Read Online North by Night by Katherine Ayres - Free Book Online Page B

were imperfect with your stitches when you were small. But with your sister I have hit upon a lovely idea. Instead of expecting her to make tiny stitches, I have given her small patches of cloth left from this or that project of mine. She is sewing on a crazy quilt for her doll and there is no exact pattern or line required
.
    Will says I spoil her. Do you think I grow lax with my youngest? Or is this a good notion?
    I also felt myself quite clever when I suggested that if Miranda truly wanted to help with hurt or wounded animals, she might someday have to stitch up a cut or gash, so it might be wise to practice first on cloth. Her work grew neater almost right away
.
    Mostly, however, she trudges to the barn with Thomas, brushes the cat’s fur, tells stories to the doe, and tries to encourage the three birds to become friends. Imagine that, Lucy—a duck, a cardinal, and a lopsided hen. Your sister has a mind of her own. But then, as I recall, so did you at her age
.
    I think this heavy weather is hardest on William. He has grown accustomed to travel and seems to have difficulty staying about the house and farm. He paces and stares out the window. He goes out to fetch wood without our asking and stays out for a long time. At the first break in the weather we’ll send him to you with our letters and give him a chance to spread his wings. For, like Miranda’s charges and other wild birds, I believe your brother William is meant to fly. Papa says he will settle down and become a farmer, but I’m not so sure
.
    Oh, Lucy. I rattle on like an old woman. I miss you severely. Having a grown daughter is such a wonder, for I can talk to you as a friend. When you’re gone, I feel the lack of women’s company. While you are much needed where you are, I do count the days until you are returned to us, and in particular to me
.
    Your loving

Mother
    Dear Lucy
,
    Mama’s writing for me again. Doesn’t she write pretty? She makes me practice letters every day so that I’ll write pretty, too. I’m trying. I can write my name really pretty now. But it’s a lot of work
. Miranda
has seven letters
. Lucy
is easier and so is
Will
and so is
Tom.
    My fingers get tired from writing and from sewing. When the needle pokes my finger it hurts. I try not to cry. Crying is for babies. I want to be big like you and the boys
.
    Reddie does well. He likes to sing to Queen Victoria, our deer. She is almost healed. Tom says that when Reddie’s wing grows strong we’ll have to set him free. I don’t like that. We don’t have to send Hamlet or Ophelia away, so why Reddie? Tom says it’s because he’s wild
.
    Fine. I’ll make him tame. I’ll make Queen Victoria tame, too. I want to send Brutus away. He’s a bad cat. He keeps bothering all the birds
.
    Hamlet and Ophelia are big. They peck at Brutus’s nose if he gets close. Poor little Reddie can’t do that. I wish we had a harness small enough for a cat. I would tie Brutus to the hitching post. Maybe you can help me make one. Come home soon. I love you
.
    Miranda
    16
January
    Dear Lucinda
,
    What a storm! Good thing the Clarks had their party last week instead of this. With all this snow, nobody could have come
.
    Lucy, what happened at the party? One minute you were spinning wild tales about the migrations of birds; the next time I looked over, you and Jeremiah Strong had disappeared. You were gone a long time, Lucy. Jonathan stomped out to find you and came back furious. Then you went off to Widow Mercer’s house
.
    What an amazing night. Everybody gossiped and speculated—more than usual, if that’s possible. Mrs. Clark looked especially cross. When you and your brothers created all that excitement, she was suddenly reduced to fetching baskets. It did my heart good to see her put in her place for once. But beware—I suspect she holds grudges. She may try to come between you and her son. Although he created some ruckus of his own …
    Jonathan danced every reel with that annoying