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

explain how to diagram sentences.
    I wish I could send you one of Perilee’s strudels. She’d even beat Mildred Powell in a baking contest!
    Your old friend,
Hattie Inez Brooks

    The wind, rumbling like an approaching train, diverted my attention from my letter to Charlie. I shivered in my bed. “I’m not eager to go out there, are you?” Mr. Whiskers answered by burrowing deeper under the quilt. No matter the weather, there were still chores to be done. I hopped out of bed and glanced at the Vida National Bank calendar by the stove as I put the coffee on.
    â€œHappy Valentine’s Day to us!” I put the coffee on to boil while I milked. “I wonder if Charlie got the valentine I sent him.” I was certain Mildred would send one loaded with mush, so I’d found the funniest penny postcard I could at Bub Nefzger’s little sod-house post office and store in Vida. I figured Charlie could use a laugh more than anything else, so far from home.
    I peeked out my one window to be greeted by a sky like a gray flannel crazy quilt. Snow fell so thickly I could barely see the barn. There was nothing for it but to carry on with my chores, pulling my overcoat even tighter about me as I slogged to the barn. I hesitated to turn Plug loose. But I’d seen how clever he was at pawing through the snow to the tender grass below. And I didn’t have enough feed to keep him and Violet going all winter. I eased my conscience by giving him an extra-large portion of oats before opening the stable door for him. I fed, watered, and milked my cranky cow.
    â€œEasy there.” I patted Violet’s twitching flanks. She shifted back and forth, back and forth, lowing in a most mournful manner. “What is it, girl?” I made up my mind to rummage through Uncle Chester’s books for one on animal husbandry. I hadn’t saved this varmint from a wolf to lose her to some cow disease.
    â€œMoo-oo,” she moaned again, her brown eyes rolling in her head. Her tail had healed nicely, her nose felt fine, and she gave milk pretty good. Perhaps she wasn’t ill after all. But something was certainly unsettling her.
    I discovered it for myself when I hefted the milk pail and stepped outside. The wind, brisk before, had worked itself up into a temper. It whirled around my head, threatening to suck the very life out of my lungs. I couldn’t catch my breath.
    â€œPlug!” I screamed against the wind. Or tried to. Nature forced my words right back down my throat. Another gust nearly knocked me over. Surely Plug would know enough to get out of this storm. I had to get back to the house.
    Icy snow slashed at my head and shoulders. For weeks I’d tripped over that length of rope Uncle Chester had curled up inside the door. I’d let it be, not having another place to stash it. Now I guessed its use: I must fasten one end to the house and one to the barn. If this blizzard lasted more than a day, I’d need a way to get to the barn to take care of Violet.
    I set the milk pail inside and grabbed up the rope. Uncle Chester had already fastened a great metal eye to the front of the shack. In dreamier moments, I’d thought I might use it to stake up some hollyhocks come spring. Tying off a secure knot, I let out the rope and fought my way back to the barn. The angry wind snatched away every breath I tried to take. My chest tightened in panic, but I forced myself forward. Icicles formed on my eyelashes. I could not close my eyes. They felt frozen open. And yet I could barely see. The icy wind whipped and scratched worse than Violet’s tail ever had. I placed one foot in front of the other in the snow.
    One minuscule step at a time, I battled toward the barn, praying for help: “Lord, I can’t do this alone.” But no help came. It was up to me. I drew in an icy, ragged breath. I couldn’t fail. Couldn’t lose my way. Or lose my cow. That thought propelled me forward