Read Online River Runs Deep by Jennifer Bradbury - Free Book Online

from his father’s battle. And the fever gave her over to broken conversation, so Elias had to work twice as hard to puzzle out what she was saying.
    Nedra sat in her straight-backed chair in front of her little stove, a small bundle on her lap. He thought quickly to come up with a story to cover why he was hollering. “I . . .” he began. “Sometimes it’s just a fair bit too quiet in here.”
    Nedra stared past him, like she wasn’t seeing him at all. “You have a new friend.”
    Elias startled.
    â€œYou heard him?” Elias asked carefully, wanting, surprisingly, to protect the pest’s secret.
    Nedra smiled, almost wickedly. “Such a clamor, always a clamor, though no worse than before.”
    But the voice always whispered so quietly, almost so Elias could barely hear him. How could she have heard?
    â€œDid you name him?”
    â€œName—” Elias caught himself. Why would he name the boy?
    â€œEverything should have a name. Even a bird—”
    Bedivere! She meant the pigeon!
    â€œHe’s called Bedivere,” Elias managed. “After Arthur’s knight. And he’s eating good at least. Gobbled up most of the corn I got off Pennyrile already. He’s a pig, that one.”
    â€œA pig and a pigeon,” she muttered.
    Elias thought she appeared more strung out, drawn thinner than she had a couple of days before. Daddy had done that toward the end. Every day when Elias went in to see him in the morning, he’d look different, like a little more of him had forgotten to wake up, gotten lost in the night.
    â€œHere,” she said, holding out the bundle.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œIt’s green,” she said nonsensically. “Like Gawain’s knight. Like the sash.”
    Elias was almost more worried that he could follow her thoughts. He let the scarf’s length drape to the floor, felt the soft scratchiness of the wool, recognized the yarn she’d been working with when he first met her the day after he arrived.
    â€œIt’s nice,” he said, holding it up to the light, admiring the way the little stitches acted as much like perfect little knots as anything else.
    â€œWear it,” she commanded. “It’s so cold.”
    Elias wrapped it around his neck loosely. “Thank you, miss.”
    â€œTake care on your quests, squire,” she whispered, leaning forward. And the way she said it, Elias was sure she’d seen him leave with Mat three nights ago, maybe even seen him chase the ghost last week.
    â€œYes, ma’am. Thanks for the scarf.”
    She didn’t reply but took up her needles and some blue yarn, and began to knit again. Elias decided he had been dismissed.
    When he reached his room, he found Bedivere pecking at something on the table.
    It was the fraying end of the little cloth tied around the piece of salt pork.
    Pest. Or friend. Elias was so out of practice in having friends that he’d forgotten how hard it could be to tell the difference.
    â€œBoo,” the voice whispered as Elias settled back on the bed.
    â€œI know you ain’t no ghost,” Elias said, but he couldn’t help but smile. “And stay outta my room.”
    â€œYou don’t know nuthin’! Can’t even get eyes on me when you try—”
    â€œI know ghosts don’t make shadows. And they don’t leave chunks of bacon for folk they haunt.”
    â€œYou worried I was, though.”
    â€œDid not.” Even this Elias had missed. The bickering. If people did get near enough to him to talk when he’d gotten sick, they never argued with him. Even Tillie gave up fighting with him. Elias picked up his book.
    â€œDon’t you get tired of reading all the time?”
    â€œDon’t you get tired of lurking round windows?”
    â€œI do more’n talk to you,” the voice said, adding, “I get myself all over.”
    Bedivere hopped