ride out to meet our contract, the men finished the house. Our neighbors headed for home after calling goodbye. I silently walked away from the corral and entered the kitchen. It didn't look much like the other one as I checked out the room.

“Where's the food?” I asked.

“In the pantry,” Adam said. “Can you handle a simple supper? I have to make sure everyone's set until I get back.”

“Cooking's my chore. You do what you have to.” I pulled out a freshly dressed chicken and chopped it. “Adam?”

“Yup?”

“Can you have Paul bring me lots of vegetables? I think soup is all I can handle right now.”

“Sure thing, short stuff.”

He paused and looked at me, his quizzical expression almost making me laugh. I wouldn't scold him. If he wanted to, he could call me short stuff for the rest of my life.

“Bart will stay here with you and the rest,” he said. “I can handle the ponies we have.”

“I guess so.” My heart sank at the thought of him leaving.

What if Adam never comes back? What will we do then?

He walked out, and I prepared soup and a pan of cornbread. After sliding the iron skillet into the oven, I began cleaning up.

“Do you need help?” Uncle Andy asked.

He was never far away. It worried me how much he kept an eye on me.

“Just set at the table and keep me company.”

When Adam and the rest returned to wash up, I grabbed the cornbread pan without a cloth.

“Look out!” Uncle Andy's shout didn't come in time.

“Holy heck!” I wailed. “That hurts.”

“Mark, get some water,” he hollered out the door. “Adam, find that stuff the doctor left for burns. Hurry.”

Blisters formed before they got back. I blew on them, but nothing helped. Only when Uncle Andy smoothed cream across the hot skin and wrapped it did I feel better.

“I guess I needed help after all,” I said.

“I'm here whenever you need me,” my uncle said.

Peter and Mark took care of the dishes while I nursed my injured fingers on the porch.

Holy heck! The very first time I make a meal in our new home, and I mess up.

“Ma,” I whispered. “Can you help me a tiny bit, please? Just until I remember all the stuff you taught me. It sure would help the others stop worrying about me.”

Warmth drove away the chill in my bones. I went inside.

“We have to snap her out of this,” Uncle Andy said. “She's just a child.”

“I'm still having bad days,” Adam said. “It's been less than two weeks. She'll come around.”

“I hope so.”

Without letting them know I had heard, I crept back outside and walked to our cemetery, kneeling in front of the newest marker. No tears came to ease the ache in my heart; I couldn't afford them anymore. To make sure my family didn't pine away from grief, I had to quit making mistakes.

“I'll make sure we don't fail, Ma,” I promised while touching the locket I never took off. “You were right. I'm a woman now.”