A rtie said little on the ride home with Theo. He kept reviewing what he had seen and heard between his father and Dorothy Hodges. He barely heard Theo’s constant chatter as he drove and later wondered if he had responded at all.
As he milked the goats, Martha stamped and kicked, nearly knocking down his pail. He sighed.
“I suppose you want me to sing to you. Now, when I least feel up to it.”
Martha kicked at the pail again, clanging her hoof against the side. Artie sighed again and complied.
“That is the most mournful singing of that hymn that I have ever heard in my life .”
Theo’s voice was the first intimation Artie had of his brother’s presence, as he had his head down watching the milk pail. He backtracked, trying to remember what he had been singing. Martha took her chance to kick the bucket again, gleefully stomping her foot into the milk. Artie grit his teeth.
“You could have interrupted after I had finished and taken away the pail.”
Theo had already begun laughing before Artie spoke. “I had no idea it would affect her so much!”
Artie didn’t respond. He threw the milk out of the bucket before grabbing a different pail.
Theo grew serious. “What’s wrong?”
“She just wasted good milk.” Artie tossed the pail down to finish what might be left of Martha’s milking.
“No… No.” Theo crossed his arms while he leaned against the goat pen. “Something else. You’ve been out of sorts for hours.”
The younger brother didn’t choose to reply.
“Artie.”
Artie knew the tone as the one his brother rarely used, except in his most serious moments. Usually, when Theo worried about him.
“What’s bothering you.”
Artie glanced at his brother as he stood with the milk pail. “I’m bothered that I’m bothered.”
“You’re… bothered that you’re bothered. All right.” Theo reached for Martha’s collar when she tried to run. Dragging her back toward the pen, he pushed her toward the opening. “What are you bothered about that’s bothering you then?”
Artie didn’t call for the next goat. Dolly stamped for her turn, but Artie closed the gate. “Something I saw at the Pavilion.”
“Something you saw…” Theo shook his head. “Come on, Artie. I need more than ‘something.’”
Artie kicked at the gate lightly. “Dad showed up.”
He heard the surprise in his brother’s voice. “I didn’t see him.”
“He didn’t stay long.” Artie kicked the gate again. “I went for a walk when I didn’t feel like dancing. I wandered a bit. I ended coming up on Dad and Dorothy Hodges.”
Theo moved to get a view of Artie’s face. “I thought they sent you to meet that girl.”
“They did.” Artie grimaced. “Dorothy was on the ground—it looked like she had fallen backwards—and Dad stood above her. I couldn’t hear them, but he didn’t move to help her up and when he turned, he had Dorothy’s knife in his hand. He told me that she tried to attack him.”
“Goldmines. She seemed awfully timid to attack someone.”
“That’s a part of what bothers me.” Artie opened the gate and Dolly ran to the stool. “Dorothy looked terrified, Theo. She shook so much, she could barely get up even with my help, and her eyes… I thought that she seemed afraid of me before, but I have never seen so much terror in someone’s face.” He set the milk pail down and took his stool.
“Dad didn’t say anything else to explain it?”
“He only said that he wanted her to answer a question. She said that she couldn’t give him an answer. Then Dad seemed to want me to leave, so he could talk to her alone again.”
“Did you leave?”
Artie looked up from milking to see Theo watching him. “No. I sent her home and Dad ended up letting her go. He left without answering anymore of my questions.”
“So, you’re bothered because you don’t believe Dad.” Theo looked more serious than Artie had seen in a long while.
“I don’t have a specific reason to believe Dad would lie, except his manner seemed wrong, and that girl looked genuinely terrified.”
“She could have been afraid because you came up right after she had attacked your father.”
“I don’t think so.” Artie had returned to his milking. “I don’t see why Dad would try to make her stay either, if she had tried to attack him. Maybe she did; I just can’t see it. And Theo, why is she so afraid of me? What does she think I’m going to do to her?”
Theo shrugged against the goat pen. “I’m sure I don’t know. You certainly aren’t going to hurt her. Look here, have you asked her?”
Artie’s head snapped up again. “Asked her?”
Theo pulled at his suspenders. “Why she is afraid of you?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should, before you keep speculating.”
“Theo! Artie! Are you out here?” Hazel’s voice echoed across the yard.
Theo responded with a shake of his head. “If you would use your eyes, you would see us!”
Hazel made a laughing appearance beside Dolly and kissed her. “I did use my eyes! Or I couldn’t have got out here!”
“That is an insult to the blind who manage to get around farmyards without their eyes.” Theo scowled at his sister.
Artie rolled his eyes, but Hazel laughed again. “No, it’s not. I said I couldn’t get out here. I’m not blind!”
Theo’s scowl didn’t soften. “Don’t you have things to be doing inside?”
“No. Daddy sent me outside to have an alone conversation.”
“Private conversation, I think you mean, Hazel.” Artie thought he should correct her before Theo did.
Theo didn’t seem to notice. “Where is Myrtle?”
Hazel shrugged and kissed Dolly again. “Out somewhere.”
“Of course, she is.”
Artie looked up at his brother, hoping that his silent plea for peace would come through. He couldn’t tell if he succeeded.
“Why are you so out of sorts?” Hazel cocked her head at Theo.
“Some people would prefer that I didn’t answer that question.”
Hazel watched him for a long moment, the laughter of a moment before turning into a frown. Theo had turned to watch the goats in the pen, so he could never have seen the face droop into a seven-year-old’s sorrow. She buried her face into Dolly’s neck, the compliant goat only grunting in response.
Artie sighed once again. Theo turned around.
“I’m going for a walk, but one thing for you to consider, Artie.”
Artie stopped milking at his tone.
“The topic we had been discussing before the interruption? It’s making you too melancholy. Perhaps you should try praying about it.”
Artie started. “Since when do you suggest that I pray about things that bother me?”
“Since I’ve seen you this serious and bothered.” Theo bent a piece of straw in half. “It’s not just today. You’ve been bothered since that first meeting at the Pavilion. You never act this down when you’re praying about something. Think about it.”
The brother and sister watched Theo amble away without waiting for a response. Hazel cocked her head again. “What was he talking about Artie?”
“Nothing that need concern you, Sparrow.”
The girl stood for a long time, stroking Dolly’s face. Just as he lifted away the milk pail, she spoke in a somber tone. “Artie, does Theo love me?”
Artie froze, trying to work out how to answer.
She turned wide eyes toward him sorrowfully. “He doesn’t, does he.”
“He should.” Artie sent Dolly back to her pen.
“Did I do something wrong, Artie?”
Artie smothered yet another sigh before turning to kneel in front of his little sister. “You didn’t do anything, Sparrow, and he’s never said he doesn’t love you.”
Not outright, at any rate. Even if he acts like it.
“I love him.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I love both my brothers.”
“I know that you do.”
“Maybe… Maybe someday, Theo will love me too, if I just love him?”
Artie couldn’t hide the sigh this time, despite his attempts, as he wrapped his arms around the little girl. “That’s a good plan, Sparrow.”
And there’s something else that I should go back to praying about. I don’t know when I stopped.