Read Online By The Shores Of Silver Lake by Laura Ingalls Wilder - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Ingalls Wilder
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soberly began to clear the table. While Laura washed the dishes, she thought of Big Jerry and his white horse. She had seen them many times, galloping over the brown prairie. Big Jerry always wore a bright red shirt, he was always bareheaded, and his white horse never wore a strap.
The night was dark when Pa came from the store.
He said that half a dozen men with loaded guns were lying in wait around the stable.
It was bedtime. There was not a light in the camp.
The dark shanties, low against the land, could hardly be seen; only if you knew where to look, you could see them darker in the dark. There was a little starshine on Silver Lake , and all around it stretched the black prairie, flat under the velvet-dark sky sparkling with stars. The wind whispered cold in the dark, and the grass rustled as if it were afraid. Laura looked and listened, and hurried shivering into the shanty again.
Behind the curtain Grace was sleeping and Ma was helping Mary and Carrie to bed. Pa had hung up his hat and sat down on the bench, but he was not taking off his boots. He looked up when Laura came in, and then he got up and put on his coat. He buttoned it all the way up and turned up its collar so that his gray shirt did not show. Laura did not say a word. Pa put on his hat.
“Don't sit up for me, Caroline,” he said cheerfully.
Ma came from behind the curtain, but Pa was gone.
She went to the doorway and looked out. Pa had dis-appeared in the darkness. After a minute Ma turned around and said, “Bedtime, Laura.”
“Please, Ma, let me stay up too,” Laura begged.
“I believe I won't go to bed,” said Ma. “Not for a while, anyway. I'm not sleepy. It's no use to go to bed when you're not sleepy.”
“I'm not sleepy, Ma,” Laura said.
Ma turned down the lamp and blew it out. She sat down in the hickory rocker that Pa had made for her in Indian Territory. Laura went softly on her bare feet across the ground and sat close beside Ma.
They sat in the dark, listening. Laura could hear a thin, faint humming in her ears; it seemed to be the sound of her listening. She could hear Ma's breathing and the slow breathing of Grace, asleep, and the faster breathing of Mary and Carrie lying awake behind the curtain. The curtain made a faint sound, moving a little in the air from the open doorway. Outside the doorway there was an oblong of sky and stars above the faraway edge of dark land.
Out there the wind sighed, the grass rustled, and there was the tiny, ceaseless sound of little waves lapping on the lake shore.
A sharp cry in the dark jerked all through Laura; she almost screamed. It was only the call of a wild goose, lost from its flock. Wild geese answered it from the slough, and a quacking of sleepy ducks rose.
“Ma, let me go out and find Pa,” Laura whispered.
“Be quiet,” Ma answered. "You couldn't find Pa.
And he doesn't want you to. Be quiet and let Pa take care of himself."
“I want to do something. I'd rather do something,”
Laura said.
“So would I,” said Ma. In the dark her hand began softly to stroke Laura's head. “ The sun and the wind are drying your hair, Laura,” Ma said. “You must brush it more. You must brush your hair a hundred strokes every night before you go to bed.”
“Yes, Ma,” Laura whispered.
“I had lovely long hair when your Pa and I were married,” Ma said. “I could sit on the braids.”
She did not say any more. She went on stroking Laura's rough hair while they listened for the sound of shooting.
There was one shining large star by the black edge of the doorway. As time went on, it moved. Slowly, it moved from east to west, and more slowly still the smaller stars wheeled about it.
Suddenly Laura and Ma heard footsteps, and in an instant the stars were blotted out. Pa was in the doorway. Laura jumped up, but Ma only went limp in the chair.
“Sitting up, Caroline?” Pa said. “Pshaw, you didn't need to do that. Everything's all right.”
“How do you know that,
The night was dark when Pa came from the store.
He said that half a dozen men with loaded guns were lying in wait around the stable.
It was bedtime. There was not a light in the camp.
The dark shanties, low against the land, could hardly be seen; only if you knew where to look, you could see them darker in the dark. There was a little starshine on Silver Lake , and all around it stretched the black prairie, flat under the velvet-dark sky sparkling with stars. The wind whispered cold in the dark, and the grass rustled as if it were afraid. Laura looked and listened, and hurried shivering into the shanty again.
Behind the curtain Grace was sleeping and Ma was helping Mary and Carrie to bed. Pa had hung up his hat and sat down on the bench, but he was not taking off his boots. He looked up when Laura came in, and then he got up and put on his coat. He buttoned it all the way up and turned up its collar so that his gray shirt did not show. Laura did not say a word. Pa put on his hat.
“Don't sit up for me, Caroline,” he said cheerfully.
Ma came from behind the curtain, but Pa was gone.
She went to the doorway and looked out. Pa had dis-appeared in the darkness. After a minute Ma turned around and said, “Bedtime, Laura.”
“Please, Ma, let me stay up too,” Laura begged.
“I believe I won't go to bed,” said Ma. “Not for a while, anyway. I'm not sleepy. It's no use to go to bed when you're not sleepy.”
“I'm not sleepy, Ma,” Laura said.
Ma turned down the lamp and blew it out. She sat down in the hickory rocker that Pa had made for her in Indian Territory. Laura went softly on her bare feet across the ground and sat close beside Ma.
They sat in the dark, listening. Laura could hear a thin, faint humming in her ears; it seemed to be the sound of her listening. She could hear Ma's breathing and the slow breathing of Grace, asleep, and the faster breathing of Mary and Carrie lying awake behind the curtain. The curtain made a faint sound, moving a little in the air from the open doorway. Outside the doorway there was an oblong of sky and stars above the faraway edge of dark land.
Out there the wind sighed, the grass rustled, and there was the tiny, ceaseless sound of little waves lapping on the lake shore.
A sharp cry in the dark jerked all through Laura; she almost screamed. It was only the call of a wild goose, lost from its flock. Wild geese answered it from the slough, and a quacking of sleepy ducks rose.
“Ma, let me go out and find Pa,” Laura whispered.
“Be quiet,” Ma answered. "You couldn't find Pa.
And he doesn't want you to. Be quiet and let Pa take care of himself."
“I want to do something. I'd rather do something,”
Laura said.
“So would I,” said Ma. In the dark her hand began softly to stroke Laura's head. “ The sun and the wind are drying your hair, Laura,” Ma said. “You must brush it more. You must brush your hair a hundred strokes every night before you go to bed.”
“Yes, Ma,” Laura whispered.
“I had lovely long hair when your Pa and I were married,” Ma said. “I could sit on the braids.”
She did not say any more. She went on stroking Laura's rough hair while they listened for the sound of shooting.
There was one shining large star by the black edge of the doorway. As time went on, it moved. Slowly, it moved from east to west, and more slowly still the smaller stars wheeled about it.
Suddenly Laura and Ma heard footsteps, and in an instant the stars were blotted out. Pa was in the doorway. Laura jumped up, but Ma only went limp in the chair.
“Sitting up, Caroline?” Pa said. “Pshaw, you didn't need to do that. Everything's all right.”
“How do you know that,
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