Read Online No Eye Can See by Jane Kirkpatrick - Free Book Online
Authors: Jane Kirkpatrick
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Historical, Western, California, Women Pioneers, Christian fiction, Religious, Christian, Westerns, Widows, Paperback Collection, Blind Women, Christian Women
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Clayton?”
“He's right here, patting my head,” she said. “I'm all right.” She started to cry then.
Sason made sounds in his cradle, and Suzanne felt her own shoulders sag with relief. “We'll be right there,” she said and soon was. “Pig, stay,” she directed, feeling in the air for Mariah. With her other hand, she held the reins of Jumper. When she touched Mariahs head, she said, “I'm going to help you stand and hold my hand so you can step up into my cupped palms, like a stirrup. Can you do that?”
“I think so. Oh, it hurts.”
“Does it look broken?” Mariah must've shook her head. “Use words,” Suzanne insisted.
“No. Oh, it's so sore. I think Clayton startled him. He shied away!”
“Last time, Jumper startled Clayton. Here. Take my hand. Ready? Up? Reach up now and take the reins. That's right.” She felt Pig at her side.
Suzanne heard the girl's labored breathing, then her plop onto the horses bare back. “Good work! Clayton. Take Mommy's hand now.”
“If you can lift him to me, he could sit in front. And you could lead us back.”
“So I could. Clayton.” She lifted the boy at his ribs, pressed his right leg up and over the horse's withers. “Got him?”
. “Yes ma'am.” They started walking back toward the camp sounds. “Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I didn't think you should be out here without help.” She sniffed, her words thickened. “I'm the one who needed it.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, asking for help, Mariah,” Suzanne said. “Here.” She stopped, dug in the sleeve of her wrapper for a handkerchief. She heard Mariah blow her nose. “All ready?”
She imagined the girl nodded as she stepped back away from the horse. “You re only thirteen, Mariah. You 11 need lots of help yet to get you grown. Isn't that right, Pig?”
Suzanne shuffled along the desert floor, smelled smoke from a fading fire. “Clayton,” she said. “I can see you riding.”
“Mommy?”
A smile grew at the corner of her mouth, not one she put there consciously, but one that arrived of its own will. She kicked her skirts out a little higher.
5
Mazy and her mother walked up the twisting trail through tall timber. In his mouth, Pig, the dog that once belonged to her, carried an old sock he bumped at Mazy's knee. Absently, she tugged on it, barely hearing the dogs slobbery sounds. Ned called to him, and the dog bounded off. Mazy's hands smelled like fish when she brushed at a tickle of dog hair on her nose. They'd had trout for dinner and breakfast more than once in the past three weeks. Yesterday, Tipton surprised them all by catching the biggest and the most—so far. They'd marveled at the honey-colored lake and seen a majestic, white-topped mountain Seth called Lassens Peak. Their tired eyes had gazed into valleys and ravines pocked with granite boulders larger than a stack of wagons. And while they'd puffed in the higher altitudes, the terrain had not challenged them as it had those months before. This was a gentle route to California. The only complaint Mazy had heard about the landscape lately had involved the water frozen in the wash basin that morning. Even Mariahs ankle didn't bother her. Elizabeth said it must have been Lura's skunk oil she rubbed all over that joint. Elizabeth dropped back then, to ask if she could put some of it on her own hip that evening, leaving Mazy alone with her thoughts.
Mazy felt like a dragonfly skimming the surface of her life, afraid that if she touched the water she'd be sucked in. Flying higher terrified her too. A wind could whip her into the unfamiliar. So she hovered just above the waterline, appearing to be part of the life of the pond, but she wasn't. She might never be again.
Seth had led them well these past weeks, and she'd relinquished guidance to him seemingly without effort. Relieved almost. But without the weight of deciding when to hitch up, when to rest, what to do, what was next, her mind was
“He's right here, patting my head,” she said. “I'm all right.” She started to cry then.
Sason made sounds in his cradle, and Suzanne felt her own shoulders sag with relief. “We'll be right there,” she said and soon was. “Pig, stay,” she directed, feeling in the air for Mariah. With her other hand, she held the reins of Jumper. When she touched Mariahs head, she said, “I'm going to help you stand and hold my hand so you can step up into my cupped palms, like a stirrup. Can you do that?”
“I think so. Oh, it hurts.”
“Does it look broken?” Mariah must've shook her head. “Use words,” Suzanne insisted.
“No. Oh, it's so sore. I think Clayton startled him. He shied away!”
“Last time, Jumper startled Clayton. Here. Take my hand. Ready? Up? Reach up now and take the reins. That's right.” She felt Pig at her side.
Suzanne heard the girl's labored breathing, then her plop onto the horses bare back. “Good work! Clayton. Take Mommy's hand now.”
“If you can lift him to me, he could sit in front. And you could lead us back.”
“So I could. Clayton.” She lifted the boy at his ribs, pressed his right leg up and over the horse's withers. “Got him?”
. “Yes ma'am.” They started walking back toward the camp sounds. “Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I didn't think you should be out here without help.” She sniffed, her words thickened. “I'm the one who needed it.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, asking for help, Mariah,” Suzanne said. “Here.” She stopped, dug in the sleeve of her wrapper for a handkerchief. She heard Mariah blow her nose. “All ready?”
She imagined the girl nodded as she stepped back away from the horse. “You re only thirteen, Mariah. You 11 need lots of help yet to get you grown. Isn't that right, Pig?”
Suzanne shuffled along the desert floor, smelled smoke from a fading fire. “Clayton,” she said. “I can see you riding.”
“Mommy?”
A smile grew at the corner of her mouth, not one she put there consciously, but one that arrived of its own will. She kicked her skirts out a little higher.
5
Mazy and her mother walked up the twisting trail through tall timber. In his mouth, Pig, the dog that once belonged to her, carried an old sock he bumped at Mazy's knee. Absently, she tugged on it, barely hearing the dogs slobbery sounds. Ned called to him, and the dog bounded off. Mazy's hands smelled like fish when she brushed at a tickle of dog hair on her nose. They'd had trout for dinner and breakfast more than once in the past three weeks. Yesterday, Tipton surprised them all by catching the biggest and the most—so far. They'd marveled at the honey-colored lake and seen a majestic, white-topped mountain Seth called Lassens Peak. Their tired eyes had gazed into valleys and ravines pocked with granite boulders larger than a stack of wagons. And while they'd puffed in the higher altitudes, the terrain had not challenged them as it had those months before. This was a gentle route to California. The only complaint Mazy had heard about the landscape lately had involved the water frozen in the wash basin that morning. Even Mariahs ankle didn't bother her. Elizabeth said it must have been Lura's skunk oil she rubbed all over that joint. Elizabeth dropped back then, to ask if she could put some of it on her own hip that evening, leaving Mazy alone with her thoughts.
Mazy felt like a dragonfly skimming the surface of her life, afraid that if she touched the water she'd be sucked in. Flying higher terrified her too. A wind could whip her into the unfamiliar. So she hovered just above the waterline, appearing to be part of the life of the pond, but she wasn't. She might never be again.
Seth had led them well these past weeks, and she'd relinquished guidance to him seemingly without effort. Relieved almost. But without the weight of deciding when to hitch up, when to rest, what to do, what was next, her mind was
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