Read Online Hattie Big Sky by Kirby Larson - Free Book Online

hat and led Violet back to the barn, quieting her with an extra portion of hay. I examined the raw stump of a tail, oozing blood. It needed doctoring, and I had not one clue about what to do. A clean rag tied tightly seemed to stanch the bleeding. My good humor turned to fear as I thought about losing my cow.
    I was going to have to get help. I whistled for Plug and mounted up. We plodded through the drifted snow to Perilee’s. I hadn’t been to visit yet but knew to follow the path to Vida, a path Rooster Jim had freshly marked with his sledge. The way must have been familiar to Plug, who picked up the pace as we drew close.
    â€œCome in, come in.” Perilee waved me inside her warm house—a real house, with two doors, a bedroom, and a parlor. Perilee fetched two thick white mugs. “I’ll bet your blood’s about frozen.” She motioned for me to sit. “A cup of coffee will fix anything.”
    â€œHow about a cow’s tail?” I took the mug from her, warming my aching hands, then relayed to her the morning’s misadventure.
    Perilee laughed out loud. “Hon, what I wouldn’t have given to see that.” Her laughter softened to a chuckle. “Wouldn’t Chester love to know that Violet finally got her comeuppance?”
    â€œI do worry about caring for the wound,” I said.
    â€œKarl would know, but he’s not here.” Perilee set her coffee mug down. “My pa always swore by a poultice of brown sugar and cobwebs—though where you’d find cobwebs in this bitter cold, I have no idea. Flour paste and brown paper should work fine, too.”
    â€œWhat’s Karl doing working in this weather?” I shivered. “My wash is going to be frozen on the line by the time I take it down.”
    Fern let out a little squeal from her apple crate bed. Perilee stepped over and patted her on the back till she quieted.
    She pulled a newspaper from the shelf and brought it over to me. “He’s not working.”
    â€œAlien Enemies Must Register,” blared the headline. I began to read.

    The following instructions and suggestions are sent out from the United States Department of Justice through the office of the United States Marshal for Montana to all male German alien enemies of the age of 14 years or more. February 4 to 9, 1918, inclusive, between the hours of 6 a.m. and 8 p.m. have been designated as the dates and time when registrations must be made. Excepting in nine of the larger cities of the state all postmasters are registrars for their respective districts.

    I put down the paper. “I don’t understand.”
    Perilee picked up her coffee mug but didn’t drink. She rolled the mug back and forth in her hands. “Karl’s at the post office in Vida right now, registering.”
    â€œKarl? An alien
enemy?
”
    â€œHe was born in Germany.”
    I looked at the paper again. “There must be a good reason for this, Perilee.”
    She held my gaze. “What good reason is there to treat neighbors—someone like Karl—like this?”
    I thought of all the articles Uncle Holt had read aloud. Awful stories about starving Belgians and cruelties of war. Unbelievable stories. But it was the Huns who were responsible. The Germans over there. Not here. Not people we knew. “I don’t know. But it wouldn’t be required if there wasn’t one.” I held out my hands, helpless. “Would it?”
    Thwack.
Perilee set her coffee cup down hard. “I guess we’re supposed to be grateful there’s no fee to register.” She rubbed at her eyes. “But there’ll be a price to pay. Traft Martin and his County Council of Defense will make sure of that.”
    Fern started fussing again. “Now, see what I’ve done.” Perilee placed her hand on mine. “I’m sorry, sugar. I get so darned angry sometimes. It’s not your fault.”
    I slipped my hand on top