Read Online Beat the Turtle Drum by Constance C. Greene - Free Book Online Page A

wheezing sound that I guess was laughter. “I do hope the animal doesn’t befoul your grass. Or infest the neighborhood with flies. Horses attract flies in vast multitudes, you know.”
    â€œOh, dear, I really must run,” my mother said. “Something’s burning on the stove. Do come for a visit some day soon.” And my mother hung up.
    â€œI listened in,” I told her. “You did a good job, Mom.”
    â€œWell, at least I held my temper,” my mother said, proud of herself. We had always been taught to respect old people, but I could tell even my mother and father found Miss Pemberthy tough to take.
    Joss came to the back door, leading Prince by his bridle. “Could I have a treat for him, Mom?” she said.
    â€œWhat’s he done to deserve one?” my mother said. “I’ve got one old apple he can have, and that’s it. And listen, that was Miss Pemberthy on the phone complaining about Prince being here. I told her you would only ride him within our property line. Make sure you do.”
    Still holding Prince, Joss stuck out her skinny little butt, put her thumb on it, and waggled her fingers in the air.
    â€œTough beans on old Miss Pemberthy,” she said.
    â€œJoss!” my mother said, laughing. “Don’t be disrespectful.”
    â€œWhy not? She’s disrespectful to me,” Joss said. “I’m a person too, you know.”
    â€œMiss Pemberthy’s mother died when she was thirteen,” I told them. “Did you know that?”
    They looked at me, surprised.
    â€œNo,” my mother said.
    â€œShe told me, that night I took the package over,” I said. “She said her father got married a year later and she felt in the way. She planned on making her father happy, but he got married, and he called his new wife ‘Darling.’”
    â€œWell,” my mother said slowly, “that must’ve been very hard on her. Maybe it helps to explain her somewhat, don’t you think?”
    â€œNo,” Joss said stubbornly. “She was thirteen about a thousand years ago, anyway. Just because her mother died doesn’t mean she has to be such a witch.”
    â€œOh, give her a break, Joss,” I said. “How’d you like it if your mother died and your father got married again right away?”
    â€œDad wouldn’t do that,” Joss said. “Would he, Mom?”
    â€œHe better not,” my mother said lightly. “I’m glad you told me, Kate.”
    â€œDo you think something like that scars you for life?” I asked her.
    â€œIt might if you didn’t have much else to think about,” my mother told me. “It’s hard to say what makes scars and what doesn’t.”
    Sam came loping around the side of the house.
    â€œHey,” he said, “I’m here to ride the critter. I brung some grub along just in case the Indians attack the fort and lay siege to the settlers.” He had on a hat with a floppy brim which was too big.
    â€œYou are some sad-looking cowboy,” I said. “What’s in the sack?”
    â€œLike I said”—Sam was really getting into the wild West routine—“I brung some grub.”
    He had three deviled-ham sandwiches, four bananas, a package of cookies, and one hard-boiled egg.
    â€œThe egg’s for Prince,” he said.
    â€œHorses don’t eat eggs, dummy,” Joss said.
    â€œHow do you know? Did you ever give him one?” Sam asked.
    She held out the egg for Prince. He flared his nostrils and breathed all over it and turned it down. Then he blew down Joss’s neck. “That’s the way he shows affection,” she said. “It tickles.”
    She popped the egg in her mouth.
    â€œJoss,” my mother said, “you might get germs.”
    We let Sam ride Prince awhile, then we sat under the apple tree and ate Sam’s lunch. Joss told him about Miss Pemberthy’s